Stassi’s eyes pulled him in until he felt like he was falling into a bottomless pit. Helpless. Flailing. There would be no turning back now. Wherever he landed, they would continue the journey side by side.
She pulled out of his arms with a sigh of regret. “It is getting late. We should get back. The last trial starts at twilight.”
Cal groaned. “Tonight? What is it this time? Swallowing swords? Fighting lions?”
“No, we will be fighting Fallen. It’s a real raid.”
He hissed through his teeth. He had been rushing along this path for days now, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but the thought of taking another life — even one touched by a wicked curse — twisted his guts into knots.
As Stassi started away, he walked beside her, refusing to let go of her hand. She looked down in question.
“It’s called holding hands. Just go with it.”
A tiny smile lurked at the corners of her mouth, but to Cal it looked like a burst of sunshine. They continued on in companionable silence, enjoying the peace of the forest and the feel of each other.
When they arrived back at the village, heads turned at sight of their entwined fingers. The children screeched and pointed. The men outright ogled, and the women hid smiles behind their hands.
Cal lifted Stassi’s hand to his lips.
The entire gathering scattered like leaves in the wind as though he planned to mate with her then and there.
“That was not nice,” Stassi said in amusement as she watched them all go.
“It was just a kiss.”
“To you. To them, it is something new and shocking.”
“Well, they’ll just have to get used to it. I promised you plenty more of them. Remember?” he asked, pulling her close.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she admitted, and he laughed at the blush that stippled her cheeks. “But they will have to wait. I have to retrieve my bow for the raid. Do you want to fly with me or stay here?”
“I’ll stay.”
She rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his mouth. “I will be right back.”
He nodded and watched her go, distracted by her purposeful stride. And, the long, muscled legs. The skin that looked touched by honey. The swaying hips that —
“Son of Adam!”
“Huh?” He turned guiltily to find a Faedin standing next to him. One that looked to be older than Julius — much older, in fact — with lines of age crisscrossing his face. Yet there was something about his eyes. Some playful twinkle of youth that had yet to be diminished. “Yes?”
“A word, please?” the Faedin asked, stretching his arm out toward a tent at the edge of the village that Cal hadn’t noticed before.
Cal nodded politely. “Of course.” He followed behind the Faedin and ducked inside the opening, squinting in the soft light of a single candle held upright in a brass holder.
“Please, sit.”
Cal sat cross-legged on the floor across from the Faedin.
The man bowed his head formally. “We have not yet met, son of Adam, but I am the Elder of the Faedin. A spiritual guide, if you will.”
“Nice to meet you. Please call me Cal.”
“Very well,” the Elder said with a smile. “As you may already be aware, Cal, the Faedin are very special beings.”
He nodded again, not sure what he was supposed to say.
“But they need your help.” The flickering flame cast strange shadows across the ancient face.
“My help?”
“As the world’s guardians, the Faedin have fulfilled their duty without fail for many, many years. In doing so, they have had to learn to become ruthless to stay alive.” He held up a finger. “But they need to know compassion to die.”
“To die? How can I help with that?”
“You will teach them.”
Cal shook his head adamantly. “I’m afraid you have the wrong person, Elder. The Faedin barely tolerate me as it is, and I doubt they would let me teach them anything.”
“You already are, Cal, but you must work faster. Evil stirs.”
The hair on the back of Cal’s neck stood up at the thought of the pit surrounding the Tree That Will Not Die. But Stassi had told him the serpent couldn’t get out without a human. A pure human, and according to her, he didn’t fit that bill any more.
“What can I do?”
“Unite the Faedin, Cal. In love and in war.”
CHAPTER 13
A Raid
Cal arrived at the arena with Stassi, preoccupied with all he heard. He hadn’t said anything to her yet about his strange conversation with the Elder. Why worry her right before this final trial that meant so very much to her? As the self-proclaimed spiritual guide, the Elder surely had the ear of Julius. If there really was something to be concerned about, the chieftain would let the Faedin know.
With that, he put his worries aside and hoisted the small sack he carried up over his shoulder. Stassi eyed his burden suspiciously but didn’t ask.
The harsh pounding of Faedin drums started up, echoing through the night, accompanied by a loud chant. Snarling warriors stomped their feet in time to the beat and slammed fists to bare chests.
“Do they do this for all the raids?” he asked Stassi while directing her toward Abram and Leeah.
“Of course.”
“Nothing like telling the enemy you’re coming,” he muttered.
Confusion flashed in her eyes. “Of course, we would tell them. It is meant to instill fear in their hearts.”
“And give them a chance to hide even more? If they don’t know you’re coming, you can… oh, I don’t know… catch them off guard?”
Gilad appeared out of nowhere from behind them. “Rupa thinks he knows more about fighting the Fallen than Faedin warriors.”
The warriors within hearing distance hooted their disapproval.
Cal snorted. “No, I just think you could have the upper hand if you used a little more stealth.”
Gilad grasped Cal’s arm and turned him so that they were facing each other. “Leave the fighting to the others on your team, coward.”
Cal met his gaze. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight when it’s time.”
“You should have accepted my challenge.”
“For what purpose?”
“To have Stassi all to yourself.”
“I already do.”
One of the warriors coughed out a laugh, but the look on Gilad’s face was enough to silence him. Cal’s feet begged him to take a step back but his heart refused, demanding that he hold his ground.
Bannon wedged his large frame in between them. “Cal has a point. Stop the drums!”
Gilad turned from Cal to glare at Bannon, but didn’t say anything further and stalked away.
“Novices!” Bannon roared. “Pick your weapons! For this last trial, you will conduct a raid on the Fallen. In order to achieve warrior status, you must make at least one kill each.”
“Any rules we need to be aware of?” Cal asked.
“Only one. Don’t die.”
Who knew the Faedin had such a sense of humor? Cal thought with a wry twist to his lips.
Stassi strode to a crude stand that held several bows, swords and wicked-looking spears. “Is this all we have?” she asked aloud, running her hand over the lethal metal.
Bannon frowned. “Many of our weapons have come up missing. Julius has ordered a search of the village.”
“How strange,” she murmured.
“But nothing for novices to concern themselves with,” the warrior chided. “Choose a weapon!”
Since Stassi already had her long bow in hand, Cal moved past her to choose one for himself. He picked out a bow and bounced it in his hand to judge its heft and length. Deciding it would do, he hitched it over his shoulder and filled a quiver full of arrows.
Abram and Leeah both chose swords and began to put them through a variety of practice parries and thrusts.
Cal gestured them closer and bent down to one knee to
untie the sack he carried.
“What do you have there?” Abram asked, sheathing his sword in a scabbard at his hip.
Cal pulled out a strip of leather four inches wide. “Here. Take this.”
The Faedin took what was offered, examined the dangling straps and then opened his eyes wide in admiration.
“Tie it around your neck. It will be hard for the Fallen to bite through the leather and, if nothing else, might give you a few precious seconds to defend yourself.”
“Where did you get these?” Stassi asked while she tied hers on.
“Eduard. The clothier. I asked him to make them earlier.”
“Very smart, human,” Leeah admitted with a smile.
A smile. Cal noticed the Faedin were doing that more and more, but before he could think too much on it, Bannon gave the signal.
“Novices! Go!”
Without further discussion, the three Faedin took off in a powerful, graceful run. Cal quickly tied his quiver around his waist and plunged into the woods after them, wishing he had brought a flashlight. By the time he hit the main trail, they had all disappeared.
He took the same trail on the left that he had taken last time, but instead of searching the ground for tracks, he looked for a tree to sit in. It was as much for the height advantage as for his concern that all the noise made by the Faedin drums had spooked the Fallen from their hiding places. If he was lucky, one would stumble below him.
And then what? his conscience pricked at him.
I’ll do what I have to do.
Kill?
Yes.
What other choice did he have if he wanted the Faedin to accept him?
He shoved away his annoying thoughts and found a tree with low branches. The ease with which he pulled himself up into the limbs surprised him. Out of curiosity, he unzipped his coat and looked down. The faint marker stain couldn’t hide the rippling muscle across his stomach. He hissed in surprise and ran a hand across his newly defined chest and the biceps that bulged with strength. It made him wonder just how much bigger he would get. By the length of his sweatpants, he judged himself to be close to six feet now — six inches taller than before he ate the Faedin meat!
He shuddered, scooted in close to the trunk of the tree and removed an arrow from the quiver. As he nocked it to the string, he cocked an ear outward. All he heard were the normal ambient sounds of the forest — the buzzing insects, the rustle of small animals moving through the leaves, and the staccato taps of a woodpecker. If any of the other novices had found their prey, there was no sign of it that Cal could hear.
Down below his perch, a black squirrel scurried out onto the path and Cal had to stifle a chuckle at the creature’s antics as it searched for food.
Then, a strange scent drifted to him on the breeze. A smell that reminded him of rotten eggs. A smell that had no business existing in this forest.
He nervously searched the area and saw nothing. But what he heard sent the hair on the back of his neck straight up.
A soft, pitiful sniffling that came from right behind him. Up here in the tree with him.
Slowly, he turned to look.
A tiny girl peered at him from another branch behind the trunk. A silver-haired girl who, when Cal last saw her, had been full of life. Who had shouted at him from the arena stands to be brave. And who had the most beautiful, pale blue eyes.
Not any more.
Now, they were milky white.
“Rebeka?”
The girl lifted a hand to wipe the tears from her reddened cheeks and then scooted to his branch with unnaturally fast, jerky movements.
Cal had to fight back his own tears at the horror she had become.
Rebeka held her arms out to him as though asking him to hold her.
He shook his head and inched back. “I… I can’t.”
She started to whimper and continued to reach for him.
“Who did this to you?”
“My sire.” The cries turned to a growl as she leapt at him, her mouth opened hideously wide, fanged teeth reaching for his neck.
Cal yelped and fell backwards off the limb, tumbling through the air. Rebeka reached for him, and her little fist seized a handful of his hair, ripping it out by the roots.
He hit the ground with a grunt, but managed to hold on to his bow and arrow. From flat on his back, he swung it up with shaking hands.
Rebeka just sat there, watching him as though willing him to do it. To send her to the Wonder.
Cal licked his lips and brought the bowstring to his cheek, centering the arrow point directly over her heart.
Do it. Let loose.
Time stretched. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and it became harder to keep his aim.
She wants you to do it. Just do it!
His muscles quivered with the tension.
Run, he silently urged her. Just run.
But she didn’t.
And he couldn’t.
The old Cal surfaced. He lowered the bow and he ran.
Stassi sprinted along the trail, the changes in her body allowing her to move quickly and effortlessly across the terrain. Adrenaline coursed through her. Her heart raced. She had dreamed of this day — her first raid — since she had been a little girl. Becoming a warrior. Living to fight the Fallen. Living to die.
Her steps slowed.
Living to die.
Why did that beloved thought suddenly strike fear into her?
Cal, of course.
As much as she craved the Wonder, she wanted more time with him. Time to explore new feelings. He had changed so much about her life and her thinking since he had arrived. Was it selfish to want more? To learn more? The Faedin would say yes.
Overwhelming fear for his safety suddenly consumed her, drenching her in sweat. Guilt raked at her mind. Without a moment’s regard for Cal’s thoughts on the matter, she had pushed and prodded, demanding that he become a warrior. But his inexperience would almost assuredly get him killed tonight without a skilled Faedin by his side. All his talk about fighting in groups now made more sense. She looked back over her shoulder in despair. Should I go to him?
She never had a chance to answer that question.
An arm came out of nowhere and slammed down hard across the back of her neck, sending her crashing to the ground and the bow flying from her hand.
She rolled over and looked up in shock at the female Fallen standing over her. Her sire had been right! The Fallen were no longer in hiding, but launching outright attacks!
Stassi didn’t recognize her assailant which meant the former Faedin had been a Fallen for many years. And she looked it. Her hair was a pile of disheveled knots. Her cheeks sunken in and twisted with grief. Heart-wrenching sobs poured from her mouth, but whatever innate remorse she still held inside, it didn’t stop the foot that stomped down toward Stassi’s face.
Stassi twisted to the side just in time, but the Fallen fell on top of her before she could scramble away and began to pummel the back of her head and ribs.
Stassi knew she had to get her legs under her for leverage — the first rule of escape taught to every Faedin child. With that thought in mind, she pushed the pain of the strikes away and inched her knees up to her chest. In a quick powerful move, she flipped onto her back and kicked with all of the growing strength in her legs.
The Fallen flew through the air with a loud shriek and thumped to the ground.
Stassi lurched to her feet and turned to run, but she slammed up against a hard body and stumbled back.
A male Fallen.
This one she recognized.
His name had been Markis and he had been one of their best warriors before falling. He yanked her around and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her tight to him.
“You know me, Markis!” she screamed. “Please! Let me go! You were Faedin once!”
Markis rocked his head from side to side in a dim-witted howl and squeezed tighter.
She would get nowhere with him.
I
nstead, she stretched her fingers down toward the quiver on her hip. The cries in her ears grew louder, the arms tighter. She caught the fletching of one of the arrows, slid it up into the palm of her hand, and slammed it backwards into the Fallen’s eye.
Markis didn’t even have time to scream before crumpling to the ground, dead.
Before Stassi could take her next breath, the female Fallen rushed forward once again, tackling her to the ground. The woman tossed her over onto her back as though she weighed next to nothing and encircled her throat in an iron grip.
In a panic, Stassi lifted her head upward and rammed it into the woman’s forehead, splitting it open with a large gash. A spray of hot blood splattered Stassi’s face, but otherwise it seemed to have no effect on the Fallen who continued to choke her.
The woman bent her mouth to Stassi’s neck.
No! One bite and she would fall! Cursed with evil and forbidden from the Wonder for all time!
Stassi struggled with all of her strength, drumming her heels against the ground, but the Fallen continued to worry at her neck like a dog with a bone. Her chest exploded with burning pain. White spots appeared in her vision as her lungs strained for that one life-saving breath.
I’m dying.
Stassi’s legs and arms stilled. The moans and groans of her attacker, so loud only a moment ago, began to fade.
I will never see Cal again. Never know what it is like to be loved.
Her limbs felt like lead weights and she couldn’t move them no matter how hard she tried.
The Fallen continued to gnaw on her neck with disgusting, slurping noises.
And then, a new sound.
The whisper of a released bowstring.
The Fallen heard it, too, and sat up.
An arrow slammed into the woman’s forehead with brutal impact. A single line of blood trickled from the injury as the mortally wounded body swayed on top of Stassi.
“Are you all right?”
Stassi sucked greedily, desperately pulling air through her bruised throat into her lungs.
Cal dropped down next to her and pushed the Fallen off. His hands roamed her body, checking for the answer himself.
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