The cauldron effect, p.77
The Cauldron Effect, page 77
When the queen appeared in the audience chamber, Farfur yelped in surprise. Beside him, Bartos slunk backwards, trying to appear tiny.
“What is she doing here?” Farfur hissed.
“This is her home,” Bartos whispered back, now half squished under a chair positioned on the far side of the wall.
Queen Eolonde had eyes only for the Witch-who-heals as she berated her sharply for invading this home.
Farfur was on tenterhooks, wanting to rush in to defend his master, but too petrified of the queen to move any closer.
Even Ifan had looked up from where he had been gorging himself on the master’s basket of fruit.
Do not move, Farfur silently ordered the foolish horse. Do not draw her attention.
The master shifted his stance to hide the Witch-who-heals, reminding his mother that this was his home, too.
The queen considered his objection and then regally inclined her head.
The Witch-who-heals bravely stepped out of the master’s shadow and curtsied.
Before she had risen, the queen clapped once and hundreds of pythos slithered across the floor toward them.
Farfur barred his teeth and growled. He hated snakes.
A score of hellhounds landed by the queen’s feet, crouching, fangs bared. Above their heads, frightening monkey men swung off the ceiling beams and chandeliers, howling and screeching obscenities.
Ifan whinnied, stomping the ground as ravenous pythos circled him to reach the basket of upper world fruit. Then the monkey men descended to steal the food from the slower moving pythos. In moments the basket was empty, the fruit either consumed or carried off to the chamber’s high reaches. With their free meal gone, the pythos switched their avaricious sights to the black stallion.
Discarding all caution, Farfur raced to Ifan’s side, lunging at any snake man that dared approach his friend. Bartos was right there, too, on the other side of Ifan, defending their four-hoofed idiot companion.
The black bird flew over and landed on Ifan’s back.
The horse neighed and nodded his head, as if acknowledging a command. “The master wants us to safeguard the boy.”
“What boy?” Bartos asked and bit the head off a pythos than was foolish enough to come too close.
The other snake men quickly scavenged the head and body, before retreating to greedily consume every bit of their fallen comrade.
Ifan curled his lips in distaste and began a quick trot toward the inner doorway. Both hellhounds flanked him, keeping the monsters at bay.
“The master believes this bird might be the warlock child we came to rescue,” Ifan said. “Until he can be sure, he wants us to keep him safe.”
Bartos’s worried gaze met Farfur’s through the space between the horse’s legs. “If the bird belongs to the queen,” Bartos whispered, “she will never allow us to leave with him.”
Farfur bristled at his master commanding them through Ifan rather than speaking to him directly. In fact, his master had not spoken to him since they entered the underworld. This lack of communication deeply bothered Farfur. “With or without the bird, I will not leave without the master,” he said with finality.
“Nor I without the Witch-who-heals,” Bartos said. “I am swearing fealty to her.”
Farfur gave him a startled look and then nodded in agreement.
THE QUEEN’S GAZE WAS glued to Grace’s ring. Was there acceptance there? Then she noted the lady’s left hand curl, forming a tight fist. No, Queen Eolonde was preparing to fight.
Dewer’s shoulders tightened as he, too, noted the white-knuckled fist.
Her heart shuddered at his pain and a startling realization came that this valley of deception and distrust separating him from his mother must be partially responsible for Dewer’s wish for a traditional Wyhcan binding. As much as he may want to make his father proud by uniting warlocks and witches, Dewer must also want his mother to be present at that ceremony, giving her blessing to his union with Grace. He may no longer need her oversight, but he still wanted her love.
Grace wanted to shout that by her behavior Queen Eolonde was pushing away the son she so loved. How was she to get through to this woman?
Dewer stepped up and opened his mouth to speak. He is about to break with his mother. For me.
Grace rushed in first to save his dream of Queen Eolonde blessing them at their binding ceremony. “My mother says that if people believe we will lie to them, they will be unable to give us their trust.” She walked up and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. Wait. Do not give up on her yet. “Dewer loves you, your majesty. I love him. As such, please believe me when I say that I would never betray him, what he desires, or those whom he treasures.”
The resultant silence resonated in the audience chamber.
The queen began to chuckle and then broke into a heartfelt full-blown laugh. “This is the woman you wish to marry, Devil? Do you seriously think she is capable of buttressing you when you need assistance? Someone who has such little self-worth, she puts everyone else’s needs ahead of herself? The monsters will eat her up the moment she steps off of these grounds.”
Her snake men abandoned their hostility toward Ifan and the hellhounds and, instead, slithered closer to Grace and snickered. Above them, the monkey men howled in enjoyment, swinging across the ceiling.
Beside her, Dewer took Grace’s hand. “We are leaving. With Jonas.”
Grace sensed his hurt and squeezed his hand in comfort. It was over.
The queen’s humor faded as if she, too, sensed the end of this discussion, and her looming loss. She sat back, crossing arms and legs.
They reached the doorway where Ifan stood waiting before the queen spoke again, this time in a placating tone.
“If you want this girl, so be it. My prediction of her future survival as your consort will be proven soon enough. As for that boy, I do not understand why you are so upset, Devil. You wanted to be with your friend. I brought him closer. I have always given you everything you desired.”
“Everyone assumed I had killed Jonas,” Dewer said, swinging back to his mother.
“Witches and warlocks?” she asked in a scornful tone. “Who cares what they think. They did not respect your father for choosing me, so I do not respect them. Besides, you had all of this.” She spread her arms. “Jonas cannot betray you now. You did not realize it back then, but his parents were preparing to baptize the boy. That would have hindered your ability to access his magic. You would have lost him forever. I saved him for you.”
“I no longer need your help, mother, or Jonas as a mentee,” Dewer said. “A water god has offered me his assistance to strengthen my magic. Release the boy.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Grace asked, frustrated by this fae’s continued stubbornness.
Queen Eolonde leaned forward. “Allow the Coven Protectress who rejected my son to win? Never!”
“Is this a family squabble or can anyone join in?” a voice asked from the doorway to the courtyard
That door had swung open so quietly Grace had not noticed. In the entrance, a hefty horned demon confidently strode inside. He was clothed in golden silks and the horns on his forehead were small in contrast to his long curling tusks, which looked as if they were crafted for goring. His red eyes glowed and his giant leathery wings were half-open, as if he had just landed.
“ADRAMELECH,” DEWER ground out under his breath and pushed Grace behind him. His primed his staff, planning to end this demon’s meddling in his affairs once and for all. He hoped Grace wouldn’t interfere. Sometimes death was the best option.
Behind him Bartos and Farfur growled.
Stay, Dewer ordered Farfur. Guard Jonas, and if this encounter goes south, escort Grace to Alfred, Death’s envoy. He will see her safely home.
He expected Farfur’s immediate affirmative response but instead was greeted by silence. Dewer had no time to ponder the normally effusive hound’s reticence.
His mother had risen to meet Adramelech.
“Your Grace,” she said with the ingratiating tone and posture she always used with this arch demon. It grated on Dewer’s already raw nerves. “What an unexpected pleasure. I seem to be inundated with visitors today. What brings you by?”
“I heard about this upstart’s invasion of our realm.” The demon casually nodded in Dewer and Grace’s direction.
He means Grace! Not me. The alarming thought raced through Dewer’s body like a lightning strike.
His mother moved closer to Adramelech, her flowing gown blocking Dewer’s view of his enemy and fouling his aim. He was about to step around her but Grace held him back.
“She shields you,” she whispered, “as you tried to block me from your mother’s ire. She truly loves you.”
She sounded surprised.
This was not news to Dewer. He knew his mother loved him. Unfortunately, it was to an obsessive degree that resulted in harm to anyone to whom he showed the least affection. Case in point: Jonas, Merryn and now Grace. His mother’s love blinded her to the fact that he was no longer a child in need of her protection.
After she was booted out of the upper world by her sister, she escaped to the underworld, claimed a portion as her own and struggled to govern her stolen piece of this hostile realm. He had been a sad little waif in need of guarding when his mother brought him here after his father died. When condemned to survive along with the very demons that had destroyed their lives, his mother’s overpowering concern for Dewer had not felt smothering.
“Grace, she has taught me well. Why can she not understand that I am now more than capable of defending myself?”
“You will always be her child,” Grace whispered. “My grandmother says that is the bane of all parents.”
“The girl is a minor inconvenience,” his mother was saying. “I have this matter well in hand. She will not remain in this realm much longer.”
“Unfortunately, my lord insists I deal with her since it was through my doorway that she entered. Also, her leaving here is not an option.”
Dewer broke out of Grace’s hold and firmly stepped forward. “She came here under my protection and will leave the same way.”
Adramelech shook his head as if in regret. “The boy is as foolish as his father. Never learned to stay out of the way.”
Mention of Dewer’s father stilled his rising fist. In all the time he had been searching for a hint of Adramelech’s hand in his father’s murder – for Dewer remembered hearing buzzing that horrible day inside his father’s castle – this was the second time the arch demon had hinted at knowing Dewer’s father. Another slip? He was never that careless. Unless something had happened to discompose him.
Dewer half-lowered his eyelids and allowed his inner sight to see his enemy. His leathery wings were singed at the edges. His left leg was bent awkwardly. That hot spot on his right chest looked like an unhealed wound. Not from his hornets after Dewer blasted them. No, Adramelech could protect himself against his beasts. This wound had been inflicted by a more lethal opponent.
He snapped his eyes open, pulse racing with shock. Adramelech was not here in yet another of his numerous attempts to merely appease his master. No, this time, Lucifer must have been furious to inflict such hurt on his pet demon. Adramelech was here to win back his master’s favor. Perhaps even fight for his continued right to live.
What had Adramelech done wrong? In all the time Dewer lived in the underworld, the Lucifer and his arch demon were like master and thrall. This arch demon always did exactly as his master bid. The answer became starkly clear. For some reason, Lucifer did not want Grace in the underworld, and she had entered through his underling’s gate.
Why would the lord of the underworld care about a witch’s presence here? Unusual, yes, but hardly threatening to a powerful fallen angel who had successfully wrested complete control of this realm and everything in it.
“I wasn’t aware that you were acquainted with my late husband,” his mother said. The note of steel beneath her cordial tone sent Dewer’s nerves roaring into a higher pitch.
Adramelech apparently missed that change in inflection, for his proud smile never wavered. “You were young when you married that upstart warlock, my queen. Understandable that you were blinded by your affection, enough to miss his many weaknesses.”
“How could you possibly be more aware of his character than I, Adramelech?”
The arch demon finally noticed his mistake. His wings expanded to their full stretch. All around him, his hornet army appeared, sending the monkeys scrambling to safety and the pythos slithering away in search of refuge. Only the hellhounds remained on guard, hackles raised.
“Step aside, Eolonde. This is now court business.”
“Was it court business when you sent your hornets into my home to kill my husband?” his mother asked. “I found a dead creature there that day. It was too mangled by my husband’s spell to be certain it was a hornet, but I had my suspicions. What I couldn’t understand was why you came to the upper world to attack us when we weren’t acquainted.”
“I do my lord’s bidding, but on this occasion, being given permission to court you made it the sweetest of chores, my queen.” Adramelech’s lips stretched in a macabre smile. His malicious glance flicked toward Dewer. “By the way, where was the tyke hiding? I looked everywhere and could not locate him.”
“My husband expended the last of his magic to render the boy invisible to your eye. I barely discovered where he had been concealed.”
That was news. Dewer had not realized his father had died trying to save him. He remembered asking his mother about that day but she refused to say a word about what happened to his father. He thought she hated her husband for being too weak to live. Instead, like her son, his mother. too, was out for vengeance.
“Why?” his mother asked the demon. “Why target my husband?”
“Your husband was an interfering fool who had befriended a water god that had been a thorn in my lord’s side for centuries.”
Dewer hurried Grace toward the far doorway. “Adramelech will not be leaving this house alive,” he whispered. “Stay shielded until this fight is over.”
“If you wish to fight him,” she replied, “your mother has beaten you to the first punch.”
He swung around to find the large audience chamber had expanded to three times its size, along with his mother, who now resembled a mammoth with curved tusks, her trunk flinging hornets against the walls. His mother had routed her snake men from their hiding places to swarm the demon but they were held back by the remaining airborne hornets.
The arch demon matched the queen’s growth, towering until he filled the high-ceilinged chamber. His tusks gleamed white and his eyes glowed red as he roared in fury.
She rose on her giant hind limbs and, ripping off a beam, she swung at the demon. He ducked but she clipped his already injured right wing.
Adramelech howled in pain and charged, head down, aiming his tusks at the queen’s heart.
Dewer flung a bolt of fire. It struck the demon on his right side, flinging him backwards. Dewer had barely taken a breath to crow in triumph when his mother pounced on Adramelech. In an instant, she was stomping on him and tearing at his wings.
Dewer cheered, whooping at her furious attack while he readied a new deadly ball of fire in his fist.
His mother didn’t need any encouragement or help as she vented her pent-up fury at her husband’s murder on the demon.
Adramelech suddenly swung around and gored his sharp tusk into the queen’s side and she screamed in agony.
Dewer cringed as if he had been struck. He was ready to fire but they were so closely entangled, what if his retaliatory strike hit his mother?
Adramelech shoved her away and lowered his head to make a final lunge and finish her.
Dewer released his spell, skimming the energy along the floor until it met its mark in a furious blue flare that consumed the demon, blowing him to smithereens. In that instant, all the buzzing hornets fell as one, and lay on the floor, senseless. They were greedily set upon by his mother’s pythos.
Dewer raced to his mother’s side. She lay motionless, having changed back to her human form. A gaping hole at her side bled profusely.
GRACE HURRIED TO MOTHER and son. One look at the queen and she knew Eolonde was dying. She was covered in slashes, but the deep hole at her side was too close to her heart. She pushed Dewer aside and tried to stem the queen’s blood flow. Her whole hand sank into the queen’s side.
Eolonde’s hand gripped wrist and pushed her away, “My time is over.”
“I can help.” Grace prayed that was true.
“No,” the queen said. Her hellhounds growled.
“Silence,” Dewer said to the hounds before turning to his mother. “Please, allow Grace to help.”
“If Lucifer fears her,” Eolonde breathed in shivering gasps, “as he did your father, this witch will be the death of you. Leave her here and flee this realm forever.”
There was little time left to help Eolonde survive. Grace touched Dewer’s arm to catch his attention. “I need a moment alone with her. Please?”
He nodded and backed away into the courtyard. Grace’s heart ached at his devastation. His mother might annoy him, but he was as devoted to her as she was to him. Ifan and Dewer’s two hellhounds ran to keep their grieving master company.
As he stepped out of view, Eolonde’s grip on Grace’s wrist tightened. “I will not allow you to win my son’s favor by saving me.”
“I have already won his favor, Your Majesty. He does, however, want your blessing on our union.”
“He will never have it. You are unsuitable. He needs someone with a fiercer heart and a cleverer wit.”
“Do you not wish him to be happy?”
“I want him to live. He is all I have left of my husband.” She glanced at her pythos who had gathered around them. “Finish her.”
Be still! Grace growled at the snakes in a sound of authority. Her words reverberated as they spread across the chamber. Every creature paused, deep instinctive fear clear in their gazes. Satisfied she would not be attacked, Grace checked on Eolonde. For a split second, she spotted a hint of admiration in the queen’s gaze. That light was quickly shadowed by contempt.
