by Kristen Pike
Pickard was out of breath and looked around panicked, his thoughts a messy blur in his head. Chev wore the same expression he always did, stoic, and he was repeating a mantra in his head calmly, in a language Rowan did not recognize. They handed over the four swords they had been able to scrounge up in the forsaken village to Elias, who examined the newly acquired weapons.
They were meager things, dull and beginning to rust. Rowan felt a flicker of concern shoot out in Elias’s mind. If Elias is concerned, do we even stand a chance?
Elias handed a sword to Carter, who tested its weight, swinging it a few times in the air expertly, and then grimaced at the unsatisfactory blade; he passed the blade to Jace with a shake of his head. Chev was handed another. Elias kept one for himself and handed the last blade to Rowan. She took it, eyeing it untrustingly. She had never used a blade before and hoped that when the time came she would know how to wield it.
“You hold it like this.” Carter said, stepping up behind Rowan and wrapping his arms around her. Rowan frowned briefly at Jace, whose sudden murderous thoughts toward Carter caught her off guard. Jace’s face however was blank as Carter positioned Rowans hands on the hilt of the blade, gripping them under his own. “Then you swing and hope you don’t miss.” Carter said, smiling his arrogant smile.
He looked knowingly at Jace as he stepped back from Rowan and Jace nodded once, an unspoken and unthought agreement flowing between them and Rowan wondered what it was.
Rowan looked at their meager group, foreboding lingering around them. Rowan frowned as she noticed Pickard was missing. She reached out with her mind and found him cowering in a house tucked into a corner with his knees pulled to his chest. So much for the great adventurer.
The five remaining stood in a line. Chev was on one end, his sword arm hanging at his side. He stared straight ahead and the only movement Rowan could see from him was the steady rise and fall of his chest. Jace stood next to Chev and he bounced from one foot to the other, his eyes searching, slightly squinted. Rowan was next to him and she tried not to fidget and stand bravely like Chev, but she found herself worrying her bottom lip.
Rowan looked up at Elias who stood next to her, surprised, as he took her hand in his and squeezed. Rowan tried to smile at him, but she knew it probably looked pathetic. Elias stood much like Chev did, with his eyes straight ahead but he kept gripping and ungripping his sword, which looked wrong to Rowan, perched in Elias’s slim painter fingers.
“It can’t be much like painting, can it? Instead of creating beautiful images with a brush, you’re slashing the beauty out of the world with a sword.” Rowan said to him, pulling her hand from his.
“Rowan I-“ Elias started, a sad expression crossing his face. Rowan could feel his Beast in his chest, roaring, and Rowan recoiled from it, but felt her own Beast stretching to life in her chest. Rowan tried to ignore it, but the icy hot feeling filling her limbs made it impossible to.
On the other side of Elias stood Carter, who looked up at the sky with an agonized look. A large vein showed in his exposed neck, a light blue line running just below his ear. As if he could feel Rowan’s gaze on him he turned and looked at her, a question in his eyes. Rowan tried to enter his mind to figure out what that question was but he threw up walls to keep her out. If they made it through this, she would have to ask him how to do that.
The soldiers were close enough to smell now, sweat pouring off their bodies and clogging the air with the stench. The clouds above were dark and Rowan knew it was going to start raining any minute.
The soldiers were 50 feet away. 40. Then 30. They began shouting a war cry, trying to make themselves feel braver than they were. The bellowed sounds echoed around the abandoned village, filling Rowans head until that was all she heard. Jace and Elias brought up their swords as the soldiers charged, raising their own finely crafted, thick metal blades. Rowan knew they were sharp and could slice through flesh as if it was bread. Rowan imagined it was her flesh those swords were carving into and brought up her own blade shakily.
Rowan’s Beast growled, begging for her to use it. Rowan shook her head hastily and drew her shoulders up to her ears. Her Beast growled again, persistent. Rowan fought within herself, but then relented, shutting her mind down and giving into the raw power her Beast gave her.
Guided by her Beast Rowan raised her hand, fingers splayed out in front of her, palm down. She could feel her body relaxing and fully gave herself to the Beast, praying she would be able to live with herself in the morning. She closed her eyes, her thoughts oddly calm, swirling inside her head like a leaf on a lazy river. She clenched her fist rapidly, her nails digging into her palm as she did so.
The line of soldiers closest to them crumpled to the ground. Rowan opened her eyes as her Beast flung itself around inside her, warming her limbs and making her feel weightless. The soldiers on the ground twitched, their eyes rolling into the back of their heads. Blood poured from their mouths, turning the ground below them a muddy red color. A clap of thunder bellowed overhead and Rowan cringed.
Jace turned to look at her with horror. Carter and Elias eyed her with what Rowan thought was awe. Elias’s Beast roared at hers and Elias smiled at her proudly. Somewhere inside Rowan, in the far recesses of her soul where she still had control of herself, she felt sick. Her Beast pranced triumphantly, eager and hungry for more, and Rowan found herself smiling slightly, because she could do that, she could save all of them single-handedly, because she was the epitome of raw power.
The soldiers had paused, hesitant to continue, a mixture of fear and repulsion plastered to their faces. They stepped back from their fallen men as though the felled soldiers had contracted a sickness and if they got to close, they were likely to catch it and suffer the same fate.
A soldier shouted something in the crowd and raised his sword, the other soldiers doing the same. The combatants roared. A single deafening cry that made Rowan’s heart rate pick up, not in fear but in anticipation. Chev finally raised his sword, his eyes determined. An arrow shot from somewhere in the crowd of soldiers, spinning toward their little battalion. Before anyone could react to it, Rowan felt searing pain as it struck her in the shoulder, slicing open her shirt and the skin, pouring blood down her arm, the arrow flying past and into the mud behind her, her Beast roared angrily as she staggered backwards, her face contorted in agony, in rage.
Jace grabbed Rowans hand, tugging her backwards and away from the raging soldiers who were mere feet away from their line of defense. Rowan could hear the clash of metal on metal as the two groups met. Rain began pouring from the sky in another clap of thunder, turning the blood that leaked from Rowans shoulder a thin pink color. Jace grimaced as he eyed her shoulder. It had gone clean through and for that, at least, she could be thankful.
Jace looked at her, his face tight and she nodded to him. She braced herself, gritting her teeth as Jace tore off a piece of his shirt at the bottom in a long strip, wrapping it tightly around Rowan’s wound. Her shoulder pounded with the pain of it, but she clenched her jaw and refused to cry out. The light cloth was already turning red, but there was nothing to be done about it; Elias was being overwhelmed, and although Chev and Carter seemed to be holding their own, they needed help.
She wanted to lie down and rest but Rowan could hear Chev and Elias yelling in frustration as the soldiers pushed them back. The soldiers swung their massive swords brutally, hacking at anything in their paths.
Jace gave a last look at Rowan and she nodded at him again. He rushed forward, meeting a soldier with his sword raised above his head, stopping the soldier from catching Elias in the head. Rowan closed her eyes, searching out the soldiers in her mind. She held out her hand again, her heart crashing against her rib cage.
She mentally wrapped her hand around the soldier’s hearts and could practically feel their fear riddled lives thrashing between her fingers. She growled as she closed her fist and the soldiers went down. Blood spurted across Rowans chest as the nearest soldier fell to the
ground with a thud, his sword sliding across the slick ground beside him. Rowan felt dizzy and her vision went black for a moment, her heart beat drowning out all other sounds as the world dulled in a blur. Rowan staggered and blinked, the world coming crashing back in an assault to her senses, vaulting her back into the battle raging around her, her head pounding agonizingly.
Rowan stepped around a body, raising her non-sword wielding hand, with the injured shoulder, above her head and flinging it downward, soldiers dropped around her like raindrops, splashing mud up around them.
The solders writhed in the dirt, their clothes becoming muddy. They clutched the sides of their heads, tearing their hair from their skulls. They screamed a hollow, earth-shattering scream.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rowan saw Chev fighting a group of ten men, twisting this way and that to stop the onslaught of blades trying to take his life; he was fast as lightning and skilled, blocking blow after blow. Rowan began running toward him and Chev raised his head at her approach. A soldier took his distraction to slice at him, catching him in the arm. Blood spurted from Chev’s arm and he almost dropped his sword, but continued on, though slower. A second soldier stabbed at his chest and Chev turned just in time to deflect most of the hit but the soldier still managed to slice into Chev, opening a deep gash that exposed Chev’s dark skin under his shirt, leaking crimson down his front.
Another soldier snuck around Chev while he stabbed an attacker, slicing through the soldier’s neck in one fluid motion. Rowan was a step away, drawing her sword up as the second attacker plunged a spear towards Chev’s stomach, Rowan thrust her sword out, catching the spear and flinging it to the side just before it would have penetrated Chev’s abdomen, saving his life.
Rowan kicked at the spear knocking it out of the soldiers hand as Chev turned, the spear-wielding soldier withdrew a blade and sliced Chev’s chest with it, opening another deep wound across his torso. Chev raised his own blade, sticking it straight through his attacker’s chest. The soldier gasped, flinging mud out around him as he fell and even before he struck the ground, he was dead.
Chev fell to his knees, blood dripping down the front of his shirt; he looked up at Rowan and nodded, pressing a hand to his chest though it did little to staunch the flow of blood that now covered his fingers.
Rowan raised her head as she heard a scream and saw Elias stab a soldier through the chest from behind than whirl around and decapitate another. Something seemed off to her about Elias; she couldn’t sense him at all, but she didn’t have time to be concerned with that now.
Rowan gasped as a blade sliced across her leg. Thick, vibrant, blood streamed down her left leg, soaking her pants. Pain seared through her but she managed to remain on her feet. Rowan whirled to face her attacker, anger flaring through her, fueled by her Beast.
The soldier, who, upon making eye contact with Rowan, handed her his sword, his eyes glazing over as Rowan took over his self-control. Rowan dropped her old, rusty sword, the new one weighty in her sweaty hands. Rowan slashed at him, opening thick gashes in his chainmail, she drew the sword back and plunged it into his chest. The soldier made a chocking sound as he fell to his knees, blood trickling from his mouth.
An image of Coop popped into Rowan’s mind and she cried out, dropping the blade in horror. Blood seeped across the dead man’s armor, becoming watery as the rain washed it away. Rowans shoes were stained red and she staggered away, looking dismayed at the battle raging around her.
Rowan caught sight of Elias again, but hadn’t he just been over there? Rowan was distracted by Carter bellowing, his shinning blonde hair matted to his forehead. His clothes were soaked in blood, his or someone else’s, Rowan could not say, his eyes furious as he raised his blade again and again, blocking the attacks of a massive, broad shouldered soldier. The soldier beat his sword down over and over, clashing against Carters tattered sword. Rowan knew if she did not do something, Carter was going to die.
Rowan’s Beast reached into the soldier and wrapped her own will around his.
“No, please don’t. PLEASE DON’T’!” The soldier screamed in his head, trying to force Rowan out. The clash of swords and screams of dying men around Rowan faded into the background and before her Rowan saw a grassy field dotted with little pink and white flowers. A little girl with blonde hair was running toward her, laughing. “Daddy!” The girl squealed as Rowan- the soldier- picked her up and twirled her in the air.
Who am I?
Rowan blinked, a blinding pain shooting in her eyes to the back of her brain so painful she saw stars popping in her vision, bringing her to her knees and the battled returned, more deafening and bloody than before. The burly soldier twitched, fighting against Rowan but with a shudder, he became still. The muscular soldier turned and speared his sword into the back of one of his former comrades. The second soldier thrust his chest out at the impact, looking down at the sword through his chest as if he couldn’t believe it was there. The Burly shoulder put his black boot onto the smaller soldiers back and tugged his sword free, leaving the now dead man to fall to the ground, his head turned awkwardly to the side as he stared unblinkingly at the muddy ground.
The battle was ending quickly. Rowan rocked on her knees and watched the last of it, feeling exhausted and guilty, and her head was pounding so agonizingly tears welled in her eyes. Her hair was soaked through and hung drenched down her back, swinging lightly as she followed Jace with her eyes. He moved swiftly, really only backing away from his attackers defensively, pushing them towards Carter who dealt the killing blow. He is just a baker, Rowan thought numbly, coming to a stand. He should never have been dragged into this. What have I done to him?
Beside her Chev had ripped his shirt off and was pressing it to his chest as he came to his feet wobbly, looking intently at the battle finishing around him.
There was Elias, rapidly killing a small soldier, but... Elias was also across the way from her, swiping down a soldier whose helmet had fallen off, exposing a man with thick curly brown hair. Rowan frowned, was she seeing double?
Rowan could see the first Elias’s face clearly, taking out the last soldier near him and grinning at Rowan as though they had just accomplished something great, as if they should be proud of what had transpired this day. His eyes though, just looked tired. Carter and Jace finished off the last of their soldiers, righting themselves and looking confused at the back of the second Elias who was pulling his sword from the last soldier, newly dead on the ground with their limbs sprawled out across the murky terrain.
The second Elias turned slowly, allowing the others to look closely at him. He wiped his blood stained sword on his pants, the red smearing along the thick fabric. He had black hair, with a large streak of grey in the front. He had cold, calculating, sapphire eyes, with small wrinkles in the corners that were peering intently at Rowan with curiosity. He stood straight under their scrutiny and Jace took a step back cautiously. He looked questioningly at Rowan, who was shaking her head in disbelief.
“Emlyn?” The older replica of Elias said, his voice filled with wonder as he stared at Rowan. His voice was deep and held the authority of someone used to commanding legions. He took his gaze from Rowan and looked at Elias, who stared at the man questioningly, his face screwed up in concentration.
“Who are you?” Elias asked, gone from his voice was the tone of a God, replaced by the voice of a boy unsure of what was right in his world.
Rowan tried to reach out and sense this new man, but where her mind should have connected there was only a void, black, deep, and soulless. This man before her was the strange, New Thing, she had first felt in the shack with Jace.
Rowan shook her head, her mind going blank, but this is impossible. My father is dead. He hung himself from the Great Tree. He’s dead. Rowan thought, blinking at the man.
“He will come for us now. I can’t go back. I can’t go back.” Rowan’s mother had cried. Her terrified voice echoed around in Rowan’s head, “He will come for us now!”
“Indeed Emlyn. I have come for you, and Cassius.”
COMING SOON:
Unbroken: Book Two of the Compelled Trilogy
Kristen Pike lives at home with her husband and two children and sadly no cats. She’s loved writing from a very young ag, starting out with small poems and moving up to novels. If she wasn’t writing she would be studying psychology, or perhaps testing chocolate. She loves all things fuzzy on four legs, reading to her children, and playing Minecraft. Unwilling is her first novel.
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