Chalice looked at Kirna and Tycho. “Go.”
“Not without you, Chalice.”
“No Kirna, go!”
Kirna saw the stern expression on her best friend’s face and did not argue. She and Tycho heeled their mounts forward. Tycho was glancing anxiously on both sides of the bridge and swaying in his seat. Kirna had to grab his shoulder to steady him so that he wouldn’t fall.
“Don’t look down, Tycho! Just focus on Ben,” Chalice shouted. She knew he was not coordinated or balanced, especially if he was high above ground. This was why she had insisted they go first. She wanted to make sure they arrived at the other side safely before she and Jeremiah crossed.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they reached the west end and Chalice clicked Sunny into motion. He stalled. He did not want to cross. She clicked him again, digging in a firm heel and he moved, reluctantly and slowly, dancing around the missing boards of the bridge. Chalice didn’t blame him. She had to admit that it was a bit unnatural walking on thin air.
They had advanced a few paces when, suddenly, she felt a flame burn near her left cheek. A burst of fire had flared up next to her, just missing her head. She turned quickly and saw three black riders in the distance, just south of them, galloping along the river’s edge. A thunder clap erupted in her face and almost knocked her off her saddle. Jeremiah grabbed her and pulled her back into her seat.
“Get back!” Ben shouted in fear. “Get back! I can’t hold the bridge and shield you at the same time.”
At that, she and Jeremiah reined in their mounts and scrambled backwards toward the east end of the bridge. As soon as they were on the bank, the bridge collapsed in a tangle of splintered wood.
Ben continued to shout at them. “Follow the river toward Northbridge. I will shield you as long as I can. When you get to the first ferry, take it. We will be there. Go! Quickly!”
They nodded and immediately bolted northward.
“But they can’t harm us from that distance,” Chalice shouted as the horses galloped at full speed. She knew the riders were too far away to reach them with arrows and she also knew that they could not use their power to hurt them.
“They can’t,” Jeremiah shouted back, “but they can use fire and other distractions to push us in the direction they want us to go. If they create a ball of fire or an invisible shield and we run into it ourselves, that is our fault. It is a strategy they use in fighting.”
“Did Ben teach you that last night?”
“Yeah.” He glanced back at her. She and Sunny were falling behind.
“Come on, Chalice. Keep up!”
“I’m trying!” she said, exasperated. “Sunny is not a Thoroughbred, Jeremiah.”
“Just do the best you can!”
She tried to keep Sunny in line with Banner, but she knew he could not hold a gallop that fast for long. After a while, he began to tire and slow, which caused the gap between her and the black riders to shorten. Jeremiah noticed and led them into the line of trees, which had grown closer to the river. He hoped the trees would provide a little protection and allow them to escape. He was wrong. The black riders gained and the attacks recommenced.
Chalice was at least happy that Jeremiah was a safe distance ahead of her. He was free of the explosions and fire that erupted all around her as Sunny dodged left and right. After a few minutes, the eruptions began to taper off. The moment she thought they had lost them, her head hit an invisible barrier that she hadn’t sensed in front of her. She let out a cry of pain and found herself falling to the ground. Jeremiah heard and looked back, faltering. Chalice’s whole body jolted as she slammed into the hard soil below. Then, the world went black and she knew no more.
The Quaie'Miren
WHACK! “Where is he? If it is not you, then who is it?”
Chalice opened her eyes and could barely make out the scene in front of her. She was lying sideways in the dirt of a tiny forest clearing, her hands and feet bound in rope behind her. Pain racked her whole body, especially her head. It was early afternoon and the leaves in the thick tree branches above rustled with the wind, blocking out most of the light.
She wondered how long she had been knocked out. A fire blazed in front of her, heating her face. On the other side of it, two large, dark-haired men in black mail, cloaks and black leather boots were towering over Jeremiah and beating him savagely. One of them held Jeremiah’s broken bow in his hand. Apparently, he had been using it to hit him.
Jeremiah was on his knees, his hands and feet bound like hers. He was stripped of his clothes save his britches, which hung loosely around his waist. His face and torso were badly bruised and blood ran from his nose and mouth. Chalice couldn’t stand to see him like that. She cursed herself for not being able to outrun the riders.
It is my fault! I was too slow. If only I had listened to my Shaunta and practiced more, meditated more, she thought. I could have sensed that barrier. I could have avoided it. Then, she heard the voice of her teacher in her head. It will come to you only when you are ready. Now, she realized that she would never be ready. They were captured. It was over.
“I told you,” Jeremiah spluttered through a mouth full of blood. “There is no man with that mark.”
“Liar! You will tell us, disgusting Naeon.”
The man on the right kicked him hard in the stomach and Jeremiah doubled over. Then, all of the sudden, Jeremiah seemed to straighten unnaturally, an invisible force holding him up. Chalice found it fortunate that he was so muscular, otherwise that one kick would have broken several ribs. The man turned to the third black rider who had been busy shuffling through Chalice’s bags hanging from Sunny’s saddle. Sunny was tied to a tree and the whites of his eyes shone with terror. The third rider was holding the wooden box that Queen Svati had given her and was examining its contents. He was older than the other two, with touches of silver in his dark hair.
“Nerrick, give me that knife. This is not working,” said the man holding the broken bow. The man named Nerrick lifted the sharp obsidian dagger from the box and proffered it. The other man threw down the bow and grabbed it. Then, he turned toward Jeremiah and held the dagger to his throat. Chalice panicked.
No! They’re going to kill him!
“He’s not lying,” she shouted angrily. The man turned, glowering at her and pulled the dagger away from Jeremiah. Jeremiah fell to the ground in a heap. He was exhausted and broken.
“No! Chalice, no!” he cried, spitting blood from his mouth.
“Well, well. Look who’s awake,” the man sneered in a patronizing tone as he swaggered toward her with an air of overconfidence, encouraged by Jeremiah’s protest. “What does this pretty little thing have to say? Do you know who it is, little one? Can you tell us? We will spare your friend if you do.”
She knew he was lying, but she didn’t care. He was very young and had dark brown hair and eyes. He was extraordinarily good-looking for someone so cruel. She hated him. She hated all of them. If only she were unbound, she would tear them apart. She felt herself being lifted from the ground by an invisible force and set on her knees in front of them, as Jeremiah had been.
“He is not lying to you.” She glared furiously into his dark eyes. “There is no man with that mark.”
“And why should we believe you?” he asked, lifting her chin with the tip of the dagger.
“Because I have it,” she replied and he froze, his face becoming ice, gaping at her in shock and disbelief. She cocked her head to the right. “On my right shoulder. Take a look if you want.” She didn’t care if they saw. She didn’t care if they knew. All she wanted was to divert their attention from Jeremiah.
“Chalice, no!” Jeremiah murmured again weakly, unable to move.
With a worried expression, the man removed the dagger from her chin and slit the fabric of her dress, exposing her right shoulder. He stepped back in abject horror. The other two were behind him, gaping.
“It can’t be,” he muttered to himself. “Is this
a joke?”
“No, Rhaene. It’s not a joke,” Nerrick said, shaking his head. “That’s it. That’s the mark.”
“It is and you can choke on it, Draaquan,” she said defiantly, shooting them a freezing look. The rage had built up inside her and she was so angry, she didn’t even care if they killed her. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going to die a coward.
Provoked by her words, unable to accept what he was seeing before him, Rhaene unsheathed a large sword from the scabbard on his belt. The sound of metal on metal rang out, shrill and piercing. It was a huge scimitar with a filagreed hilt of fine gold and silver. In a flash, he slashed the blade across her shoulder. She felt the sharp pain of cold metal sear through her flesh and a warm trickle of blood down her arm. Then, he raised the sword just above her neck and in a swift movement, brought it slicing down through the air.
This is it, she thought and closed her eyes. I’m going to die. She could hear Jeremiah struggling on the ground, muttering something incoherently.
“No, Rhaene! No! We cannot kill her. The oaths. The Fierain is still unsure.” Chalice opened her eyes and saw the other man, who resembled Rhaene and who had been silent the whole time. He was gripping Rhaene’s arm tightly with both hands, holding it in frozen motion. The blade of the scimitar was a finger’s width away from her throat.
Rhaene’s face shone with fury. “Jaden, do you realize how angry he will be about this?! Do you want to be the one to tell him?!”
“Rhaene, our orders were to deliver the child alive,” Nerrick interjected. “We will turn her over to Vlaad. He will know what to do. He is the only one who really knows how to deal with the Fierain.”
“Let’s at least cut her tongue out. That will teach her some respect,” Rhaene said as his lip curled in a snarl.
“No,” Nerrick replied. “She may have information we need. Vlaad will want to torture it out of her before he kills her.”
“I thought we had to bring her alive.”
“We have to deliver her alive to Vlaad. Those are our orders. Knowing him, after he gets what he needs from her, she won’t be alive for very long,” he remarked sharply and glanced down at Chalice in disgust.
“He will find a way to dispose of her. I’m certain of it,” he added disdainfully and then raised his knee above her wounded shoulder and brought his foot down on it as hard as he could, knocking her to the ground.
She did not cry out. She did not squirm. She refused to show them that she was in pain. She would not give them the satisfaction.
“Where did you get that?” the man named Jaden asked Rhaene.
“Get what?”
“Vlaad’s sword.”
“Jez. She asked me to carry it to him. She treated it with toxins.”
“Jez?” Nerrick asked, looking sternly at Rhaene. “You mean Jezebelle. You are too familiar with her, Rhaene. Be careful. Do not get too close to Vlaad’s mistress. She is dangerous.”
“I’m not worried,” he replied smugly as he re-sheathed the sword.
“You should be. I’ve seen this happen before. There is a reason we call her the Black Widow.”
Rhaene’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
But the reason why, Chalice never found out. At that moment, ululating cries pierced the forest silence, and out of nowhere, a cloud of deadly arrows rained down upon the men, drilling through their mail and driving into their flesh. Rhaene stumbled and dropped the dagger. He had been stuck with several arrows that were protruding from his shoulders, chest, and legs. He staggered clumsily toward his mount. The others had been injured as well, but not as badly. They, too, were hobbling toward their horses to escape. They could not see who or where their attackers were.
Chalice immediately rolled over to reach Jeremiah. She covered his broken body with her own in order to shield him. Many of the arrows, she saw, bounced off an invisible wall and fell into the trees. The more that rained down, the weaker the wall became until it was no longer deflecting arrows. But by that time, the Draaquans were gone.
Chalice just lay there, shaking, her body draped over Jeremiah, protecting him from whatever this new threat was. Then, she heard what sounded like hundreds of soft footsteps and felt something cold cut her bonds. A strong hand turned her over onto her back and she looked up. She saw two large, beautiful blue-green eyes, tanned skin, and long blond hair.
“Hi!” the woman said, leaning over her and smiling. “I’m Ardenne.”
She had a strange accent that Chalice couldn’t place. She was young, tall and strong and wore the strangest clothing Chalice had ever seen. It was silver, thick and leathery, but scaled like fish skin and it was form-fitting, covering her whole body. Her feet were protected by soft crocodile boots and she wore gold rings on her fingers and ears. A large leather sack sat strapped to her back next to her quiver and she held a large bow in her left hand. Her bow was made of a hard, white material that was carved with lines that spiraled down the length of it. Two blond men who resembled her stood just behind in similar, but looser fitting clothing. All around her, people of the same ilk ran around the camp, scanning their surroundings and scouting for the missing Draaquans.
Chalice lay speechless. This was the last thing she expected. She opened her mouth to introduce herself, but nothing came out.
The woman, Ardenne, smiled again and said softly: “Are you alright?” She let out a deep, relieved breath. “We found you just in time. We almost didn’t.”
“My friend … my friend is badly hurt. He needs help,” Chalice stuttered as she attempted to sit up. She fell back and groaned. Every muscle in her body was sore. Ardenne bent to one knee and lifted her into a sitting position.
“You are hurt, too, I see,” she said, motioning to her shoulder. She removed the bag from her back and took out a cloth and a water skin. The water skin appeared to made of the same material as her clothing. Then, she began to clean the wound. Chalice tried not to wince as she wiped the cloth over the cut.
The two men behind Ardenne strode over to Jeremiah and cut his bonds, gently laying him flat on the ground. They immediately set to work, treating him with water, salves, and cloths that they had pulled from their strapped leather bags. Chalice looked at them uneasily.
“Don’t worry, Chalice. They’re my twin brothers, Aeron and Aden. They’ll be very careful with him,” Ardenne reassured her and Chalice stared at her in shock.
How does she know my name?
“Who are you?” she asked.
“We call ourselves the Quaie’Miren.”
The Quaie’Miren? The Lost Ones! Chalice’s jaw dropped in disbelief and Ardenne pointed to her mark.
“What is this?”
“My birthmark.”
“That’s a birthmark?”
“Yeah,” Chalice said sadly as she wiped the dirt from her face. At this point, she no longer considered it her lucky charm.
“This cut is sliced straight through it. You see? Right here.”
Chalice glanced down and noticed that after the blood had been removed, the cut was sharp and almost perfectly horizontal, connecting the ends of the two upper lines of her birthmark.
“We have been looking for you all day,” Ardenne added.
“What? Why?” Chalice couldn’t find the right question. She was so confused and shocked at meeting these people that she had only ever heard of in stories. They acted as if she should have been expecting them and yet she didn’t even know them.
“What is going on?” she asked.
“You called us.”
“Huh? How? I don’t know what you mean. How could I have called you? I don’t even know you.”
Ardenne froze for a moment and studied Chalice with a puzzled expression. Then, she grinned and shook her head.
“He was right!” she exclaimed in amazement. “For once, he was actually right! I don’t believe it! He said that you wouldn’t know what you did.”
“Who? What did I do?” Chalice was completely lost. Did I miss something here?
“Our Prophet. I will explain everything, but first we need to get you two treated and brought to our camp. There you can rest and have something hot to eat and drink. Kirna will be anxious to see you.”
“Kirna?! You mean, my best friend Kirna?” Chalice asked and Ardenne nodded. “You know her?”
“We found your friends just before we found you. They have been worried sick,” Ardenne said and Chalice breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the heavens!
“Denni,” her brother said softly and Ardenne turned her head.
“What’s up, Aeron?” She looked around. “Where’s Aden?”
“He went to get a couple of tree branches. Hey …” He motioned toward Jeremiah and said in a whisper so that Chalice couldn’t hear: “Her young man here, he’s in pretty bad shape. He’s got some broken bones. Something else is wrong as well, but we’re not sure what it is. We will need to carry him. Do we have enough shagreen to make a stretcher?”
Unbeknownst to Aeron, Chalice could hear every word he said. Hold on, Jeremiah! Hold on until we find Ben. She could feel the tears swelling in her eyes, but she fought them off.
“I think Lexi does. He’s over there,” Ardenne answered. She pointed to a lanky man with light ginger hair who was crouching on the ground, examining the obsidian dagger that Rhaene had dropped.
“Whatcha got there, Lexi?” Aeron asked him.
“An obsidian dagger. Strange. Ardenne, did you drop a dagger?” He placed his finger along the edge and immediately withdrew it, a drop of blood forming at the tip.
“No, I’ve got my knife right here,” Ardenne replied. “I don’t have a dagger.” She placed her hand on her leather belt where her knife and sheath were attached.
“That’s mine,” Chalice said. “Please, I need it.”
“Man, this thing is razor sharp,” he said as he sucked his finger. “Where did you get this?”
“A friend,” she answered. She decided to keep the information to herself for now. She didn’t know these people and didn’t want to tell them too much.
The Raie'Chaelia (Legend of the Raie'Chaelia, Book One 1) Page 25