The Calling by Nina Croft Read Free Book Online

trustingly, slithering down the steep bank and into the river.
    Freya gasped at the first touch of the cold water, and then she was under. She held her breath as the horse kicked out and they broke the surface. Her hair was wet around her face, and she tossed her head and spat out the foul-tasting water.
    Jarrod’s stallion was already clambering up the opposite bank.
    Closing her eyes tight, Freya forced her body to relax, gripped onto the front of the saddle, and tried not to hinder the mare as she swam.
    Finally, they were climbing, sloughing off the water. She relaxed her grip as they reached level ground, then the mare shook herself, and Freya slid from the saddle to land in an undignified heap on the ground.
    Luckily, it was a soft landing, and for a minute, she lay there unmoving. She blinked up at Jarrod standing over her.
    “Are you okay?”
    “Yes,” she snapped. She wished he would stop being so solicitous.
    He was a warlock. A cold, heartless bastard. They weren’t supposed to ask how you were.
    Ignoring his outstretched hand, she struggled to her feet. She tugged off her boots one by one and emptied the water. She could do little else. Her cloak was soaked and weighed her down, but she didn’t want to take it off leaving her in just the thin shift, no doubt clinging to her skin. Instead, she wrapped the sodden cloak tight around her and trudged back to the mare, who whickered as though in apology.
    “Not your fault,” Freya muttered.
    “You want to stop and dry off?” Jarrod asked. He was as wet as she was, but seemed unconcerned. “I can light a fire.” She nodded at his staff. “Can’t you do a spell?”
    “I’d rather not risk it. If there is another warlock near, he’ll sense the magic.”
    “Then I’ll stay wet—we need to keep moving.” She put her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself up before he could help her.
    “Which way now?” Jarrod asked as he mounted.
    She looked around her, gathering her bearings and remembering the instructions they had been given. “Follow the river for a mile and we should come to a stream. That will lead us to a clearing.”
    “And that’s where you think she will be?” Freya heard the excitement in his voice and glanced at him sharply. “Why are you doing this? Why do you care?”
    “She’s my daughter. But it’s not only that. For a long time now—” He broke off. “This isn’t the time for this discussion.” She glanced at him curiously, wanting to understand why he had helped her all those years ago, why he was helping her again. But time was running out. Even now, the Enforcer might have found Shayla.
    “No, you’re right. We need to go.”
    She urged her mare forward, and Jarrod’s horse fell into step beside her. The suns had almost vanished, though the sky still showed purple and there was enough light to see by.
    Through the thick canopy of trees, she caught brief glimpses of the rising moons, and a shiver of awareness ran through her. The sea-son of the witches’ moons was when their magic was strongest, and as they rose, it stirred inside her, wakening, strengthening. She pulled her horse to a halt and stared up, rubbing her cheekbone where the skin prickled.
    Jarrod pulled ahead and then stopped his mount and turned to look at her, a frown on his face. “What is it?” She waved a hand toward the dark red crescents. “I can feel them inside me.”
    At that moment, a bolt of crimson lightening lit up the sky. Witches’ magic. Shayla was somewhere close. Freya urged her horse forward. Up ahead, there was a break in the trees and two huge rocks stood guard at the entrance to a clearing. From the information she’d been given, she knew she was at the right place. She pulled up and leapt from the horse as the sky lit up again. She was vaguely aware of Jarrod beside her but ignored him, intent on reaching Shayla.
    At the center of the clearing, her daughter faced the Enforcer.
    He towered over her diminutive figure, his staff