Chapter 3
H e took a drink from his mug of ale. This was one of the more rundown taverns in Solembra.
It was tucked into a back alley on the edges of the capital city, and it was frequented by some rather questionable patrons.
But they had the best ale in the Fire Court, and he was one of those questionable patrons, so Rayner found it rather suitable.
He had to hand it to the prince of this Court.
While this might be one of the more shady establishments in the city, he’d seen much worse throughout the continent.
But even the Fire Prince couldn’t keep every corner of his lands neat and tidy and perfect.
It was a far cry from the legends of the Black Syndicate, but thieves and cheats and hirelings still found their way in.
He was a prime example.
He had a small house located farther into the city, closer to the markets and businesses.
The Fire Court seemed the natural place to have a home, if he could even call it that.
When he spent too much of his magic, it was where he recovered.
Like he had been doing for the last two seasons.
It’s where he planned and plotted when he wasn’t off wandering to the farthest reaches of the continent trying to track down answers.
He’d had a house on the outside of the city at one point. A small estate with room to run.
He’d sold it as soon as he’d remembered he owned it.
Decades. It had taken him decades to overcome the enchantment Moranna had put on him when he’d left the cliffs on the Southern Islands.
He’d wasted so much godsdamn coin on false seers and Witches who swore they could brew up a tonic to bring back his memories.
He’d found it a better use of his time to live among the smoke and ashes and pick up on rumors throughout the various kingdoms, then follow the rumors to see if they were true.
Even that had been largely a waste of his time.
Until the day he found his way to the Oracle.
He paused to catch his breath. This was stupid.
Foolish and idiotic and stupid to try to get through the Witch Kingdoms without alerting any of the Covens.
The High Witch had eyes and ears everywhere.
He was running out of ashes and smoke too.
Once he cleared this small town, he would be hiking to the cliff cave.
And hopefully avoiding any run-ins with the Witches.
He took another few moments to breathe deep and let his heart rate settle before he set off again, flitting between the smoke billowing from the houses of the village.
The ashes of a fire pit a few miles out let him get a little farther than anticipated, but here was where his magic wouldn’t be of much use for traveling.
He fingered a few of the small medallions in his pocket.
He’d wasted a lot of coin on false Witches, but these had actually come in handy.
They had been created by magic, so he was able to imbue them with some of his own.
He stored ashes in them, allowing him to throw them and move among the ashes released if there were no smoke or ashes around to move through.
If he ran into a Witch, he’d need all the advantages he could get.
He pulled a map from a pocket realm, looking it over before folding it up and tucking into the pocket of his cloak.
Detailed maps of the Witch Kingdoms were nearly impossible to find.
Another thing he’d paid an obscene amount of coin for, and it wasn’t even a decent one.
It had simply been better than any other map he’d ever come across.
Knowing it was foolish to linger too long in one spot when he did not have permission to be in these lands, Rayner set off at a brisk pace. The grey skies only added to the chill of the territory. There wasn’t snow on the ground, but frost still clung to everything.
There were various rumors about where to find the mythical Oracle.
Too many rumors to ever try and substantiate them all.
Some were ridiculous, but some he’d looked into.
Most had led to dead ends, but a few had paid off.
Bits and pieces of a few rumors woven together over the last few decades were how he’d finally figured out where she was.
Or where he hoped she was (if it was a she), because if this turned out to be a complete waste of his fucking time and he had to start over from scratch, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would do.
He stepped from a copse of ancient trees at the base of the cliffs when he heard it. The screech of an eagle.
Except it wasn’t an eagle.
It was a griffin.
Fuck.
He slipped a medallion from his pocket, clenching it in his fist while he kept moving.
He didn’t make it very far. The griffin dove, hard and fast. If he tried to make a run for it, Rayner knew he’d find more than one arrow in his back.
His only real option was to stop and pray to Anala the Witch would escort him to the border.
The ground beneath his boots shook when the beast landed fifteen feet away from him, its rider slipping from its back. And as she stalked towards him, drawing her sword from her back, he knew he was well and truly fucked.
Hazel Hecate. The High Witch.
She stopped in front of him, her blade leveled at his throat. “Lower your hood,” she ordered in an icy tone, violet eyes burning into him.
“I would rather not,” he replied, fingers itching to reach for his own weapons.
“It was not a request.”
Keeping the medallion in hand, he slowly lifted his arms, pushing back the hood of his cloak. If the High Witch was surprised by the swirling smoke in his eyes, she did not show it.
“I have heard rumors one of you had been spotted on the continent.”
“I have heard rumors the Oracle resides in your kingdom,” Rayner countered.
The High Witch’s lip curled slightly in disgust. “Do you know what we do to males in my lands, Ash Rider?”
“I do.”
“And yet here you stand.”
Rayner did not answer. Just held her gaze, waiting to see what she did next.
She slowly lowered her sword, holding it at her side. “There has not been an Ash Rider born in centuries.”
“That you were aware of.”
“What business do you have with the Oracle?”
“None of yours.”
Her head tilted. A predator assessing prey. “Tell me, Ash Rider, do you value your tongue?”
“I find it useful,” he conceded.
“Then I suggest you mind how you speak to me.” She took a step towards him. “I do not care if you are the last Ash Rider that will ever walk this realm. I will not hesitate to take you from this world for male arrogance.”
“I meant no disrespect, Lady,” Rayner replied. “Truly.”
“What is in your hand?”
“A trinket.”
“Show me.”
He opened his fist, showing her the medallion. She held out her own hand, and he begrudgingly dumped the medallion into it. She held it up between two fingers, studying it intensely, before she slipped it into a pocket of her witchsuit. “I will take you to the Oracle.”
It took everything in him to not show the shock that rippled through him. “Why?”
“The Oracle told me one would come with such a trinket. When he did, I was to show him the way.” She turned, sheathing her sword down her back as she added, “It is the only reason you are not dead.” Rayner watched her walk back to her griffin, the beast lowering to the ground at her approach so she could hoist herself onto its back.
When its large wings flared wide, preparing to take to the sky, the High Witch said, “Meet me where you see him land.”
Rayner stood on the edge of the copse and watched the creature soar up, climbing higher and higher. It was several minutes before it banked to land somewhere well over halfway up the side of the cliffs. Which was…fucking great.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled the cloak hood back into place. Even though no one was around and the High Witch knew who he was, he felt far too exposed when his hood wasn’t hiding him from the rest of the world.
It took hours to climb up the cliff side.
If it weren’t for the healing capabilities of the Fae, he would have arrived there with bloodied palms and numerous bruises.
The rocks were covered with the same frost that glistened on the purple and turquoise leaves of the ancient trees, making them difficult to climb even with the extra grips on the soles of his boots.
The High Witch was standing next to an entrance to a cave when he finally pulled himself over the lip of a ledge, her griffin perched on rocks a little higher up.
His golden eyes were fixed on Rayner, lion’s tail swishing back and forth.
The feathers on his wings ruffled slightly, and he clicked his beak when Rayner moved towards his master.
Beside the High Witch sat a small stone table, a vial atop it.
“You are not permitted to take weapons in with you,” the High Witch said. “You can retrieve them when the Oracle releases you.”
Releases him? That sounded…promising. But he’d come this far, and he needed answers, so he again found himself without much of a choice.
After removing the various weapons strapped to his body and setting them aside, the High Witch gestured towards the vial. “This will temporarily nullify your gifts. The Oracle will give them back when you have heard what you need to.”
Without letting himself think about it, Rayner swiped up the vial and downed the contents. He instantly felt empty, void of the ashes that drifted in his veins. He knew if he could see his eyes, they would be an unmoving grey. No swirling with the telltale sign of what he was.
“See what awaits,” the High Witch said, motioning to the cave mouth. He took a step, but she called out, “And Ash Rider?”
Looking back over his shoulder, he said, “Yes?”
“You would do well to be out of my lands by dawn.”
“Understood, my Lady.”