Wilde's Army

by Krystal Wade

  Holding his left hand in front of him, he turns it over a few times, as if inspecting the quality of his magic, then puts it up to my right hand and laces his fingers with mine. Flames rush up our arms. “A few days ago, you could only burn with fire during battles, now you have learned to create light in your hand, hide large groups of people, connect with your sister—Kate, you are unbelievably powerful.”

  His compliments are a distraction. “What are you hiding?”

  A long sigh fills the empty, dark forest with so much noise; I fear any daemon could find us. “I am not hiding anything but my concerns of the unknown, Kate. Your mother said herself my father did not share my entire prophecy with me. Your dreams have all predicted my death; your memories of those deaths—when I saw them in your head—were like torture to me. Seeing you broken, watching you allow yourself to be killed or wish death upon yourself—I do not want you to do any of those things if death truly is my future.”

  My breath catches in my chest, tight and constricting. I sit up then turn to face him, look into the beautiful emeralds I’ve loved even before seeing them in real life. The doubt I didn’t understand before is there now. He doubts he’s going to live, doubts he’s going to be there for me, doubts our marriage will ever take place … he doubts everything. “You will not die, Arland. You said so yourself. I need you to believe in that. I have heard everyone dies so much since I’ve been here, but without you, I have no magic and these people have no Light—that much of your prophecy we understand. So, you will not die, Arland. Do you understand me?”

  His eyes meet mine then look me over in such an intimate way I feel the need to check if people are watching. “Your confidence has increased, too.”

  Arland is wrong; it’s not confidence but my will to live, to love, and to survive which makes me say these things. I shake my head. “There was a time in my life where I was sure of everything, but those times are long gone. Now, the only things I am sure of are the only things keeping me going. Does that make sense?”

  He smiles. “As I said, your confidence has increased.”

  I nudge his shoulder. “You are impossible.”

  “Me? You refuse to allow me to pay a compliment when one is deserved. You know you are supposed to talk like us, yet when you become angry, you talk like your normal, beautiful self. Need I go on?” A smile lights his eyes.

  “I don’t feel more confident, but I guess I am. At least I’m not begging the magic and the gods for help. And I don’t feel the need to talk properly while alone with you,” I say with the urge to stick out my tongue.

  He tugs my arm, and I give in, nestling into him again. “We were not alone when you decided to be angry about hearing the others’ thoughts. You said Perth was enjoying your outburst at me, but I think Perth enjoys a good argument no matter who is involved.”

  I startle, but Arland holds me to him, forcing me to stay calm. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t speaking like … like whatever it is I’m supposed to. Like an Encardian, like everyone else.”

  He runs his fingers through my hair and down my arm. Chills course over my skin. “I know, but there will be no second chances at Willow Falls.”

  A crack of a dry branch snaps behind us. We jump to our feet and draw our weapons, flames covering us.

  “Hey”—Brit shouts, holding up one hand in surrender while the other grips a torch—”it’s just me. No need to go stabbing, or shooting anything with an arrow.”

  I slide my sword through the loop on my belt. “Maybe you should announce yourself next time. And where’d you get that torch?”

  “I literally just stepped out from under the tree, but I’ll be sure to shout so everything we’re hiding from can find us before we’re hidden by magic. And you can relax; I’m not a shifter. Go on. Check me out. Do whatever it is you do.” She swirls the torch around in the air, surely drawing more attention to us.

  “Cadman showed me how to make it, then he lit it for me because I don’t have a natural knack for magic like you.”

  Not being able to trust anyone kills me, especially not being able to trust my sister. I close my eyes.

  Reveal her true form.

  There are no pulsing black bands of shifter. No threat. Just the inside of my eyelids.

  “I’m glad you don’t trust me. You’re learning. After what happened, you shouldn’t trust anyone.”

  Opening my eyes, I see the serious look on her face and relax. “Is everything okay? Why did you come out?”

  Brit all but closes the large gap between us. “Perth asked if I’d talked to you about keeping secrets yet. When I told him no, he said I should because we’ll probably not have another opportunity before Willow Falls.”

  She bats her lashes over her wide, expectant eyes. “So, you two ready?”

  Arland doesn’t think she’s as good at hiding things as she believes herself to be, but she is our only instructor. He opens his mouth—

  “We’re ready, but first, what secrets have you kept hidden?”

  “If I tell you, they won’t be secrets anymore. Let’s just say you’ll never guess and leave it at that?”

  Is she playing a game of her own now? “Brit, I—”

  “Kate, whatever her secret is, it is clear she is not willing to divulge.” Arland points to the tree. “Shall we sit?”

  Brit pushes past us then takes our seat. She rests her back on the sap covered trunk. I don’t understand why, but she’s making me wish she’d go away.

  The light from my glowing body glistens on her face, changing her green eyes to a warm shade of aquamarine.

  She points her finger at me. “See that look right there, Kate. I know my attitude drives you crazy. The slight lift of your eyebrow does you in. You can’t let your emotions show.”

  Great. So now Mom and Brit are telling me to control my emotions while Griandor tells me to let them free. “If you are going to tell me—”

  “Whatever you’re thinking just stop. What I’m going to tell you is this: every time you see Arland, I want you to picture something you hate. Think of Perth.”

  “Brit, he’s not—”

  “Then think of his dad, or the bad guy, or Brad—”

  I march toward her, hands propped on my hips. She’s really driving a wedge into my side. “Brad wasn’t a bad guy, Brit.”

  She rolls her eyes, but I see something else there too. Confusion? Excitement? I don’t know what it is; she’s impossible to read right now.

  “Don’t tell me you still believe in him? Poison or no poison, not only did he punch Mark Evans, he punched you and spit in your face, and he’s d-dead.” The way she stumbles over the word dead … maybe Arland is right, she can’t hide anything any better than us. Whatever Brad—or the poison controlled Brad—did to me, she must have a lot more good memories of him like I do. They were friends, too.

  “I don’t think he’s entirely dead, Brit. He’s still in there, and if … no, when we win this war, Griandor promised to restore Brad’s life, heal his heart, and return him home.”

  Tears fill my sister’s eyes, and she wipes them away with her tunic sleeve. I’ve seen Brit upset before—the worst was when she arrived here—but not like this. She doesn’t cry.

  “What do you mean he’s still in there? Kate, he hit you. How is it possible you still see good in him?” she asks, hands flying out, eyes full of accusation.

  Will Flanna react this way, too? I hope not. I don’t understand why Brit is fighting against Brad so hard. I take a deep breath and squeeze Arland’s hand for support—he hasn’t heard everything I’m about to say either. “You cannot say anything to anyone. Including Mom. Do you understand? This is all I have.”

  She nods.

  “When everyone was taken, Griandor visited me, but before that, his brother visited me in Brad’s body. I don’t doubt Brad felt betrayed when he woke up and found me and Arland together”—and he had every right to—”but his anger wasn’t actually his. Dughbal tried—”

  “Dughba
l?” Arland asks, guarding tone.

  Casting a sideways glance, I see his arched eyebrow. He’s waiting for an explanation. “Yes, Arland, Dughbal. Do you know of him?”

  A blank stare. “No. I have never heard of him.”

  “I don’t understand. You knew of Griandor and his sister Gramhara, but not their brother Dughbal?”

  He rubs his chin. “No, but please, go on.”

  I look away from Arland, back to Brit. “Well, Griandor told me his brother helped wage a war so powerful it destroyed the gods’ favorite world of Elysia.”

  “So it was destroyed.” Arland sighs.

  ”Yes.” I nod. “Dughbal fights for the same thing as Perth’s father. Power. The gods shift control over the worlds, to maintain balance, but Dughbal was unwilling to give up control of Elysia, and his refusal started a war.”

  He leans forward, much more interested in this conversation than my sister. “With Elysia gone, why does Dughbal still fight?”

  “Well, when that world was destroyed, the gods vowed never to fight each other again. Griandor said it was peaceful for a long time, but his brother got bored and caused a lot of issues. Their father punished Dughbal by sending him to live amongst men. Unfortunately, he was able to convince the daemons to follow him, and he wanted to fight here because Encardia was second best only to Elysia. And since no one used old magic anymore … .”

  “But the gods do not fight, why does Dughbal not leave?” Arland asks.

  “He’s hoped to pull them into the battle for years, but instead of fighting him they use me. Griandor and Gramhara picked me for—well that doesn’t matter—they picked me, and I have to kill Dughbal.”

  Arland tenses, squeezing my hand as if he’s gripping the hand of an enemy. “Kate, you just told us Dughbal is a god. How does Griandor expect you to kill a god?”

  I cringe, and he quickly relaxes his hold on me. “Their father took Dughbal’s immortality from him, but he is unaware of this. However, the more Draíochtans killed by daemons, the more power Dughbal gains. We have to kill him … no, I have to kill him.”

  Brit nudges my shoulder, reminding me of her presence. “This history lesson is great and all, but I don’t see what it has to do with Brad.”

  I’ve never said it before. I’m not even sure the realization was there until now. I have to kill my best friend. Taking Brit’s hand in mine, I pray she doesn’t freak out about what I’m going to tell her.

  “Dughbal is Brad,” I say, remembering the feeling of Dughbal’s snake-like tongue flicking against my cheek. “I have to kill Brad.”

  The world around me fades away. I have a vague awareness of Arland’s hand in mine, but I could be a million miles away from him. Will I have the courage to drive my sword through Brad? Sure, it may not be Brad, but I saw the struggle in his eyes when Dughbal visited me. I know Brad is in there, and I imagine driving a sword through his chest will not only hurt him, it will kill him.

  Brit jerks my arm nearly out of its socket. “Kate? Kate, where’d you go?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m more than a little confused. You say Brad isn’t bad, then you say he’s Dughbal and you have to kill him. Explain?”

  Memories of the coscarthas circling Brad’s body, jumping on him and ripping open his flesh with their long claws, surface and make me cringe. I wish I could go back in time and take it all away. “P-poison. The poison, no, before that. When Brad was lost in the forest … remember I told you Darkness—or Dughbal—tried to get to him, but Mom took care of it? Well, Griandor said Brad was strong, and because of that, Dughbal wasn’t able to taint him. When we came to Encardia, I’m sure the coscarthas wanted to kill Brad, but maybe their poison doesn’t work the same way on regular humans. While Brad was in his coma, Dughbal was able to taint him through the power of the poison. When Brad woke up, it was the tainted Brad who punched me, who spit in my face.”

  “W … what about Mark Evans?” Brit is reaching for the same reasons to remain upset with Brad that I did.

  “Griandor said Mark Evans had bad intentions for me, and Brad knew it. Apparently Mark got what he deserved.”

  She squeezes my fingers. “So, you have to kill Brad, but this Griandor will bring him back to life?”

  “Yes.”

  Brit sits up on her knees. Her strained smile sends tears racing down her pale cheeks. “And you love Arland?”

  “Um, Brit?”

  “I believe I know your secret now, Brit,” Arland says with an even tone.

  She looks at him, then me. My sister hides her face with her hands, and her body trembles, sobs silencing her words.

  I look between them. I’m not sure I follow. “Brit?”

  “Kate, can you not see? Brit loves Brad.”

  I laugh at Arland. “No she doesn’t. She was dating Taylor Evans. Never once did she say she liked Brad.”

  I pry back her fingers, but she pulls away. “Brit?”

  Without lifting her head, she cries even louder. “It’s true, Kate.”

  Finding my way to my feet, I ball my fists at my sides. She pretended this would be a happy conversation, that she could help me. But all she’s done is add more hurt. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? And if you liked him so much, why didn’t you start hating him when you found out he punched Mark? Why were you dating Mark’s brother? I have so many ‘whys’ for you it’s not even funny. You were my best friend, the only one who never hid anything from me. Now you aren’t any better than Mom, or Brad for that matter.”

  The woods are too crowded. Our hiding spot is too full of watchful eyes that aren’t supposed to see me cry. I want to scream. I want to run away. Arland and Brit look at me with different expressions of equal parts shock, hurt, confusion and other things I’m not even going to try to understand.

  I will find the river and look for the others, and I will find it fast. No second glances will be spared in my sister’s direction. Aside from Arland, and maybe even Gary, everyone has lied to me. I thought I could trust Brit, thought she shared everything with me. No wonder she gets along with Mom so well. They are exactly alike.

  I’m halfway down the hill, sliding on the dead leaves matching the rest of this dead world. I slip, arms flailing at my sides, but regain control then return to marching away from Brit.

  Arland runs behind me, begging me to stop, but I don’t, and I won’t.

  “Kate, stop.” He catches up to me and grabs onto my shoulders, putting an end to my escape. “You have to go back up. We have just left them defenseless.”

  Guilt as well as anger, frustration, and self-pity fill me now. Gone are the days where Kate used to worry about Kate. Now I’m responsible for an army, for children, for my love—and it’s only going to get worse. “She lied to me. She was the only one who hadn’t, and now … .” A lump forms in my throat.

  “Are you upset with her because she lied, or are you upset with her because Brad is the object of her affection?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I push his hand from my shoulder then climb back up the hill. I have to protect the soldiers and children.

  Little good my abandoning does, he catches back up to me then takes my hand.

  Arland pulls me into him and holds my gaze. “Kate, he is someone you loved. I cannot imagine spending all the years you did with him and you not having a deeper connection than you admit to. Search your feelings. Did you never, not once, feel there might be something more with him?”

  I want to yell out no, why are you jealous, but I don’t. Arland is right. Although I know my relationship with Brad is nowhere near as strong as mine with Arland, there was a time I thought there might be more. I was so comfortable in the tent with Brad, so taken aback by him when he stepped into the water outside the portal. I do love Brad. I love Arland more, but there is love for Brad. A love that could lead to something more if I ever explored it further. The spark wasn’t there when we kissed—at least not for me—but we are two compatible people … if we tried, I’m sure our
friendship could catch fire.

  Leaning my head into Arland’s chest, I sigh. “Once.”

  “‘Once’ being your way of admitting you felt something more for him?” Arland wraps his arms around me then rests his hands on the small of my back.

  “Yes, Arland. Once I felt something more for him. Right before we came to Encardia. In the swimming hole, and then immediately after, in the tent. He held me in his arms when I was cold. I felt something … comfort or safe or at home … but it doesn’t matter because as soon as he kissed me, I knew I didn’t love him the same way.”

  He pulls away, keeps his left arm around my shoulder then starts forward, back up the hill. “So are you upset with Brit because you feel she is taking him away or because she never shared it with you?”

  “Because she never shared it. It would be ridiculous for me to say because she is taking Brad away. I love you and want to be with you.”

  “I am not asking because I doubt your love for me, but I believe you may love us both, but for very different reasons.”

  “Trust me. The only thing I’m mad about is being lied to. Think about everyone who’s lied to me. Go ahead: my mom, Brit, and even Brad.”

  He glances at me. “I know.”

  “To tell you the truth, I always thought Brad and Brit would make an excellent couple. Usually they’d talk each other’s heads off when I fell asleep, or they’d share drinking stories, or … but none of it matters because he loved me and Brit—”

  “Has had to endure this lie, knowing how much he loved you, how much you did not reciprocate his love, and how much she wanted to be with him.”

  “I guess I came across like a jerk, huh?” I stare into his knowing eyes.

  “Considering all the lies you have been told, no, but your sister has her reasons for withholding this secret. What good would it have done her to tell you? You would have mentioned it to Brad, and what would he have done?”

  I suck in a sharp breath. “He told me he wanted to marry me. Before Shay put him in the coma, Brad said he knew from the moment he met me he wanted to be with me forever. It’s not fair for either of them.”