The demon distracted, Rayna seized her opportunity. She sprang forward, ripping into its neck. Horrid, thick ichor flooded her mouth. She tore away. The demon stumbled, half its throat missing, but did not fall.
“Rayna!” Aquillo alighted next to her, his sword sheathed. He gathered Channon in one arm and held his other out to her. She shifted human and wrapped her arms around Aquillo's waist. The demon bellowed through its partially healed throat, launching itself at them. Aquillo took to the air, rising as if she and Channon were weightless. They soared upwards. For one glorious heartbeat, Rayna thought they had escaped the horrors of the place. Then she saw the flock of demonic birds closing in on all sides. Arrabus, Hell's guardian who had fought her father, appeared above them on wings of its own, blacker than the night surrounding them. It flew toward them, swinging its scythe.
Aquillo dodged, screaming over the storm of shrieking birds. “Rayna! Once we get across, you are the only one who can take us back!”
“But I don’t know how!” The birds reared and flapped, but could not pass into Aquillo's light.
Aquillo did not respond. Whether this was because he could not hear her, or because he had to focus on avoiding Arrabus, she could not say. Aquillo dove to the right as the demon attacked again. Rayna slipped. She caught her father's leg, swinging over the seething black ocean. It took every bit of Rayna's remaining strength to hold on. She clenched her teeth, drawing in painful breaths of sulfuric air. Arrabus’s scythe bit into her father’s leg, missing Rayna's head by a hair-length. Aquillo kicked from the pain, silver ichor greased Rayna's fingers, but still she held on. The ocean beneath them turned back into sand.
“Here, Rayna! Here the veil crosses the Eye of Heaven. Take us home, Rayna, now!” They were falling, plummeting toward the sand that had things living in it.
Take us home, Rayna. So she thought of home. Of Osterna. She saw the forest at dusk, when golden sunlight poured through the trees, settling everything into an amber haze. She smelled the air after a thunderstorm, when the fragrances of the trees came alive and mingled into a delicious, dusty scent. Dozens of faces crowded her mind's eye, some loved, some loathed, and some that fell in between. Bayne’s arms encircled her. Silver kissed her forehead. Flowers bloomed and wilted, bones crunched between her teeth, and deer blood trickled down her throat. She thought of what it was to be alive. To sleep, eat, drink, hunt, kill, and hurt. To cry and scream and howl. She heard the screech of a hawk and the chitter of cicadas. She felt it all in the instant she fell to the ground with Channon and her father. The black sand rose up to meet them, and there was a biting wind and a terrible cold, the kind of cold that consumes fingers and toes given time, and the howling of wolves.
But the feeling of cold did not dissipate. It persisted until Rayna’s eyes opened onto a world so white she screamed in pain. She fell forward, shielding her face, onto snow, not sand. She forced open her eyes, suffering through the tearful adjustment. Blood stained the snow around another form crumpled beside her. She reached for Channon, but her arm fell uselessly into the pinkish slush.
“Rayna. Don’t try and move yet.” Aquillo leaned over her. The aura that had shown so brightly in Hell shrank to a subtle glow. Silver ichor caked his leather shirt, and more spilled out from his irises, staining the whites of his eyes.
“Father…”
“Hush now, keiri.” He gripped her hand, and the power in his hold calmed her. “I’ve enough strength to take you both to the bottom of the mountain, but after that, I’m afraid you will be on your own.”
“Must you go?”
“My connection to this realm fades.” He pulled both her and the unmoving Channon against him. “Don’t mourn me all over again, Rayna. After all, you have what you always wanted, don't you? One memory of me that was yours and yours alone.”
“How do you know about that?” Her head rested against his bristly cheek. He felt so real, but it would not last.
“We hear your prayers, Rayna. It may not always seem like it, but trust me, your mother and I are always there.” He beamed as his fingers trailed across the linden bracelet he had carved seventeen years before. The light around him again resolved into the shape of wings. Her father lifted her and Channon both into the frigid air, descending the mountain. Rayna slipped into unconsciousness. Her awareness returned at the bottom of the mountain. Her father’s arms wrapped around her. He kissed her cheeks, nose, and the corner of her mouth.
“I love you, Rayna. Your mother loves you. Now, survive. Survive and protect your pack.”
His arms left her along with the warmth of his breath. Rayna opened her eyes, but found no strength to speak. Aquillo had transformed into a chestnut brown wolf, and he threw back his head and howled. The last of his strength leached out with the sound. All color drained from him, until he shimmered like silver smoke. He looked at Rayna one last time, his eyes still as green as her own, before the wind carried him away forever. Rayna sputtered a cry and reached for Channon. She could not move much, but she dragged herself toward him until her fingers curled around his. He squeezed back, and in her relief, Rayna gave in to sleep.
Rayna woke later, well aware that she should have frozen to death. Instead, she drifted in and out of awareness, certain of only three facts: She was alive, Channon was beside her, and they were moving. When she fought through the layers of exhaustion long enough to open her eyes, she understood. She and Channon were slung over the back of an enormous, white wolf. An Ice Wolf, probably either Berg or Seal. She did not know why they were helping, only that they were. Again, she fell into a state not quite awake, but not quite asleep. Her injured body needed all of her energy to focus on staying alive, and there was nothing to spare, not even on a dream. At some point, the wolf set them down in the snow. When Rayna finally woke, she expected to shiver in the cold. To her surprise, her eyes opened next to a roaring fire.
She was wrapped in her own sleeping sack, along with several extra furs. Bandages crinkled when she moved, and she felt the fuzzy numbness that only healing herbs could provide. Rayna tried to lift her head, and instead, someone cradled it in their lap. Her gaze lifted, finding Kellan. His black hood shadowed his face, but his lips curved into a smile.
“Good to see you, Red.”
“K-Kellan.” Her voice cracked, and he brought a waterskin to her mouth. She drank greedily, but he pulled it away before she took too much.
“Careful now. You still have a lot of healing left to do.”
She wiped her mouth. “Channon?”
“Sleeping right behind us. At least, I assumed it was Channon, unless you brought someone else back to life.”
“Is he all right?”
Kellan barked a laugh. “How like you to worry about someone else when you’re in such a sorry state. Aye, he’s all right. Or he will be anyway.”
“How long have we been here?”
“The wolves brought you to the edge of the path this morning. I patched the two of you up best I could. Even popped that nose of yours back into place, though it will always be a bit crooked. If you ask me, it’s an improvement. Your face was too perfect before.”
“Where are the others? Mina, Lonian, Laera?” Rayna looked around. It was night. Channon lay wrapped in furs behind Kellan, but she could not see much of anything beyond the fire’s orange glow.
“Finding more wood. We’ve been burning the fire hot to keep the two of you from freezing. They’re fine, I promise.” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and she realized it had been sticky with sweat. She was warm, almost too warm, but it was a wonderful sensation.
“Listen Rayna.” Kellan’s gloved hand left her bandaged cheek, tracing designs in the snow. “I owe you an apology.”
Rayna turned to better see Kellan’s face. His lips were set in a hard line, and his gray eyes roved away from her. He was nervous. The memory of their argument before she had climbed the mountain flooded back in sharp detail. His protectiveness had frustrated her then, but now, after all
she had experienced, she felt nothing but compassion toward him. She had seen true evil, had walked the shores of Hell, had faced demons. What was there to be upset over in the glow of firelight and the company of those who meant you no harm? It occurred to Rayna that for the rest of her life, she might feel this strange detachment. She had seen what no one else on Osterna had seen except for Channon, who had lived it for months. He alone could understand.
“It was wrong of me to try to stop you from helping your friend.” Kellan sighed and collected the snow he pushed around into a pile. “I know we haven’t known each other long, and it sounds foolish to say it, but I do care about you. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, maybe never. I was scared of losing you. But it doesn’t excuse the way I acted. So, I’m sorry.”
Rayna shook her head. “You saved my life. You helped bring me here, and now you have healed not just my wounds, but Channon’s as well. You have nothing to apologize for, Kellan Kemar.”
Kellan had no witty response. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. The alcoholic scent that always burned around his mouth was stronger than ever. Before she could say anything more, Mina appeared out of the darkness, half-hidden by the pile of logs she carried.
“Wolfie! You’re up!” She dropped her burden, sliding across the snow, landing in a heap by her side. She pushed Kellan aside. Rayna laughed as he jumped to his feet with a glare of indignation. Mina ignored him, throwing her arms around Rayna. “I can’t believe it! You did it! You brought him back.”
“Ray?” Channon stirred. He began thrashing as he fought his way out of his blankets. “RAYNA?!”
“I’m here! Channon, I’m here!” Rayna struggled out of her sleeping sack with Mina’s help. Kellan knelt beside Channon, gripping his shoulders to steady him.
“Mate, calm down, or you’ll open your stitches!”
Channon answered with a groan that turned into a growl. “Get off of me! Who are you?” Before Kellan could answer, Channon had thrown him off. Kellan rolled into the snow as Mina and Rayna rushed to help. Channon tore through his furs, launching himself at Kellan. Rayna and Mina caught Channon by his arms, holding him as Kellan leaped to his feet, unsheathing one of his twin blades.
“No! Kellan, he doesn’t know what he’s doing!” Rayna’s screams were drowned out by Laera’s sharp barks as she and Lonian rushed into the camp. Channon slumped to the ground between Mina and Rayna, and they released their hold. Kellan did not lower his blade though, not until Laera and Lonian stepped between him and the others.
“Ray? Where are we? Who are these people?” Channon sounded drunk as he fell into Rayna’s lap, panting. She took the waterskin Mina offered her and helped Channon take a drink.
“We’re back in Osterna, in the Sylrian Provinces, and these are my friends. You’re safe now, Channon. We both are.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He grimaced, and Rayna guessed he had opened a wound.
“It’s not your fault.” Rayna’s words soothed him as Mina inspected his bandages for fresh blood. Once he had been treated and Rayna had consented to be looked over herself, they settled around the fire. Introductions and explanations would have to wait until morning. Channon likely would not remember anything said anyway. Rayna was not convinced she would, either. Rayna settled against Channon, drowsily noting that only one member of their band was still awake. Kellan sat a few tail-lengths from the fire, his twin blades by his side. He had volunteered to keep watch the rest of the night, but Rayna knew it would be Channon, not the solitary tundra surrounding them, that he would be watching.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When the Corsair mercenaries and Da’ Gammorn arrived at the Maenoren camp, Rhael’s army swelled to over sixteen thousand warriors, vastly outnumbering the remaining Fenearens. Combined with their plentiful stocks of food, ale, and wine, morale ran high. Even the horses seemed to share in the excitement. They stamped their hooves, snorted, and tossed their abundant hay in the air as the Overlord strode past them. The time to attack was almost upon them. The entire army could reach the northern borders of the Southern Densite in only three days’ time. Once there, brutal fighting would undoubtedly commence, but Rhael thought it could end quickly, as long as he did not become too confident. He would make a few more arrangements, and then they would march. Fenear would fall.
Chief among these arrangements was managing Nero. The Fenearen traitor was an onerous, prideful man with disgusting habits, but Rhael did not regret swaying him to his side. Thanks to Nero’s duplicity, he knew the Fenearens still intended to use their True Wolves in battle and he understood their strategies for facing the Da’ Gammorn. Nero had also proven a useful tool in Rhael's campaign to turn Morna’s heart from him, though Rhael was under no illusions that he had yet succeeded. He would re-double his efforts after the war was over. He would send her to live with Nero, if the beast managed to survive, or if Nero was killed, which Rhael thought more likely, he would send her somewhere else far away until all thoughts of her were erased from his mind.
Rhael arrived at the camp’s center, next to the makeshift gallows hastily constructed for a pair of would-be deserters. Nero was late, but that did not surprise the Overlord. Negiol’s presence beside the gallows did. The reanimated corpse leaned over, running its long, gnarled fingers along the wooden platform.
“Negiol. I would have thought you would be with the rest of your kind on the outskirts of the camp. Is there something you need?”
Negiol knelt and ducked its head beneath the platform before standing to face Rhael. The sun highlighted its caved-in cheeks and missing flesh. “We never cease to be amazed by humanity’s capacity to bring death. Why construct a machine such as this,” it motioned to the gallows, “when you have swords, axes, and crossbows aplenty?”
Rhael shrugged. “It’s tradition that traitors, deserters included, be hung. It is expected, and those expectations are what keep obedience, are they not?”
“Many things can inspire obedience, Lord Rhael. Fear, love, desire, even blood.” The beast gave what would have been a toothy smile, had it enough teeth.
“Yes. Now is there something you wanted to tell me?”
“Show you, Lord Rhael. We wish for your opinion. And the wolfkind’s.”
“Then you are fortunate. Here he comes now.” Rhael and Negiol shared a smirk as Nero approached. He wore Maenoren robes, though Rhael knew they restricted the ease of his transformation into his wolf form. Today he wore a set of blue robes Morna must have chosen for him. Rhael thought they made him look watery and weak.
“Lord Rhael.” Nero gave an awkward bow and Maenoren salute. “You wanted to see me.” He stood back several paces and wrinkled his nose. He tried to veil it, but he couldn't quite hide his disgust for the Da' Gammorn stench.
“Yes, Commander. I have more questions for you. Commander Negiol has also requested that we come and see something. Shall we walk?”
The Fenearen shot a brief glance at the Da’ Gammorn. “If we must.”
Negiol bowed with a twitchy flourish of its peeling arms. “If you would follow us, then, Lord Rhael, Master Wolfkind.”
Negiol led the way through the camp. Soldiers and servants quickly busied themselves or turned away when the Da' Gammorn passed by. Rhael matched his step to Nero’s.
“You said before that Bayne might attack our camp before we arrive at the Southern Densite,” Rhael said. “Yet our sentries have found nothing to suggest any of the Fenearens are moving north. We've closed them on all sides, and are free to march as we please.”
Nero scratched his shaggy head. “It was one possibility, yes. If Bayne and Silver have any delusions of winning this war, then above all else, they need the element of surprise. You have the numbers, the steel armor and weaponry, the crossbows and horses. On an open field, Fenearens would be no match for you.”
“This I know,” Rhael said with a trace of impatience.
“But Fenearens are fast. We’re agile; we can kill in the space
of a heartbeat. We’re trained to win quickly by disorienting our enemy. Attacking this camp would have disoriented us, but Bayne must have known that I would warn you about that possibility, or he’s too much a coward to try it.” Nero’s too-sharp smile broadened.
“So how else can Bayne disorient us? Some sort of ambush or trap?”
“Precisely, my lord. As we’ve discussed, there is only one field close to the Southern Densite large and open enough to accommodate the full might of your force. If you can take that field and hold it, the battle will be won. Fenearens are useless against Maenoren phalanxes, as long as your men hold the line. But Bayne knows this.”
“He’ll set a trap.”
“More than one. Before he was Alpha, Bayne was a hunter. He knows all about positioning his prey. If we march on the field, hundreds, perhaps thousands will be killed. Bayne is counting on your men to panic, but if they flee to the woods, the Fenearens will have the advantage. Heavy steel armor, helmets, longswords in the middle of the forest? Against wolves? It will be a bloodbath. You may still win thanks to your numbers, but it will be a battle hard-fought.”
If Bayne were as clever as Nero implied–and Rhael had his doubts–then there was only one strategy that made sense. Rhael would send a portion of his army ahead of the rest to reveal Bayne's trickery. Once the field was cleared of traps, all Rhael had to do was prevent the Fenearens from retreating to the forest. Thousands would die on both sides, but thanks to the Da' Gammorn, dead Maenorens could still prove useful. “Thank you, Nero. Your counsel has been most helpful. We will discuss this with the other commanders tonight. Negiol,” Rhael turned his attention to the Da' Gammorn, “you have been very quiet.”
The demon twisted its head farther than was natural. “Just listening, Lord Rhael. Again, your talent for murder astounds us. The True God will be pleased with the slaughter to come.”
Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1) Page 33