The Obsidian Arrow

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  “She’s a kheshlar,” a third, confident voice interrupted.

  Everything around Starlyn became a blur. She struggled, blinking her eyes, trying to make sense of what was going on. Finally, her vision became clear and she could see the warriors holding weapons on her. She could see them, but she still couldn’t believe it. Never had she seen anything like it before … not from humans. Standing before her were twelve beautiful human women holding short swords—pointed at Starlyn.

  “Who are you?” Starlyn asked.

  “It is not you who gets to ask the questions here,” the confident voice said.

  Starlyn noticed the confident woman’s bright orange hair.

  “Kailynn, take her for questioning,” a brunette said in a soft voice.

  “With pleasure.” Kailynn, the redhead, smiled.

  Kailynn strutted over to the shocked Starlyn, holding her sword tight. She raised it and bashed its hilt onto the back of Starlyn’s head. The last thing Starlyn saw was the large grin of the orange-haired woman before she faded into unconsciousness. She hit the ground with a thud, dizzily dreaming of being back with her sister as a child.

  Chapter 16

  Searon felt the cold stares of kheshlars in his direction, many of confusion, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have time to explain, he just needed to make sure everybody was all right. Eagerly, he raised the lift to the top of the tree and stepped off, inspecting the surroundings of the palace. It was quiet, too quiet. He tried to think of what reason the undead kheshlar had for coming there. He felt gloomy as he realized the one thing she would come to the palace for. Revenge for what the kheshlars had done to her, for casting her out. He wished Starlyn stood with him to help talk sense to her sister.

  Running around the corner of the golden doors, he saw Vil’ek on the ground badly injured. He laid Anaela on the floor next to the doors before trying to help Vil’ek to his feet. Vil’ek coughed heavily and shook his head. Lifting his hand, he pointed to the doors of the king’s chamber. It cost him all of his energy—his arm fell, and he collapsed.

  Searon spun around to look at the sparkling golden doors. He tried the handles and realized they were barred shut. Searon checked Anaela’s pulse, making sure she was still alive, and exhaled when he felt a slow but steady beat.

  He took a few steps back, then charged the door. The door moved a little, but it sprang back, weakening his energy and his shoulder. He rubbed his arm, trying to numb the pain. Searon rammed the door a few more times, but it proved unsuccessful. He needed a new idea. Without knowing what it would do, he grabbed his claymore from its scabbard and held it in front of him. Closing his eyes, he gripped his claymore as tight as he could and felt the power of the sword through his hands. His claymore glowed a brighter crimson than ever before. He slashed at the doors, and they collapsed in front of him. He strode over the doors and into the room, weapon at the ready.

  Searon saw the king fall to the ground and Arria holding the king’s sword. She spun to Searon, winking, before turning to flee. He didn’t let her get far as he rushed behind her, grabbing her shoulder and throwing her to the ground. Enraged, she kicked him and freed herself. Searon swung his claymore to his right, barely missing Arria’s head. The blade sliced a strand of her white hair, and it slowly floated to the ground.

  She raised the king’s sword and swung it at Searon. He sidestepped and thrust his claymore at her. She knocked it aside and stepped closer to him, holding his arm in place. Her lips were inches from his.

  “Do not tempt me, human, you are no match,” she said.

  Searon didn’t understand it, but for some reason he had the urge to kiss her. The scent of her was dark, yet arousing, fighting with his senses. He couldn’t deny the attraction the undead kheshlar had, even with her discolored hair and skin. There was something enticing about the image of having her white hair in his hands to pull. The softness of her light onyx skin was evident, and the lushness of her lavender lips appeared intoxicating. He knew she didn’t have a spell on him this time, but he still felt her charm.

  “Do not temp me, mistress, or you may like what you get.” Searon gritted his teeth, twisted his arm out of her grasp, and sliced at her arm, shedding purple blood.

  She held onto the sword tight as she covered the gash on her arm with her opposite hand. She snarled and backed away, staring at Searon in disbelief. She sheathed the sword and came at Searon with her fists. The spiked plate mail gloves proved dangerous as a few punches had Searon on the ground, dizzily shaking his head. She dashed out of sight, and before Searon could find where she went, she was already gone.

  He ran to the king and noticed Anaela stirring outside the room. She stood and began stumbling into the throne room before she suddenly stopped. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell as she stared at the king.

  Searon staggered over to her. “Anaela, are you all right?”

  Her eyes didn’t look at him, but kept staring at the body of the king. She didn’t seem to acknowledge Searon was even there as she pushed past him and knelt on the ground next to the king, taking his hand in hers.

  “My king …” Anaela whispered.

  Elsargast’s breaths were slow, but he was still alive. His closed eyes opened, and he looked to the tear-stricken face of Anaela.

  “My dear Anaela … I know you are not one of us, but you are family now. High kheshlar or wood kheshlar, it does not matter. You, my dear … promise me …” Elsargast’s voice faded.

  “Promise you what, my lord?” Anaela asked.

  “Keep the kheshlars together, do not let them fall. Keep the humans close … I was wrong about them …” Elsargast’s head rolled to the side.

  Anaela sobbed loudly, and she closed his eyes with her palm, turned away, still kneeling on the ground, and wept. Searon walked over to her and knelt beside her, mourning her loss. He knew the king had been like family to her since she was the only wood kheshlar around. She gaped at Searon through her watery eyes and embraced him in a hug. Searon welcomed her warmth and patted her back.

  Chapter 17

  Arria stopped abruptly and scanned her surroundings. Chill bumps came across her skin, and she vigorously rubbed her hands on her arms, trying to rid herself of the chill. She was far enough away from Sudegam to be safe. Chills ran down her spine at the thought of what she had accomplished. Finally, the king’s iron-fisted rule over the kheshlars was gone. Yet, she knew they wouldn’t come to their senses soon, having lived in such a way for so long. Not that it mattered anyway, as Zergiel’s plan was to destroy them all. Except her sister … no … Arria would find Starlyn and convince her to join her.

  Arria knew there wasn’t much time before the attack of the kheshlarn city would begin. She had to let Zergiel know of her success. Her heart still raced from the intensity of being in the kheshlarn city, especially her experience with Vil’ek. She hadn’t expected such feelings to arise when she saw him. After all, she had been a mere kheshlar when they were together, and now she was so much more. Their connection still lingered, and she wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

  The memories of their past came crashing back to her after facing him. She remembered how they were engaged before he was the king’s guard and had freedom of mind. A smile came across Arria’s face as she pictured him no longer being controlled by Elsargast, but by her. She could use a pet to do her bidding.

  After several minutes of walking, and letting her thoughts catch up to her, her breath returned to normal. If she planned on attacking soon, she needed to hurry back to Zergiel with her news, and his prize. Her surroundings became blurry as she sprinted through the forest at her top speed. Kheshlars were fast runners, but they hardly used their talent, instead using a fast-paced walk. Arria was even faster than the kheshlars now, her magic granting her even more speed.

  Her heart rate quickened as she dodged trees and bushes in a foggy haze, until she reached her destination. She came to a halt by the clearing, and standing before her was an army of draeyks and daeri
ons. A smile formed on her lips as she strolled through them. They stepped away, making a clear path for her to walk through. No longer did she have to run. She’d made it. It was a magnificent sight to behold: draeyks to her left, and daerions to her right.

  Before she reached them, they had been restless and ready for battle, starting fights and bullying each other, but now that she had arrived, they were rigid and staring straight past her. Not one dared to glance her way, for they knew a wrong look would be the last they would ever make.

  Halfway through the crowd, Arria smiled as she saw a daerion staring at her. The rest kept true to avoiding her gaze, but the one daerion couldn’t help but stare. She didn’t know if it was her beauty entrapping the daerion, or the evil presence she brought, but it did not matter. She didn’t like the look he gave, and she would make an example of him.

  She stared coldly into his eyes as she treaded over to him. The rest of the daerions shivered in place, doing their best to continue looking forward, and not to their side where Arria stood. She stopped in front of the daerion and grinned at his blank face. Her eyes blared red, and its eyes glazed. The creature tilted from side to side, growing dizzy. Without a word, she snatched a dagger from her sash and uppercut it straight through its jaw. She watched in grim satisfaction as the daerion crumbled to the ground. The others didn’t dare move as their companion fell onto them.

  “Arria, you have returned!” Zergiel yelled from the red tent, his head poking out.

  “Yes, my lord.” Arria glanced to him.

  “Please, come in and tell me of your journey,” he said, disappearing into the tent.

  She nodded and continued along the open path to the tent. Before going in, she took one last glance behind her to make sure no others dared look her way.

  The tent was dark as she stepped inside. The only light was from three black candles with purple flames. The three candles sat on a desk in the middle of the tent, where Zergiel sat. She bowed.

  “Have you completed your task, Arria?” Zergiel asked.

  “Yes, my lord,” Arria responded, walking slowly toward him.

  When she reached his desk, she knelt on one knee, removing the golden sword from her sash. Raising her head, she placed the sword on the desk in front of Zergiel. Instantly, Zergiel stood, the king’s sword in his hand. He stroked the blade.

  “Brilliant,” Zergiel exclaimed. “Elsargast’s sword … now it belongs to me.”

  Arria stood and watched the wizard with interest. She knew he possessed dark powers, and his rage was fierce toward the kheshlars, but for what reason, she did not know. He claimed the sword, slid it in his scabbard, and tossed his own sword aside.

  “Well done, Arria.”

  Zergiel edged closer to Arria, a gleam in his eyes that she had not seen before. There seemed to be something going on in his head. Arria could not place it, but it worried her. Most people she was able to figure out straight away, but she could not figure out the dark wizard.

  He stood in front of her, inches from her face, and close enough that his cold breath sent shivers along her body. Two of his fingers brushed across her cheek, finding their way to her lips. His eyes locked with hers for a moment, and now she noticed what possessed him.

  Lust.

  It was disgusting for a wizard as dark and powerful as him to still be controlled by the manly nature of lust. She often had the same thoughts, but she kept them in her mind where they were safe. If she didn’t, she knew she would be weak for allowing the emotions to control her. It was not as weak of an emotion as love, but still weak nonetheless. If she released the amount of lust she had built up, it wouldn’t be safe for anyone. As a kheshlar, such thoughts were frowned upon. She’d always had lustful thoughts, but the dark magic only made it worse. It gave her darker thoughts than she ever imagined before.

  She shook her head, scattering her thoughts, knowing if she stayed on the subject for too long, she would give in and let Zergiel have her. What would happen then? No, lust was something she must end.

  His lips were mere inches from hers, and she held the hilt of her dagger tightly in her hand. She brought it up in a fluid motion, her blade resting against the bottom of Zergiel’s neck. A smile found her lips as Zergiel’s eyes widened.

  “Now, my lord, may I remind you, we have more pressing matters to attend to,” Arria whispered.

  Zergiel slightly nodded, and Arria released the dagger, securing it in her sash. A few locks of his gray beard floated to the floor, having been cut by her dagger. With a large gulp, Zergiel left the tent, leaving Arria’s smile the only thing lit by the candlelight.

  Arria followed him outside, the bright sun nearly blinding her. Zergiel stood at her side. He walked a few steps closer and put his mouth by her ear.

  “The necromancers are not yet ready with the nacropi … I want you to start the attack with this army. Weaken their defenses, destroy their hopes.” Zergiel smirked.

  “It shall be done, my lord.”

  Chapter 18

  Cold and dark were Starlyn’s only thoughts when she opened her eyes. Her head hurt, and she felt dried blood on the back of her skull. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, and she searched around for anything she could eat. Her hands were bound in chains, but her feet were left free. She had been stripped of her armor, and she sat in only her leather smallclothes. She felt thankful it was not yet winter. Her hammer, shurikens, and daggers were all gone.

  Starlyn felt dizzy as she stood. She tried to see what her prison looked like. It seemed to be only her, but after a moment, she saw movement in the darkness. Chills ran across her spine and bumps appeared across her arms.

  “Is anyone there?” she asked.

  A few coughs echoed in the distance, startling Starlyn. Coming out of the complete darkness was a muscular man wearing nothing but cloth over his groin. His muscles were toned and his body tanned. He was an attractive strong human. His hands were bound with chains, and his eyes shone with fear.

  “Where are we?” Starlyn asked.

  “There is a rumor of the Ikchani … female warriors … it is supposed to be a campfire tale … it is not supposed to be true,” he whispered.

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Why have you been captured?” Starlyn asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious? They have brought me here to help populate … several women have already visited me … and I’m afraid they’ll keep coming until I’m dead.” He choked and coughed.

  “There is no release to this prison?” Starlyn asked.

  “Not for me. These women … they are like praying mantises or spiders, once they’re done with me, they’ll kill me. I’ve already seen it happen to the last man who was in here.” He shivered.

  “What if they give birth to a boy?” Starlyn asked.

  “That … is something I would rather not find out,” he said.

  “Why am I here?” Starlyn whispered.

  Studying the human, she could tell why the Ikchani women chose him. He seemed strong, a perfect candidate for their army of women warriors. She remembered hazy details of the women who captured her … and a name … Kailynn.

  The man’s eyes widened after he examined her. “You’re a kheshlar …”

  She nodded.

  “What is your name?” Starlyn asked.

  “Frederick.”

  “Mine is Starlyn. We must find a way out of here, have you seen an exit?” she asked.

  “There is nothing …” Frederick turned away.

  Voices in the distance caused them to be silent. Frederick hid back in the shadows. Starlyn gulped at the creak of a door opening. Four women stepped into the dark room holding candles. Three of them approached Starlyn while the fourth stared into the darkness where Frederick hid. Starlyn noticed two blondes and the redhead she remembered … Kailynn. She was responsible for the dried blood on the back of Starlyn’s head.

  One of the blondes had a dirty shade of hair, a plain face, and a few freckles. Her leather armor was torn, battle worn, and
plain. She seemed to be of little importance, but the other blonde, who stood in front and stared at Starlyn, seemed special. Her armor was made of pearls and diamonds, sparkling whiter than anything Starlyn had ever seen. She wore white chain mail covering her entire body and a white silk jacket. It looked like she was the queen of them all, with such beauty that even Starlyn lusted for her. Her face was toned and tanned.

  She smiled at Starlyn, making her weak in the knees. The goddess turned away to glance at the tall brunette staring into the darkness. “Evangeline, you may have him now. Do be quiet, as I must speak with the kheshlar.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Evangeline bowed.

  Starlyn could hear calls of protest from the dark and pitied the man. It was true that men were slaves when it came to the art of lust, but they were using him dry, and when he couldn’t produce anymore … Starlyn shook her head. She didn’t understand how these women could be so cruel.

  Starlyn wondered where Charlotte and Snowflake were, and hoped they were all right. She couldn’t bear it if these Ikchani found them. It made her queasy just thinking about it.

  “How is it that a kheshlar found her way into our territory?” the goddess asked.

  “I am merely passing through,” Starlyn answered.

  Anger filled the eyes of the goddess, and she pulled a whip from her side. Faster than any movement from a human that Starlyn had ever seen, the whip slashed across Starlyn’s face. Her face stung worse than anything she’d ever experienced. The whip must have been laced with poison. Her entire face burned.

  “Do you know who I am? I am Lady Divinity; you will address me as such.” Her blue eyes transformed into crimson.

  Starlyn trembled as she stared at the woman’s unnatural eyes. She noticed her whip twitched, ready for another strike. “I am truly sorry … my lady.”

  Divinity’s hard red eyes calmed and returned to an ocean blue, making her seem lovely again. Her hair fluttered around her as if there was wind, yet the air seemed stale. Divinity walked closer to Starlyn, grabbing her chin to look into her eyes.