Chapter 249: POV Witch

Chapter 249: POV Witch

Sorcha wanted to go home.

She was tired. She was hungry. She was bloody well colder than a dead fish. She’d spent months with brainless thugs and murderous nutters. She’d lived in constant danger of being squashed, stabbed, cut, eaten, melted, and frozen solid since practically day one of arrival in the gods forsaken land of Weigrun. And for all the work and effort she’d put into the expedition, had she actually made any profit? Had she received even one little tittle of coin that she could use to buy herself a fucking goldenberry tart?

No.

She’d gotten nothing. Less than nothing. She’d lost money. Her paralysis wand, her prized possession, her most valuable single piece of equipment, was destroyed. Gone. Never mind all the other precious materials she had used up for the sake of the ingrates around her—actually, no, don’t never mind those. Those were worth a lot of fucking coin. But! Her paralysis wand had been worth more than all the rest put together and then doubled. She could have bought a gods damned house with all the coin those materials had cost her! Now it was gone, destroyed by the arrow of some horned bitch with perfect green eyes. Damnit. Who knew if she would ever make enough to buy those materials again?

Because it sure as sin didn’t look like she was going to be getting a damn acorn out of this doomed expedition!

“What’s your problem?” Jockel asked before letting out a wet belch.

Sorcha ignored the fat piece of lard. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to talk to any of them. She regretted the day she’d met Stavros and the rest of his reprobates. She would be perfectly happy to never utter another word to any of them ever again. Maybe a few choice curses and insults, at the right time. Otherwise, though, silence was good.

“I asked what your problem was,” Jockel rumbled, his boot poking her in the side.

“Sod off,” Sorcha snapped. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Can’t say I care about your moods,” the bald bastard shrugged. “Stavros wants another patrol. Get your wand.”

“Fucking abyss,” Sorcha growled before sliding off the log she’d been resting on. “Again? I don’t have the magic to power that many spells so often.”

Jockel shrugged, uncaring like the lout that he was. He limped away without another word, drinking from his seemingly endless supply of cheap liquor. How the man had managed to bring so many bottles of the stuff with him to all of their bolt holes was beyond her.

As little interest as Sorcha had in helping Stavros anymore, she wasn’t going to argue or keep him waiting. As requested, she dutifully tromped over to where Stavros waited in the camp. Eike was with him, as was Ricket. The three were quietly discussing plans, one of his ragged maps draped over a flat rock.

“—hitting them now is too risky. They didn’t lose anyone in that fight against the Screamer. We keep heading west.”

“They have to be low on resources,” Eike hissed back at Stavros. “There’s no chance they killed that thing without expending the bulk of their magic reserves. We should strike them now, while they’re weakened!”

“I don’t have any traps set up,” Rickets mumbled, his lips bowed in a pout. “How are we supposed to be beat them without traps?”

“We don’t need your fucking traps!” Eike snapped, teeth glinting as she sneered maliciously at the half-elf. “We can slit throats just fine without traps!”

“Sorcha,” Stavros’ deep voice cut Eike’s sharp words off.

“Yeah,” she folded her arms, staring at the tall man and ignoring the two shit socks. “Jockel said you needed something?”

“Yes. Go cast your translucence spell on Mert and Olaf. I need them to scout the way ahead and make sure we don’t walk into a nest of demons.”

“We won’t need them to scout ahead if we—”

Had to be a demon. What else could it be? Best to just slip away and keep moving.

Damnit.

Ever so slowly, Sorcha quietly crept around the edge of the pond. She had to see what was making the noise. Maybe Jockel had been sent to find her and was drowning in the pond? She wouldn’t want to miss out on that sight. Or if it was in fact a demon, she wanted to know what kind. If it was some weak little thing, she might kill it just to make sure it didn’t follow her. One less demon in the world and all that.

Just as Sorcha snuck around the edge of the pond, reaching the point where she could see the other section, the moon came out from behind the clouds again, lighting up the water and the three figures within it. The three goddesses...

Goddesses. They had to be. Sorcha had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful before in her life. The three stood half submerged in the water, their naked bodies revealed from the waist up. Oh, and what bodies they had. Slim, toned bodies with almost unnaturally perfect proportions. Their skin, as white as the untouched snow still blanketing the trees, glowed in the moonlight. The shine was surreal, mesmerizing. Their faces, their lips, their noses, they were perfect. It was as though someone had carved the idealized vision of a woman from marble in tribute to Lyssandria herself. In all her life, no one could compare. Not even close.

Sorcha felt her heart beat fast as one of the goddesses lifted her cupped hands over her head, water pouring down over her snow-white hair. She couldn’t help but lick her lips as she watched the water flow down the side of her neck, pass over her collar bone, then drip down across the most gorgeous breasts she’d ever witnessed. Her mouth went dry as she watched a single bead of water linger, then teasingly slide off the very tip of perfect stiff nipple. In that moment, Sorcha would have traded every wand she owned to be that drop of water.

As the water finished pouring out of her hands, the goddess wiped her face clean. Her eyes opened, the light of the moon catching in their violet depths. They were stunning. They were otherworldly. They were captivating. They were... looking right at her, weren’t they?

Sorcha stared into those eyes, her body as still as stone while her thoughts raced. Had she been seen? What would happen if she had been? Would it be so bad to be spotted by one of these goddesses? Were they getting closer to her?

Yes, yes they were definitely getting closer. All three moved as one, a synchronized walk that made them seem even more otherworldly. They pushed through the water on a direct course for Sorcha, three sets of eyes absolutely locked onto her. They were moving a lot faster than she would have thought, too. Their gorgeous forms were somehow so close yet still many feet away. They loomed over Sorcha, far taller than she had first realized. Taller than any human or elf or orc. They towered above her. Almost like they were...

“Giants...” Sorcha squeaked, the realization causing her brain to briefly snap like a twig that had been bent too far.

In the next moment Sorcha tried to run. She turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, sprinting with all the speed that came from years of training and more than forty levels of experience. She ran like the bloody wind.

Or, at least, she tried to. Before she’d gotten maybe four steps, one very, very large hand clapped around the back of her neck and jerked her backwards and into the air. In the next moment two more hands were on her, holding onto her arms with such strength that it felt like stone statues had materialized around her flesh. There wasn’t even a mote of a possibility that she could pull free to get at one of her wands.

Sorcha stared around wild-eyed, her heart beating so fast in her chest she felt like it was going to pop out. Three beautiful, stunning, perfect faces, each one three times the size of her own, looked at her with cold expressions that made her feel smaller than a flea. In that moment, Sorcha damn near pissed her pants.

But if she was about to be torn limb from limb by three of the most beautiful creatures she’d ever seen, she’d like to die with at least a smidge of dignity.

“So.”

Sorcha jumped, her body twitching in the steel grasp of the giants, when the face on the left spoke in an all too familiar voice. A voice that was deep and smooth and sexy and bloody terrifying.

“You’re a goblin, huh?”

Sorcha’s eyes darted to the one on the right. Her mouth opened, but nothing but a silent squeak came out in response.

“Well, let’s save the introductions for now,” the one in the middle said, drawing Sorcha’s eyes back to her. “We’re going to have a long chat, I think. But first, we’re going to get some pants on.”

Sorcha’s eyes couldn’t help it. They were standing on the shore, now. Out of water. Exposed.

She looked down.

She damn well almost did pee herself at the sight.