by J. M. Ivie
Jensen looked at me. He would take everyone I loved… slowly.
Barak gritted his teeth as he threw his fist against Jensen, the claws digging into his flesh.
A tremor pulsed down the wall of wind.
The blow wasn’t enough…
Above the howling tempest, above the scream of the gale, the sound of bones shattering resounded. Barak’s shout of agony tore into me.
I watched. Helpless. I watched as Jensen held the wall with one hand, and with the other, brought the force of a thousand storms down on Barak’s body.
Bone by bone.
The tempest could not mute his shouts. Blood pooled around his knees. His dark eyes looking at me.
The wall of wind tore in the center. A power shuddered through the air, roiling and trembling. A Peregrine perched atop an arch as her Rider approached from behind us. Titus’ ungloved hand, stretched out. A force against a force. Those invisible arms holding the sandstorm at bay. “Go!” Titus yelled, and Ryanne and I ran through the narrow opening Titus had made.
I threw Ryanne his blade, my shoulder balking at the sudden movement.
“What is that power you have?” Jensen’s eyes flicked to Titus. “I taste the Warlock’s magic…”
Titus smiled, though, sweat beaded on his forehead. “I’ll use it to snap every bone in your body.”
“I want to do that first,” Ryanne seethed. He thrust his sword through the air, knocking it against the power which Jensen wielded.
“No. I’ll do it.” Jensen clutched his fist, throwing a gale of wind in his direction.
Ryanne struggled, his body freezing under the storm. But, he smiled. “Then make me bleed…” he said, “I want you to taste my blood when you dream—” he stopped, looking at Barak. “Or perhaps we will both meet you in Lapp. Perhaps we will make eternity a new kind of torture for you.”
I leapt. It was my cue… yet, hearing the crack of Ryanne’s bones below whatever force Jensen used to snap Barak’s, made me hesitate.
I knew I was next.
“Are you ready for this fate, Apollo?” he asked, allowing the wind to cease around Ryanne’s mutilated body. His eyes followed Titus who tried to reopen that hole he had carved into Jensen’s dome of dust and air.
“I’ve nothing to live for,” I said, looking at Barak. His chest rose and fell. He is alive… “But I have no reason to die.”
I threw my ax. The weapon hurdling through the air, riving through Jensen’s torso.
He stumbled back. Watching as the blood dripped from the sides of the blade. “You think that will kill me?”
“No,” I said. “But it’s an excellent distraction.”
Rocks, small and large, barreled into Jensen. Bones snapped and blood sprayed across the dusty terrain. Titus continued this barrage of attacks, keeping the projectiles from touching me as I retrieved my weapon.
The satisfying sound of my ax against Jensen’s neck made the world melt away. The torrent of earth stopped. The wind ceased its howling.
Jensen’s death reverberated in the air with hollowing silence. Grunting, I threw my ax to the side. With my good arm I pulled him to the edge of the precipice. “You are too vile for even Welkinia’s waters,” I whispered, peering at the ocean that lay hundreds of miles below. “May you sink some place so low that Lapp would seem a mercy.”
With that, I gave his body another tug and watched as he dropped into the blue abyss below. The skies seemed calm. Peaceful. Morbid.
I turned to Barak who leaned against a boulder. I saw him smile. A true smile. “Thank you, Apollo.” His face contorted with pain.
“Barak…” The world spun, a dizziness that affected my ability to move.
“Do not mourn this, my brother,” Barak muttered. “Do not blame yourself for what has happened.”
“You know I can’t do that,” I whispered. “There is still time.”
“No, there is not.” A sharp groan escaped his lips. “Please, Apollo,” he grabbed my forearm, “do not place my body in water… my requiem should be that of the disgraced. I wish to atone for my sins.”
A chill spread over my back as I watched him fade. His eyes glazed over. His body grew limp.
“Please, Barak. Don’t—”
He shook his head; his hand rested on mine. “Do not mourn,” Barak said again, this time with more force. He clenched his teeth, taking in a sharp breath. “Warriors mourn not the dead.” He scowled, as he did when he tried to sort through a puzzle. “Tell Mairead I loved her… “ Blood trickled from his lip. “Forget my past and only remember this moment.” His voice weakened; his words became muddled between Fiermontian and Welkinian, “Kiasi vin—the moment we all fought like warriors.”
“You made your people proud today, Chigaru-Baraka.” I swallowed everything. The pain. The fear. I needed to push it back… for him.
He smiled, the muscles in his jaw constricting as if he could bite back death a moment longer. “I have never heard you call me that.” He pat my cheek, his eyes barely open, “You kip tresòl agia Dragolo. My brother, with the heart of the Dragon.” I watched his throat bob as he clung onto his life, “Finish what you started.”
“I will…” I said, pressing my hand against his bloody wound. He had told me about this. The Blood-oath. “You’re my family, Barak…”
“And you were mine…” His hand fell. It fell the short distance between his body and the earth. In that same small distance, my heart shattered into a million pieces.
S I X T Y - N I N E
FLAMES FLICKERED UPWARD AS the fire licked every last piece of wood. I placed Barak’s body on the rough logs and closed his eyes. Every sign of life had left him. I considered taking his necklace to remember him by, but something inside of me said to leave it. It never left him—it should never leave him. It seemed a dishonor to take it.
Flecks of gold drifted up into the dark skies. My knees couldn’t hold my weight any longer and I dropped to the ground. I couldn't watch. Not this. Not the dishonored requiem of my brother.
I heard the roar of the eastern wind rush through the canyon arches, filling the atmosphere with its desolate cries. He asked me not to mourn him.
I couldn't.
Nothing within me wanted to forget him. Everything in me needed him to return. Through it all, there was always Barak. No matter where I turned—no matter where I fell—he was there.
I couldn't resurrect him. Nothing could. I would exchange my life for his if it were possible. I would do it in a heartbeat. If not for the promises I had made, I would gladly burn with him there. The raging auburn flames in front of me devoured his body and released his soul. The fire looked like blood. So red and hot that I felt my soul singe with the heat. For once I wished he was right about Dracul. That he would find his peace in his wings.
But, everything in me knew he wouldn't.
“Go to Lapp, Dracul,” I whispered. “You did this. You gave him nothing but pain.” He did. Every waking and sleeping moment. I knew because he told me. The expression on his face had spoken of his silent torment. He thought he had to be something that was not who he was. “If you were as powerful as he said, Dracul, you could have saved him.”
Fear gripped my throat.
Sotiris... I looked into the fire, watching it rage in front of me. It grew and grew along with the every expanding hole in my heart. You could have saved him. You could have saved us all... everyone.
The earth rumbled, yet, there was no reply to my mourning. There would be no reply. No comfort. No return. That’s what hurt most… knowing he wouldn’t be back. Knowing I didn’t say farewell. He was taken before he could ever truly live. Before he could be happy. Before he even had the chance to have a family. To taste the happiness of freedom. To paint…
Titus stood, his hand on the reigns of his Peregrine. He had helped me build the fire, collect the wood, and patch up my wound the best he could. I looked at him, and he acknowledged my wish. My wish to be alone.
The whoosh of the Pereg
rine in flight was the only sign that he left.
The loud snap of the wood broke again. A deep, shattering break that I felt in the marrow of my bones. The eyes, he had once said, you never forget the eyes. I doubt I would ever forget his as he stared into mine. Nothing in this world could erase that memory.
My throat constricted as I turned away. With the little strength I had left, I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled for Scout. He descended from the heavens, like a ghost in the night. “Come on bud,” I said, pressing my hand to his silky feathers. Even the sight of Scout reminded me of him. My stomach felt like a boiling pit—yet it felt as empty as a void… “Let’s go home.”
___
I landed outside the cabin on Oceland, barely hanging onto consciousness. My arm felt swollen, and the blood had dried in the strangest way. My heart beat in uneven strokes.
“Apollo?” Laramie ran over to me, dropping whatever bundle she had in her hands. She weaved her arms around my torso, trying to hold me up. “Sotiris! What happened?”
I couldn’t reply. Nothing in me could conjure up the words. I had been flying for two days.
“You’re burning up…” Laramie tugged at my body, yelling for Duranne. “What happened? Apollo, you need to tell me what happened.”
I tried to take in a breath, though, it pierced my lungs as I did.
“What has happened?” Duranne ran out, but their voices seemed lost in a haze around me. I felt something tug at my broken arm, reigniting the pain tenfold. Everything became a blur. Their faces. Their voices. Reality. Everything.
___
“Apollo…”
My eyes shot open. I blinked and looked around the dimly lit room. The burlap curtains were drawn, and a few lanterns flickered nearby. Laramie sat beside me, her eyes wide and lips pale. I went to move; however, the fresh pain in my right arm reminded me of the battle.
“Are you okay?” She pressed her cool hand to my forehead.
I couldn’t say I was. “No.”
Laramie wrapped her arms around my neck, as if she knew why I said that. There were no words between us. None that could heal the invisible bleeding inside my chest. I felt as if my soul began to slowly slip through the cracks in my heart. I would watch it. Over and over again. I would watch his death on replay for the rest of my life.
PART ELEVEN
S E V E N T Y
TWO MONTHS PASSED, AND I had driven a wedge between the family and myself. I obsessed over finding Zahra and killing the Ambassador of Oceland. I struggled to even spend three minutes in the same room with Laramie. Not that I hated being around her. Quite the opposite! I loved her. She was my family. Every second I spent with her, or the family, reminded me of every second I didn’t have with Zahra… or Barak.
“Apollo!” Laramie yelled through the thin wooden door. “You have to speak to me. Please…”
I shook my head, “Laramie I don’t have the time!” I looked at my haggard features, grizzled by the passing of time and the many days and nights spent away from the cabin and in the elements. I listened to the hum of the thunder in the distance, booming from off the island edge. It seemed like a warning, a rumbling vigil echoing through the atmosphere.
I sighed, slipped on my coat, and opened the door. Laramie’s bright, blue eyes stared straight into mine, glossed over with worry. Something twisted in my chest. Guilt.
“What is wrong with you?” Laramie whispered. Her voice raw and full of pulsing emotion. I wanted to scream what was wrong. I’m afraid. Afraid of what I could lose. Afraid I’ll lose you… Duranne… the children.
“Laramie, I need to leave.” I brushed passed her, feeling the pain in my chest at leaving her behind. The days had turned into weeks, and weeks had folded into months. I spent those away from her—away from anything and everything that reminded me I was alone. It had been a fortnight since I had been in the camp last, yet, I spent four hours in the cabin and I was headed out once again. My arm was almost back to normal, though, I kept it in the sling. I wished we had the potions Laramie used when I was healing in the Woodlands.
“Apollo.”
I turned to see Duranne standing behind me.
“Why are you pushing us away?”
“Duranne…” I grunted. “Until I have stopped the Ambassador, I cannot rest. I am not pushing you all away… that’s the last thing I would do.” Liar. “But, with that coward on the loose, you are not safe. None of you.”
Duranne shot me a look of dissatisfaction. “All right. You get going then. Do what you have to do.” Duranne turned her heel and entered the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room to think.
I shook any thoughts out of my head. “Farewell, Duranne. I will see you and the others as soon as I return.”
Silence filled the room. A sullen, lonely silence.
___
“What am I supposed to do, Scout?”
My bird just continued silently flying—not even flinching at my words.
“Ah, what am I even saying, you can’t respond.” I slumped forward in the saddle, breathing out a long and uncomfortable sigh. “Should I even apologize? I’m not doing this on purpose. I’m just trying to fix everything.”
Still there was no answer.
“What if the Ambassador comes for them? What would I do then?” My voice caught in my throat. That’s why I need to do this. I need to keep them safe. I need to make this world safe for them. I didn’t care what I gave up. If I had lived with this same passion earlier, this same resolve, perhaps Barak would still be here.
Scout’s silence, though I knew he couldn’t respond even if he wanted to, bothered me… annoyed me… it dug under my skin with silent accusation. It wasn’t Scout who placed a mirror in front of my soul… it was the agonizing and pent up guilt I’d buried and stuffed into the darkest regions of my heart. The bright afternoon sun as I traveled onward to Arclend pierced the veil of excuses and revealed the truth behind it all. It scared me. It scared me to lose… scared to hurt… scared of the Reaper who seemed to follow me.
___
Arclend rose into view. I had spent the past week flying—in agony. The snow-capped mountains reflected the sun, shining in my eyes like a white light. The crumbled boulders, and the toppled trees, made it clear that a landslide had recently occurred. The shadow of the mountain encompassed a small trading village opposite the destruction. A frozen river ran alongside the pass, emptying into a lake. It would melt soon. Summer was approaching, but that did next to nothing for the Arclendian weather. The most it did was mildly thaw the lakes and rivers and some snow that rested on the plains. As for the mountains? They remained in an eternal state of winter. The trading village was now behind me, lost in the mountain’s shadow. The ground below seemed to change little. From an icy tundra, to a frozen forest, to an open plain. An hour passed, yet, it seemed like a hundred eternities dripped by.
Soon enough I found what I came for. A large mansion rested on the horizon, though, it was unoccupied, I knew it would contain exactly what I was looking for. I urged Scout down, pressing for him to land near the home. His large wings beat the air, making the snow shudder under the wind. Soon he settled down on the ground. I breathed out a sigh of relief knowing I found it.
I jumped off Scout and pulled my ax to burst open the door. I hacked away at the hinges till the wood shattered and splintered open. I kicked the door and entered. The icy cold of the air inside did little to alleviate the stony and overwhelming magnitude of the structure itself. I entered with caution.
As I walked through the vacant halls, I checked every door that lined itself along my path. The only sound was the hum of the wind as it creaked along the glass windows, and the constant beat of my heart amidst my footsteps.
Finally I pushed open the last door. The last door… the last desk. I hurriedly looked through the desk, though, there was little there. I pulled at one drawer; it was sealed shut. Again, I yanked at the handle, and the only thing that moved was the heavy, oak desk.
&n
bsp; Begrudgingly I unsheathed my dagger and wedged it between the crack. After a few minutes of painful work, I pried the drawer open just enough to see that it was locked. Yet, there was not a single keyhole on the drawer. I dropped on the ground, peering at the underside of the desk. Nothing. I pulled the drawer just below the locked one, taking it off of the dresser altogether. There it was. The pesky keyhole.
I pulled my lock-picks from my pocket and pressed them into the hole. A click. Finally!
I opened the drawer, peering at the treasure inside. I searched months for this. The lead from Titus was what solidified its whereabouts. I pulled out the volume—a massive book filled with everything every Ambassador had ever done. I knew they kept a ledger of missions. Everyone did. It was messy if they didn’t. I breathed out a sigh of relief, looking through the book. Anything the Ambassador of Oceland was doing, or was planning on doing, would appear in this book. At least, the missions that the island sent him on. All I needed to do was wait till his next task, given by the Court of Oceland, appeared.
S E V E N T Y - O N E
ON THE NINTH DAY OF the fourth month of summer the book ignited. Words scribbled themselves on the ledger I held in my hand. The Ambassador was on the move. Within the hour I found myself waiting in a large oak. I watched the path below me, keeping a steady gaze down at the rough soil below. I could hear the creek just off the side of the trail, gurgling and bubbling. Bugs swarmed around me, making staying still even harder than I’d hoped. Moments later the sound of hooves echoed out, coming towards the direction of the path. This is it. The Ambassador’s carriage.
The carriage had come in range and neared the tree where I was hiding. It came below and I dropped from my roost onto the roof of the coach. Despite my best efforts to remain quiet, I underestimated my weight and landed with a thump. I saw as one guard poke his head out and looked around.