Daughter of Blood and Briar (The Warded Kingdoms #1)

Chapter 1

The witch crossed the deserted town square, picking her way through the shattered merchant stalls and the bodies littering the ground.

Although the report said she was only twenty-seven years old, she looked twice that age.

Her black hair was streaked white, and her skin was corpse gray.

The witch mark on her forehead—a branded circle signifying the watchful eye of the one true God—stood out in angry red relief.

Witches who were caught early were branded as a warning and allowed to live.

Some repented. If they continued down their dark path, they had to be destroyed.

This was the ninth witch Casrian had been called upon to kill since entering the king’s service. All of them demon-ridden. All of them corrupting the very land around them. All of them killing innocents before they could be stopped.

He wasn’t sure he still believed in second chances.

The witch slid into the shadow cast by the crumbling wall of what had once been the town hall.

She’d burned that building to the ground two days ago with the city council inside.

Smoke still rose in places from the smoldering timbers.

Whether it had been an act of revenge or an attempt to stop the council from sending a message for help, he didn’t know.

The messenger had found them on the north road, but even riding at a breakneck pace, they’d been too late to save the council.

Most of the townspeople had fled immediately after the fire, but he suspected that there were still some survivors about, holed up in the homes and shops that surrounded the square.

Crouching behind the rough stone wall, he waited for his men to reach their positions. Kenet was on the roof of the house nearest him. Asher had the house on the far side of the desecrated church. Fen had taken position in the gaping window across the town square.

The witch knew they were coming.

The birds were obviously under her control.

Crows spiraled above the town, their black bodies painting a twisting, dancing pattern against the blue sky.

Witches worked in patterns, bending the natural world to their will.

Hexes to bind and repel. Spells to mesmerize and beguile.

Last week they’d caught an old laundress who liked to stitch curses into the hems of customers who’d slighted her in one way or another. This one had an affinity for animals.

First the neighbor’s cattle. Then rats in the mayor’s house. A swarm of insects that choked the baker’s daughter. And now…this.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Magic moved through the town in a vicious current. The air was thick and, though it was very still, he could feel movement against his skin. The stroke of tiny invisible fingers down his back. Something tugging at his coat. Searching. Impatient.

The witch moved into the churchyard, stopping when she reached the cemetery plot. There she paused to make an obscene gesture at a statue of one of the venerable town fathers. The cemetery was hallowed ground. She shouldn’t be able to stand there. She was mocking them.

Daris ran along the edge of the wall to join him. Squatting down, he peered over the iron grillwork set into the stone. “Aren and Ty can’t get behind her. There’s no cover past the hall. The wind must have been blowing in that direction when the fire caught. The buildings are gone.”

The plan had been to flush the witch out into the center of the square and shoot her so full of iron it would sever her connection to the demon who now controlled her.

If she survived that, they’d administer last rites.

There wouldn’t be much of her left by that point, not body or mind, but they’d send her spirit to rest if they could do it.

“I’ll distract her,” Casrian said, wrapping his hand around the leather strap of his crossbow. “You give the signal to the others when she’s in place.”

Daris caught his arm before he stepped from cover. “How about I distract her and you give the signal? You’re the captain. You’re supposed to be delegating these things, not running out ahead of us.”

Asher had a new wife. Fen a family. Daris could easily step into his role if needed.

“I’ll lure her out,” he said more firmly. “You give the signal. We can’t let her get away. If she makes it to the woods, there’ll be no tracking her. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He shook off Daris’s grip.

“Cas—”

He eased out from behind their meager cover. The witch’s head snapped up, turning unerringly in his direction.

The crows above scattered.

He stepped closer, dust and ash stirring beneath his feet. The witch crossed to meet him, moving with a strange, disjointed gait. She was fully possessed then. Demons had trouble at first controlling their new bodies.

The sky darkened. He could still see the sun shining brightly above, but it was as if it had been covered by a veil. The shadows in the square grew thicker.

The witch mark on the woman’s forehead glowed faintly in the gloom, reminding him that he wasn’t alone in this. God was on his side. Consecrated as he was, he would never—could never—end up like the poor creature before him.

Aside from a few shreds of cloth around her wrists and neck, the witch was naked, her skin covered in ash. Her eyes were black, as flat and lifeless as river stones.

He stopped walking. Close enough.

“Emela Garn,” he shouted across the remaining distance. “You stand accused of witchcraft for a second time. The charge is justly made. You are a murderess as well as an oath breaker. God is ever forgiving. There is still time for you to repent.”

There wasn’t much time.

He could see Aren and Ty move into place behind her. He didn’t betray them by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. He kept his gaze locked on the witch. Daris would give the signal when they were ready. He just needed to keep her distracted for a few moments longer.

“You have no authority over me, witch hunter.” Her voice was from the grave, oddly echoing as if her body was hollowed out. “This is my town now. Every corner of it. Every soul. You think to trap me here? Me?”

She waved a hand and he heard a shout from the rooftop. He glanced in that direction and saw Kenet waving at the flock of crows attacking his position. Another shout came from behind him, but he didn’t dare turn around.

Shit.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I have every authority over you, Emela. The authority granted to me by king and Church. This can only end one way.”

“Yes.” Her hiss of agreement ended with a shout as she flung up her hands.

The skies darkened. At first Casrian thought it was a trick of the light until he lifted his gaze and saw that the flock of circling birds had grown in number.

Their crossbows were useless now. There were too many birds. It took too much time to reload.

His mind froze as the birds struck his men on the roof. Their screams were an odd counterpoint to the witch’s laughter. And then all sound was drowned out by the deafening rush of wings as the birds fell upon him as well.

He aimed his crossbow at the witch’s head. Before he could fire, the witch pointed at him. With a dismissive flick of her wrist, she sent him flying against an overturned cart that lay in the square. His shoulder cracked against the wheel, and his breath rushed out in a whoosh.

He rolled and scurried beneath the cart, away from the swarming birds and the witch’s sight. A witch needed to be in direct visual contact with their target in order to cast an unanchored spell.

He thrust his arm out from under the cart to grab his crossbow and quickly checked it for damage before crawling to the other side. He swiped the dirt from his eyes and peered out from behind the cracked front wheel.

The witch was gone.

His gaze swept from one end of the square to the other. Where the hell—?

A heavy thump sounded from above him and the unstable cart shifted.

With a smothered curse, Casrian pulled back his hand before it was crushed.

Hollow footsteps sounded above him, and he rolled onto his back.

He was tempted to fire through the floorboards, but that would be a waste of ammunition.

He couldn’t take the chance that he’d miss.

Only one bolt left.

He held his breath as the witch moved from one end of the cart to the other. There was a sudden lurch. A gap of silence and then a heavy thud as the witch landed only an arm’s length away.

Her bare feet were covered in black dirt and ashes, her nails worn and cracked. There was a gash on her left ankle that looked as if it went right down to the bone. Her skin gaped open when she took a step forward, but there was no blood.

He swallowed and slowly, silently, repositioned to take aim.

One shot. It wouldn’t be a death wound. Only the area below her waist was within view, but the bolt was tipped with iron. It would slow her down.

He squeezed the trigger. The recoil, given the tight space and awkward position, nearly dislocated his shoulder, but he didn’t have time to recover.

Scrambling out from beneath the cart, he drew his sword, a cavalry weapon, short and slightly curved, dipped in holy water and etched with the symbols of the Church.

The witch was on her back, writhing, an unpleasant hissing noise coming from her throat. No, that wasn’t the witch. She’d summoned more of the damned birds. She wasn’t hissing. The buzz was the locust hum of their flapping wings.

Before they reached him, he fell on her with his sword, going for her neck first. Her flesh sizzled as soon as the blessed steel made contact.

He went about it as a workman, hacking and sawing at her until she stopped moving.

He avoided looking at her face, flinched whenever a blow revealed a suggestion of humanity.

A breast. A shoulder. The pale curve of a thigh.

He’d block the images from his memory. He would not carry them with him.

The witch was evil. He was fighting evil, no matter what form it took.

“Casrian.” A hand fell on his shoulder and he spun, raising his arm even as Daris jerked away from him, raising his own blade in defense.

“Cas, it’s done,” Daris said, lowering his weapon. “Don’t you feel it? She’s gone. Truly gone.”

Casrian took a deep breath and looked first at the corpse—unmoving, unrecognizable—and then he looked around him at the destroyed town. The birds had fled. The oppressive gloom was gone with them. A faint breeze touched his skin, making him flinch, but the air smelled clear, normal.

“It’s done.”

Thank the good Lord.

Daris’s face split in a relieved smile. “A clean kill your first time out as captain. You’ll be a legend.” He clapped Casrian’s shoulder. “Come. Let’s burn the body. The sun fades fast this time of year. We don’t want to be out here past dark.”

No, they didn’t. He looked helplessly down at the gore clinging to his blade.

There was nothing to clean it. It would have to wait.

Better to purify it completely. Pass it through fire.

Wash the rest in swift running water. Treat it with the blessed oil he’d purchased from the Church for that purpose.

Clean it all until nary a taint of evil remained. Then he’d find another witch.