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  Sorceress Found

  A Gargoyle and Sorceress

  Prequel Story

  By Lisa Blackwood

  Sorceress Found © 2016 by Lisa Smeaton

  Previously published as Beginnings

  First ebook edition:

  November 2011 by Lisa Smeaton

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and characters are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actually persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without author’s permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover Art Design by Lieu Pham

  http://covertopia.com/

  Other books

  by

  Lisa Blackwood

  Gargoyle and Sorceress (was the Avatars series)

  Sorceress Found (Previously was Beginnings)

  Sorceress Awakening (Previously was Stone’s Kiss)

  Sorceress Rising (Previously was Stone’s Song)

  Sorceress Hunting (Previously was Stone’s Divide)

  Sorceress at War (Forthcoming Fall 2016)

  In Deception’s Shadow

  Betrayal’s Price

  Herd Mistress

  Maiden’s Wolf

  Death’s Queen

  Ishtar’s Chosen

  Ishtar’s Blade

  Blade’s Honor (forthcoming)

  Table of Contents

  Sorceress Found: A Prequel Story

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Afterward

  About the Author

  Sorceress Found: A Prequel Story

  Surrounded by darkness, deep in the heart of his enemy’s territory, the gargoyle braced his wings against the breeze sweeping down the onyx-tiled corridor. High above, cobwebs swirled among the shadows obscuring the vaulted ceiling. With a nudge of magic, lacy tendrils of gloom floated down, settling over his shoulders and wings like a thick autumn fog.

  While a cloak of darkness might hide him for a short time, the wet heat of blood seeping down his side would soon tempt him to embrace the healing sleep of stone. Here in this place death would come swift and brutal.

  He had to push onward. He couldn’t give up—something far more precious than his own life was at risk.

  No more than eight summers old, the child slept soundly in his arms, her weight a reassurance. With her cloud of black hair and eyelashes dark against pale skin, the Sorceress looked peaceful, innocent—at odds with this place of darkness. Her safety came first. He couldn’t fail her.

  Not again.

  Sounds of panting and the muted rasp of claws on stone echoed from the direction he’d just come. An undulating wail of a Death Hound filled the stale air. Its harsh call reverberated along his wings.

  Another cry answered the first, rising and falling in the distance. He bolted from the shadows, seeking the breeze’s source. The sharp click of his talons striking stone tiles drowned out the noise of pursuit. Urged by instinct, he ran until the corridor forked.

  He veered right and a pale light bloomed in the distance. Shadows gave way to a gray misty haze. At the end of the tunnel, a line of vast windows opened onto a balcony. He adjusted his hold on the young Sorceress and sprinted toward freedom.

  Outside, wind buffeted at his furrowed wings and howled in his ears, but his attention riveted on the Veil between the Realms. It shimmered a hundred paces in front of him, silvery mists promising escape. A vast expanse of empty air stretched between the balcony and the outer edge of the Veil.

  Worry itched between his shoulder blades. His wings twitched with tension. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he studied the way he’d come. For now only a few shadows and lonely statues guarded the way, but it wouldn’t be long before Death Hounds caught him.

  He bowed his muzzle until he caught the sorceress’s familiar scent. She calmed him—the other half of his soul. He would know her anywhere. So many lives they’d shared, hunting down evil in all its forms.

  Bumping his muzzle against her cheek, he whined and licked at her face. A sharp flavor coated his tongue.

  He jerked back with a snort. Wrong. Her taste was wrong. Harsh fear, cold like the first killing frost, flowed through his soul. He licked at her again, the bitter essence confirming his suspicions. She was tainted, evil so deeply embedded within her it welled up from below her skin.

  There was nothing he could do for her here in this place, but once they were safe he would discover what mischief the Lady of Battles had planned for his sorceress. First, he had to escape the Battle Goddess’s clutches.

  His eyes track back toward the shimmering Veil as his stomach tightened into a knot. He could escape through the Veil, safe from its life destroying magic, but the child sorceress was tainted. The Veil’s magic would sense that and attack.

  He clamped his wings to his back and tightened his arms around her smaller form. If he’d been mature, he could have protected her from the ravages of the mist. But, newly born, he lacked the raw power needed to fully shield even himself.

  Had he saved her from imprisonment only to have the Veil strip the life from her now?

  Instincts screamed a warning and he glanced over his shoulder.

  Too late. A sizeable weight slammed into his back, overbalancing him. Teeth savaged the flesh of his right shoulder. With a howl of pain, he released the child, and twisted, catching his attacker under the jaw. The beast yelped and rolled.

  Before he could recover, another streak of ginger and black colored fur blurred across his line of sight. With a flash of teeth, a smaller Death Hound bitch snapped at his throat. He lunged. His teeth sank into her thick ruff. Altering his grip, he slammed the hound into the underside of the balcony’s stone railing. Stone chips and white powder dusted the air.

  Blood coated one side of the hound’s wide head. She flexed her broad shoulders, freeing herself from the rubble. A snarl exposed steel gray teeth.

  When she came at him again, he raked the hound’s belly with his hind feet. Without the hardness of maturity, his talons didn’t penetrate the thick fur. The beast sunk her teeth into the meat of his thigh. He grunted in pain and bashed the creature in the side of the head with one fist. Desperation lent strength to his weary muscles, and he disengaged the hound.

  A second beast leapt on his back. It clawed and bit at his wings as it sought a firmer hold on his exposed neck. He snaked his tail around the beast’s middle. With a snarling effort, he heaved it into the first creature. Both beasts slid through the hole in the stone railing and their surprised yelps slowly faded into the abyss beyond his range of vision.

  His heavy panting rasped louder than the roar of the wind to his own ears. Ignoring the throb of new injuries, he scooped the child up into his arms.

  After catching his breath, he leapt onto the balcony’s outer stone wall and dug his claws into the surface. Balancing there, he looked out toward the misty wall of the Veil. It stretched as far as he could see in either direction. The wind whipped past him, constant in its attempts to scour him from the side of the tower. He wrapped his tail around the railing and closed his eyes, praying the Divine Ones would give his Sorceress strength enough to survive the Veil.

  The baying of more Death Hounds decided him. Wings extended to their fullest, he launched from the balcony, hurtling toward the mists. Even braced for a second trip through the Veil didn’t lessen the surprise when he hit its outer border. Syrupy mists slowed his flight, sticking to him like burning honey. He pumped his wings harder, desperate for speed.
Magic plucked at him, shredding his personal shields.

  The first tendril of mist touched the child. She arched her back and sucked in a deep, gasping breath as her eyes snapped open. Her cry of anguish sliced through him, stabbing into his soul. She screamed as fast as she could draw breath.

  Please, he begged of the Divine Ones. Please let her survive this. I can do whatever I must to mend what was done to her, just let her live.

  After a time, the child quieted, unconscious—not dead, but he still didn’t relax. The journey through the Veil felt like a lifetime. With each powerful wing beat, he fought the swirling currents of magic within the Veil, but made little headway.

  Terror uncoiled in his middle. The Sorceress would never survive the trip back to his Realm. It was taking too long. He changed his course and flew with the current. Faster and faster the magic swirled around him. The current drew him along until the outer edge of the Mortal Realm’s Veil appeared in front of him. He sensed the deadness beyond—the Mortal Realm’s lack of magic. Seeing no other escape, he closed his eyes and prayed.

  With a heave, the magic spat him and his small burden out into the Mortal Realm. Cold, thin air shocked his body. His wings collapsed.

  Panicked, he flailed, trying to find which way was up. A single moon shone in the night sky. He oriented himself and levelled out his erratic flight enough that he didn’t spiral out of control.

  Gliding, too exhausted to maintain his height, he drifted lower. Below him a well-tended road with a line painted down its center vanished off into the distance. On either side, a row of smooth wooden poles, like trees stripped of their branches, lined the too-perfect road. Wires suspended between the dead-tree-poles swayed in the wind. He angled away from the odd road and whatever might travel upon it.

  Below him the land changed. A long narrow lake, ringed with white ice, now cut across the landscape. The lake’s dark center rippled with its own drama. Cries of panic and the splash of water caught his attention. He glided lower until he skimmed above the snow-covered trees skirting the lake. The sounds of struggle grew weaker. Above those sounds, a desperate chant rose up from below.

  Out in the water, a small boy clung to a sheet of ice. On shore a young woman worked on the body of a girl, trying to push water from dead lungs. Voice hoarse with grief, the woman chanted a healing song. The song resonated in his soul, familiar. But she sang it wrong, and this land lacked the magic required to perform such a spell. Besides, the tether holding the girl’s soul to her body had already faded away, breaking the link of flesh and spirit.

  Landing at the edge of the lake, he summoned shadows for concealment. This small, mortal drama didn’t need more panic. Shifting the Sorceress, he took the strain off his injured shoulder, and then looked around, seeking shelter from the cold. He approached a stand of evergreens when a pale figure glided into his midst and looked straight at him. His magic didn’t work against the dead, and the ghost of a young girl watched him with sad eyes. She looked from him to the lakeshore and back again.

  The ghost’s pale skin and dark hair reminded him of the child he held. It could have been the Sorceress wanting to say goodbye to him, dead before they had even gifted each other with names in this life.

  Shuddering, he mantled his wings to shroud himself from the ghost’s sad gaze. He glanced down at the warm, living child in his arms. Reluctantly, he placed her on the ground, sheltered by the branches of an evergreen. When he looked back to the ghost, she tilted her head to one side and gave him a questioning look.

  He nodded.

  A beautiful smile crossed the ghost’s face and she glided out of the trees, leading him back to her grieving family.

  He skirted around the younger woman, her eyes still vacant as she rocked the girl’s body in her arms. The ghost’s mother? There was nothing he could do for the woman—he feared her mind was broken.

  At the edge of the winter-locked water, an old woman continued to cast a long rope out across the frozen surface. She chanted a spell with each toss, her face serene with concentration. The boy made a frantic grab at the rope and lost his grip on the ice. He slipped into the water.

  Exhaustion beat at him. His wounds continued to seep lifeblood and magic, weakening him until even his wings quivered, but he dropped to all fours, and loped into the frigid water. The cold tore a growl from his throat.

  He swam to the spot he’d last seen the boy, and then he dove, beating his wings to reach the bottom of the lake. Underneath the surface it was as dark as a moonless night, but he sensed the heat from the boy’s body and swam toward it. He gripped the slight body in his arms, and then pushed off from the bottom, kicking and swishing his tail until he broke the surface.

  He snorted water. Hot breath clouded in front of his face. After he tossed the boy’s body on to the ice, he scrambled at the slick surface with his claws until he hauled himself out of the water. His legs shook and lungs burned, but he clamped his teeth into the boy’s hood and dragged him off the ice.

  The youngling’s chest no longer rose or fell, but his heart still fluttered feebly. He fed more of his waning gargoyle magic into the boy, urging his heart to beat while he pushed water from small lungs.

  A racking cough and a deep breath, followed by more retching told him he’d succeeded. He barely noticed. His skin was hardening—not from the cold—but from the need to sleep and heal before death claimed him. He forced himself to walk to where he’d left the Sorceress.

  She still slept—but at least her life force was stronger. He could rest peacefully, knowing he’d saved her.

  The old woman scoured up the bravery to address him. “You’re a gargoyle.”

  Her words were strange, a language he did not know, and so he took their meaning from her mind.

  He nodded—exhaustion had stolen his words. Picking up the Sorceress, he licked her face. She mumbled in her sleep, words too slurred for him to understand. He gathered his fading magic and placed a weaving around the child’s mind so she would forget. Forget him, and their long history. Forget whatever task their enemy had planned for her—to forget even herself.

  With that done, he turned his attention back to the old woman.

  She tilted her head to look up at him. Grief shone in her eyes, but she was composed as she held the boy close to her body. “This is what the Coven’s dream meant. Death and life mixed together in one terrible and wonderful night. Forgive us, old one. We did not expect one of your Kin to ever cross into our world again.” She bowed.

  He did not understand all her words, but he sensed she was not one of evil intent. This woman was the best he could do for his young Sorceress.

  “Protect the child. Raise her as your own.” He hoped she would understand and not panic. “She will be a great worker of magic, even in this realm with its dwindling magic. Raise her, guide her, teach her the difference between the paths of light and dark, but tell her nothing of magic, or of me. Her mind is damaged from the journey through the Veil. It’s best if she remembers nothing of her past for now. When I’m strong, I will awaken. In this realm it may take many seasons before I’m healed enough to awaken on my own.”

  “You saved my grandson….while you couldn’t save my granddaughter, I’m in your debt. I shall raise and protect this little one in her place.”

  “Your granddaughter is there.” He pointed to where the small ghost hovered by the trees. She was already fading. Soon she would make her journey to the Spirit Realm. “I still have power enough so you can say goodbye.”

  He brought his talons to one of his seeping wounds and then held out the blood smeared digits to the old woman. She wiped some off his talon at the same time the ghost appeared at his side. The blood misted away when the ghost touched it.

  Under the glow of moonlight, the ghost grew solid once more.

  He regarded the grandmother. “You have until the first gray light of dawn, and then the magic in my blood will fade and your loved one will pass on. Find a fire to warm the boy or he will make the
journey with the girl.”

  “My humblest thanks, Lord Gargoyle. Our home is near,” the old woman said, grief a raw edge in her tone. She gestured him forward. “Come, you are safe with us. I prepared a place for you in my garden as my dream advised.”

  He followed, his mind already closing in upon its self. As his body shut down, his heart rate slowed, blood became sluggish in his veins.

  Stumbling through shadows, he encountered a well-tended garden surrounding a cottage. At its center, two small rings of standing stones circled a large flat pedestal. So exposed. It wouldn’t have been his first choice for a long stone sleep, but his body gave him no alternative.

  He made it to the pedestal and managed to perch upon its snow covered surface. His thoughts strayed to the Sorceress a final time. Finding this family, the grandmother’s mention of a dream—it was too convenient.

  Fear stirred in his heart, but there was nothing else he could do. The last of his heat bled from him, hardening his skin to stone.

  Darkness claimed him.

  *

  Continue reading for sample chapters of Sorceress Awakening, book one of the Gargoyle and Sorceress novels. Sorceress Awakening takes place twelve years after the prequel story Sorceress Found.

  Chapter 1

  Lillian smoothed the oiled rag down the length of her grandmother’s broadsword and frowned at its newly polished blade.

  “He’s stone. Just a damned statue,” she muttered to the empty kitchen. “Stone, nothing more.”

  The microwave’s clock glowed pale green in the dim light. Not really wanting to know the exact time, she avoided focusing on the digits and returned to sweeping the rag across the blade in a rhythmic motion. “I don’t …”

  Love him?

  Was I really going to say that?

  Oh God, yes.

  Tension built behind her eyes and little flashes sparked in her vision, promising one hell of a headache in the making. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. It didn’t help.

  The scent of rich, warm coffee reached her a few seconds before the sound of gurgling announced the coffeemaker was finished. Lillian welcomed the distraction. After a few more swipes of the rag, she set the sword aside.