“I’ll keep that in mind,” Warren said. “Emron?”
Emron nodded. Always so stern. At least everything turned out fine this time, though Cassidy noted the new scratches on Warren’s chest plate. When had that happened? Cassidy swallowed. If Warren cut it any closer today...he was fine. They were all fine.
5
O nce again, the team wandered the fog alone. Vallerie rode near Cassidy, braiding her auburn hair. Cassidy stared dreamy-eyed at her queenly cheekbones and slender nose. She glanced at him.
“Dear?” she asked.
“Hm?”
“Do you need something?”
“Just to tell you how beautiful you are.”
Vallerie rolled her eyes and smiled. She ran her hands over the top of her head, then down the tail of the braid, checking for any bumps or missed hairs. Apparently, battle always “ruined” the style, so she needed to fix it. Cassidy wasn’t so sure. He preferred it when strands ran free like a rebellious child.
Cassidy shifted his gaze to Emron. His beefsteak fingers traced the worn edges of an old, folded parchment as he stared at a memory in the distance. He had wondered for ages what secrets lay on that page. It was the only thing Emron brought with him to Hilltop, and he would kill to protect it. Cassidy knew that better than anyone. He flexed the hand that Emron broke the first time he’d tried to steal it. Shaking his head, Cassidy moved past the memory.
The fog lightened as the day grew warmer. Trees twisted in the darkness. A part of him wanted the misty curtain to return. Without its presence, his day-dreamed image of the forest alive and healthy shattered. Knowing Warren, the exposed gloom probably put him in a sour mood as well.
Cassidy confirmed his suspicions as he steered Dusty closer to his friend. There he goes again, Cassidy thought. There was a time when Warren commanded legions, but over the years, every one of his men died. For whatever reason, Warren never seemed able to let them go.
“Leave them be. It won’t do any good dwelling on ‘em,” Cassidy said, pulling alongside Warren.
Warren sighed. “I wish I could have saved them.”
“It isn’t your fault the world’s fallin’ apart. They gladly died, trying to piece it back together. They wouldn’t want you regretting their choices.”
Warren nodded; a little color returned to his eyes.
Cassidy returned to his wife’s side. She slid her hand into his. Warren’s behavior still bothered him. He had to know none of this was his fault. Didn’t Warren realize that without him the entire realm would have been destroyed twice over by now? Cassidy didn’t know exactly why, but something about Warren made him feel stronger. Maybe it was because they’d known each other as children, but Cassidy swore men seemed to fight more bravely when Warren commanded them.
Fog obscured his vision of the horizon, but the cooling air warned him of the oncoming night. They found a protective overhang to make camp under.
“There you go boy,” Cassidy said setting Dusty’s saddle on the ground.
The horse brayed then grazed on reedy grass.
“You’re lucky you know. You can eat whenever you want, while I have to go find food for this lot.”
Dusty munched on without engaging him in his banter.
Cassidy patted the stallion on the neck, then set out into the forest. Being the best tracker and archer in the group carried its own weight. While he boasted skills the others lacked, that also left him responsible for tasks like this.
The ground wore dozens of prints from various animals. Small game like pheasants, rabbits, and their accompanying hunting foxes were most abundant. It looked like a couple of deer had passed through a week ago. Cassidy frowned, what a treat that would’ve been. A lean venison steak sounded phenomenal. Cassidy shook his head and trailed a pheasant track.
Twenty minutes later, he found the bird resting in a thicket. Cassidy’s lip twitched upward as he drew his bow. Twack! His arrow pinned its head to the tree behind it. Cassidy trotted forward to retrieve his prey.
Well, well, what have we here? Six eggs sat in a nest. The one bird wouldn’t have been able to feed the whole team, but with the additional eggs, his hunting trip was over.
Cassidy turned toward camp with the eggs and pheasant in hand when he noticed a large print on the ground. Wolf. The track was about a week old, likely following the deer. A quick survey revealed a pack had passed through the area several times. Not good.
Cassidy hurried back to camp.
“Just one?” Emron huffed.
“I’d like to see you do better,” Cassidy scoffed.
He gave the bird to Emron and pulled an egg from his pack, placing it on a stump with a grin.
Emron raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
Cassidy set another egg down, then another, and another. With each egg, Emron’s expression lightened.
Cassidy set the last egg down. “Behold, seven birds caught with one arrow.”
“Not bad,” Warren said, patting him on the shoulder.
“Not bad?” Cassidy said.
“I think you did wonderful,” Vallerie said, kissing him on the cheek. “Now would you like to come sit with your wife while dinner is cooking?”
Cassidy would have argued more, but Vallerie distracted him.
After a long-awaited meal, the others went to sleep.
Cassidy kissed his wife goodnight and sat down for his night watch.
He stared at the smoldering coals from the night’s fire, subconsciously running his thumb across the white fletching of an arrow. Brackenwood, or what remained of it, lay several days northeast from their location.
As a boy, he hated it there. His parents always told him to behave like a proper prince, though he never figured out why. He had three brothers ahead of him; there was no plausible way he’d be king, nor did he want the title. He couldn’t sit around all day like a porcelain statue. He was a young boy—he had to run and play and laugh the way boys should. Running a kingdom from a throne had never been in his blood. So many times, he’d ended up at the foot of his father’s throne, facing that stone-like glare of his. His mother always glanced disapprovingly at him before turning her gaze forward, eyes staring straight through the palace wall.
His only relief had come from the wild, where no one told him how to live. So he ran away, figuring he’d live off the land and sleep under the stars. As it turned out, his father didn’t like that idea.
The guards found him one night and dragged him back to the palace. His father threatened to lock Cassidy in jail if he didn’t learn to be a prince. That was when he’d realized how to escape. He wouldn’t let the rest of his childhood be ruined by a man who never cared for him.
Cassidy denounced his title and his connection to the throne. His mother had looked as though her heart would break, but he refused to live like that anymore. To him, it wasn’t living if all he did was breathe air and obey the king. Cassidy struck his name from every record he found. He had even torn apart the record of his birth and lineage. He became an orphan. And an orphan he would stay.
A sound in the forest caught Cassidy’s attention. He rose to his feet, his gaze darting across the trees. He didn’t see anything, but his ears told him something was there. Leaves crunched, and nearby beetles fell silent.
“Hey, Warren.” Cassidy stepped back. “Warren, wake up!”
“What?” Warren asked, a little too loud for comfort.
“Shh. There’s something out there.”
Warren sat up, wiping sleep away. Cassidy nodded at the brush in front of them. After taking a quick look, Warren pointed Cassidy to Vallerie, while he moved to wake Emron. The team came together, eyes searching the darkness. Directly in front of the camp, the shadow-cloaked brush rustled. Anticipation coursed through Cassidy’s veins. His heart thumped in his chest.
A small doe appeared from the dark and stared at them. It flicked its ears, then bounded away.
“You woke me up for a doe?” Emron said, mocking bewilderment in his voice.
Cassidy opened his mouth to speak, but the words never formed. Warren laughed. And Vallerie and Emron joined in.
“It’s not funny.”
“Is too,” Vallerie said, wiping a tear from her eye.
Crash!
A dozen Darkness-infected wolves stormed the camp. Long snouts snapped and howled through black foam. Their eyes shone an ugly yellow that matched their fangs. What used to be a noble stride in the wolves’ steps gave way to deranged romping. Each one weighed close to one hundred fifty pounds.
Cassidy picked off three before they attacked, but more appeared from the shadows. Room for maneuvering became scarce. The team shuffled back against the overhang.
Cassidy couldn’t draw his bow fast enough to defend himself against the creatures. In desperation, he swung his bow like a sword, knocking aside a few of the attackers. The move bought him just enough time to toss aside the bow and draw the two daggers strapped to his belt.
Slashing as fast as he could, Cassidy tried to fight. As he stabbed one beast on his right, another came from his left and latched onto his leg. Bones cracked. The burning pain swallowed him, and his scream filled the air.
A second wolf appeared on his right, lunging for his face. Cassidy threw his arms up for protection.
Vallerie screamed for her husband, her blades dancing faster than ever before. But no matter how hard she tried, it was impossible to free herself.
“Cassidy!”
Suddenly, a blinding, white light burst through the dark. Vallerie covered her eyes. The whistle of arrows congested the air, followed by the howl of the beasts thundering away. The light winked into the darkness. Vallerie stood blinking the spots out of her vision.
Where’s Cassidy?
The spots cleared enough to reveal Cassidy, motionless on the ground. Vallerie scrambled over a dead wolf and collapsed next to her husband.
“Cass! Please, Cass. Wake up!” She cradled his blood-splashed head. He was breathing, but shallowly.
Years flashed through her mind as she held him. The twenty years they’d been together weren’t long enough. Hot tears streamed faster as she stroked his cheek with a trembling hand. The long whiskers didn’t even bother her.
“Who are you?” Warren demanded.
Vallerie jerked her head up. She hadn’t noticed a group of men surrounding them until Warren had spoken.
Warren and Emron stood between Vallerie and a dozen men in mossy leather armor.
The group leveled their bows at Warren. Vallerie bristled, reaching for her dagger. Whoever the men were, she’d kill them before they even looked at Cassidy. A man with a staff in one hand stepped forward. An expressionless wooden mask under a tattered hood veiled his face.
The man gestured for his men to lower their weapons.
“My name is Kruziik. We can help you,” the man said, his aged voice grinding the words.
Help? Vallerie eyed the surrounding men. If they wanted to help, why draw their weapons?
“I’m listening,” Warren said.
“May I?” Kruziik said, gesturing toward Cassidy.
Warren looked at Vallerie. She turned to her husband. His blood formed a small pool around the dead wolf still attached to his leg.
“Please, he doesn’t have much time.”
Vallerie’s stomach churned, but she nodded to Warren. She took Cassidy’s bloodied hand in hers.
Warren followed behind the elder, leaving Emron to watch their backs. Carefully, Kruziik pried the jaws of the beast open and pulled the creature off Cassidy’s leg. Vallerie flinched as blood spurted from the wound. One of the other men approached Kruziik and handed him a bundle of cloth. Kruziik bandaged Cassidy’s leg, then reached for his arm. Vallerie fought back tears as she handed it to the stranger.
“Is he going to be all right?” Vallerie asked.
“I don’t know,” Kruziik whispered, wrapping Cassidy’s arm.
“He’s losing a lot of blood. We’ll have to take him to our healers.”
“Where?” Warren asked.
“You will wait here,” Kruziik said, motioning for his men to pick up Cassidy.
Vallerie’s heart leapt into her throat. Was he insane? Vallerie wanted to save her husband, but trusting these men...how could she allow them to take him?
“Not a chance,” Warren growled.
“I’m sorry, as much as I’d like to let armed strangers walk through my home, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“And I can’t let someone take one of my team members to some cryptic location.”
One of the men stepped closer only to be banished by Emron’s glare. Brittle tension filled the air as Warren and Kruziik stared at each other.
Cassidy’s face was pale. There’s so much blood on the ground.
“Warren,” Vallerie said, voice breaking.
If Cassidy stayed with them, he would die, but at least there was a chance if she let him go. Cass, please. You have to live.
“Warren, please,” Vallerie begged.
Warren studied her face. He seemed to understand her desperation. His sword dropped as did his gaze. He stepped back, allowing the men to move in and take Cassidy.
6
W arren glanced to where Vallerie stood at the edge of camp with Cassidy’s bow clutched against her chest. Warren’s hands clenched into fists as he looked at the ground. Empty promises that everything would be all right were fruitless. He still didn’t trust the men who had taken Cassidy. Warren relaxed his hands. Whether he trusted them or not, it was their only chance at saving Cassidy.
Warren turned to Emron, who tended to the injured horses, wondering if he had some comfort to offer. He didn’t. Emron had always been a quiet man, but his bearing had changed. The softness in his movements and several protective glances given to his teammates, told Warren differently.
I’m supposed to be their leader, I’m supposed to protect them. Warren took a shaky breath. I failed my best friend. His soul was too heavy to help Emron, and his voice too weak to comfort Vallerie. Warren was utterly useless to his friends. Some general I turned out to be.
Sniff, sniff.
Warren turned toward Vallerie. She hunched over Cassidy’s bow like a wilting flower. Warren had failed her husband; he refused to fail her too. Warren moved to her side and helped her sit.
“I just want him to be okay,” Vallerie said, her voice trembling.
Warren’s gaze sank to the ground. “Me too.”
Warren focused on a dirt clod between his feet. What had he gotten his friends into? The blinding light still burned in his mind. What kind of magic was that? How had Kruziik found them? Why did he offer help? And why couldn’t Warren and the others go with them? He understood that times were hard, but in Fortitude they never turned away refugees.
The closest settlement was a small homestead in Brackenwood’s territory. The farm had been evacuated shortly before the Darkness reached the region. Where did Kruziik come from? Even if he had come from that settlement, what were he and his men doing so far from home at night? There was nothing but swamp for miles.
Warren’s thoughts weaved between confusion and grief the entire night, never once finding a shred of comfort.
Morning crawled over the barren trees. When the crackle of dying embers woke Warren from his trance-like daze, he nearly forgot his thoughts. He only had vague memories of being awake all night. Warren straightened his back. Stiff bones cracked and muscles groaned. He surveyed the camp. Both Vallerie and Emron looked as though they hadn’t slept either.
Warren peered the way the men had left the night before, half hoping to see them returning with Cassidy. He pictured it so clearly in his mind, he almost convinced himself it was true, but they never came.
With dry eyes, Warren glanced at Vallerie who still sat next to him from the night before. Her thumb slid along the precise paint strokes on Cassidy’s bow that spelled out her name. He had her name painted there as an engagement gift—a promise to her that she would always be h
is one and only. Warren wanted to say something, but words evaded him. With a heavy hand, he rubbed his face.
Emron handed them both a bowl of stew and sat on a rock, joining them.
“Thanks,” Warren said.
Vallerie looked vacantly at the steam rising from the bowl in her hands. She lifted the spoon out of the bowl several times, but eventually she ended up twirling it in the soup.
I have to fix this.
Warren forced out a small laugh. “Cassidy would be bellyaching about the root that was stabbing him in the back all night right about now.”
“He would go on and on about it too, wouldn’t he? Until Emron punched him, that is. Then he’d groan about that too,” Vallerie added.
She genuinely laughed for a second—but Warren watched the sadness creep back in. As her smile faded. She twirled the spoon again.
Give me monsters and demons by the dozen and it still would be better than this, Warren thought, his heart breaking. He would do anything to bring Cassidy back, but he was useless. Warren eyed his stew bowl and realized he hadn’t eaten either. He didn’t want to, but he lifted a spoonful to his lips.
Minutes after Warren finished his bowl, a stranger appeared from the mist. Warren set his dish on the ground and stood with Vallerie and Emron. He recognized the visitor, or at least his apparel.
“How is he?” Vallerie asked, wringing her hands on Cassidy’s bow.
“His wounds are significant, and he has lost a lot of blood,” the man explained, his youthful voice apologetic.
Vallerie sank in on herself. If Warren hadn’t caught her, she would have collapsed on the spot.
Cassidy...
The image of his best friend burned in his mind.
“But, we got him to our healers in time. Your friend will rejoin you shortly,” the man said.
Vallerie grabbed onto Warren’s arm and squeezed it. She exhaled a laughing cry as Warren sighed in relief.
“Thank you,” Warren said, shaking the man’s hand.
“I’m not the one you should thank. I just followed orders.” “Which were?” Emron asked.
The man shrank backward. By then, Warren had forgotten his gratitude. His grip on the man’s hand tightened.
The Ajoiner Realm (Defenders of Radiance Book 1) Page 5