The Obsidian Arrow

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  Another memory streamed through her mind of the experience with Searon, his warm lips upon hers in the cold rain. She remembered getting lost in his touch, his musky essence of pipe tobacco and cinnamon. It had been so different from the touch and smell of kheshlars. She wondered if that had been why she craved it so much. Kheshlars had soft skin, no matter if they were male or female. It had been pleasant to have a rougher hand against her cheek or in her hair. The kheshlars’ scent had always smelled fruity or green, like the different plants in the forest. Searon proved to be so different. She liked it too much, and she couldn’t rid her mind of his presence.

  She opened her eyes, surprised she had not been slain yet, or perhaps she had been and dwelled in the next life. Images flashed before her, making her seem in Searon’s arms with Starlyn next to them, smiling. All of it was her imagination though, as when her eyes focused, she saw Arria standing above her, smiling. The smile showed cruel and happy. It gave Anaela chills.

  “This is where you meet your doom, Anaela of the wood kheshlars.” Arria grinned before taking another step forward, holding her flamberge true to Anaela’s heart. “Sudegam will fall. Do you have any last words?”

  “I forgive you,” Anaela whispered.

  “What?” Arria roared, her blade shaking.

  “I forgive you, Arria of the high kheshlars. It is not your fault you have strayed away from the light and are clouded by the darkness. I do not blame you. I forgive you.”

  Arria’s eyes watered, and a lone tear trickled along her face to her violet lips. She held her flamberge unsteadily, gulping deep, with air getting caught in her throat. The wind violently tossed her snow-white hair behind her onyx face. Her face appeared solemn, her expression lost, her lips trembling. The dark hue of her eyes faded for a moment, changing to a light gray as she looked at Anaela.

  The moment did not last long, however. Her eyes quickly darkened before she clutched the flamberge tight in her hands, causing her onyx skin to grow even darker. She raised the blade far into the air, smiling cruelly before slashing it toward Anaela. Anaela flinched, closing her eyes as she awaited her death.

  Several seconds passed with nothing occurring except a loud clang and something skidding on the ground. Frightened, Anaela opened her eyes, noticing a squad of human defenders blocking her area from oncoming draeyks and daerions. She raised her eyebrow, glancing around, pondering where Arria had gone.

  Twenty paces to her left, she noticed Arria getting off the ground to dust off her chain mail. She snarled at a human in crimson-and-silver plate mail. He raised his blade, a claymore, high to strike Arria, who angrily batted it away with her flamberge. His long blade seemed to glow crimson against the undead kheshlar’s violet glowing flamberge. Clanging metal rang in Anaela’s ears as sparks scattered around her, looking like fireflies dancing on the ground.

  Anaela recognized the crimson-and-silver armored man who rescued her. There was only one who wore such armor on the field. He stood out beyond any other. Most of the men wore plain chain mail, plate mail, or scale mail, seldom in colors other than plain silver. A few had decorative designs on different attachments, but only one had armor of crimson and silver. His armor matched his crimson glowing claymore. Searon, a knight in shining armor, had arrived to rescue her.

  Searon studied the undead kheshlar as he battled her, trying to read her emotions. She seemed relaxed, even smiling as their blades touched. He blocked her in the nick of time, surprising her. She didn’t allow the surprise to hold her for long before going on the offense, a glare of hatred plastered on her face.

  He had seen when Arria ran at the archers, and instinct had taken over his body. He had motioned Andron to take his post before dashing with all of his might, praying he wouldn’t be too late. He knew Anaela could take care of herself, but he also knew how powerful Arria was. He had been practicing for the next time they would meet. He wasn’t going to let the same thing happen again.

  Normally, Searon would play strong offense. He wanted to press forward with the rage boiling through him seeing Anaela in danger. However, he remembered the last time he had faced Arria and decided to take his time with cautious defense. He had already succeeded by taking her attention from Anaela. The rest didn’t seem to matter.

  Arria’s attacks struck quick. She parried with more skill than any other Searon had faced. He almost admitted she was a better swordsman than he, almost. His claymore skillfully blocked each of her attacks, shocking her. She clenched her teeth, appearing not used to facing someone with such skill. Fighting, with the sash at her side, she grabbed a pouch, preparing to toss the contents at him. He was ready for such an act. Searon grabbed one of his own pouches, tossing it at her. Nothing special or magical hid in his pouch, only fine white sand. It proved to be enough to cause a distraction, blinding her and causing her to drop her own pouch, which disintegrated on the ground.

  Searon deemed it better than having her toss the black sand into his eyes, creating who knew what kind of magic to torture him; still, the magic had left the bag. He watched as she uttered a few words when the bag crashed onto the ground. Magic swirled around, floating over the ground like fog, except instead of white, it was pitch-black. Searon felt a cold chill at his feet as it clung to his armor, causing his feet to drag. His feet no longer moved at the same quick pace as they had, but at least his arms and mind held fast as he deflected a few strikes from Arria.

  A sinister smile came across Arria’s lips. Her eyes leered behind him into the distance. He didn’t have the time to spin around, but he knew her magic had done something horrifying behind him. He quickly felt in his sash, pulling out a shuriken he had collected from a time Starlyn had used them. Even though he wasn’t experienced with him, his aim proved true enough to embed it into her arm at the seam of her armor’s shoulder blade.

  Without a moment to spare, he spun around to face five skeletons, four with bone swords and shields slashing at him. He had to dive onto the ground to dodge a few slices before swatting at one of their legs, causing its ankles to break. Standing, he faced the four and noticed another off in the distance with a bone bow and arrow who began shooting at him. He dodged the first arrow, but the next two found themselves lodged into his elbow and shoulder. He cringed at the pain, but it did not prevent him from battling.

  The pain sparked his anger, causing him to fight more furiously, using his claymore to block strike after strike of the five skeletons. He shattered two skeletons before finishing the third by breaking its ankles. He faced the remaining two, and another three arrows sank into his flesh. Luckily, or skillfully, he prevented all the arrows from being fatal by dodging them or twisting his body to be struck elsewhere. A few arrows he clumsily slashed away with his claymore.

  Short breaths with agony echoed in his ears as he saw Anaela trying to rise to her feet, searching for her sword. With a glance in the other direction, Searon saw Arria rip the shuriken from her flesh and lick it before tossing it onto the ground. Anaela found her sword, sprinting toward Arria in hopes of catching her off guard. The undead kheshlar didn’t seem to notice Anaela’s approach. She stared at Searon. She smiled before removing a dagger from her sash, throwing it hard to her side. Searon’s heart sank as he saw the dagger penetrate Anaela’s shoulder. Anaela dropped her sword, screaming as she fell to the ground.

  Arria’s grin widened as she watched Searon before unsheathing her flamberge and strutting toward Anaela. His claymore trembled in his hands, glowing an even brighter crimson as he slashed it with more passion at the skeletons. Strength poured through him as he chopped the skeletons into small remnants of bones.

  He rushed at the undead kheshlar, but she turned just in time to face him, thrusting her sword up. He only had an instant to make a block. Even though he blocked the strike, the tip of her blade sank into his stomach the length of a fingernail. He had to step backward for a moment. When he came back at her, his rage flowed at full force without mercy. Sweat covered Searon’s brow, trickling along his
entire face and into his eyes, blurring his vision. Blood scattered over his face, armor, and hilt from the various cuts, scrapes, and arrows on him.

  Her blocks didn’t prove stronger or quick enough for Searon’s rage. He wore her down quickly, causing bruises across her body. She ducked, trying to back slash him, but he knocked the blade from her grasp, quickly stabbing into her shoulder before slashing at her inner thigh. Arria gritted her teeth in pain before backing away. Searon’s heart pounded, but he was not done yet. He stepped forward, ready to strike her again. She dove to the ground, causing dust to circle into his vision. The last he saw of Arria was her sliding her blade in its scabbard before disappearing through the battlefield.

  Searon ran over to Anaela and rolled her over to see her face. Her eyes remained closed. He gently brought his index finger to her neck to check her pulse under her helm. It beat slow, but her heart continued to live. Relief spread through his mind. He glanced around and saw no threats, exhaled, placing his claymore in its scabbard, and gently lifted Anaela in his arms. He peered around for anywhere to take her, but the battle remained hectic and he was needed. As swift as he could, he carried her to the only place he could think of. He headed for the tree at the heart of Sudegam. He approached the same room he had woken to see her for the first time, the same place where she had healed him, but now it was his turn to save her.

  Chapter 26

  Arria dashed through the battlefield to the rear ranks, where she inspected her surroundings. It had been an obvious loss, as expected. The dry air caused her throat to itch. Vinegar, bile, pine, and honey lingered in the air. Her body became weak. She had fresh bruises on her charcoal skin. Her teeth clenched as she clutched her inner thigh, which vibrated with excruciating pain. She found it strange when a human bested her, but it also gave valuable knowledge. Arria now knew what the human kept as a weakness, and it could be used to her advantage. He was a brilliant captain and warrior, she had noticed, but when Anaela’s life had been on the line, he became frantic.

  The draeyks and daerions had been strong in numbers, but they had lacked the strength of humans and kheshlars combined. It is not the time … but soon it will be. Her voice triumphed in her mind as a bitter smile came across her face. Surrounding her, draeyks and daerions fell one at a time, but none gave up, each fighting with such intensity as if their life depended on it. It did depend on it, of course, because if they couldn’t prove their worth, then there would be no reason for Arria to keep them around, and they knew it.

  “Retreat,” Arria whispered to a commanding draeyk officer beside her.

  The creature nodded before screeching, “Retreattt!”

  She glanced back toward the battlefield to find Searon staring at her with an icy glare. He held Anaela in his arms, close to his chest, but he didn’t look at her. His steel eyes melted into Arria’s, a warning clear on his unshaven face. Now it’s personal, human … just the way I like it.

  The kheshlars and humans didn’t stop slicing the creatures down as they retreated out the gate, but even after the losses, there were still hundreds of them. Thousands to come. Arria grinned. There would be a war to come. They hadn’t brought out the high cavalry yet. Instead, they’d taken a different approach by destroying the king. If enough of the leaders fell, the rest would be unsure how to react. Arria licked her lips, tasting blood dripping from her face. She sneered.

  Smoke danced around the city as it burned, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy Arria’s taste. She unbuckled a pouch from her sash filled with black coarse powder. Arria chanted a few words before tossing it into the air. The black sparkles drifted in the air, collecting onto treehouses of the kheshlars. Everything the powder touched caught aflame. It caused enough of a distraction for her to disappear through the crowd, out of the city, along with the rest of the draeyks and daerions.

  The clattering of footsteps echoed through her mind. She tried to concentrate on her next plan. The time had come to face the dark wizard to inform him of her progress. He would still be forming an army of nacropi to join in on the raids against the kheshlarn capital. Arria didn’t like to serve, but she knew it wouldn’t last for too long. The dark wizard had a few good ideas, starting with the necromancers. Soon, they would be hers to command, when she had an opportune moment to drive a dagger through the heart of the dark wizard.

  Her body felt so alive with each new kill she made. It made it hard for her to stop. The most pleasure for her was in the killing of kheshlars. It fed her soul to strike a kheshlar down. It settled her rage and revenge for a time. Nothing would make her happier than having her sister in chains lying before her. She would make her sister see the dark, the true path to freedom.

  She glanced around her to the tulip fields, a smile erupting upon her face. With her right hand, she tore the last bag of soft powder from her pouch, blowing it into the wind. It settled upon the flowers, burning them to a crisp, replacing the honeyed aroma with the smell of burned vegetation. She rushed to her black panther, who awaited her, jumping on top of the animal before caressing its neck. The panther rushed forward through the rest of the meadow until together they disappeared through the trees. The draeyks didn’t have creatures to ride, but they were quick, much like their lizard cousins. However, the daerions rode on large reptilian beasts with large heads and scale manes ending in long spiked tails. The gray creatures galloped low to the ground, nearly half the height of a horse on all fours, digging their four penetrating claws into the ground.

  Still, the odd reptile beasts were not as strong or quick as Arria’s panther, who quickly took the lead. They were a hundred and fifty leagues away from the camp where Zergiel waited. It would take a while to reach him. It didn’t stop Arria from pushing the creatures forward. There would be no rest until they arrived safely.

  After a few days of traveling, the creatures behind Arria grew tired and began complaining. Arria could not stand complaints. Some even questioned her leadership, making her blood boil. The words came seldom, only whispers by the time she walked by the creatures, but she knew they had been uttered.

  “Do you have a problem with how hard I’m pushing you?” Arria asked calmly.

  “Noo, wisse onee,” a draeyk said. It bared its teeth in a snarl afterward, as if biting back its tongue.

  She spun around from the disgusting creature to face the rest, who openly stared at her. Her left eyebrow arched as she glanced to each of them. They cowered in fear. It pleased her.

  “Does anyone have a problem with our deadline?”

  “Yesss. You pussh tooo harrd. Wee neeed resst,” a pale draeyk said before stepping forward.

  Arria exhaled with regret as she studied the creature. She had rather hoped it hadn’t been him who spoke up. He had been her captain for the draeyks. He wore gold thigh and shin pads instead of the black iron the others wore, showing the creature’s importance.

  “I am sorry to hear that, Captain.” Her mind fell short of his name. Besides their titles, she never cared to learn anything about the foul creatures. “I rather hoped you would be the one to push the rest under your command, but if it’s second thoughts you have …”

  “Wee neeed resst. Onlyy onee daay.”

  “What we need are creatures with strength, not weaknesses, to bring us victory.”

  She stepped forward until she stood mere inches from the creature. A flash of worry seeped through its yellow eyes. Arria slid a dagger from her armor, licking it with her long pointed tongue. In a flash, her left hand slid around the creature’s neck. She lifted him into the air as he snarled. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the other creatures stumble as if they would attempt to rescue their leader. In the blink of an eye, she slit the creature’s neck, before ripping his head off and tossing it to the ground.

  Shrieks broke the silence, stifling the sound of the creature’s head rolling in the dirt. Three draeyks rushed forward, removing their weapons. Two held axes and the other wielded a mace as they charged at her. She slid her flamberge from i
ts scabbard to hold in front of her with one hand, while taunting the creatures with her other. Without a pause, the three creatures rushed at her. She blocked the two axes first before the mace knocked her backward. Her teeth gritted as she lunged forward, killing the two wielding axes in seconds. The last draeyk, who held a mace, dropped it eagerly before dropping to its knees to stare up at her.

  With a smile, she approached the creature. The draeyk shivered. She glanced around to notice all the other creatures staring at her, waiting to see her next move. A smirk came across her face as she lunged forward, decapitating the creature. Its head tumbled to the ground, body plunging forward.

  “Does anybody else have any problems with our pace?” she snapped.

  Every creature surrounding her shook their head before preparing to continue traveling. She strode to her panther to climb on it. A slight breeze whispered across her face, tossing her snow-white hair into her eyes. The scent of dead skin and burned hair displeased her as it lingered in the air. It wasn’t as foul of a scent as the musky-bitter-cucumber smell the draeyks emitted.

  “Mistress,” a chilling voice spoke, giving her the same uneasiness a spider crawling on the back of her neck would.

  Arria spun around to find hundreds of black-cloaked men standing in front of her. The group of them wore hoods. Their bodies couldn’t be defined with the loose cloaks. One stood in front. Arria assumed he was the one who had spoken.