Shattered Lives (The Wizard's Legacy Book 1)

by H. R. Rekow

  The snowy owl shut her beak and leaned forward. Her blue toes fidgeted with the tree’s branch as its frost crept deeper in, freezing more and killing the life. She closed her icy eyes as she took in every word of the scheme.

  ✽✽✽

  It was noon, though the sun’s rays were pale as they passed through the tree branches, and the travelers stopped for a quick meal of bread and ale. A few sat on the ground or in their wagons, but most stood with their uneaten food held in clammy hands.

  The knights muttered among themselves and passed a canteen of water between them. A few squires attended to the horses, and servants talked in low voices, but all conversation was short-lived. Silence clung to all as they watched the still trees around them. None of the knights would let go of their weapons.

  Olivia turned to Theron as they sat on the ground beside Sobriina and Aldret. She held out a piece of bread to him. “Want the rest?”

  “You should eat it,” Theron said. “It’ll keep your strength up.”

  “I’ve eaten enough. Here. Can you take it?”

  Theron’s eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down, but he took the bread.

  Olivia heaved a sigh and hung her head. “I know. . . It’s just bread and should not pose a problem.” She sighed as she brushed crumbs off her silky green frock.

  Theron’s brow softened as he gently rubbed her back. Olivia closed her eyes and leaned against him with the reassurance of his protection. Sobriina watched the two, but looked away when they touched.

  “We’re almost out of this vile place,” Theron whispered as he kissed the top of her head. “Almost there—”

  Sobriina took in a wheezed breath, her eyes wide and staring. All looked to her. Olivia froze. “Mistress?” she whispered.

  Theron grabbed his sword and stood, ready for action. “What do you see?” he hissed. Sobriina did not answer, her purple eyes bulging and her mouth open.

  Olivia’s throat dried as she stared. What was happening?

  Sobriina’s eyes rolled back, her hand over her mouth, and sneezed with a violent jerk. She groaned and wiped her nose. “I saw nothing,” the she-elf mumbled, her skin reddening her tanned gray-blue cheeks. “I apologize—”

  “A sneeze?” Theron snapped. “All that was, was a sneeze!” Servants who were nearby watched the group and held their tongues. Some looked to the trees and swallowed hard, but most fought against an amused smile.

  Olivia looked between Theron and Sobriina and a smile lifted her lips. She threw back her head and laughed. “A sneeze! It was only a sneeze!” Sobriina grinned, but her blush spread down her neck. Duke Aldret shook his head and called for more ale. Theron glared down at Olivia, his grip on his sword still firm. “Oh, come now!” the young lady gasped. “Laugh! It is much needed here!” Theron released his sword and ran his fingers through his hair. With a heaved sigh, Theron sat beside Olivia once again. “Wasn’t it funny?” she asked.

  “Yes. Yes, very funny. Quiet now.” He shook his head.

  “But why? We all need to loosen our shoulders, and allow a smile to come.”

  A groan gurgled beside them and they turned toward a guard who stood a pace away. His hands gripped his abdomen, his eyes wide. He lifted his head and looked at the four, his face dazedly confused. Blood dribbled from his opened lips and down his beard. An arrow jutted from his stomach.

  Olivia recoiled with a screech.

  Theron was on his feet in a flash. He wrenched his sword free and pulled Olivia behind him. “Ambush!” he cried. “Ambush! Everyone, to your posts!”

  Everything was dropped as weapons were drawn. An arrow whizzed through the air and struck a knight between the joints in his armor. His shriek chilled Olivia to the bone, and she pressed her hands over her ears.

  “Elshender!” Theron cried.

  The large man looked at his prince, his eyes wild and alive.

  “Protect the women if something happens to me!” Theron seized his shield from the wagon, though there was no time for his helmet. Another knight fell, coughing up blood, an arrow struck through his throat. A servant screamed, loud and shrill.

  The entire forest came alive.

  Men crashed from under each bush, morphed from shadows, and leapt from trees. They were dressed in earth tones and mud streaked their fierce faces. They screamed like wild cats and held their weapons firmly in front of them. Stocky men, in Flavencen armor made by dwarven hands, wielded maces tipped with jutting points. Swords were drawn and raised; most were short and a few were hooked like a fisherman’s line. Small axes were fisted in calloused hands as the men charged with wolf howls and a thirst for blood.

  Not all were human. Sulpheros hurled themselves through the underbrush, their bodies lined with white scars and black-paint smeared with mud. Their sicky yellow, sun-bleached hair and sun-burnt rust skin made them look more animal and less elvish. A Black Dwarf raced alongside, his jet black beard, hair, and skin letting him be one with the shadows.

  Olivia froze with terror as the blood drained from her face. She paled like a ghost freshly raised from a warm corpse. A hand seized her arm. Panic overtook her and she jerked away with a cry. The hand tightened around her.

  “My lady! Stop!” She looked up and saw Theron, his gaze firm like stone. Krea and Cedany stood behind him, silent screams disfiguring their faces. “Come!” He turned to Sobriina to protect her as well, but stopped.

  The Lunaris had drawn her two anelaces, the short, double-edged swords gripped in her strong hands. She stood, her legs bent and body poised for action, and her purple eyes darted from one attacker to the other. “Do not dillydally and concern yourself with me, my prince!” Sobriina cried above the din. “My blades have tasted blood before!”

  Theron stared at her for a moment, never seeing a dignified woman face a horde of attackers.

  Sobriina’s eyes narrowed. “Go!”

  Theron lifted his chin and turned to the three ladies who cowered behind him. “Keep up,” he said to the ladies-in-waiting. He yanked Olivia to his side and wrapped an iron-firm arm around her middle. He ran to a horse as it stood with head raised and ears jerking this way and that. Its rider lay fallen in a pool of blood. Olivia clung to Theron, trying not to fall as he dragged her on.

  “He’ll get us! He’ll get us!” Krea’s scream clapped Olivia’s ears.

  To Olivia’s horror, a man leapt between them and their escape, his face painted like a barbarian and sword drawn back, ready for the plunge. Theron reacted with practiced speed and clarity. He released Olivia, shoving her behind him, and readied his blade for blood. “Elshender!” he cried over his shoulder before lunging at the attacker.

  The chaos spun about Olivia, disorienting and paralyzing. The three women clung together in a tight bundle, whimpering and pale. A hulky form raced toward them, one sword drawn. Olivia watched numbly as Elshender raced forward, lobbing the head of a Sulphuro as he came. She turned away from the surprised-looking head as it tumbled at her feet.

  Elshender seized Olivia and heaved her onto the horse, trying to keep it from running out from under her. “Get down,” he told Olivia, her eyes intent on Theron and his foe; they were battling further away with every parry and lunge. She sat hunched, her chest heaving and eyes bulging. An arrow whizzed by. “Down!” Elshender seized her head and forced her body against the horse. Olivia screamed and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck, her eyes closed and teeth clenched in a stifled whimper.

  Krea shrieked something, but her words were lost in the chaos around them. Theron yelled and grabbed for Olivia, though she did not understand. What was going on? What was happening?

  The horse whinnied, high and loud.

  Olivia felt the animal topple. Her eyes flew open as the ground met her. She shrieked and struck the forest floor; her head bounced against the ground. The horse’s great weight came down on her leg. Olivia arched her back, her face distorted with pain and her hands clawing at the ground. Her stomach leapt into her throat as she gasped for air.
The ground is so cold, she thought. So very hard. She wanted to think of nothing else.

  Above the cries of battle, a low rumble snarled close to Olivia. It was like the thunder of rage in the eyes of a vengeful man. She looked up, all hope of life shattered. She was left in the cold seclusion of terror.

  The head of a massive wolf stared down at her, its black lips pulled back and fangs dripping with blood and saliva. Its body rippled with firm muscle under its dark gray fur. Its eyes, though yellow, were filled with a human’s intelligence.

  Olivia recoiled, but could not look away from the werewolf. Its human build and wolf form straddled the fallen horse, and it eyed her hungrily as its claws sank into the horse’s sides. Blood bubbled around its black claws, and the horse shrieked and kicked.

  Fear strengthened Olivia and she ripped her leg from under the horse’s body. She crawled back as the werewolf reached forward, its clawed fingers curled. Olivia yelled and trembled on the ground, her hands pressed against her ears.

  The beast’s ear swiveled back and it recoiled with terrifying speed. Elshender’s swords hurled past its head, but missed, and sank deeply into the horse’s middle. Olivia gritted her teeth and tried to block out the horse’s final cry.

  “Under the wagon!” Elshender shouted to the trembling women. He wrenched his blade free and drew his second sword. He faced the wolf-man with fiery eyes.

  Olivia whimpered as a soft hand grabbed her. “My lady! Hurry!” Cedany cried as she helped Olivia to her feet. “Under the—”

  An arrow thudded into a tree beside them. The ladies screamed and clung to each other. Cedany pushed Olivia under the wagon and forced Krea, face streaming with tears, to follow. Olivia gripped Cedany’s arm, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. “Nan—” she gasped. “Where’s Nan?”

  “I don’t know, my—”

  “Nan!”

  “Quiet!” Cedany hissed. “Don’t you move!”

  Olivia moaned and fell silent. She thought of The Wizard. Where was He? He could strike the beastly foes with blindness, or order their limbs to detach and fall to the ground in lifeless heaps. We did nothing wrong! Olivia flinched as someone—she did not know if friend or foe—was thrown to the ground. A dagger jutted from his chest. Why must you allow this? But Theron will protect me. Where is he?

  Her bright green eyes darted throughout the fray, frantically searching for Theron. He had unknowingly forced his attacker into the heart of the fight, his zealous strikes fatally accurate as he sliced down one foe after another. Olivia stared in awe, a cold chilling her at the sight of his blood-splattered face and teeth bared like an animal’s snarl. She was grateful he was on her side—

  A calloused hand snatched her ankles. All thoughts shattered. Olivia’s face turned deathly pale. With a sudden jerk, she was pulled backward. Cedany grabbed her arms as she screamed, but could not hold on. Krea did not move; her sobs rendered her useless. Olivia kicked and cried as she was dragged into the open, the road’s dirt and the spilled blood streaking her clothes.

  “Theron!” Olivia shrieked as she dug her fingers into the hard ground. She heard Cedany shout something, but did not understand. Olivia screamed as a man grabbed her middle and jolted her upright. “Let go . . . of—me!” She kicked and struggled against her captor, but the man’s grip was unbreakable. “Elshender!”

  The large warrior looked her way, his face speckled in blood and sweat. He stepped toward her, but a clawed hand came down on his shoulder. He yelled and fell to the ground, his shoulder sliced open. The werewolf snarled with a grin, its fur bristling and yellow eyes piercing.

  Olivia’s breath wheezed in and out as she thrashed in the stranger’s arms. He ignored her cries and hauled her toward the trees, away from the fight. Away from salvation. The man chuckled and his hold tightened. The tree shadows fell across them and the limbs crept in to hide the raging fight. Olivia’s wide eyes skimmed across the skirmish. She could no longer see Theron.

  “Theron!” She gasped to scream again, but the trees were all she could see. The din of battle faded and she was alone.

  Olivia cried and pulled against the man’s hold. It was no use; his hands were like iron. He laughed and threw her to the ground. Olivia blindly fell and rolled across the forest floor, hitting sticks and rocks as she went. When she came to a stop, she lay still and breathed heavily, her pale lips trembling and her throat raw. She glanced up at her attacker as blood seeped from her elbow and side.

  He towered above her, his back straight and broad shoulders relaxed amid the hysteria. Their struggle had been effortless for him, for his chest heaved with steady, smooth breaths. His gray eyes delicately ran over her shaking form and flashed with amusement. The fire in his eyes dulled to the blaze of his red hair. He lifted his chin, fisting and unfisting his hands. His lips were pulled into a half-smirk, like a child giddy to play a game.

  Stomping feet approached as a knight broke through the underbrush, sword raised and vindictive cry exploding from his gaping mouth. Olivia’s quivered breath calmed, for her assailant was not armed nor did he wear armor. She smiled darkly, plugging her ears against the man’s inevitably fatal cry.

  The darkly claded stranger turned irritably and made a fist. The hilt of a sword materialized in his firm grasp and an unendingly sharp blade sprouted to a harsh point. Fire engulfed the sword, hissing and licking along the blade like from an inferno. Olivia’s heart leapt into her throat. The attacking knight’s eyes widened as his battle cry faltered, realizing this was no ordinary man. His charge did not slacken as he rushed onward, facing the gray eyed stranger and his mystic sword.

  The knight’s sword slashed. The man stooped low and lunged. The knight’s cry halted, morphing to a gargled wheeze. The flaming sword jutted out his back and caught his cloak on fire. The gray eyed man stood, wrenching his blade free, and dismissively turned from the dying knight.

  He stepped toward Olivia with relaxed confidence, the sword’s fire cashing half his face in shadows. A cry caught in her throat. “Theron. . .” she whimpered. The man stooped and released his flickering sword. The weapon fell and, before hitting the ground, faded to nothingness. His hands reaching for her, fingers curled like claws. Olivia screamed and crawled back along the ground. He was on her in a moment. Olivia thrashed as he held her down. Tears welled in her eyes and blurred her vision. “No! No, please!” she panted. “You can’t! Please!”

  “Ah . . . What’s wrong?” the man cooed as he stroked her cheek. Olivia flinched away from his caressing fingers. “Everything’s prepared for you to be with me. Was given a good idea the other night. So good I decided to follow it.”

  “Theron!”

  “Shhh. . .” the man cooed and touched her lips. “No more of this. You’re mine. All mine, Lady Olivia.”

  Olivia stiffened, and her eyes turned up to the man. Her hair stood on end as every nerve felt stripped and raw against his touch. His gray eyes burned into her, and her heart skipped a beat. The man’s grin broadened. Olivia’s mouth opened in silent pleas, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Chapter 12

  Desperate Rescue

  “Theron!”

  Every muscle in the prince’s body stiffened. He stood on the edge of Savior’s Way, his back almost pressed against a tree. A burly man barred his way, mace in hand. He was covered in Han Ci armor, dark wood carved to fit the shape of his body. Sweat dripped from Theron’s brow as he held up his shield, his ears ringing from Olivia’s scream. He had to get to her, had to save her! What had forced him from her side? He could not remember.

  With a cry, he gritted his teeth and threw himself against his own shield. The fiend before him fell back against the blow with a startled shout. Theron ducked, the mace hurling overhead and scarcely missing him. He steadied his stance, tightened the grip on his sword, and lunged forward.

  The blade pierced between the wooden joints of armor. The man threw his head back and screamed, grasping at Theron’s embedded blade. Theron forced him to the ground
and ripped his sword free without a second glance. He left the man where he lay, his widened eyes darting over the chaos. He turned to where Olivia’s cries had come from.

  He saw Elshender beside the wagon, upright and blades raised high. A wolf of sorts circled him, jaws open in a twisted smile. The two ladies-in-waiting were in tears and clung to one another under the wagon’s shadow. A lump formed in Theron’s throat. No Olivia.

  Fire leapt to his eyes and he charged through the chaos, sword up and shield down. The shouts and danger around him passed like a blur. He burst through the line of trees, senses alert and every nerve on edge. He blinked in the sudden shadows and tried to focus.

  “Olivia!” He saw and heard no one. His nostrils flared. Wizard, have mercy! He stepped forward and gritted his teeth. Something moved from behind a stout tree. Theron hurled around the trunk and a shout met his ears. The hard lines of his face softened and he lowered his sword. Olivia shivered as she recoiled on the ground, her hands raised.

  “It’s me! It’s me!” Theron gasped. He pulled her to her feet and looked her up and down. She could stand and, though fear clouded her eyes, she was not wounded or even bleeding. He placed her behind him, one hand holding his sword and his shielded arm holding her.

  An arrow whizzed by and struck the tree. The two dropped to the ground; Theron’s body sheltered hers. He looked between the underbrush and limbs and could scarcely see the battle. He watched his men hack at their enemies, the strangers crying out and falling back. Why had they come? They did not fight to steal their provisions. They did not seek out one person as headhunters would. Only mad men killed for sport. . . .then again, this was Wraith’s Hollow.

  A whistle shot above the din, sharp and sudden. The sound of muffled footfall met his ears, and then there was silence. His eyes narrowed and he stood, looking to Savior’s Way and saw only his men. The wild men were gone, as though they never were.