by Krystal Wade
Please find Marcus . . . alive.
If Arland wasn’t a Leader, if he didn’t need to show his strength or prove his ability to control his emotions, I’m sure he’d run to me right now. He kills every creature standing in his way, crossing the distance between us. Coscarthas fall with quick, effortless stabs of his sword. Daggers of fire shoot from his chest, killing hounds mid-air. He knocks tairbs off their hooves; Cadman follows behind and slits their throats. Shifters receive arrows to their pulsing cores from Arland’s best man.
Arland is terrifying yet magnificent. His muscles tense. Veins bulge with blood, fueled by what can only be adrenaline. Dirt covers his exposed skin. Beads of sweat run down his cheeks. His sword bears proof of his kills, but his face bares his desire to be near me. Not once has he looked away. Not once have his eyes stopped smiling.
Magic aids his march across the forest.
Nerves weaken me.
Lowering his sword, he leaves no space between us, takes my face in his hand, holds me like he shouldn’t while others are around. “You died.”
I experience a sudden need to look away from his emerald eyes. The war around us has not stopped. Soldiers fight with everything in them; children do their best not to be killed. “Not exactly. I’m here, aren’t I?”
He turns my face, forces me to meet his eyes. “That is not the point. You died, Kate. I have failed you. Repeatedly.” Leaning down, he places his lips on mine, but there is reservation in this meeting. Uncertainty. Restraint he’s never shown before.
“I love you,” I say.
“As I love you.” Arland backs away then raises his sword in a defensive position. “Are you able to fight?”
I nod.
“Good. The soldiers killed most of them while you were gone, but as you can tell”—he points at the bodies—”most of us have also been killed.”
Cringing, I take count of how many are still here and alive. Me, Arland, Brit, Flanna, Mom, Cadman, Tristan, Perth, Anna, Keagan, Keely, Saidear, Dunn, Gavin, Kent, Muriel and Shay: seventeen of us remain. I’m going to be sick.
“We should hold hands and fight the daemons in a line. Share the magic like before … like on the cliff. We didn’t need weapons then, and we don’t need them now.” I reach out for Anna then clasp my hand around hers.
“Anna, don’t let go of me. Do you understand?” I will not allow another child to die.
The instant every man, woman, and child links together, fire explodes from us. Thoughts of survival, of salvation, and of winning fill everyone’s heads and hearts. Daemons approach us on all sides, but I don’t waste time looking at them. I don’t recite spells as many of the others do; I meet the eyes of the creatures longing to kill us and command fire into them.
Magic hits the ground around our feet, knocking leaves, dirt and branches up in a cloud, but instead of rising into the atmosphere like smoke from an atom bomb, the debris launches itself away from us then smacks into the daemons. Wails rise from wounded monsters lying on the forest floor. Following behind the debris, flames consume any life left in our fallen enemies and grow from the feet up on the daemons left standing.
Our power amplifies. Our enemies dwindle. Serpents lie dead to our left, daemons lie dead … everywhere. The forest floor is barren, revealing only black dirt.
This battle is almost over.
Arland spares a glance at me then leans next my ear. “They are gone, Kate. You can release the magic.”
I shake my head. “No, Marcus isn’t here yet.”
He tightens his hand around mine. “Do you—?”
“Yes, I do. He will be okay.”
Anna looks up at me; she heard what I said. I still hear her thoughts. She’s begging the gods for me to be right about her brother. Every part of her cries out for him to be alive.
The power has not stopped swirling around us or burning daemon bodies on the ground. The Light has not given up. I sense the sprites’ searching, sense their desperate need to find the boy and bring him to safety, and I sense their excitement when they do.
I look over my left shoulder. White light glows in the forest and grows nearer to us. “He’s coming.”
Anna fills with joy, sadness, anger, emotions I can’t quite name. We watch magic carry the boy in a protective white bubble, like the yolk of an egg. He’s asleep or … .
Oh no. Please, Griandor, please let him be alive.
The beings lay Marcus on the ground in front of Anna. Magic spreads out under him like a sheet then seeps back into the earth. Everyone gathers round him, still holding hands, still holding their breath, still hoping.
Anna falls to her knees beside him, throws her arms over him, and cries. “Marcus, please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive.”
His face is pasty white. His arms are covered in blood. His clothes are tattered rags. The hair on his head looks black in comparison to the paleness of his face.
“Heal him … .”
His mouth twitches. He turns his head toward Anna. “Anna?”
She pulls away from him. “Marcus!”
Opening his eyes takes time. Time we don’t have. He looks up at me, and his brows furrow, creating wrinkles he’s way too young to wear. “You saved me?”
I don’t know how to respond. My mouth refuses to move. My feet won’t even move.
Arland kneels beside Anna and Marcus then runs a hand across the boy’s forehead. “She did, Marcus. Katriona has saved us all”—Arland flashes a smile in my direction, then returns his attention to Marcus—”but we need to continue our journey. You have been through a terrible ordeal; we all have been. However, if we do not leave now, more daemons will likely show up to finish us off. Can you walk?”
“I … . Yes.”
Anna pulls her brother to his feet.
He moans but covers his mouth and stares at the ground.
Arland watches them, I’m sure admiring the same courage I am, then puts his arm around Marcus. “Do not be ashamed to show pain.”
“But you have never shown pain. You broke your nose in a battle with a tairb and showed nothing. I want to be like that. Like you.” Marcus tips his head in my direction. “I want to be like both of you.”
“You already are,” I say, taking up his other side. “Now, you and Anna should wait here while we bury—”
“We must leave at once, Katriona.” Arland does not stop moving forward. “We have thirty miles to travel yet. We are weak, wounded, tired and hungry. There is no time to bury the fallen. We must make peace along our journey.”
Anna and Marcus watch us with what can only be expectant eyes. Wide and wet, red and swollen. For their sakes, I wish we could have a funeral, but at the same time, staying here could risk their lives again.
All eighteen remaining adults and children take hands then trudge forward through the scorched underbrush; the horses follow behind. Thirty miles is a long way, but we have to make it, and no matter what happens when we get there, I don’t believe I’ll ever forget what happened here.
Chapter Seventeen
My feet ache as if I’ve been walking around a mall all day in a pair of high heels. I did that once. Some part-time job placed me outside a sporting goods store, asking people if they’d like to participate in a survey. Two days were all it took for me to realize retail was not for me. And right now, I realize these leather boots aren’t for me either. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of real hiking shoes. If there were a store here, I’d consider robbing it so I could outfit everyone with a pair.
I should be thankful though; the path is quiet. We have not encountered any other daemons, and everyone in our small group has held up without complaint.
Save for Perth.
About an hour ago, he broke hands with Brit then wandered close to the river, yelled over his shoulder something about a rabbit, then ran back empty handed. Arland and I exchanged glances and shook our heads.
Perth is starving. Everyone is starving.
I’d give anything to be back
in Virginia, anything to eat a big juicy hamburger from a greasy fast food joint. My mouth waters at the mere thought of beef and cheese and ketchup and—
“Katriona?” Arland whispers, squashing my daydream of artery clogging sustenance.
“Hmm?”
He grimaces. “We have arrived.”
I look around for something to explain to me where here is. “I don’t see anything.”
“Don’t?”
I sigh. “Do not. I do not see anything.”
He lets go of Keagan’s hand then points ahead of us, into the wall of black. “Straight ahead, between the trees. If you look hard enough, you will see the glow of a burning torch.”
My eyes have not yet adjusted the way everyone else’s have, but I know with time they will. However, I don’t see a flame or anything past the darkness in front of me. Squinting, I lean forward—like that will help—and shake my head.
“Sir, we have arrived,” Cadman says, breaking the line to stand next to Arland.
“I am aware. Katriona cannot see the light.” Arland chuckles, squeezing my hand.
I am the light, and I have the urge to knock him in the shoulder, but don’t.
Cadman doesn’t share in Arland’s humor; instead, the red-headed soldier raises an eyebrow then crosses his arms over his chest. “Why do you believe her eyes have not fully adjusted when she has adapted to everything else with such ease?”
Arland gives me a cursory glance, his green eyes averting mine before they get locked into one of those looks we are no longer allowed to share. “I imagine it has something to do with the amount of light surrounding her. She is rarely in complete darkness in order to adjust.”
“That sounds plausible. The less she uses magic at Willow Falls, the stronger her eyes will become … I pray.” Cadman looks over his shoulder.
“Shall I travel ahead to scout for any possible dangers, sir?”
“No, that will not be necessary. We are safer when connected. However, please send Perth this way then take his position so Brit is kept safe at the other end of the line.”
“Yes, sir.” Cadman jogs toward Perth.
I already know where all this is going, and I don’t like it.
Perth arrives next to me and takes my hand without asking. “I assume you wish to speak of a plan for our arrival?”
Arland regards Perth with a blank expression. “I wish to be on Katriona’s security. Can you arrange that?”
Perth laughs. “I am sure it can be arranged, but you do know my father will be suspicious. You were her intended. He may interpret your willingness to help as a trick. And, because I am curious, why do you want to risk it?”
“I cannot sleep without him,” I say.
Perth practically yanks my arm from its socket, jerking me to face him, and keeps walking, but backward. “Do you expect Arland will be sleeping with you, Katriona? Are you a fool? My father will kill him and have your family further disgraced. If anyone will be in your room in the evenings, it will be me, and I am not sure that will bother me at all.”
A deep, guttural growl erupts from Arland’s throat.
I squeeze his hand, hoping to calm his frustration with Perth. “No, not in my room with me, but as close to me as possible. He protects me from more than just daemons, Perth. He protects me from horrible visions. Visions that do not make sense for me to have. Visions ending in death, his death, my death, everyone’s—”
“How close I need to be to her is yet to be known,” Arland says, lowering his voice. “Darkness is able to confront her when I am not near.”
Perth peeks around me. “May we stop for a moment? Speak about this in private?”
“Cadman,” Arland calls over his shoulder.
“Yes, sir?”
“Keep everyone connected. Stay only a few feet from us, but make sure no one eavesdrops. Do you understand?”
The two men exchange an unspoken agreement with their eyes, then Cadman turns with his arms outstretched to corral the others. They only move a few feet away, but Cadman engages them in conversation loud enough for me to recognize he’s offering a distraction.
“What do you mean Darkness can confront her?” Perth asks, leaning forward.
Arland clenches his jaw. “Kate has had dreams of Encardia her entire life, but when I sleep next to her, the dreams stop—”
A wide grin grows on Perth’s face. “I am sure they do.”
I ball my fists at my sides. How dare he insinuate Arland and I have done anything we haven’t. Especially since I have been so desperate for that, and Arland has exhibited self-control to an almost annoying extent to avoid that.
Reaching back, I muster every ounce of non-magical strength I’ve got then launch my bony fist through the air, right into Arland’s palm.
“What did you do that for?” Frustration stiffens me, rooting my legs where I stand.
“What would you have expected him to think, Katriona? I told you this would happen. We need only explain why it is so important.” Returning my fist to my side, Arland speaks low then keeps his hands to himself. Good thing too, cause I might smack them away. Hitting Perth would’ve felt great.
“Hmm,” Perth says, rubbing his chin in such an Arland kind of way. “So why is it so important for you two to be together?”
“I can answer that,” Mom says, stepping away from everyone else.
“Mom, we can handle this.”
“You said Griandor called me a fool for not sharing things with you, well gods forgive me, but he was a fool for not sharing things, as well. What did he tell you about Arland? Did he tell you without Arland and you together there is no Encardia?” She holds her hands out at her sides like an opera singer reaching the crescendo of a powerful song.
“Did he tell you if Arland is not with you, you will remain in constant danger from Darkness? Did he tell you not only does Arland protect you, but you him? Did he tell you—”
“Wait.” Grabbing Mom’s shoulders, I shake her from her mental breakdown long enough for her to look me in the eyes, to truly see me. “What?”
She shudders. “What, what?”
“Most of what you said, Griandor did tell me, except for the part about me protecting Arland. Griandor said Arland protects me from much, but not the other way around. So, not only do I have to worry about the visions and Dugh-Darkness appearing inside Willow Falls whenever Arland is not around, you are now telling me I also have to keep Arland safe? From what?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Perth shoot Arland a raised eyebrow look. “What does she mean Darkness will appear inside Willow Falls?”
I let them talk it out and focus solely on my mom. “What are you not telling me? Do you know if he will die? What do I have to keep Arland safe from?”
“His father.”
“His … father?” I ask slowly, shaking my head. High Leader Maher isn’t evil. Why would anyone need to be protected from him?
Arland drops all pretense of friendly conversation with Perth and pushes past him to stand between me and Mom. He towers over her. “What did you just say?”
“Kate-Katriona must keep you safe from your father.”
Arland’s stands stiff, unmoving. Inching forward, I place my hand on his back, along his waist—
Liar. Misguided liar. His most prominent thoughts inundate mine. I hadn’t expected this; the touch was to calm him, but instead it connects us like before, when magic was awake. And something else exists inside him. Fear. Fear she’s not lying, and fear she’s right. Fear he knows nothing of himself, he’s going to die, and he’s going to fail me all wrapped into one big chest crushing burden.
Releasing my fire, I step in front of Arland then take his hands in mine. “You will not fail me, but we are at the point we need to listen to her again. She has been cryptic. She has lied, she has kept things from us longer than bnecessary, but she holds information we need. I want nothing more than to hear why I need to be worried about your father.”
Arland takes a
step back. Given the overwhelming amount of hatred he’s directing toward my mom, I think it’s the best he can offer.
Keeping his hand in mine, I turn around. “Mom?”
Perth watches, staring with interest surely feeding the ice-cold man’s personality more than the new man who he’s becoming, the man who cares … or at least pretends to.
“I have told you I know nothing about Arland’s life, but I do, and you need to be aware of the information I have. Now is the time to share.”
I’ve heard this before, and her rambling makes me think she’s trying to apologize, but I’d rather she just explain it all.
“Arland, your father is scared you will be unable to keep your distance from Katriona and will send you away. On a mission. Not to hurt you, but to keep you safe. Unfortunately if he does, I am afraid one of the visions Katriona has had about you will come true.”
“No … .” The word floats from my mouth and into our conversation. The world around me turns gray, worse than the cold blackness. Images of Arland drowning, of him being sliced open by coscarthas’ razor sharp claws, of him being torn limb-from-limb … .
“Katriona,” he says so close to my ear his breath warms me.
I don’t know when he did it, but his arms are wrapped around my back, securing me to his chest. Resting my head on him, I breathe in his woodsy scent; it’s tinted with a strong sulfuric smell. I pull away and realize the smell of sulfur is from the brown, dried blood covering his shirt.
“I am not going to die.” His words are strong, yet soft. Arland speaks as though he has no doubt and wishes me to believe what he says, too.
I stare at our shoes—also covered in blood. “You cannot say that for sure. Your thoughts are layered with fear of death, fear of letting me down.”
He holds me at arm’s length, lifts my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him. “We all fear death. And if my sole purpose in life is to protect you, do you not believe my greatest fear would be failure? You are all this world has for survival, and so far you have been injured in more … no, worse ways than most. If I allow myself to believe for one moment I have done a good job, you will be in more danger than you have ever been. Thoughts are a dangerous thing to be able to share; they cross through our subconscious and most we let go of, never to think about again. The ones we hold on to are the ones we speak. We should be more careful when sharing them.”