mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate Read Online Free Page B

vestibule. Her heart began to pound as she stepped into the dark room and let her eyes adjust to the dim light of the flickering candles. 
    “We wait here to be called,” she said.
    A yellow light caught her eye and she glanced over to see Malcolm’s hand glowing with power. He held it at his side, directed at her feet. Warmth enveloped her toes as the icy water from the moor dried.
    It calmed her—the knowledge that his power worked here—but she didn’t like it. She couldn’t rely on him. Not after the choices he’d made.
    She had too much riding on this to be placing any kind of faith in him. She didn’t know why her line had been given the task of paying off the High Witches, but they had. Perhaps it was because they were the strongest Bruxas in Bruxa’s Eye.
    But she didn’t feel very strong when standing in the High Witches’ stronghold. 
    “Enter!” The voice boomed through the vestibule. Sofia shuddered. She stepped forward, but Malcolm swept in front of her and pushed open the door. She frowned in confusion, but followed.
    The great hall loomed ahead of her, nearly as big as a football field. The ceiling soared high overhead, snow falling to disappear right before it hit the floor. A faint glow emanated from the ceiling, lighting the way but leaving the room dim and threatening. Towering, leafless oaks lined either side of the space, their great trunks surging up through the stone-slab floor. 
    Even Malcolm was dwarfed by the space, though he didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable. His powerful stride ate up the ground as they approached the platform at the far end. Thirteen figures stood on the platform, all dressed in white. Sofia had always thought the color an odd choice.
    “You brought someone,” the High Witch said. Her sparkling white robes fell from her shoulders, emphasizing her height. She was over six feet tall and slender as a reed. Her eyes were like black marbles in her otherwise pale and perfect face. 
    Sofia stopped a dozen feet in front of the dais, grateful for Malcolm’s looming presence beside her. She hated relying on anyone—especially him—but she needed all the help she could get here.
    “Malcolm the warlock.” The witch on the far right stepped forward, her brow creased. 
    There was a murmur from the rest the witches, then they stepped forward, drawing their eerie ivory wands. 
    “Your reputation precedes you, Malcolm,” the High Witch said, her gaze suddenly much more wary.
    Sofia had been right to bring him.
    Malcolm inclined his head, then held out the Demon Blade. “I believe this is what you want?”
    Sofia started to bristle at the way he took over, but then she remembered that she really didn’t want to talk to the High Witches at all. If she could just disappear now, that would be perfect.
    “It’s late.” The High Witch’s voice cracked across the room, sharp as thunder. 
    Sofia couldn’t stop herself from staring as the High Witch rubbed her wand with her thumb. Outright fear replaced her apprehension.
    “There are penalties when one is late. Punishment!” Her wand hand struck out, sending a jolt of bright blue lightning at Sofia.
    One second Sofia was staring at the lightning streaking toward them, and the next, Malcolm was in front of her, his body lit by the electric glow. His back arched and his limbs stiffened, but he made no sound.
    An enraged shriek tore through the room. The High Witch waved her arm and the rest of the witches lifted their wands, directing them at Malcolm. Twelve more bolts of lightning shot toward him, lifting him off the ground. He roared in pain, his bellow echoing off the stone walls. One bolt hadn’t been enough for someone as powerful as he, but thirteen could break him.
    “Stop!” Sofia raced forward. “Stop it!”
    The High Witch’s head swung toward her, her black eyes blazed. “You dare to give orders?” She jerked her wand toward Sofia, sending a bolt of lightning her way.
    White hot pain enveloped