A March of Woe (Overthrown Book 3)

by Aaron Bunce

  Poe caught him, his large eyes filled with evident concern. The small dalan set Luca firmly onto his feet and stepped away. He saw something in the small man’s face that he hadn’t noticed before. Then it became clear, as a single, glassine tear rolled down his cheek. His eyes were blue.

  “What is the matter, Poe? What happened?” Luca asked.

  Poe growled and sniffled, but before he could speak, another figure appeared from the shadow of the table. She stepped into the light, shiny ringlets decorating her dark, curly hair.

  “It is good to see you again, Luca,” Cassendyra said, quietly.

  “Cassendyra…” Luca said, timidly, looking between her and Juna, “I thought you were...”

  “Yes. I was…buried in darkness, trapped in a punishment somewhere between life and death. But Poe pulled me free, so that I may make good on the promise I made to you back in Pinehall. I hope that you can forgive me, Luca. I knew that my people would not welcome me back warmly, but I hoped they would forgive our ancient differences in the light of current developments and your obvious need,” Cassendyra said, taking Luca’s hands and squeezing them gently.

  “Do you have it? We should be away directly after,” the dark-haired dalan said, looking up to Juna.

  Juna shook her head, “It was Volo’s task. He will come.”

  “Very well, then let us begin,” Cassendyra said, helping Luca up the ancient, crumbling steps and hefted him onto the table.

  “What will happen?” Luca asked, struggling with a sudden stab of panic and fear.

  “Juna and I will make you whole. We will gift a small part of ourselves to you. You may experience some pain, but in time, that and your infirmities will fade. Do not be afraid, Luca,” she said, cupping a warm hand onto his cheek, “we will not harm you.”

  Luca nodded, unable to stop his body from trembling, but lay down on the table, the cold stone painfully hard against him. Juna and Cassendyra moved to either side of the table, their strange mirror-like eyes shining silver in the firelight.

  They began to speak, the tongue beyond Luca’s comprehension, the words flowing smoothly together. The two women traced runes onto the table, the symbols glowing green and the stone vibrating with their touch.

  Emma and Poe watched from the darkness as the two woman moved all the way around the table, working until he was surrounded by the glowing runes. Then they moved back to either side of the table and placed their hands flat onto the stone and resumed their chant.

  The air around Luca suddenly became very cold, the table growing warm beneath him. His back and legs tingled, the strange sensation like a swarm of biting ants marching over his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to be brave and strong as the prickling ache ignited like fire throughout his body, but it quickly washed over his resolve.

  Luca grunted and groaned, fighting with all of his might not to cry out in pain, but the fire spread to his arms and legs, stabbing out to the ends of his fingers and toes until he was sure they would burst. Then the fire rushed up into his head and everything changed. His body grew hot, like he had become fire itself, and a chorus of voices filled his ears, ebbing and flowing in time with the pain.

  Time lost its meaning as strange thoughts and images flooded through his mind. He felt himself moving, floating through a sea of strange landscapes that seemingly stretched on forever. He witnessed strange beasts and odd-looking men and women, their names blossoming in his mind as if they had been there all along.

  Then it all faded away, and Luca was left with only the pain. It echoed throughout every corner of his body, vibrating within every muscle and fingerbreadth of skin. Someone spoke nearby, and he felt them touch him, the gentle contact eliciting more pain.

  He tried to open his eyes, but even those hurt. He rolled over and thrashed, screaming, his body fighting to purge the source of his pain. More voices filled the air and then he heard someone approach, the crunch of rock, dirt, and grass impossibly loud in his ears.

  “Volo! Thank J’ohaven,” he heard Juna say.

  “Matrona!” a much deeper voice, out of breath and full of panic, cut in. Luca rolled over, clenching his jaw and forced his eyes open. Everything was blurry, the glen made up of impenetrable shadow and blazing light.

  “Volo, what happened?” Juna asked, her voice raising several octaves.

  “He was dere, waiting. Altair knew, Matrona. Somehow he knew! I fought s’through zem, but zey followed. Zey will be here any moment,” Volo said.

  “But did you get it?” Juna asked.

  “Jes. Altair’s own yörspring. Dere will be no darkness for us now, only death.”

  Luca blinked frantically, willing his eyes to work, and thankfully things cleared a bit. He glimpsed Juna, merely a shadow, standing before a towering figure, a small shiny orb clutched tightly in hand. He blinked again and writhed forward on the stone, trying to reach them. He had to hear – had to find out what was happening.

  “We must go immediately. Our time on these shores is at an end. Luca and Emma must be away from here, and if Altair knows, then none of us are safe. Volo, carry the boy.”

  “Jes, Matrona,” the deep, towering figure said and Luca felt his body lifted free of the table.

  They were moving then, running and jostling through the dark, his body clutched tightly in a host of grasping appendages. Luca clutched his arms close to his body, keenly aware of every jarring movement.

  “The pain will end, the pain will end,” he breathed, focusing on Juna’s words, believing in them and trying to give them power. And yet, every beat of his heart brought a new surge of agony somewhere inside him.

  Trees and grass whipped by, branches snapping at him like whips. The darkness materialized, the forest starting to take shape. His eyes worked. He could see!

  Poe snarled nearby, the wolf, not the small hairy-faced man, running through the darkness. A shout rang out behind them, and then another. Something bright snapped through the trees to his right, and Volo abruptly wove to the left and crashed through a grove of smaller trees.

  A spear struck the tree just ahead of them, the bark and wood splintering apart in a shower of violent, crackling lightning. Volo leapt forward and they crashed into another clearing, the full moon hovering like a silver disc in the sky.

  Luca glimpsed Juna and Cassendyra ahead, tearing at a curtain of hanging vines. A portion of the cover ripped away, exposing a shallow cave, the stone carved and elaborately detailed. A memory triggered, and he remembered a similar cave just off the coast of Pinehall.

  Volo loped up to the cave and set Luca down on the ground, before turning and running away. Emma crawled forth out of the shadow of the cave, moving towards him, her face an almost unreadable feral mask.

  Cassendyra tore more of the vines out of the way, exposing a narrow pedestal. She removed a small, egg-shaped object from her dress and moved to place it on the pedestal, but fell back as a crackling spear struck the rock just above her, exploding in a blinding flash.

  Luca turned just as Altair burst into the clearing, a number of armored dalan right behind him. He skidded to a halt, a long spear clutched tightly in hand. His strange, baby-face stretched into a smile and then he shouted, his voice booming throughout the clearing.

  “Blood traitors…STOP!”

  Volo and Poe crashed into Altair’s group, the dalan clashing violently. Juna stepped up before him, her hair now pulled messily out of the braid. She shouted and waved her hands, a large flap of the mossy ground tearing free and springing up, knocking several of Altair’s men aside.

  Luca rolled over, the pain flaring in his back and legs. It felt like he was strapped between two horses and the beasts were trying to pull him apart. Cassendyra lurched by, a spear sinking into the ground at her feet. The crackling lightning erupted, the dalan priestess diving nimbly to the side. She landed in a roll, regained her feet, and waved her arms. Black mist flooded the clearing, swirling over the fighting dalan in a blinding fog.

  Luca swallowed hard and pus
hed off, scuttling forward. His left leg worked, and then his right. He crawled forward, his hand bumping into something hard and sent it spinning away into the darkness. He scrambled after it, searching the concealing mist before scooping the dark object off the ground.

  It was a yörspring, similar to the one Cassendyra had him steal in Pinehall. He held it close to his face. Where the other had been chipped and blemished in spots, this one looked new, its colored metal rings shiny and smooth.

  Dune staggered by, slamming into the cliff face, next to the pedestal. Two of Altair’s men wrestled against him, one of the strange glowing ropes dragging on the ground behind them.

  “Put it on the pedestal, Luca. Open the bridge,” Dune grunted, and heaved the two men back, growling savagely, his body changing as he shoved them back into the mist.

  Luca took a strangled breath and pushed off the ground, the yörspring clutched tightly to his body. His right leg dragged, refusing him, but he kicked it forward, the muscles finally moving. He took a limping step, and then another, the pain fading. His right foot drove into the ground next and he sprang forward, the movement surprising him. He slapped against the stone and rebounded, taking an ungainly step back. He flexed the muscles in his legs. The pain was still there, but it was quickly fading, being replaced by a feeling of strength and control he had never known.

  With a deft movement, Luca dropped the yörspring onto the pedestal. As it fell into place he felt something spark inside him, and a need suddenly burned. He pictured a place of strength in his mind – some place his father talked of frequently. They would be safe there.

  The yörspring glowed in response, filling the intricate runes on the pedestal with its power. A heartbeat later the cave filled with light, the bridge opening. He turned and ran through the fog back towards Emma.

  She appeared out of the fog and he jumped to avoid her, his legs coiling as he landed. Emma cried out and bolted, trying to flee him, but Luca dove atop her, pinning her legs together.

  “It’s okay, Emma. It’s going to be okay,” he said, trying to calm her, but she kicked and thrashed like a wild animal.

  He started to drag her back towards the cave, but she rolled, lunging and slashing at his chest and face. Luca didn’t shy away from the strikes, accepting the pain. He heaved her, kicking and screaming through the fog, his body surprisingly strong one moment and rebelling against him the next.

  “It’s going to be okay…it’s going to be okay,” he repeated over and over again, dragging her until the fog cleared and the bridge appeared. The rippling, glassine surface showed a patch of dark sand, and beyond, dark, churning water.

  Emma hissed and mewled angrily, swatting at him, but Luca caught the fabric of her dress and heaved her off the ground. She teetered for a moment and then he pushed hard, toppling her back and through the bridge.

  “Juna!” he yelled, turning back to the darkness. He heard only silence for a moment, and then a bright flash lit the darkness, Cassendyra’s fog evaporating into the night.

  Another flash lit the darkness, Dune and Volo blown off their feet, a horde of Altair’s men swarming around them. Luca took off towards them, but Cassendyra materialized ahead of him. Altair lashed out at her, his blade cutting angry red scores in the night air. The dark-haired woman ducked under and around the attacks, the mossy soil coming to life beneath Altair, snaring his legs and worming around his torso.

  Cassendyra turned, driving a small blade into her hand. She punched out towards the throng of Altair’s men, a ball of red and black mist exploding over them, toppling the group like fallen twigs.

  “Run!” Luca yelled.

  Dune and Volo were on their feet again, Cassendyra helping them his way. Altair broke free of the snare and lunged, his sword stabbing hard for Cassendyra’s back. But he fell short, his blade glancing off of something he couldn’t see. The dark form moved, and he saw her. It was Juna, her cloak flowing around her like billowing smoke.

  “Go!” she shouted and pushed Altair back with powerful strike. Cassendyra approached, guiding Dune and Volo into the bridge, and grasped Luca by the arm and turned him around.

  “You must go, Luca!” she said, and pulled him towards the light.

  “Wait…Juna!” he gasped, fighting against Cassendyra’s strong grip, turning just enough to see the silver haired woman battered backwards, but holding Altair and his men back.

  “Luca, we must go now, or all of this will be for naught,” Cassendyra said, pleadingly.

  Juna was sacrificing herself for them, condemning herself to a lifetime of darkness and pain. Luca glanced back once, but nodded.

  “Okay,” he whispered.

  They turned to the bridge as one, Cassendyra’s hand sliding down to his. She stepped into the light, just as Luca pulled away, breaking her grip. He turned and jammed his foot into the ground, pushing off with as much strength as he could summon. He wouldn’t let Juna suffer. The days of people sacrificing for him were over.

  Juna knocked a handful of Altair’s men aside with a fiery blast, but Altair flashed in, knocking her off her feet. She landed, toppled, and tried to get back up, but Altair was too fast. Luca watched a glowing rope lash the air, before hooking around the matrona’s neck.

  Luca pumped his legs, drawing near, but Altair was already on top of Juna, wrangling her unceremoniously. Anger flared inside him, blossoming in a burst of power and speed he almost couldn’t control. Luca threw his body forward just as Altair looked up, the dalan’s eyes going wide a heartbeat before he struck.

  They collided hard, his momentum sending him fist first into Altair, the dalan’s breath exploding in a whoosh. Luca tumbled, rolled, and finally landed in a heap. He pushed off the ground and wobbled, his head gone horribly fuzzy. He fought to regain his bearings in the dark, but caught sight of the glowing rope.

  Scrambling forward and dropping to his knees, Luca fumbled with the rope, but Juna’s body had already started to wither and shrink, the vampiric weave sinking into her flesh.

  “I’ll kill you, stupid child…pull you apart piece by piece!” Altair howled, ambling off the ground, his armor and flowing cloak now a tangled mess.

  Luca pulled and wrenched on the rope, but it refused to give. Dark forms were circling him, Altair’s men moving in quickly. They already had him surrounded. Juna’s eyes met his, her breath a crackling wheeze.

  “Run…” she gasped, and went still.

  “It’s over, boy – your measly life, and now Juna’s, too. You’ve damned her, along with Cassendyra and the others. All of them will die,” Altair snarled, pushing through his men and approaching, his blade resting point forward and ready to strike. “Only a dalan can unwind that from her body. It will kill anything as weak as you.”

  “I am not weak!” he yelled defiantly, and dug his fingers under the rope, Juna’s withered flesh tearing free. The weave pulled free, just enough, and he wedged in his other hand.

  “I’m going to show you, Altair. I’m going to show all of the dalan, that you are wrong about everything,” Luca screamed, and pulled. He pulled with every ounce of strength in his body, using all of the pain, disappointment, and fear that he had allowed to cripple him as drive. Juna’s face floated in his mind, her eyes flooding with color. She told him that he’d helped her to feel again, to live. He couldn’t save Robert and Damon, he couldn’t save Hunter, or Eisa.

  He would save her.

  The gleaming blade stabbed in for his chest. The weave stretched and pulled apart, a searing flash of light and heat blasting him back. He felt his body topple, but clawed at the ground, his fingers rending the soil like a rake.

  “Get up, Luca!” he snarled, his vision awash in swirling colors and flashing stars, the flash blinding him to all else.

  He crawled forward sightlessly, blinking madly, but his hands fell onto someone, his fingers bunching up into a heavy cloak. A man groaned, so Luca moved blindly on. A feminine voice whispered his name just ahead, but it was weak. He ambled forward and almost
fell over Juna’s body. Luca wrenched the last of the horrible rope free and hooked her under the arms, dragging her back. He heaved and pulled, her body gaining weight by the step, but refused to stop.

  Altair and his men were shouting. They couldn’t see him either, but they would recover, perhaps even faster than he. Darkness flooded in from the edges as his vision slowly returned. He turned and found the cave almost directly behind him, the bright, rippling image hanging tantalizingly in the darkness.

  “Stop him!” Altair screamed, Luca’s heart lurching in his chest.

  Juna moaned softly, her heels scraping along the ground, her weight setting a fire in his back. Luca pulled harder, the muscles in his legs burning. He was two dozen paces away, and then a dozen. Footsteps closed in, but he wouldn’t stop.

  The light from the bridge surrounded them, but Luca turned away. He lurched to the side, kicking the pedestal just as he threw himself into the light. He saw the yörspring teeter, and fall, the pedestal humming loudly as its connection broke. The bridge flickered in response. Altair was half a dozen paces away, his normally baby-smooth face contorted and ugly, his eyes like dark pits. He dove forward, the stabbing point of his blade cutting straight for Luca’s chest.

  Everything spun chaotically and then he fell, a sharp pain igniting in his shoulder. Luca landed in cold sand, a silty wind blowing briskly over his body. He was still pulling, however, heaving Juna away to safety. He couldn’t stop.

  Luca emerged from the darkness and swayed, letting Juna sink back to the sand, his strength and breath expended.

  “Luca!” someone cried out nearby and a host of shadows fell over him.

  Emma crashed into him, her arms wrapping tightly around his midsection. He looked down, meeting her gaze as she pulled away. He had to look down at her!