Chosen (The Last Guardians Book 1)

by C. V. Gregorchuk

  Orden would tell her she should have left the foal to the wolf. He would call Mia a fool for putting herself in harm’s way to save a horse that was already dead. It felt like she was stabbed in the lung. Mia gasped, and fresh tears kissed her skin. She wouldn’t have done it differently. Even if Orden had been there to stop her, Mia would have found some way, any way to get Seinfeld away from the wolf. He had come so far, survived so much to die like this. The wolf blurred as more tears clouded her vision and Mia started to shake. It took her too long to realize the terrifying, high keening sound she heard wasn’t coming from the animal but from her.

  It happened in complete silence. There was an explosion of movement and then time lost all meaning. Mia couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. She stood there, wide-eyes tracking the wolf as it flew through the air toward her. Like a scene from a slow-motion nightmare. Teeth glistened wetly in the moonlight, white as bone in a snarling mouth. Mia felt like she could reach out and trace the deep folds in the silvery muzzle.

  Two paws slammed into her chest with a bruising force. Hot saliva wet her face as the animal’s jaws snapped shut inches from her nose. Mia’s feet went out from under her. She felt it, the sick flop of her stomach as she was thrown off balance. Mia felt the rush of air as she fell and yet it was like she wasn’t there at all. Someone else was falling, one hundred pounds of fur and muscle driving them toward the ground. Someone else who was about to die.

  Mia’s body acted on instinct, the deeply ingrained instinct to survive. Her arm came up, intercepting the wolf before it could sink its teeth into her throat. She grunted, more in shock than pain as long canines punctured her skin and lodged in muscle and bone. She hit the ground hard. The air in her lungs was forced through her mouth, leaving her gasping like a fish too long out of water. And then there was the added weight of a snarling wolf on her chest. Claws ripped into the thin skin at the tops of Mia’s breasts and churned into her belly as the animal looked for purchase in her flesh. Teeth grated on bone and this time Mia screamed.

  The wolf yelped as her fist connected with its head a third time and let go of her arm long enough for Mia to buck out from under it. She rolled onto hands and knees. The animal shook its head and pawed at an ear. It fixed glowing eyes on her and snapped viciously, saliva spraying. It sank to the ground, long limbs folding under its body in preparation. Mia curled in on herself, tucking her chin against her chest hard enough to be painful and shielded the back of her neck with her arms. A second later claws raked down her back. No matter how she screamed, nothing could block out the sound of ripping skin and fabric. Heat flooded her skin and raced down her sides. The thick iron smell of blood filled her senses.

  Chapter 46

  Within the deep reaches of her mind, the hundreds of searing rents in her skin cooled to a gentle heat that throbbed in time with the slowing beat of her heart. There in the foggy darkness a tiny golden flame flickered into and out of life so quickly Mia wasn’t sure if it had been there at all. She could feel herself slipping away, and knew she should feel scared, but didn’t. The heat from earlier leached away to be replaced with a numbing cold starting in her extremities. The snapping of teeth and furious growling was a distant memory, one she had trouble recalling. Mia couldn’t remember being more tired in her life.

  A bright flash of light was the only thing that kept her from succumbing to the exquisite darkness coming for her like a giant black wave. So slow it could only happen in a dream, Mia’s eyes fixed on the source of the light. A delicate chain of golden links hovered in the space before her. The end closest to her burned with an effervescent light, a light growing dimmer as it stretched away from her. Warmth crept back into the icy tips of her fingers as she extended her hand toward that shimmering chain. Some part of Mia registered the growing heat as she came close to touching it. A small part, not enough to dissuade her. In the moment before her fingers closed around the chain, when the skin of her palm began to blister and bleed, only then did Mia start to wonder whether she’d made a terrible mistake.

  Where flesh met chain a combination of heat and light exploded into being. Mia was powerless to move, to even scream as flames danced over her skin and sank into her flesh. She could do nothing as fire ripped through her arteries with all the speed and intense heat of a trail of gasoline lit with a match. There was no escaping this pain. It held her captive in its embrace, forcing her to feel every inch as the blaze claimed the miles of tiny roadways mapping her body.

  A voice fought to be heard against the roar of the inferno raging within her, “Mia!” It repeated her name, louder this time, a lifeline amongst the waves of flame all around. “Let go!” The voice commanded, “Let go of the Power!” Let go? She wasn’t holding onto any- The chain. She was still holding onto the chain! “Mia let it go.” Orden’s voice was filled with urgency and something like fear. Fear for her? Fear for him? Mia couldn’t tell, but she didn’t like it. It took her a painfully long time to locate her hand in all that fire, even longer to force her fingers open, all while the flames burned on.

  Mia came to, lying flat on her back and gasping violently, the foul smell of burned hair stinging her nostrils. Her eyes burned with tears that spilled over her heated skin. Skin so hot that steam curled into the air. Those that did not evaporate right away soaked the hair at her temples. There wasn’t an inch of her skin that didn’t feel stretched and tight, sticky with blood and sweat, too painful to touch. Too painful to move.

  Dirt crunched and sprayed underfoot as someone skidded to stop at her side. “Mia?” Two large hands grasped her by the shoulder only to let go when she screamed. It was like a slap on sunburned skin. Mia writhed out of his reach, hacking and coughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Orden apologized, sitting back on his heels, hands raised so that she could see his palms. “I-I don’t-how did this happen?”

  “Wolf.” Mia grunted, “Seinfeld.” It was all she could get out. Her head weighed about a ton as she turned it to the side. Looking across the dirt, pebbles and tiny bits of grass, Mia fixed on the foal’s dark outline. “Seinfeld!” She waved a heavy hand in the foal’s direction, “He’s hurt. Go!” She yelled when he didn’t move.

  Mia stared up at the night sky, blinking away fresh tears, listening to Orden’s footsteps as he approached the horse. “Is he dead?” She asked, choking on the word. Mia shouldn’t hope. He was dead. She wasn’t able to save him. She prepared herself for the worst even as her heart cracked and her teeth chattered.

  “He’s not dead.”

  Mia sat bolt upright, ignoring the pain that thundered through her bones. “What?”

  “He’s still breathing.”

  She couldn’t walk, so she crawled over to where Orden kneeled next to Seinfeld’s limp body; every foot of ground she covered an agony. Was that? Yes! Mia saw it with her own eyes, the shallow rise and fall of his little chest, he was alive! Her stomach turned over at the sight of the damage done to the long column of his neck. Blood turned his faun hide black, it dripped down his muzzle, rattling as he inhaled and exhaled more and more slowly. “Help him.” Mia said putting a hand on Orden’s wrist, “I know you can fix him. Please.”

  Orden’s grey eyes shone silver as he met her pleading gaze. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Mia screamed at him. “He’s dying. Why won’t you help him?” She looked between Seinfeld, lying unconscious between them and Orden who kept staring at her over the limp body.

  “I don’t have that kind of Power.”

  “What are you talking about? Yes, you do!” Panic was mounting; she felt it taking up space in her chest. Every second they spent arguing brought Seinfeld closer to death. “Help him Orden. You need to fix him now!”

  He shook his head, “I can’t.” He growled, “I used my Power to reach you.” He took hold of both of her wrists, ignoring her yelp of pain. “Mia, ye need to listen to me. You have raw Power flowing through you as we speak. I do not have the strength to heal this wound, but for you it will never be easier.<
br />
  Understanding dawned. “I have- I have Power?” She asked, eyes going wide. Orden gave a short nod in answer. Was that what the burning had been then? That terrible fire that had raged through her body and scorched her to the core? Power coming awake to weave itself through her veins and arteries, fusing with her blood. “But how?” Mia spluttered.

  “I don’t know. Not yet.” Orden said, and Mia could see in the way his brows drew together that he didn’t have a clue.

  At that moment a sound more terrifying than the menacing snarls of a wolf interrupted their conversation and made them both look down at the little horse lying between them. The foal who may very well be taking his final breath for all the rattling in his lungs. Blood leaked from the mutilated scraps of flesh yawning open in Seinfeld’s neck, it pooled on the ground, and Mia felt the warm, sticky wet of it on her knees. “Tell me what to do.”

  Something like approval gleamed in those silvery eyes. “Close your eyes.” He told her. “Good. Now, look inside yourself. Sink into the dark.”

  “There’s a light.” Her body tensed in recognition at the sight of the golden chain hovering in the darkness, tantalizing, beautiful.

  “Good. Good. Take hold of it.”

  Mia recoiled. “No!” Her eyes snapped open, and Mia found she could barely breathe past the fear in her chest. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take hold of that chain and burn again. “I can’t,” she said in a hiss of air. “It almost killed me last time.” The truth of her own words rolled through her, knocking the remaining air from her lungs. “I can’t do it.” Mia wheezed.

  “Then the foal will die,” Orden said, his face and voice harsh.

  Mia looked down at Seinfeld and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, the taste, iron and salt mingling with the smell already thick in her nostrils. So much blood. Who could have known so much blood would come from a creature so small. Mia knew if something wasn’t done in the next few minutes Seinfeld would pass beyond even her supposed healing capabilities and still she hesitated. Hated herself for it. But the thought of it, that glowing, burning light hidden away within the darkness of her mind had her breathing fast, panic riding her.

  Too fresh. The fear, the memory of that excruciating sensation of burning from the inside out. Mia felt it still, the fire beneath her skin, the inferno reduced to a simmering in her veins. Power. Her Power. The only thing that could save Seinfeld. She could still save him. It took precious seconds for her to come to terms with that. To master herself and her fear. To meet Orden’s eye and say for the second time, “Tell me what to do.”

  He didn’t say anything. Didn’t nod or smile but something in his expression softened as he looked at her, understanding. Her eyes were already closed, turning inward as Orden repeated his commands from before. She inhaled sharply at the beautiful, terrible light that appeared faster than it had the last time. It looked as it had before; fine links of chain coiling and flowing, writhing like a snake into the unknown dark. Tantalizing and strange. Mia knew what waited for her, knew that what she was seeing was but a small part. A fraction of the length that weaved through her veins and arteries. Through every inch of her body.

  Mia hesitated when the order came for her to take hold of her Power; to reach out and grasp that which had burned her to within an inch of her life. Mia’s breath came fast and hard, the sound of her panting loud in the silence that wrapped itself around them like a cocoon. I have to do this. She told herself. I have to. If she didn’t then Seinfeld would die. The horse she’d helped nurse back to health and jumped in front of a wolf for would die, and it all have been for nothing. The chain gleamed brighter, as if it sensed that she was steeling herself to take it; coaxing. Mia bit down on her molars, grinding them hard as she stretched a hand toward the light. An undignified whimper slipped past her lips as the first glimmer of heat caressed her fingertips. And then she touched her Power.

  There was no more dark as flames of gold danced through her body and illuminated every vein, artery and blood vessel until she was a living tapestry of light. Power laced her blood; it filled her ears with its humming and made her bones shiver but the pain she waited for did not come. Mia released her pent up breath and let some of the tension leave her shoulders.

  “Good,” Orden grunted, his voice no more than a whisper of warm air against her heated skin.

  “It doesn’t hurt.” She could hear the relief in her voice. “It doesn’t-”

  “It will.”

  Mia tensed and curled her lip back from bared teeth as she snarled blindly at Orden. “Really?” Mia demanded, “You couldn’t just keep that to yourself?”

  “Would ye prefer me to lie to you?”

  “Yes!” She answered without hesitation.

  Orden grumbled something under his breath, “You’ll thank me later for preparing you.”

  “I’m not thanking you for-”

  “Concentrate Mia,” Mia growled. “Visualize the wound.” Orden continued, ignoring her completely, “Can you see it? Can ye see the muscles? The tissue?”

  Mia’s skin turned cold and clammy, and her stomach did a sickening somersault as she recalled images of Seinfeld’s ruined neck. She examined the wound, swallowing past the nausea that roiled up at the sight of the deep punctures made by the wolf’s canines, the jagged tears gaping in the aftermath of the foal’s struggle to free himself from his attacker’s jaws. So much damage. There was so much damage, and yet this was only the surface, the stuff she could see. What was going on beneath his skin? How badly mangled were the muscles of his neck? The blood vessels and tissue? Was there even anything she could do?

  “Too much,” Mia moaned, “there’s too much damage. I can’t- I don’t know how-”

  “Mia.”

  “I can’t Orden. I don’t know how!” Panic and despair fogged her mind, blurring the images of the terrible wound in the foal’s neck. “I don’t know how to fix him!” Mia wailed.

  “Listen to me. Mia!” Orden’s hands were rough. Too rough against the blistered skin of her shoulders and Mia yelped in pain. He held her firm, would not let her escape his grasp. “Calm down. Ye can do this. You will do this.”

  “No-”

  Orden shook her firmly. “You can! Now, do as I say!”

  Her face was wet and stinging with her own tears. Every beat of her heart sounded and felt like the beating of a mallet on a drum as Mia let Orden guide her through the healing process. He told her how to herd her Power, to push it out from herself and send it toward the foal and pretended not to notice the choked sob that burst from her as her blood began to simmer.

  Mia followed his every direction without question, trusting in a way she had not allowed herself to trust in a very long time. Her Power danced across Seinfeld’s neck, tiny golden chains of light that poked and prodded at the holes and tears in his flesh and slipped beneath the surface to explore the world beyond her sight. Simmering heat turned to a rolling boil as her Power began the work of reforming connections between torn blood vessels and the knitting together of muscle and sinew. Mia didn’t care that she was crying uncontrollably now, or that a constant, high keening sound was issuing from her. Orden could think she was weak, that she was pathetic. He could think whatever he wanted to, it didn’t matter so long as he continued to help her fix Seinfeld.

  Pain was the only sensation Mia knew as the edges of the foal’s rent skin stretched towards one another. The roaring of her own boiling blood filled her ears while flames seared and scorched her nerve endings, stripping her of all sense. Mia watched from afar as the chains of her Power stitched and pulled flesh to flesh, closing the wound seamlessly and then those tendrils of golden light retreated, drawing back within her body where they sank and merged with her life force. The words Orden spoke held no meaning for her. She was so tired, a dried up husk capable of a single breath before the light within her went out, and Mia succumbed gratefully to darkness.

  Chapter 47

  Mia’s ears ached with the echoing screams that f
illed the room. Her own cries of pain as Breahn fought to hold her down. Mia’s skin stung and burned as if she was covered from head to toe in third-degree burns, every contact an agony that had her arcing off the bed, straining against the two searing hands pinning her wrists to her side.

  “Let me go!” Mia screamed in the other girl’s panic-stricken face over and over, her voice cracking with the pain. Too much. Too bright, too loud- sensory overload to the extreme and Mia could do nothing to turn it off.

  In the absence of the heat that had seared through her before, Mia now only felt cold. Her skin prickled and tensed painfully, the light fabric of her shift scraping and harsh. Shivers racked her body, rattling her teeth, her very bones. Someone piled yet another heavy blanket on top of her.

  Mia didn’t need eyes to know who it was; she could smell the lavender in Hanna’s clothes. The sun on her skin and the soil beneath her fingernails. Mia moaned as her stomach roiled at the sour smell of her own damp sweat and turned her face into the pillow.

  Whispers of conversation wormed their way into Mia’s sub-conscious, and she came, slow and blinking, awake.

  “How much longer will she be like this?”

  The room was dark, the curtains drawn against the reddish light that glowed at the edges and down the seam of the thick swaths of material. The dark seemed deeper, the light brighter and more pigmented.

  Orden’s hushed voice was rough like gravel, “I don’t know.” He sounded about as tired as Mia felt.

  “But ye’ve seen this before?” The second voice belonged to Hanna, she too sounded like she hadn’t slept in a few days.

  “I-” Mia’s interest was piqued by Orden’s tone. She turned her head toward the closed door and the voices coming from beyond it. They may as well have been standing right next to her. “She shouldn’t have been able to do what she did. She wasn’t ready.”