Still, she could not deny her attraction to the man. She clutched him harder as the horse met a full gallop, feeling his ripped muscles through the armor. Allowing her fingers to travel, she searched, finding an opening underneath his plating. She felt him shiver slightly when her cold hands rested on his bare abs. A smirk marked Anaela’s lips as she moved her hands to his chest before swiftly brushing them back down to his abs. A cold sweat covered Searon’s body. Anaela grinned, satisfied, before biting her lip and removing her hands to clutch his waist once more. Men were so fun to tease.
She tried her best not to think about Searon. Yet, something he had said tugged at her. The words came rushing at her, nearly smacking her in the face. She cursed herself for not catching his words earlier. It seemed almost as if she had as little sense as a man to not notice the form his words came. She gritted her teeth, and her fingers found their way back to his bare stomach, where they clawed at him. Her nails dug deep, almost drawing blood. She could feel him flinch at her efforts.
“Ow!” he barked.
“You saw Starlyn before she left.”
“What? Of course. I was staying at her cabin.”
“No. You knew she was leaving.”
“What makes yo—”
“I am not a fool, Searon! I am not as dim-witted as you think. You said she left with barely bidding a farewell. Yet, nobody knew she was leaving. Therefore, who did she bid farewell if not you? You will tell me what is going on, Searon, and you will do it right now.”
Her sharpened nails dug into him again, drawing blood. He croaked before shifting his stallion to a stop. When he looked into her eyes, she showed him cold fury. He didn’t seem to understand why she was so upset. His lips compressed as he studied her. He inhaled deeply.
“Yes … I did see her as she left,” he admitted.
“Why did she leave?” Anaela demanded.
“She would not tell me.”
“Where did she go?”
“She would not tell me.”
“What would she tell you?”
“That she must go far away and be gone for a time, but she hopes to cross paths again, when she is able.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“I do not know.”
“Gah … men … oblivious as mules,” she growled dryly, barely audible to his ears.
Chapter 35
Arria watched the late afternoon sun as a breeze strong enough to crack iron blew through the forest. Only a few red spots of light shone through the trees. The forest was dark, other than the few patches of cracked red sunlight. Dark would be fine, though; in fact, it was exactly as Arria liked it. She smiled as she ran from tree to tree, pausing occasionally to take a break and make sure nobody followed her and nobody blocked her path. It wouldn’t matter much if someone was—so long as she found them, anybody who got in her way would learn the dire consequences.
Soft laughter echoed inside her mind, matching the smile on her lips. It was a cruel laughter, as was the smile, but it continued with humor nonetheless. She found it amusing how Zergiel had been so terrified of the human. He’d shuddered at the words when she told him Searon was the lone survivor of a village. She knew all too well why the old warlock had been afraid, and it wasn’t all because of the news of Searon, although Searon was a big part of it. Arria knew it had been Zergiel who had ordered the village destroyed. There was word of a human leader in hiding who, if he returned to his rightful place as a general, could destroy the dark. Who and where the knowledge came from was a mystery, but Zergiel had claimed the human as a threat.
Arria knew what the warlock truly feared. Her smile faded. The same terrified her, nearly to her wits’ end, but she held her own with greater composure than Zergiel. She knew Zergiel hadn’t been the master but got his orders from another. An evil lingered in Calthoria, greater than Zergiel and Arria combined. Arria learned long ago that it wasn’t mere chance or fate raising her from the dead. She still remembered every second when she’d embraced the dark magic, allowing it to flow through her. The feeling had been beyond anything she could have imagined. It felt as if she would be powerful enough to do anything. She could have saved her mother, and would have killed anyone in her way. The power hadn’t been fully hers yet when she felt an arrow in her back all those years ago, her sister’s arrow. She had not seen her sister pull the string, but Arria knew it had been her. The memory of what happened next flashed through her mind.
Her body vanished as the arrow pierced her back and into her heart. What she saw next was pure darkness, a single red flame burning in the distance. She stood naked, shivering despite the blazing heat surrounding her. There had been little she could do but run, and so run she did. The darkness surrounded her too thick to determine where she ran. Only one place grew clear, the flame. It hadn’t been a large flame, barely the thickness of her pinky. Her mind emptied except for the flame. She dashed with all of her might toward it. Haunting laughter pierced her mind, making all other thoughts vanish. The laughter hadn’t been hers. It terrified Arria to her core.
Her feet came to a stop directly in front of the floating flame hanging in the air at her eye level. It flickered from orange to red, then abruptly shifted from violet to blue and then green. The laughter stopped, and from the shadows, a figure appeared. The figure was surrounded by a cloak and had a hood covering its face. Long wrinkled gray fingers with sharp black claws showed visible past the long sleeves. The small flame floating in the air made nothing else visible.
“Arria Nightsky … you are late to arrive.” The voice seemed inhuman. It was hoarse and neither male nor female, but it echoed through the darkness.
Despite herself, she shivered. “W-who a-are you?”
“I am she who commands the undead. You have been given another chance to live. Do you accept?”
“Will it save Mother?”
“My dear, it may already be too late for your mother. It is not your fault. You did all that you could. If only the others would have listened …”
“No …” Arria whispered.
“If not for them, you could have saved her. Would you like a chance to go back? To find those who opposed you … and destroy them?”
“Mother …” Arria whispered.
Arria regarded the dark figure in front of her with wonder. Sharp white teeth showed through the hood, but something about it felt warm to Arria. She felt protected in the creature’s presence.
“Yes, great one. I would thrive for a chance to destroy them all,” she nearly begged.
Something sidetracked Arria, and she became lost in thought. Memories of her sister flashed through her mind. Before everything went amiss, there had been love there, an undying love Arria could not deny. She could destroy all the kheshlars who prevented her from saving her mother, except Starlyn. Starlyn would be the last of her family if her mother passed, but no, her mother hadn’t been destroyed, not yet.
“If I go back, is there a chance to save Mother?”
“A small chance … but a chance nonetheless.”
“I will go, and I will destroy all those in my path, except Starlyn. No harm will come to my sister.”
“Your love for your sister is strong. It may be your undoing, yet I will allow it. Soon, my dear, I will rise, and all who oppose me will be destroyed. You are my first creation. Serve me well.”
“Yes, great one.” Arria bowed.
Arria’s memories faded in a cloud of purple-and-black smoke as she dashed through the forest. She had a long way yet to go, so she could not dawdle. She traveled north through the forest and around the desert. Cities and villages sat in the north of Calthoria, at least what remained of them. It wouldn’t be a flourishing city she searched for anyway.
Shifting her dagger at her belt, she peered through an opening in the trees. She’d traveled far, and was nearing her destination. Still, there would be several villages she would have to pass through to reach it. These villages held survivors, or perhaps they we
ren’t selected for destruction. Had the warlock known the correct village to target, or had he done so by chance?
In the clearing stood two men bound by their affection for a woman. No others appeared in sight. The forest wasn’t thick, and it would most likely open to the village in less than a league. Arria admitted the woman they’d found looked beautiful, with straight dark auburn hair and freckles staining her cheeks. She wore a bright yellow silk dress, hanging to her ankles. Her smile showed profound and toxic, and she seemed to have the two weak men cowering before her power. Arria did not like it one bit. She was the mistress of seduction, and no others were allowed.
Arria stepped forward, but stopped short to hear their conversation.
“Lady Aerenna, I picked the finest flowers in Tiyrnera. They would look ever so lovely in your hair,” a sturdy man with muscle said, brushing his long golden hair from his eyes.
Aerenna smiled, placing the neatly tied flowers in her hair. The man had been right, the flowers magnified the woman’s beauty. The flowers were roses, tulips, and white magnolias, tied with horsehair, their stems sliding into part of her hair. It complemented the dress considerably, offering the young woman complete serenity.
“My Lady Aerenna, your beauty enlightens my heart.” A man with wavy medium brown hair bowed. “I have picked for you the fairest berries of the land, for you deserve no less.”
He held out a handcrafted basket filled with blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries of the finest quality Arria had ever seen. Where the human found such fine berries in the current season bewildered her. Still, the fact this mere peasant woman was being treated as royalty made Arria cringe. Well, considering the attire she wore and the jewels—sapphires and emeralds—hanging around her neck, she might have been a noble. Yet, it still infuriated Arria to no end.
Stepping from the shadows, Arria stalked forward, growing tired of the constant praising. Those foolish men would learn the proper person to respect. They would learn of the mistress of darkness. The woman’s eyes bulged as she noticed Arria approach. Arria disregarded the woman, knowing she wasn’t a threat. The men turned abruptly. After only one glance at Arria, they touched the hilts of their swords.
Arria smiled with pride at how the two regarded her as a threat. She was a threat indeed, and these two men hardly knew the consequences of their actions. Her blade left its scabbard in less time than it would take to blink an eye. She stabbed the first in his right thigh, but before she could reach the second, he already had his sword unsheathed in his defense. His face showed stern without fear. Arria’s grin only broadened as she tightened her grip on her flamberge. The two danced their weapons for a few minutes until the man with blond hair unsheathed his sword to join in. They did not seem eager to fight alongside each other, but regarded the safety of the one they lusted for too be more important than pride. It showed a weakness both fools didn’t seem to realize they had exposed.
They slammed their weapons together, sparks filling the air, dazzling like fireflies in a midnight sky. The two men showed skill, using sword forms such as Swat the Fly and Save the Dragonfly. Neither form could compare to Reach for the Darkness, which Arria practiced. The flamberge could easily catch the two swords between grooves when she angled it right, and she used such tactics to her advantage. Her feet shifted back and forth as the battle grew more furious. The lady stayed, fear reflecting in her eyes. Arria became thankful she wouldn’t have to chase after the woman.
Chipmunks and squirrels leaped from Arria’s path as she pushed the two men backward with a flurry of attacks. She could feel the crunch of large beetles under her steel boots. It was a lively part of the forest, with birds and animals surrounding them. Each seemed to stare deeply at Arria with such hatred, as if they knew what she really was. Ravens scurried in the air surrounding her, viciously attacking the birds and animals who seemed to despise Arria. Crows and ravens always followed Arria wherever she went. They were animals of death, and she was the definition of death, or she might as well be.
Scarlet macaws stood perched in the trees, staring at the battle with interest. Village weavers perched behind Aerenna, flaunting their yellow feathers and red heads. They seemed to increase the young woman’s beauty, matching her silk. Distaste formed in Arria’s mouth. She decided it was time to end the battle.
The man with brown hair struck low a second before the blond struck high. Arria jumped over the low strike as she ducked her head below the high, giving her a vertical balance in the air as she swung her flamberge forward to strike both men in the gut. The two men lost balance for a moment, giving Arria enough time to strike the hand of the man to her left, causing him to drop his sword, before slicing off the left hand of the man to her right. They cried out in pain, especially the blond, who held onto the stub at the end of his left arm. Arria smiled as she stepped forward. The men fell to their knees, staring deep into her eyes. She sheathed her flamberge and grabbed the two victims’ blades to inspect carefully. Each sword appeared standard, without gems, and of medium length. Disregarding them, she tossed the swords into the darkness.
“The both of you are infatuated with this young woman and battle for her heart,” Arria said.
The two men cowered under her, chill bumps forming across their bodies. They no longer looked her in the eyes, but stared shamefully at the ground in front of them. Below them, a massive number of beetles and ants traveled in patterns. They shivered, but continued to stare downward, not wanting to meet Arria’s gaze.
“Speak!”
“Y-yes, my lady. We both a-are in l-love w-with her-r. She will not choose,” the man with brown hair whispered.
“It will end now. You two will fight for her affection. The one who survives, I will give you her heart.”
They peered at her with confusion swirling in their eyes. The blond’s eyes shone with swirls of bright blue, matching the most beautiful areas of the ocean, while the brown-haired man had simple hazel eyes. They appeared eager and afraid at the same time, but each glided their heads toward the woman. Arria could not see the woman, but she could feel the fear radiating from the girl’s flesh. The breaking of a leaf told Arria the woman attempted to flee. She felt for a knife in her sash, and without looking, she threw it to her right, hearing it scrape through silk and into bark.
“Stay,” Arria said.
She watched the two men, who were wide-eyed, with clear fear shaking through their bodies.
“Do you two know the village that was utterly destroyed by draeyks?”
They nodded.
“Good. The one who survives will first tell me the location of this village, and then I will give this woman’s heart to you.”
Arria bent to the ground, finding a round stone. She picked it up. Straightening her back, she inspected the gray stone, finding it oval in shape. There were no sharp edges to it, making it ideal for what she wanted. She smiled, tossing the stone toward the two men, watching as it hit the ground and rolled to a stop in front of them.
“Begin. The man who still breathes will be the victor.”
Their eyes bulged, but they did not move. Anger swelled within Arria. She took a step forward, pulling a curved dagger from her belt.
“Or would you rather me torture you to the brink of death until you beg for it?”
The men glanced at each other before spitting the same word. “Honor.”
They began by throwing punches and elbows in an attempt to reach the stone. Arria smirked before turning away to stare at the young woman, who stood frozen in front of a tree. Arria’s dagger protruded from between Aerenna’s left breast and shoulder. From the way the woman was pressed up against the oak tree, Arria assumed the knife had nailed her to it. Striding forward, Arria fished for her other dagger, holding it eagerly in her hand.
The woman, Aerenna, appeared terrified, bringing comfort to Arria’s mind. Arria fed off of fear. Her power grew with each shiver from the humans. Aerenna’s eyes shone amber, resembling those of a wolf. Fear showed d
eep within them, which satisfied Arria.
“You allow these two humans to fight for your affection, why?”
Aerenna shivered before speaking. “I cannot decide.”
“You no longer have to. They will decide who claims you now. In your efforts to make up your mind, you have condemned one to death. Are you satisfied?”
“No, I do not wish for one to die.”
“It is too late for that, dear.” Arria licked her lips. “I wonder what the fuss is all about.”
Arria stepped forward, grabbing the woman’s auburn hair, pulling her face closer. Arria pursed her violet lips, pressing them against Aerenna’s pink ones. A small amount of electricity shot from Arria and into the woman, dragging Aerenna into the kiss rather than pushing her away. Arria could feel the energy of the woman transfer into her. She thrived on it. The woman held power in her, a deep magic of complete light; it almost weakened Arria. She pulled away quickly before all of her energy drained. Arria was dark magic, but this magic Aerenna held was the opposite. It was light, full of serenity and healing, rather than hatred and death. Arria understood now—the magic would kill her if she drained it all, even if it tasted magnificent.
“Witch,” Arria whispered.
Aerenna smiled. “I prefer sorceress. Though you are unlike me. You are dark. You need to be destroyed.”
The Obsidian Arrow Page 15