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“We have time. I have a spell to do myself.”
He nodded and dismounted. The grass was shoulder high to him and brushed the horse’s bellies. Wild bellis flowers filled the air with their delicate scent. A swift, quarreling flock of brownkins flew overhead. Jessa breathed in the summer bounty. Her magic pulsed and swelled with the ripening grass, the swift flight of birds, the tiny hidden creatures. Everything was magic for the taking, for an earth-witch.
Gregoor came to stand at her stirrup. His face was coated with an oily lotion. “You sparkle like pale flame.”
She grinned at him, stretching arms skyward. “I feel like I should burst into flame, swollen with power.”
He frowned.
Jessa laughed. “There’s no danger of that, Gregoor. Don’t frown so; it will make you itch.” She touched his shoulder.
He jumped as if burned. “Your power poured over my arm. It was…unexpected.”
“Surely making your herb potions fills you with magic?”
He shook his head. “Nothing like that. I’m an herb-witch, Jessa. Our magic is a quieter thing. You could pass for a sorceress, now.”
“It’s always like that in spring and summer, but winter,” she shivered, “winter is a poor time for earth-witches.”
“Then what will you do behind Cytherea’s spell line?”
“I have absorbed enough power to do a few spells, if I am careful.”
“Then what?”
“Then I won’t be able to pretend I am a sorceress anymore. Cytherea will know me for an earth-witch, and our plan had better work.”
Gregoor looked up at her, the swelling and redness already leaving his eyes.
“You look much better. How do you feel?”
“The best I’ve felt in three days of travel. I’ll be able to watch your back.”
“I never thought you wouldn’t.”
Gregoor remounted and they pushed through a stand of pine trees. Bushtails chattered and scolded overhead, showering them with pine needles. Jessa felt the first cool tendril of power, someone else’s power. She slammed down her shields, cutting herself off from the land, but protecting herself from what lay ahead.
The horses pawed nervously at the top of the ridge. Up through the trees, mist was oozing. Sunlight cut through the mist, sparkling on a line of ice-covered trees. The summer leaves were crumbled, blackened, ice coated. Frost and snow lay in glittering drifts at the foot of the ridge.
Jessa glanced up at the waving greenery overhead. Yellow snake lilies nodded on the forest floor. “Definitely the work of elementals and demons.”
“Do you think we can bargain with the demon?”
“Our plan depends on it.”
“What if it doesn’t agree?”
She smiled at him. “Then, Gregoor, we will see if the god Magnus truly does cry tears of blood.”
“I did not plan on meeting Him so soon.”
“Nor I. Let’s get out the winter gear.”
Sweat trickled down Jessa’s spine. The fur hood was oppressive. Gregoor waited beside her, sweat-carved runnels melting the ointment on his face.
Cool mist swirled around the horses’ legs, but the summer sun beat down on them. Winter was a slash of brilliant diamond ice. Snow lay inches deep. The green belt of summer had been sliced cleanly and completely.
Jessa urged her horse forward. The hooves crunched in the snow’s edge. The chill breath of winter cooled the sweat on her face instantly. Her breath fogged and began to crystallize on the fur trim of her hood. Something large moved in the trees. Jessa signaled Gregoor to wait.
She could see nothing and yet she knew something had moved. The winter-ruined trees were utterly still. Snow stretched smooth and untouched. But…there was a spot near a large straight elm tree that Jessa could not look at. No matter how hard she tried to stare at it, her vision kept slipping by it. Don’t look at me, it seemed to say, I am not here, but of course that meant something was there. The question was, what?
She signaled Gregoor to come up beside her, slowly.
They had ridden only a few strides when the air wavered and a demon was leaning against the elm. Both sets of arms were crossed over his chest. He was about ten feet tall, only a little less white than the snow. His scales shimmered like mother-of-pearl. Two slender horns grew from his head. His tail twitched in the snow. Jessa was reminded of a cat about to pounce.
The demon’s bat-ribbed ears curled and uncurled. “I am the guardian of this spell line. If you cross even one step farther, you will be trapped until the spell is complete.”
“When will that be?” Jessa asked.
He blinked large purple eyes. “When Cytherea the Mad wills it, and not before.” A forked tongue licked his lips, exposing teeth like ice daggers. “So turn back while you may. You have been warned.”
“Thank you for the warning. If we ride farther, what will happen to us?”
He shrugged one pair of shoulders. “Cytherea will decide.”
“What will you do if we ride farther in?”
“I,” he said, placing a claw on his chest, “nothing, yet. You will have to huddle in the town while Cytherea does her business.”
“How long will that take?”
The demon looked up at the ice trees. He smiled, flashing fangs. “Not long, I think.”
Jessa said, “Then we will cross and wait if we must.”
“Come across, then.” The demon made a sweeping bow, motioning with his many arms.
They rode forward, skirting out of the demon’s reach, though distance alone would not save them if the demon chose to be nasty.
The demon called, “Herb-witch.”
Jessa looked back at Gregoor. He was staring at the ground, very determinedly.
“Look at me, herb-witch, look at me,” the demon hissed.
“Stop it,” Jessa said. “He does not have the magic to resist you.”
“And you do?” He turned his gaze upon her, perfect violet, like the eyes of the blind. Jessa would not meet his gaze. The demon laughed.
“You said you would not harm us if we passed.”
“I lied.”
She looked at him without meeting his eyes. “Will you stand in our way?”
“Not now. But when Cytherea is done with her little…chore, then she will let me choose my reward.” The demon was suddenly standing before them. Jessa’s horse screamed and reared, hoofs lashing the air.
The demon grinned as Jessa fought to control the animal. “Perhaps I will ask for you, sorceress.”
Jessa glared at him. “Will you beg for a treat like a well-trained dog?”
The demon’s ears curled into tight rolls, his claws flexing the air. “I am no dog, woman. I am ice demon and I will show you what that means.”
“You will harm me before Cytherea sees me? Is that wise?”
The demon roared, clawing at the trees, raking ice and wood into splinters. The horses went wild. When Jessa and Gregoor slowed the trembling animals, Jessa found a splinter of ice in her cheek. She pulled it out and found it bloody. She would have thrown it on the ground, but the demon was watching her, eyes intent, a strange eagerness in his scaled face. She held the bloody crystal, unsure what to do with it.
Gregoor whispered, “Jessa, try not to make it more angry than you have to.”
“Cytherea is your enemy, not us. She has bound you into her service. What if we could free you?”
The demon stared at her. “How?”
“If she is dead, then you are free.”
He snorted. “You cannot kill her with sorcery.”
“We will not kill her with sorcery.”
“Why tell me, when now I can warn her?”
“You want your freedom. We want her death.”
“What do you want of me, sorceress?”
“An oath that you will not help Cytherea against us.”
The demon flashed fangs. “Of course, I promise, I will not hurt either of you.”
“No, demon, an oath to Verm and Loth.”
His ears furled in surprise. “A vow to the dark ones will sever Cytherea’s control over me. Will allow me to stand and watch.” He grinned. “One of the few things that will. You are not just a sorceress, are you?”
“No,” she said.
“And what do you vow, mortal?”
“We vow to free you.”
“I simply watch while you kill Cytherea. Then I am free.”
