“I am set to be a Guardian of Azure,” I proclaim as I stand tall. “I will protect life, not slaughter it. I cannot betray all those I care about…for…what? For knowledge? And I presume knowledge is power, is it not? But what is a life of only power. I would lose everyone I cared for if I joined you. Power doesn’t make me great. Those I care for make me great.” I gesture to the man on the ground. “This is not a family I want to spend the rest of my days with. My father would have seized this opportunity. He would have chosen a false sense of greatness. And my father would have been naïve in doing so. The only greatness I will ever acquire is in the company I keep. And I won’t have any of your tigershit soiling the memory of those who died here today or anyone else in my life.”
He laughs at me with an evil I’ve never seen in anyone. “You are humorous, boy. You know, I was only interested in your girlfriend anyways.”
I look for her on the cliffside, and she’s only a quarter of the way up.
“She’s quite the marksman with that bow of hers. Very well. No gain, no loss.”
He unsheathes his blade from his back and slashes at me without delay. With an unsuspecting quickness, I drop to the dead warrior. His bark rapidly grows up my arm and around my neck when I place a firm hand on him. The assassin’s blade swings down and ricochets, accompanied by a few sparks.
Shit! I’m still alive. The assassin stares down on me. His arrogance fades into a flat line between his cheeks. His eyes narrow.
“It makes a formidable armor if you craft it right, asshole.” I let the bark spread over my body until I am covered from head to toe like Graytu was. Except I manipulate the bark to grow into small scale-like plates, giving me the flexibility of a man as opposed to a tree. I rise to my feet, fully clad in Greybark armor. The assassin swings at me again. I raise my arm to shield myself, barely able to lift the weight of the armor quick enough, and the force of the blow knocks me to the ground. However, I am unscathed.
Incredible! I can manipulate it, yet steel cannot penetrate it.
“Clever. Iron-infused tree bark. But primitive. It won’t stop me from killing you.” The assassin sheathes his sword and drops down on me, wrapping both hands around my neck. “If I cannot penetrate your armor, then I will suffocate you with it.”
His strength is inhuman. I pound at his arms to break away but without luck. I press my feet into his gut and push with all my might. He falters slightly, but he weighs more than Coloss.
Coloss!
I try calling to him across the meadow, but the weight of the armor restricts my airflow. It pulls me into the forest floor with incredible weight.
The assassin lets go, and I watch him unsheathe his blade once more.
“It is time to join your father in the afterlife, young lad.”
He raises his arms high into the air, one hand tightly wrapped around the grip and the other placed over the top of the pommel. Unable to move without extreme exertion, it will be impossible to dodge his attack. He will send the blade right down my throat. Even if I use what energy I have left to remove the armor, I will not be able to escape the blow. A tidal wave of desperation floods over me. My only hope is the beastly ape.
“Coloss!” I cry out via the conduit. “Coloss!” I cannot turn my head to see if the ape responds. “Help!” I manage to yell out loud.
The assassin looks around to see who I’m calling to. I take the opportunity to release the armor from my body, except nothing happens. Why is it not working? Why can’t I rescind the armor from my flesh? He must have made the bark dormant when he laid his hands on me. That’s why it became so heavy. He turned it to stone so I can no longer manipulate it.
“Coloss!” I cry out once more. This time out loud. “Coloss, help!” The ape continues to ignore my pleas.
“He’s an ape. What else would you expect of him?” the assassin mocks me.
He lifts my chin with his sword and raises it once again, this time placing the tip of the blade in my mouth. The blade slices my tongue, and an awkward metallic flavor aggravates my taste buds. I’m not sure if it’s the steel of the blade or the blood pooling in my mouth.
“You had potential, you know. It flows through your blood just as it did your father’s. Unfortunately, he made one too many poor choices, which cost him his life. Like father, like son, I suppose. Farewell, Goose.”
I’m not ready to die. I am better than this. I failed my father time after time. I have failed Fairview, and I have failed Graytu on more than one occasion, but… I never expected to fail Stone or…Jaymes.
While I reflect on my sad story, something flies just above my head. Falling back to the present situation, I see an arrow has pierced the assassin. With his hands still on his sword and the blade still in my mouth, he stumbles backward. The sword falls to his side and slices at my lips as it does. He smacks his neck where an arrow has impaled him. A fatal shot.
But he doesn’t fall to the ground, dead. His eyes widen, then his gaze narrows and his brow tightens as he stares at me with absolute rage crusted over him. There isn’t a drop of blood. And he doesn’t even appear to be pained by it. He snaps the fletching off and pulls the arrow free from his neck.
He then looks up to see where the bolt came from, and another impales him through the eye and out the back of his skull. Again, there’s no blood or any brain matter, but this time he does fall to the ground.
“Goose!” a youthful voice calls out. “Goose, hurry. We don’t have much time.”
I cannot turn to see where she is, but I know it’s Zoie. Not only because of her voice or the incredible shot, but sadly enough, because she is the sole survivor of her village.
“He’s dead,” I call out. What’s the hurry?
“You haven’t learned anything during your stay, have you? Did Fairview not tell you what she is?” Zoie comes into view and starts plucking bark scales from my skin one at a time. “C’mon. Help me get this off you.”
“Hold on. What does Fairview have to do with this assassin?”
“He’s a Graft, just like Fairview. Except he’s not a Shaman, he’s an…Immortal.”
“Fuck! My arms. Get my arms first.” I watch intently until the first one is plucked. I wince as it sends a searing pain into my flesh, but it’s only pain. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Cursing. It has been an extremely overwhelming night.”
“Don’t be an idiot. Let’s just get this stuff off you while he’s down. What were you thinking anyways? There’s a reason the Redcliffe Warriors only wear small plates of this stuff around their most vital organs and limbs.”
“I saw Graytu do it right before he…” I let my comment trail off, afraid of the reaction I might spur in Zoie.
“He’s not dead,” Zoie proclaims. “And no, he’s not an Immortal either. The people of Greybark simply have a few techniques…”
“He is dead.” I correct her. “I watched him die. And everybody else is dead too, including Fairview. This is too much. I still need to grasp the Immortals, the Shaman, the death of a village, and of…my father. Ouch!”
Zoie stops plucking the bark from my skin and looks up at me. “Sorry,” she says compassionately. I balk at her uncharacteristic apology. “Not for the pain, Sheela.” She yanks another slab of bark from my forearm. I cringe. “About your father.” And she leaves it at that.
I know she understands my sorrow. Probably even more so than I do. Neither one of us seems to be interested in consoling one another, so we let silence be the healer.
She peels enough off one arm so it’s functional again. We both peel away the bark, and in a matter of moments, I rise to my feet with a weightlessness I’ve never experienced before. My skin is tarnished with itchy red blemishes. Lesson learned.
Once free, I start toward the crossing. I look back to see Zoie isn’t following me. “What are you doing? You said he’s an Immortal. Let’s go. Before he wakes up.”
“What about Coloss? We can’t just leave him,” Zoie s
ays.
“Yes, we can. This is his home. Do you truly believe he’d follow us? Plus, he’s a giant ape. He can take care of himself.”
“But—”
“Zoie.” I shrug my shoulders.
“I feel bad, leaving him here all alone. All his kin are gone.”
“He’s dedicated to protecting the crossing and his tree. His loss is severe, but it won’t pry him from his home.”
“Maybe I should stay, then.”
“And what? Live with a monkey for the rest of your days?”
“He’s not a monkey!”
“When that creep awakens, he won’t let you live. He’ll kill you. Or worse, make you his slave. He already informed me he’s interested in your marksmanship—”
The snapping of a twig draws my attention. The assassin is sitting upright and pulling an arrow from his skull. It’s a disturbing sight to witness. After pulling the bolt from his eye, he tosses it to the side and shakes it off.
“Dammit.” He pokes at the hole on the back of his head. Then, he sticks a finger into his eye. “That’s going to be a tough one to work around.”
“Zoie, we have to go. Now!” I start running and hear Zoie’s light footsteps right behind me. “We have to close it off. Zoie, can Coloss retract the bridge by himself?”
“I don’t know,” she replies.
I halt at the base of the steps leading up the towering granite wall. Zoie fails to stop and runs into me, following too close. I embrace her as she does to keep her from bouncing off and falling into the ravine. She looks up to me with wide eyes. I don’t know what’s hiding behind those eyes, but it’s passionate, whatever she’s feeling right now.
“Go on. I’m going to figure out how to get Coloss to retract this thing.”
“That’s a horrible idea!” she protests. “You know he doesn’t respond well to you. Let me go.”
She’s right. I may have earned his respect, but we haven’t experienced a smooth road to get here. And my Instincts aren’t as fluent as Zoie’s.
“Okay. We’ll both go,” I suggest. “The assassin still looks disconcerted.”
“As he should be! He has a hole in his neck and his face.”
We rush back over the crossing to the base of the fig tree. Coloss is perched a few branches up in his typical spot. Zoie, with her exceptional relationship with the beast, simply approaches the tree to summon him. If it were me, the ape would drop down on top of me and squash me. For Zoie, he drops down with a sense of servitude, like he is willing to do anything she requests. And sure enough, she silently communicates with him, and he gives her a nod of approval.
“Come on!” Zoie cries out. “The assassin is on his feet.”
Zoie and I hastily cross the bridge and make our way up the steps. Having experienced this climb once before, I know there is a long journey ahead of us. I hope the steps don’t retract from under our feet.
We race up each flight of steps, avoiding the unsettling amount of dead bodies littered across the path, and at each switchback, we slow because the footing is sketchy and often involves a bit of three-point contact to climb up and over the lifeless bodies.
Coloss’s rhythmic thumping begins.
At about the fifth or sixth flight, I pause for a breather and, more so, to see if we’re being followed. The red-stained granite wall goads for retaliation, but I can’t. I can’t defeat a man who can survive an arrow through his skull. Zoie’s safety is priority. After dismissing the devastation around me, I don’t see what I want to behind us. The bridge hasn’t retracted the slightest. And worse, the melody of the thumping has stopped. The assassin is in full combat with Coloss at the base of his tree. Coloss can defend himself. I convince myself. Just like Helios can. They’re beasts of the forest. Guardians. They can protect themselves. I’m not convinced in the slightest, but I dismiss it nonetheless, and trek upward at a faster pace with my head down.
Far above the tree line, we allow ourselves another break. There’s no sign of pursuit. The night and morning are both behind us, along with the massacre. And the sun is well past midday now. The pounding heat is more apparent up here. I lift my tunic and wipe away the beading sweat at my forehead.
As we near the top of the wall, the sun gives way to twilight. Cerise has yet to bless us with her presence, implying a dark night’s ahead of us. But that’s the least of our challenges as I see what lies ahead.
The success of the climax washes away with the sight of the stairs falling short of the top of the wall. Coloss’s retraction must have started from the top down. Why did I ever think that was a good idea?
Roughly three flights will need to be climbed by hand. Fortunately, this high up on the wall, the rock face isn’t as sheer, leaving some room for a foothold. We should be able to climb the rest of the way to escape the maniac below.
“What do we do now?” Zoie asks.
“We climb.”
“I can’t climb this wall.” Her head sinks between her shoulders.
“Since when are you afraid to do anything?” I ask her as I inspect the wall for good gripping points.
“I’m not afraid.”
“It’s okay if you are. You can stay here, if you want,” I tease her.
“Stop it, Goose. I’m not afraid. You go first.”
“Alright, then.” I put one hand on the wall then find good placement for the other. Zoie watches. “You always want three points of contact when climbing,” I say to her confidently. I secure a marginal foothold at best and lift my other leg. I slip. “Don’t step there,” I say to her and look back, blushing at my own incompetence. Her green eyes have a subtle fear in them. “What is it, Zoie? You don’t have to be afraid. I was only giving an example of how easy it is to slip.” I smile and wink at her.
“No offense, Goose, but I’m not really listening. I know how to climb, and you don’t seem like you’re too experienced with it. Maybe I should go first.”
“Then, why are you so tense?”
“I’ve never left Greybark before. I…I’m afraid of…I’m afraid of what’s out there.” She points to the horizon.
“Oh,” I say earnestly. “Well…you still don’t have to be afraid. You have your mighty Goose with you. I’ll keep you safe. Plus, the world out there is nothing compared to what I’ve experienced in your remote village. You have nothing to fear.”
She’s not convinced. Nor am I. The Taoiseach is out there.
I start back at it, and this time I manage to get off the landing completely without stuttering. Zoie follows right behind me without hesitation.
“Goose!” A sudden shriek squeals from her lungs. I look down to see the assassin has caught up to us, and he has Zoie’s ankle in his grip. I grab hold of a tree root, disregarding my advice of having three points of contact, and I seize her hand.
“Zoie! Climb, Zoie. You have to climb up my arm.”
“I can’t,” she cries.
The fear in her eyes is no longer subtle. She looks to me for help. She’s expecting me to save her. She’s expecting me to be her guardian.
“Zoie, you have to try. Up is our only way out. Use your arms and climb, Zoie.”
The root frays from Zoie’s savage kicking and twisting. I don’t know how much longer it will hold.
I flex and pull, but the root slips from its anchor point instead, and we all judder downward before it snaps tight again. Zoie continues to kick, but her tantrum is no match against the assassin’s grip. He’s far too strong.
We’re never going to scale this wall unless we rid ourselves of this man. I let go of the root, and the two of us fall. My feet hit the deck below, but Zoie’s fate isn’t the same. She smashes hard into the assassin, and both hurdle over the edge. I leap to grab anyone or anything, hoping to secure at least one of them, knowing if it isn’t Zoie, she would at least be able to grab onto the assassin. And that is exactly what happens. Except, the assassin has Zoie in his grasp. He’s latched onto her at the ankle as she dangles upside down. The drop bel
ow is beyond measure. Her life is in his hands, and his in mine.
“Zoie! Are you okay, Zoie?” I yell out. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you, Zoie.”
“Save yourself, Goose,” Zoie calls from her inverted state.
She sounds fearless. No worry in her voice whatsoever. Much to the contrast of her hesitance to leave her village moments ago.
“Don’t worry about me. Finish what you came here for.”
The assassin bursts out into a hysterical laughter. “The two of you are ridiculous. What are you talking about, lad? You have no control over her safety. I do.”
He lets go of her without any hesitation. Zoie’s scream echoes throughout the ravine as she falls out of sight. Her scream torments me into eternity, echoing longer than it should. This man is sinister beyond comprehension.
“You are sick. How could you so easily let an innocent young girl fall to her death? You’re fucking mad!”
“Did I not already explain my mental instability, lad? You truly are a half-wit.”
I let go, and he counteracts with insane speed, grabbing my wrist with his other hand. The hand that was just a moment ago the only thing securing Zoie from her death. His grip burns my wrist, but I’m not sure if it’s just a mental-turned-physical interpretation of my disgust for him or if his touch really is burning my skin.
“Who are you?” I stare down on him with contempt. “Why are you doing this?”
He looks vile with his ashen skin, bloodred tattoos curling about his face, and now, a missing eye. Only a collapsed hole in its place. “I am Carib Reign. I will give freedom to all who remain after I kill the Taoiseach. And one more thing, before I go. Harris murdered your father. Revenge is yours for the taking.” He then lets go and plummets into the ravine, proving his instability. I watch him fall until I can no longer see him, somehow not fully satisfied.
And what little satisfaction I had is whisked away at the sight of a winged wolf soaring through the air with the madman on his back. The distance between us battles my eyesight, but I see another body atop the taboo beast. Zoie.
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 67