“Ealdred, you idiot!” Bellator yells from the opposite side of the spreading inferno. “Get out of there!”
Zeldek chuckles. “Oh, Bellator. Always the warrior,” he mocks. “Still fighting your destiny? You know that the more you fight, the more I win.”
“Run, half-wit, run!” Bellator shouts. “He isn’t there!”
Confused, I follow her voice around the flames.
“Wait!” Zeldek cries. “No one leaves without my permission!”
A flame in the shape of a fist shoots from the inferno and hits the palm of my left hand. The fire scorches my skin, burying itself deeply into my flesh, and I scream. I am being sucked toward the fire and I can’t pull away. Terrified, I pull out my knife and slash at the flaming hand. My blade passes through it, and Zeldek laughs again.
“Mortal weapons cannot hurt me, half-race!”
The pain intensifies one last time before the flame finally releases me and disappears back into the fire.
My whole body is trembling as I draw away. I look down at my injured hand. A ring of flames burns in a circle on it, igniting a new brand from the base of my thumb along the breadth of my palm. It is the shape of a dragon inside a circle of chains with its wings spread out above it, and a ring hanging from its fangs. The same shape that is on Zeldek’s signet ring.
I blow on it, hard, panic welling in my throat. The fire goes out, leaving the brand a glistening red. The muscles in my arm and hand tremble and jerk. I clap my palm to my mouth, wetting it with my tongue to cool it down. The relief is short-lived and a metallic taste lingers on my tongue.
A heavy foot hits my back, throwing me to the ground and holding me there. Dust fills my mouth. A loud growl comes from above me and I almost forget to spit out the dirt. Two large feet step in front of my face, and I follow them up to their owner.
A very large ezix stands above me, its teeth bared. The long claws on its hands are extended, razor sharp and polished. I search for my knife with my uninjured hand, but it is trapped beneath me. The ezix draws its scimitar from its side and slams it into the ground inches from my head.
“Jaikitzen!” it shouts.
I don’t have a clue what that means.
The ezix that has its foot on my back grunts out something, and the one in front of me grows angry. It jerks its sword from the earth, and raises it threateningly above my head.
“Jaikitzen!” it roars even louder.
“Lortu kanpoan zion!” For the first time since I met her, I’m glad to hear Bellator’s voice. “Or I will kill you!”
Apparently, they elect to disregard her words, because a moment later, both ezixs fall dead beside me.
“Get up!” Bellator orders, her voice strained.
I grunt and try to push myself up with my left hand. I remember too late that it is injured and yelp as the pain returns with full force.
Grabbing my elbow, she jerks me to my feet. “Blame yourself, half-wit.”
I look around. The fire is spreading quickly along the dried grass of the valley floor, and the ground around the inferno we stand by is littered with dead ezixs. It seems Bellator kept busy while I was getting burned.
“Where’s Zeldek?” I stammer.
“Still in Gaiztoak,” she says bitingly, “as I kept trying to tell you. This was all an obvious distraction so the ezixs could catch you, and it would’ve worked if it weren’t for me!”
“So, he’s not here?”
“No! Creating so many fireballs will have weakened him enough to keep him from leaving his power source in Gaiztoak for some time. Do I have to explain everything to you?”
“I d-don’t think so.” I hesitate. “His power source is that Aemurel thing, right?”
She gasps, her face twisting in pain. “We don’t have time for this!”
I notice the broken shaft sticking out of her shoulder and remember that she’s injured too. Blood leaks from the bent hole in her shoulder guard from which the arrow still protrudes, shining as it streams down her breastplate. Part of the braid around her head has fallen loose and the end is drenched in the stuff. She presses one hand to the wound below the arrow and grasps my arm in her other, dragging me behind her as she sprints down the hill.
It seems Zeldek isn’t finished with us yet. A ball of fire collides into the ground directly in front of us. The flames leap out to make a wall before us as far as I can see in both directions. Beyond the wall, I can make out Uri and Annalyn on the ridge above us. They’ve reined their horses and are turning back toward us, indecisive.
Behind us, the hillside is black with ezixs, but they aren’t advancing. They stand in rows, jeering at us, pounding their weapons into the ground. They are mocking us. They know as well as we do that in the end, we’ll have to turn back to escape the flames. Then they will capture us and drag us back to Zeldek.
“A curse on you and your fire!” Bellator bellows furiously.
I look to her for guidance. “What do we do now?”
“Oh, shut up!” she sputters, turning on me. “This is your fault! Neither of us would be trapped right now if you hadn’t wanted to play the hero and save the damsel in distress!”
“I thought you were hurt!” I protest.
Her eyes spit fire, and I’m suddenly struck by how beautiful she is, even with the scars that tear her face apart. Beautiful, but terrifying.
“My welfare is no concern of yours!” she snarls. “You’ve never even held a sword, let alone ended a life! You would be dead if I hadn’t come and saved you!”
“I’m not going to apologize.”
Her fingers dig into my arm. “Never again, half-wit. I don’t need help from you or anyone else. You hear me? Not ever.”
I believe her.
She turns back to the flames and glares into them. “I won’t give up! Not when we’re this close!” A pause, then she nods sharply. “We’re going to run through it,” she announces. “Do you think you can do that without getting yourself killed?”
“You seem to think that I can.”
“We’ll see about that,” she scoffs, pulling her hood over her head. “Just follow my lead.”
Drawing her cloak over her arm, she brings it up in front of her face. I follow her example. Together we take a deep breath and plunge into the flames.
It is the strangest sensation, to be in the midst of a wall of flames. I expected heat, yet all I feel is a strong wind that rushes around me and then suddenly fades as we come out on the opposite side. There is a roar of confusion from the ezixs on the hill as we disappear from their view, but we don’t stop to gloat. Letting our surprisingly unscathed cloaks fall from our faces, we make a run for the horses, which Uri and Annalyn are spurring toward us.
As they approach, Bellator releases me and sprints toward Nimro. She waits until he’s passing her before grabbing his bridle and swinging herself up onto his back in front of Uri. She snatches the reins from him and turns the horse back up the hill.
Majax passes me and I grab for the bridle with my right hand, but catch the saddle strap instead. Annalyn turns Majax just as gracefully as Nimro was turned, but I am not nearly as graceful as Bellator. I manage to get my arms over the saddle as we ride up the hill, but it isn’t until we slow near the top that I am able to pull myself up.
I barely have time to catch my breath before Annalyn confronts me.
“How could you be so reckless?” she blurts, turning in the saddle to slap my arm. “That was stupid and careless! You scared me to death when you jumped off like that!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, alarmed. “I didn’t think. They shot her, and I thought she needed help, so—”
“Bellator need help?” Annalyn asks incredulously. “Trust me, she could’ve taken care of herself. You, on the other hand, are untrained and weak and— and not a fighter! You could’ve died! Have you no thought for your own life?”
“Why are you so upset?” I exclaim. “You aren’t obligated to be nice to me anymore. You don’t have to keep prete
nding you care!”
If we weren’t escaping from a horde of terrifying monsters, I am sure that she would have stopped the horse. As it is, her face dons a mask of pity.
“You think that I am pretending to care about your safety?”
The words come before I can stop them. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
Her cheeks redden with shame.
Guilt stings me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Just don’t do anything like that again, alright?” she says, looking forward again.
We start down the other side of the ridge, entering a vast plain that stretches out for miles before us. We don’t waste any more time. As soon as the ezixs figure out that we have escaped, they will be after us. And we need to be as far away as possible by then.
The further that we get from Gaiztoak, the more the darkness begins to lift. The overcast sky grows lighter and a fresh, cool breeze finds its way to my face through the hot, stale air.
The distant clamour of the ezixs in pursuit drives us on, and after over two hours of hard riding through dry, rocky ravines and mountainous terrain, we reach the border of another dark, haunting forest.
“Dismount!” Bellator orders, halting her horse at the edge of the woods.
Uri groans. “What for?”
“Now!” she barks, startling Uri so much that he falls off Nimro’s back.
I slide to the ground, stretch my sore limbs, and then tend to the throbbing burn on my hand by wrapping it in a strip of cloth that I rip from my tunic. Annalyn draws the back of her hand over her damp forehead and glances with distaste into the dark recesses of the forest. But she doesn’t dare complain. Bellator has already made it quite clear that she isn’t in the mood for it.
Annalyn dismounts while Bellator walks along the outskirts of the woods, surveying them.
“Well then!” Uri mutters, dusting himself off. “She’s pretty cranky all the sudden.”
“All of a sudden?” Annalyn snorts. “When was the last time you saw her all sunshine and roses?”
“I guess she ain’t much meaner than always,” he relents, shooting a dirty look in Bellator’s direction.
I find myself coming to her defence. “Well, she does have an arrow through her shoulder.”
Bellator turns back and beckons sharply for us to come.
“Can’t rest for even a moment,” Uri sighs, leading Nimro toward Bellator.
I take Majax’s bridle and follow. Annalyn trots along beside me.
“I found the path into the woods,” Bellator calls as we approach. “Hurry it up! We aren’t safe yet. Our pursuers are only a few miles behind us.”
Not even Uri argues this time. I doubt that any of us want to ever meet up with an ezix again.
Chapter Sixteen
T he forest turns out to be just as bad as the ezixs and fire combined. Never in my life have I seen so many kinds of thorns. The trees, the shrubs, the bushes, the vines, the moss; they all reach for us, grabbing at our clothing and tearing at our skin. All four of us have weapons drawn as we hack at the thorns to create a passage. Bellator has her sword, I have my dagger, Uri has his rusty knife, and Annalyn has one of Bellator’s blades that was lent to her with great reluctance.
Our pace is slow going and I worry that the ezixs will catch up to us. When I voice this concern to Bellator, she points out that the thorns are weaving themselves together behind us, and my mind is set at ease.
“How much of this we got left?” Uri asks for the hundredth time since entering the forest. Bellator had him bring up the rear of the group, so he feels the need to shout over the rest of us.
“About a mile or so.” Bellator slashes violently through a vine of thorns in her path.
He is silent for only a moment. “Where abouts are we, anyhow?”
A vine catches the jagged end of the shaft in Bellator’s shoulder, and she gasps. She rips the vine aside with her sword, then pounds her fist into her shoulder right below the wound.
“The wilderness,” she snaps breathlessly.
Uri doesn’t seem to notice her tone. “Well, thanks a lot,” he grumbles. “’cause everyone knows where ‘the wilderness’ is, don’t they?”
“Be more specific with your question, and I’ll be more specific with my answer!”
A thorny branch catches his sleeve, and he bats it away with his knife. “What I mean was, whereabouts in Theara are we? What countries are close?”
“The far north!” Her breath is wheezing, and I begin to worry.
She’s pushing herself too hard. She needs to rest, or at least to bandage her wound.
“We just left the Plains of Beldir, and we’re nearing the forest of Sylvaria.”
Uri catches Annalyn’s eye and raises an eyebrow in confusion. She shrugs and shakes her head.
Bellator gives an exasperated sigh. “On the map, we’re in the vast forestland above the country of Valamette, and nearing the border of Lavylli – although in actual fact, Lavylli is beneath our feet.”
“My parents own a tavern in Valamette,” Annalyn offers helpfully.
“Well, my pap’s a pirate captain from Avia,” Uri boasts, but there is more bitterness than pride in his tone.
“Who cares where your parents are from, or who they are, for that matter?” Bellator says gruffly. “I don’t know mine and I’ve gotten on fine without them.”
I am pretty sure that everyone present would disagree with that last assertion.
We walk in silence for a bit longer, miserably fighting the thorns. I want to ask Bellator if she is alright, but I doubt that she would take it very well. But after she has dropped her sword twice and collapsed against a tree another time, I decide to risk it.
“How’s your shoulder doing?” I ask in a whisper so the others won’t hear.
“I’m fine!” she snaps. She doesn’t look at me, but I can tell her face is very white.
“I can take over in the front for a while,” I offer. “Maybe you should ride one of the horses for a bit.”
She slashes through a branch in her way. “I said I’m fine!”
But she isn’t. Her hands are shaking and her breath comes quicker and shorter. The other two are too busy arguing about how similar outlaws and pirates are to notice her predicament.
In another hour, we finally reach the end of the thorns. We all file out into a wide clearing, and the thorns weave themselves back together as if we had never been there.
It’s as if we walked from a land of darkness into one of light. The trees are tall and slender with mint green leaves, and the rays of sunlight that bathe the ground have a silvery iridescence. The air is sweet and cool, but with a touch of mystery.
“Come,” Bellator says after we have all drank water from canteens that we find in the horses’ saddlebags. “We’ll mount up again. It’ll take the ezixs longer than we did to get all of them through here, but they will manage it. We need to get as much distance between them as we can.” She takes Nimro’s bridle from Uri and nods to me. “You’ll be riding with me this time, half-wit.”
I groan inwardly, and Annalyn doesn’t seem to like the new arrangements any better. Bellator may be frightening, but Uri is overbearing, and he and Annalyn already seem to dislike each other enough.
Bellator swings up onto Nimro’s back, then holds out a hand to me. I take it reluctantly, and she pulls me up behind her.
“You’ll have to hold onto the horse with your knees to stay on,” she says, “because I won’t have you touching me.”
Uri and Annalyn ride over on Majax, and Bellator turns to Uri with a nasty grin. “Oh, and by the way pirate, these woods are haunted. Just thought you might want to know.”
Apparently, the stories of superstitious sailors are true, because the effect on Uri is instantaneous. His face blanches and he glances warily around at the pale, peaceful woods. Despite her pain, Bellator is still chuckling to herself as we start out.
“Why is th
e forest haunted?” I ask.
She snorts. “Don’t tell me that you’re scared too, half-wit.”
“No. I’m just curious.”
She doesn’t seem to want to answer at first, and I think the only reason she does is because talking distracts her from the pain of her shoulder.
“This forest used to be home to a race of humans called Sylvarians. Mythology has it that these humans were the closest things to Vaelhyreans – that is, they had mild magical capabilities. But the entire race was wiped out in this very forest during the second great war.”
“The entire race?” I echo. “Dead?”
Her silence is confirmation enough.
It is nearing evening when we leave the pale forest behind us and enter a slightly darker and denser stretch of trees. Large carved stones blanketed with dark green moss and fallen leaves protrude from the ground. The cracked skeleton of what looks to have been a magnificent archway rises before us, wedged between a grove of birch trees that appear to have grown many years after its destruction. Beyond that, I can make out the distant structure of a ruined fortress. Broken pillars rise from what remains of a stone courtyard, blending in with the trees and proving a lasting monument to a lost and conquered civilization.
Bellator reins the horse abruptly, and my face knocks into her back.
“We’ve gone too far east!” Her voice is unusually high.
“Wha’d’you mean?” Uri asks as Annalyn reins their horse beside us.
A sudden breeze rustles through the trees, carrying with it an odd whispering sound. The hair on my neck raises and I shudder. Both horses spook at once. Majax bolts toward the archway and Nimro rears. My knees lose their grip and I tumble off, hitting the ground on my back. The air is knocked out of my lungs, and before I can take a breath, I am jerked to my feet. Nimro and Bellator have already disappeared through the trees.
A woman in a long, shapeless grey robe stands in front of me.
“H-hello,” I stammer, backing away from her.
She stretches her palm out toward me and whispers, “Vincular!”
Something snakes around my body, pinning my arms to my sides, and shoves itself into my mouth like a gag. It is covered in dirt and tastes bitterly like tender bark, and I realize that it is a root of some sort. The woman lifts her hand toward the sky. I rise into the air until I am dangling a few feet above the ground.
Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1) Page 12