The rain slowed. The woman sat on the ground with her legs bent in a puddle. I stood, breathing heavily. Like her, I was filthy and bleeding. The forest was free of the soul-drinking freaks in its clearings and afar between the trees. With an expression etched of bewilderment, she looked at me. She asked with a hard tone, “Why?”
I winced as I sheathed my sword and pet the horse. You’re a noble steed. My heart thumped uncomfortably, and there was a starting pain in my chest. Not now. Before I could answer the woman's question, dizziness came over me. Then, I screamed and fell forward; everything around me blurred.
The woman watched as the man slumped over suddenly. Confusion fell over her—of this human who hadn’t tried to take her for his pleasure. She hissed again at the bleeding wound in her arm.
Another monstrous shriek echoed through the wind, ruffling the trees. Her eyes flashed around. The dampened soil rumbled beneath her feet. Puddles in the distance rippled ominously. They were coming once more—more nasracans. She could feel it. Time, she had naught to decipher her predicament, and even less as the monsters ascended. She looked at the gray horse that weaved in panic; the man slumped unconsciously before it. Adrenaline mitigated the pain of battle wounds.
“Cohmera ihtewl zohme, Rafael!” she said like spitfire.
The gray stallion pressed toward her with beating hooves. With all the strength she could muster, she helped the man onto the horse and swung up behind him, holding him upright with her wounded arm across his chest. For this man, she’d had a profusion of questions. But first, they would have to go to a place of sure safety, somewhere away from the forest.
“For saving my life, I shall save yours in return. “Ihcameh, Rafael, ihleta sateh ihwinge’ tesz Oberon ihgwuide quein!”
Rafael reared.
Southward they went, rushing with urgency through the forest. The horse cut sharp turns, leaping over obstructions, and flying around bends with the grace and agility of a cat. Abyssians appeared at their flanks in the distance—more nasracans—moving toward them with animalistic speed and in numbers greater than those that had attacked them before. Much greater.
Every bound and turn lengthened the distance between them and their enemies. It was a long sprint down a broad and straight road that set them at a disadvantage. Long staggered lines of their hunters were closing in on them like walls on either side. The woman leaned forward, whispering in the horse’s ear.
“Ihfliye itlikea sateh ewhindu!” Astonishingly, the steed found more power in its legs, surging to wind-cutting speed.
The forest’s end was near, but the Abyssians would be upon them before then. Overhead, at the top of a tree was a nasracan kneeling and waiting. As the fleeing duo passed beneath it, it jumped down with a growl and spread arms, descending quickly toward their backsides. Desperately reaching for the man’s side, she gripped his sword, drew it from underneath his slumping body, and swung it behind her, striking the nasracan somewhere that brought it down hard and left it rolling on the ground in their trail.
Another leaped onto the road ahead and sprang toward them. Like a lance, she thrust the blade forward, impaling its bare abdomen. It screeched and fell into salt. Another one jumped out, grasping her leg, its body dragging on the ground. She severed its wrist and left it behind as quickly as it had latched on. She sheathed the sword back at his side and caught him before he fell over.
The forest’s edge was a short stretch further. nasracans spilled behind them now, within arm’s length, swiping in desperation. The woman felt the wind swooping across her naked back. She leaned as forward as she could, holding tightly onto the man who grew heavier in her arm. Rafael went faster, establishing distance between them.
The nasracans hadn’t relented in their pursuit, though they were falling behind—farther and farther. They were almost out of the forest, leaving the hunting beasts back, but not without an unwanted surprise.
A shadowy entity came into existence, appearing just feet beside them—a black cloak swimming in the air. Something like an arm formed from it and then a gauntlet claw shot through the wind. The woman ducked as it passed barely overhead.
“Ihfliye!” she’d said to Rafael with resolve.
A second shadowy Abyssian appeared and then more until there were four. The soaring shadows trailed them into the plains, following and attacking until the sun rose above the mountains a dozen leagues beyond them. The shadows shrank as sunlight swept over the land and touched them. There was one, though, that had still been on their tail with terrible speed. The woman looked back, reaching for a weapon. From within itself, the Abyssian drew a long black dagger and held it high. Just as she wrapped a firm grip around the handle of a chakram, the apparition stabbed Rafael in the side, and they went crashing down onto ground baking in sunlight. As the ray shined on the Abyssian, it twisted into a wisp of withering shadow.
––––––––
I was sitting against a lonely tree when I woke. My sword lay across my lap. A small bonfire burned healthily and flickered beneath the night. Chilly winds swirled and fought. The woman sat across the fire curled as she slept against a boulder. A stab wound with dried blood was on her horse’s side. What happened? I moved a foot, alerting them. The two lifted their heads and found me.
“Where are we? How did we—” She quickly explained the events leading up to my regaining consciousness. “And the horse? What happened to it?”
“—Rafael,” she introduced. “He was stabbed by a floating shadow.”
I laid my head back, remembering how I’d fallen out. It triggered the soreness in my chest again—this time in much less magnitude—barely an ache. I stood up grimacing and grabbing the tender area.
“Tonight isn’t a good night to travel if you were considering it. The horned creatures have set eyes upon us,” she spoke.
“Abyssians,” I told her, angrily describing their critical ability to drink souls. There was a pause before she spoke again. She shook as if with an expression of remembrance.
I knelt over Rafael, examining his wound. I tapped my shoulder, realizing that I'd left my satchel back in the forest. Blast... All my effects are back there in the woods, I brooded, thinking of my map, compass, and waterskin. I winced, remembering I’d kept herbs on my person. Thank goodness for pockets. I grabbed an aiding willow and gently rubbed it against Rafael’s side. Sticky ointment coated the wound. He whimpered and snorted.
The woman’s eyes glinted, and she looked curious and puzzled. “You came to my aid against those monsters back there. Why?”
The query startled me. The Militia had trained me for gratitude, not remorse. I couldn’t remember a time when someone asked me, why. Does everyone she confronts have an ulterior motive, or something or other?
“I’m a lieutenant of the White Fox Militia,” I answered, supposing it was enough to suffice.
The woman peered at me, and I looked back at her dirty face. “I know not of this White Fox Militia,” she said.
The Militia was renowned throughout all cities of Men east, north and in the Cronian Kingdom. Curiosity lifted my brows. Who is this woman? And what den of deadly, clueless beauties did she come from?
“Neither of us would’ve survived had we not fought together. I needed you.” Undoubtedly it was a better answer. She stood upright, hissing, and gripping a bloody shoulder.
I tossed her a few willow leaves for herself. She paused, her body tense and her gaze unwavering. Carefully she watched me. Had she not needed the herb, I could tell she would have declined. She didn’t trust me. She closed her eyes and whispered. “Messijas plesa.” The willow plant fell several times as she tried to tie it with one hand.
“Here.” Grabbing both ends, I knotted the plant over the wound. “Keep it there. Let the nectar seep into it. It’ll be uncomfortable at first. It’s better than nothing.”
All the while, she kept her crystal eyes trained on me. “You must know what I am,” she said.
I grimaced in confusion and then fe
lt the sudden urge to explain my purpose for somehow being in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Look, I’d gone into the forest in search of herbs—not a fight. I was only trying to warn you of the Abyssians lurking in the wood. Why did you attack me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I thought once you discovered that I was no ordinary woman you would try and kill me. So, I figured to make the first attempt.”
She pulled her long dark hair behind her, revealing a blend of navy, turquoise, and silvery frilled ears. I set hands at my side.
“You’re a naiad,” I said in astonishment. Suddenly, the woman's hostility made all the sense in the world. Naiads and Men had warred often over the ages, a blood feud that had endured countless generations, never reconciling. Men once imprisoned them; made them slaves for their perverted lusts and sold them for less than butcher’s meat.
“Yes. My name is Irvina Heriberta Celestina Til’ Cordelia—a naiad of the Kor’Curtavanna High Queendom.”
I’d heard the name before, when, where, or how long ago, I wasn’t sure. I vaguely remembered something about fairness and nobility. I swept my eyes over her. History has recently recorded the extinction of the naiads, one of the first races destroyed by Abyssians. “I thought your kind perished a decade ago,” I said, checking my pockets. I still had several herbs, a few almonds left from the journey to Lucreris, and the coin purse—the most important thing.
Horror befell her. She looked with a particular expression—like I’d confirmed something. “You must be mistaken.”
I frowned and hunched my shoulders. “I was only fifteen. I don’t know much about the history, but it’s said Abyssians wiped them out. How true it is, I don’t know either.”
There was a pause. Then Irvina whitened and froze suddenly; her eyes shifted until they fell to the ground. She quavered, looking as if she wanted to say something but kept it to herself. Her hesitation was concerning, but it wasn’t my business to ask questions. She looked up and said, “We naiads can sense lies when we hear them. The consistency in your voice is full of truth. Tell me, what of the world of Men, the Giants, and the Elf kind?”
You don’t know? “Men are the only ones left of the Ruling Races. Few remain of Elves and Giants, but the Abyssians slaughtered their nations too. Even the number of trolls and minotaur are slim, their tribes and clans hidden deep in the mountains—where none dare to tread.”
Irvina lifted her chin, staring around. “Sorrow fills the air. I sense great tragedy and pain.”
“What were you doing in the forest?”
She thought silently and then spoke carefully. “I was heading west,” she said, looking with the graveness of one who’d suffered loss.
There was another pause. Peering at me, Irvina asked, “What is your name, human?”
“Darwin. Darwin Valkyrie.”
“You seem kind. Kind, but strange, Mr. Darwin—much more than your ancestors. No man has ever been able to control himself with such ease while knowingly sharing the same space with one of us, let alone engage in conversation.”
Naiads considered themselves more akin to animals than humans, despite their physical commonalities. At a point in time, they were a Ruling Race, but since the era of the dominion of Men, the title had been stripped from them. Made in honor of the sisterhood covenant between Reva the Arkangel and Tierra the Superior, naiads were the most beautiful of the Superior’s children. They were so captivating that no one could resist indulging in their erotic desire. Irvina had proven the rumor correct. Her elegance was unmatched—the kind one could never tire of admiring. But I had more important matters to tend to. My interest and focus lay elsewhere. And in my experience, women were only problems—the angelic ones even more so.
I didn’t get to find the Panacea Lily. I’ll have to get it on the way back. Hopefully, the forest isn’t still swarming with Abyssians by then. Somehow, I knew it would be. It's been four days since I left Lucreris.
With a breath, I shook my arms, trying to work out the soreness in my chest. My muscles were stiff and tense. My clothes were heavy, so I took them off for a moment, my bare chest feeling more at ease. The night breeze felt good against me as I moved my arms in rotations, gritting at the pain until it lessened.
Irvina stood on her feet, also shifting her wounds. The medicine was working, it seemed. With a grateful expression, she looked at me. Her eyes fell onto the marks upon my chest. Her brow lifted, and she was still. “You bear the markings of Angels.”
“These?” I sneered with a smirk. “You honor these painful curses?”
She nodded. “Turn around... Yrin’mata Sten Fallos,” she said, in a whisper.
I'd never heard them called by that name before. “I was born with these. They grieved me as a boy, though never enough to fell me like back in the forest. What did you call them?”
“Yrin’mata Sten Fallos: Mark of Ultima. On the bodies of Angels were symbols and runes of Ultima that proclaimed them the higher of the Ruling Races for his bidding and teachings.”
My brow lifted, and I resounded with a humph and then laughed a second later. I hadn’t heard my cackling in so long it was foreign. It was a good laugh. Ultima? And it’d too been a long while since I had heard that name. The last I remember was during a festival in Daryak, capital of the Vanik Isles, after the Militia had won a battle against Abyssians. The lesser races praised the name. They called the followers of that faith, Ambics. They believed all creation came from a voice that dwells in the chaos outside Vail and time that commanded it into existence. Ultima was the name of that voice of power. They believe the Superiors to be no more than physical manifestations of Ultima with limited strength—a little greater than the Angels. Humph... Ultima... the one true Superior. Good thing I don’t believe in any of that rubbish.
“What is so amusing?” she asked with a hiss.
I smiled. “Code of Ultima? Trust me... I think I’d be the last man on this green earth ordained to display any sort of divine artwork.”
There was a pause before she spoke again. “Not a believer?”
“No,” I confirmed sharply, not wanting to go further into the subject.
“I could never understand faithless renegades.”
My warning tone wasn’t enough to evade the topic. “The Superiors are the unfaithful ones. We don’t mean a damned thing to them—if those accursed gods even exist at all. Who the hell knows?”
Irvina snapped with a glare, “Blasphemy.”
“Is it? Two Ruling Races have been demolished. Abyssians are spreading like wildfire. Vail’s destruction is imminent. From this so-called Ezilum, the... Superiors, or Ultima or whatever you want to call it, look down on the destruction, quiet and tightfisted with any sort of grace or mercy. Blasphemy... Yeah... Right.”
“The Superiors only operate under Ultima’s ordination. There is purpose behind what they do, of this I’m sure. We must pray for strength and thank Ultima for bearing us as children. Often we go to his Superiors for things that have already been bestowed upon us and despair when we cannot see it. Men do this most of all—you are still a young kind.”
“Did you not just witness the horror and strength of the Abyssians? What could any of us alone possess robust enough to triumph over that?”
“So questions the one inscribed with Ultima’s will. Hrm... You are very peculiar indeed, Darwin Valkyrie. In my spirit, I feel that you are of immense importance, yet the troubles of this world blind you.” She stared at my chest once more in deep observation. “Perhaps it’s why your symbols resemble lethra’maka—hooks,” she explained. “Perhaps there is something locked away in you that will manifest somewhere along your fated path. Who knows besides Ultima? The seasons may tell. Whatever it is, it is powerful—for only Ultima could have sealed whatever is within you.”
A chill raced my back at her words. Suddenly self-conscious, I redressed. Yrin’mata Sten Fallos. The concept made me uneasy and slightly frightened. “Enough talk of religion. I’m getting a headache.”
&nb
sp; She was silently compliant. And the rest of the night was quiet. I ate two of the five almonds in my pocket and offered her the rest. She declined. We kept to ourselves. I left my bedroll too, I thought as I found a comfortable spot on the ground. “You can sleep. I’ve slept enough. I’ll keep watch.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she told me. “Naiads have a very keen sense of hearing. If there’s any sound other than that of the rolling plains, I’ll awaken.”
“Do what you want.”
Rafael, who had become fond of me, whimpered as he lay beside me. I stared up at the stars for what seemed like hours.
In the morning, I’ll go back to Southwood.
Gemmin
When I woke, Irvina was curled on the ground, unmoving as stone. A single step set her eyes on me—a hard-boring soundless gaze. “I told you I’d awaken, did I not?” she said.
I smirked. I barely moved... keen ears. I’d learned to sleep lightly out in the field myself, but had an enemy’s senses been that sharp, then I would’ve been an easy bird for the arrow. It was a wonder she hadn’t killed me already.
There was no wasted time in the morning preparation. I checked Rafael’s wound. It looked better than it had a few hours ago—dry red and wire-thin. After coating it once more with the sticky ointment of an aiding willow, Irvina redressed his saddle and bag and then pulled out a small breakfast of fruit, offering me a stem of grapes.
I declined and shook, rubbing dust and debris from my sleeves and combing my hair with a hand. The nectar of the Pious Plant sustained me still. When she brought out a sack of strawberries, I eyed them, and she offered them when she caught me looking. Those, I took gladly. I could never resist them. “I’m going back to Southwood. I’ve some important business there.”
She flinched, “From where we came? The place is likely infested with Abyssians. What business could be worth such a risk?
“I was looking for a particular flower—a lily seldom used as a remedy. It’s called the Panacea. Someone dear to me is very sick. I might’ve found it if you hadn’t tried to slay me.” She held back a grin, making a half smile. “And I also wouldn’t have come out of there alive either,” I admitted.
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