Fall Back

Fall Back
Isorai stopped walking.
The witch who had spoken, stood at the mouth of an alley, dressed in unremarkable traveling clothes. She was pointing at Isorai with a trembling hand, her face contorted with a grief that was not entirely convincing on close inspection, the timing of it suspicious. 
She’d been waiting for Isorai. 
She was their fallback plan. 
Good. That would make this easy. 
"She killed my coven sisters!" The woman continued, raising her voice further, drawing the attention of the knights and the few civilians still lingering nearby. "I am a witch of Vuldra, and I demand she answer for it before the covens!"
The knights tensed. One of them moved his hand toward his sword. Isorai held up a hand, stilling him.
She looked at the woman, and held back a smile. The Blight was much fainter on her than it had been on the others from the park, but it was there. She was also one of the scents Isorai had caught that first day.
She was Isorai’s ticket into the South Council.
She called Celari who answered.
"Celari," Isorai said quietly. “Keep the girls inside today.”
"Isorai—"
"I'm fine." She kept her voice level, pitched for Celari alone. "I’m dealing with some southern witch business. Tell the girls I said hi and tell Aldric that a southern witch, a Vuldran witch, wants to bring me in for murder to the covens.”
Celari's jaw worked, but she nodded and hung up. 
Then she looked at the witch.
"I'm Isorai." The woman recognized the name. "You said I killed your coven members?"
"You did," the woman said, though her voice wavered slightly now. "She sent me a message about you. They warned me.”
She. 
They.
"They attacked me, and they were all Bane witches.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I do, but I recognize your right to be upset. Where is it that the southern covens want to meet?”
“You’ll come with me. In shackles.”
She shrugged. “Sure, as is customary.”
The knight near her made a sound of protest. "My lady—"
"Stand down," Isorai said, not unkindly. "Send word to the palace. Tell Ruhkaal where I've gone, and that I went willingly." She looked at the witch, who had gone very still, clearly not having anticipated this particular response. "Lead the way."
The woman hesitated.
"You're supposed to resist," she said, before she could stop herself.
"Why? It’s protocol to resolve these issues among ourselves," Isorai said. "You didn't come alone, did you. And whoever's waiting wherever you're meant to take me is going to be considerably more useful to talk to than you are." She smiled, and there was nothing warm in it. "So. Lead the way."
The woman's throat worked once. Then, she drew out a pair of crystal restraints. The woman put them around Isorai’s wrists, and Isorai held back a smile when she turned to lead the way, walking through the shadowed alleyway, headed south.
Isorai followed, the knight's protest fading behind her, telling the earth to let Draevir sleep for as long as possible. 
If they were going to walk out of Vuldra, which was the only option, given how far out the lattice and protections extended, she had hours to plan, and they had hours to prepare.

Celari arrived at the parlor still slightly out of breath and found the room already occupied.
Kaal sat near the hearth. High Matron Frythgrove stood beside him, her expression sharpened as Celari entered. And in the third chair, closest to the window, sat High Matron Irongrave.
The room was cold around her as usual, the particular leeching chill that followed Irongrave witches wherever they went was more than familiar now, and didn’t affect her at all.
The fire in the hearth burned lower than it should have, fighting against her presence, and maybe Celari’s presence too.
The High Matron did not look concerned.
If anything, she looked entertained, her hands folded in her lap, one eyebrow arched in anticipation.
"What’s happened?" High Matron Frythgrove asked.
Celari told them what Isorai said. 
“Keros, indeed,” Kaal's jaw tightened slightly. "To go alone."
The High Matron of Irongrave laughed.
“Reckless of them to lead her into their lair!”
Kaal looked at her warily at the High Matron's calm.
"You're not concerned."
"I am rarely concerned about Isorai's safety against Blighted and the Choir, especially now," the High Matron said. "She is the High Matron Moongrove, young as she is.” She shook her head. “We have hours before she makes a move. I suggest we eat and rest because there will be no rest when it starts.”
"This is about the Grove, isn’t it?" High Matron Frythgrove said.
"Maybe," High Matron Irongrave said. "She is, I suspect, somewhat impatient to end this war now that it is so close. The fact that the Southern Council seems to want the same thing is a bonus for us all." Her mouth curved in amusement. "I find it entertaining that their desperation has made them so foolish.”
“What if she’s bound?
“With what?” High Matron Irongrave asked. “Iron? Metal? Crystal?” She laughed.
"What happens if whoever's waiting for her is stronger than she expects?” 
The High Matron considered this seriously and hummed.
"Then, I imagine she will come to understand the depths of her new title, even though she hasn’t offically claimed it.”
Kaal exhaled slowly through his nose.
"We should still know where she's gone.”
"We will," the High Matron said. "We'll ask Draevir, or did you forget that he’s here?” She looked at Celari, her gaze settling for a moment before drifting toward the corridor where she’d come from. "For now, everyone should rest or sharpen your swords.”

The forest south of the capital was darker than it had any right to be this early in the day. That was good. Plenty of shadow to walk through meant the trees were healthier than ever. Isorai walked with her wrists bound in crystal that hummed faintly against her skin, suppressing the surface expressions of her power without touching what ran underneath. Whoever had supplied these restraints understood enough about witches to be dangerous and not enough to be effective against her.
They were probably the same kinds of chains they used on shifted and witch children they trafficked. Even if they were meant for an adult witch, my might be effective over a regular Bloodweaver.
Not a Moongrove.
The witch who had led her out of the alley said nothing for the first hour. She walked a half-step ahead, glancing back periodically, clearly expecting resistance. Isorai let the silence stretch because silence served her better than conversation right now.
She breathed.
She drew power out of the trees as they passed, thread by thread to build up her stores and ease her physical ache. 
The forest noticed and lent her strength, telling her of every turn before the woman ahead could take them. The witch leading her didn't register the change, too focused on her own nervousness and the destination ahead, but the earth was on her side, relaying that Draevir was asleep, but tracking her south.