Page 9 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 5

Anise stood dumbly as she watched Caraway’s big, leather-clad body disappear down into the gully.

The baby cried again, and it sliced right through her heart. She hadn’t expected Caraway to return to the troll. The shock of it still atrophied her muscles.

Caraway—getting involved in the plight of others, even when it seemingly had nothing to do with his job. This went against everything he stood for, or rather, everything the Order of the Well stood for.

Maybe the Orderwaschanging. Maybe the world was.

The frozen, harsh landscape that had taught the fae to be so brutal and ruthless was decreasing. The world was getting bigger once more.

Anise blinked and looked down at the portal stone. It was her ticket to seeing the Ice-Witch, to garner the ability to shift and hold mana, but it had been left in the safekeeping of a child-eating Unseelie troll who wore trophies of his kills around his neck. She wanted to hurl the stone into the sky and forget about her journey, but a small part of her reasoned away this knowledge.

Maybe the Ice-Witch didn’t know the troll was like this. Maybe she did.

Did it matter?

If Anise acquired the ability to shift, then did it matter who helped her get it?

Anise knew the witch was Unseelie. She knew the morally obtuse woman would have different methods, and that was precisely why Anise was going to see her. No fae in Seelie territory offered the ability to grant changes to her physical makeup. Dark magic was the only way to inject chaos into creation, and the Unseelie had no compunction when it came to dealing with the inky side of the Well.

The baby’s cry pricked her ears forward and goosebumps erupted over her skin. Whatever Anise thought of the witch, there were more important things to do right now. She pocketed the stone, unsheathed her dagger, and jogged after Caraway.

When she arrived at the cave, her heart leaped into her throat. The troll’s head was on the floor—separate from his body—and Caraway stood with his broadsword to his side, its tip bloody and scraping the ground as he stalked closer to something beyond the campfire at the mouth of the cave. She’d never seen that kind of fury in his expression. He was formidable.

Caraway stopped. The campfire blocked him from his quarry.

Anise could tell he was calculating how to approach the situation. The tension in his shoulders pulled tight. The tips of his horns quivered. And an unearthly breeze gusted his hair, as though the mana he held ripe within his body, ready for hostile release, was quivering to get out. It just needed a target.

Anise crept up behind him and almost lost the contents of her stomach when she saw what was in the cave beyond the fire. Another troll, this one bigger and fatter. The orange firelight cast sinister shadows along its craggy body. It cradled the wailing baby in its arms and held it to the side as if it were protecting the baby, but Anise knew it was the opposite. The troll inched toward the campfire near the cave mouth and snarled, the evidence of its last meal dangled between its teeth.

She palmed the hilt of her dagger. If either her or Caraway struck the troll, the baby would fall. Whatever they decided, they must act fast before the baby ended up in the fire.

Caraway frowned at Anise. “I told you to stay put.”

“When do I ever do what I’m told?” She edged up to his side and whispered, “What do we do?”

“I can’t strike and cast a spell at the same time. I’m not that good.”

“But I can strike,” she replied. “Be ready to catch the baby.”

“Anise,” Caraway warned, but she’d already taken a step closer.

She threw her dagger at the troll’s face and wished it to land true. Its blade whistled past the flames and sunk into the troll’s eye. It let loose an almighty roar and released the baby so it could pull the dagger free.

Panic choked Anise at the sight of the falling baby. She was already halfway around the fire as the troll stumbled backward, but Caraway beat her. He hadn’t taken a step, yet the baby hovered in mid-air. He’d cast some kind of air-hardening spell around it to keep it safe.

She’d never been more relieved to have a Guardian as a friend, and even more so that he’d insisted on coming on this journey. If he’d not, she’d never have been able to rescue this baby on her own. It would have ended another trophy around the trolls’ necks. She found a fluffy blanket on the straw mattress and swaddled the baby before gathering it into her arms. Then she quickly got as far into the gully as she could to avoid the smoke.

“It’s all right, little one,” she crooned. “We’ve got you.”

Anise washed the baby’s red face and gave it something to drink from a waterskin she’d had in her bag.

Caraway came back, blood dripping from his sword in one hand, and her soiled dagger in his other.

“Is it okay?” His deep voice cracked with concern.

She nodded. “For now, but we need to get it—” she took a peek inside the blanket. “Him. It’s a boy.” She gulped a deep breath. “No fur on his ears. No wings. How will we know which fae race he belongs to, or where to take him?”

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