Caedmon’s Curse

by A. J. Nuest

  Idiot! Two additional silver spikes and his outraged roar detonated against the sky. She scrambled from the tree, flicked her wrists and mowed down the plants with her wrist blades. If necessary, she would bleed the bastard dry, but not before he confessed every sordid detail behind why they were here!

  One silver spike protruded from the left side of his chest, the other pinned his right forearm to the ground. She retracted her blades, straddled his ribs and fisted the collar of his shirt. A shuddering groan parted his lips as she hauled him to within a breath of her face.

  “Why?” She violently shook him, hoping to force the words from his tongue. “What is the reason behind your attack?”

  His glazed eyes rolled wildly in his head and he wheezed a raspy laugh. “Y-you shall never b-be victorious.” Blood gushed from his lips and he smiled, his teeth stained a macabre, ghostly pink. “More come. T-to des-destro-o-y…” He slumped and a death rattle leaked from his lungs. Blood gurgled like a bubbling stream around the spike embedded in his chest.

  Dead, and she still had no answers. She released him to the ground and searched the trees. An eerie tingling pricked her fingertips. He’d said more were coming and yet all seemed quiet. Too quiet.

  Leaving her weapons to rust, she dashed back to camp and thrashed into the clearing. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, scimitars clutched in their hands and puddles of blood pooled on the ground. But no Caedmon.

  Horror stole into her veins, constricted the vessels of her heart. My God, what if he—

  Movement rustled the opposite trees and she crouched low, one leg extended, two silver blades whirling to a stop in the centers of her the palms. Caedmon lurched into the campsite, his sword dripping crimson and panic etched on his face.

  His eyes locked to hers as she slowly stood and they assessed each other across the distance. Naked from the waist up, he bore the evidence of having battled without his chest plate. A network of shallow slashes crisscrossed his chest, the gash on his cheek still wept and his hands were stained brown with dried blood. Yet he stood without aid, his breathing appeared normal and the light of his love still sparked in his gaze.

  A wave of blessed gratitude lowered her shoulders. His face blurred as thankful tears swarmed her eyes. Thank God. Thank Helios, the nine and whatever unforgiving deities reigned above, he was all right.

  She pressed the back of her hand to her trembling lips and assessed the carnage at her feet. What the hell had just happened? Not two minutes ago they’d been poised on the brink of ecstasy. Now nothing but horror and death surrounded them.

  The urge to lose herself in Caedmon’s kisses, drown in the strength of his arms and try to erase all the hideous brutality nearly sank her to her knees.

  Relief passed over his face and he shook his head, tossing his sword aside. “I heard a scream and I assumed—”

  “Just…” She held up a hand, her breath hitching, and then beckoned him with her blade. “Get over here. You still owe me a memory.”

  His eyebrows shot up and a moment passed before he tossed his head back with a hearty laugh. “Oh, my love,” he chuckled and stepped in her direction, “nothing would please me mo—”

  A black missile streaked across her vision. Caedmon grunted and his arms shot forward as he stumbled backward several steps. The arrow’s black fletching seemed to materialize out of thin air, sprouting from his shoulder and pinning him to a tree like some grotesque feathered corsage.

  Her body moved of its own volition. She whirled and the blades shot from her hands without command. The black-robed hashishan clutched his throat, a silver blade protruding through his fingers, and pitched forward from his hidden perch in a tree to the ground.

  Hands fisted, arms pumping, she sprinted straight for Caedmon then pulled up short the moment he was within reach. His face was beet red, eyelids squeezed tight, fingers clutching the base of the arrow where it penetrated his shoulder.

  An anguished groan gathered momentum and she thrust her hands in her hair, gripping her head to keep her skull from cracking open. Poison. Poison. The arrow would kill him unless she got him help fast. No, no! They’d been safe. They’d won. This couldn’t be happening! Those dammed savages had ruined everything. He was supposed to kiss her. They were meant to live happily ever after, not die in these god-forsaken woods.

  The low rumble of approaching hooves vibrated the soles of her feet and she snapped her gaze to the far side of camp. Shit! More were coming. She and Caedmon could be surrounded at any moment.

  “Okay, okay.” She shook out her trembling hands then held them in front of his chest, fingers splayed, lightly touching his heated skin. “We’ve got a few seconds, at best. We need to get the arrow out and ride like hell away from this camp.”

  “No.” The shake of his head was sluggish, his pupils dilated. “Go. Make haste and save yourself.”

  Apparently the first place the poison attacked was the brain. “Have you lost your damn mind? I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  Curling her bottom lip over her teeth, she whistled for Belial. A moment later, the stallion trotted into the campsite, snorted and pawed the ground, impatiently tossing his head.

  “I know, I know,” she muttered. “Give me a second.”

  She gripped the arrow near Caedmon’s hand and tried to make eye contact, though his head lolled side to side like an offbeat pendulum. “Hang onto your ass.” She braced her knee between his thighs, gritted her teeth, inhaled a deep breath and… A howl popped the veins in his neck as the arrow snapped between their fingers.

  “Sorry, sorry.” She flung the offending feathers aside and eased him forward, propping each of his heavy arms on her shoulders. He sputtered and gasped. Tears coursed down his cheeks as the jagged end of the arrow slowly sank and disappeared inside his chest, only to reappear covered in blood as it slid from the hole in his back.

  “Sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Teetering under his weight, she urged him toward Belial and grabbed the horse’s mane. “Up.” She boosted Caedmon around the waist, but his feet remained rooted to the ground. For all her efforts, she might as well have been trying to hoist a granite boulder. A furtive glance toward the trees and she boosted him a second time. “I’ll help you, Caedmon, but I can’t do it alone.”

  He pressed a hand on her shoulder and a groan eked from between his compressed lips as he waved his other hand in the air, missing Belial’s back by several inches.

  Branches snapped off to her left. Hooves crashed through underbrush and an eerie warrior cry trilled through the trees. They’d run out of time. Rowena clenched her teeth and slapped Caedmon’s backside. “Get on the damn horse, soldier. Now!”

  He leapt off balance, landing flat on his stomach along Belial’s hindquarter. Grabbing Caedmon’s ankle, she guided his leg in a lumbering swing around the stallion’s rump until he straddled the horse, his face buried in Belial’s mane. Panic constricted her airway as blood gushed in bright rivulets down his arm. A wide red smear marred the pristine white of Belial’s hide. She snatched a rope off the ground and tossed it around Caedmon’s waist, wrenched him away from Belial’s neck and leapt up in front of him. A quick jerk of the rope, a tight knot and they were tied together. If he fell, she fell.

  “Hang onto me!” she shouted, kicking Belial’s sides. The horse sprang forward straight into the trees.

  Twining his mane through her fingers, she steered the stallion to the right, hoping to skirt the incoming marauders. Caedmon bounced like a limp corpse behind her and she tightened her legs around Belial’s sides in her fight to remain centered.

  Flashes of the battle haunted her through the ghostly fog. Blood, so much blood. A spine-chilling sneer mixed with the coppery scent of death.

  She held her breath, but the mortifying stench cloaked her body. A vile prison of filth mingled with her wind-swept tears. Death. By her hand. A light snuffed out in exchange for hers. The price of a soul for the right to remain free.

  Revulsion and shame capsized her i
n frigid swells. A wail of despair fought to tear from her lungs. Why? Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? She’d done nothing to deserve their hatred, had fled the castle walls to be rid of their adulterous ways. Now there was only death. Death and fear. A menacing entity which crept in on silent feet and endangered everything she held dear.

  Hazy light filtered through the branches and she spurred Belial harder. His stride lengthened and crested as he surged for open ground. They burst through the trees into a wide field. The thunder of his hooves echoed in her chest. The bellows of his lungs expanded and contracted along her inner thighs. And ahead, in the distance, the Black Forest loomed.

  A shrill battle cry spliced the wind in her ears. She risked a glance over her shoulder and terror propelled her stomach into a freefalling spiral. The flowing black figures of five hashishans breeched the forest, right on Belial’s tail. The wild eyes of their black steeds rolled maniacally, bits tight at their foaming mouths. They sped like demons through dreams, converging on the path she piloted across the field. Belial didn’t stand a chance at outrunning them, not with Caedmon’s extra weight.

  She grabbed Caedmon’s arm and leaned them both over her stallion’s neck, urging the horse faster. She had only one choice. Make for the Black Forest and pray the hashishans wouldn’t follow.

  Another douse of fresh tears wet her cheeks, tainted with despair. To do as much would seal Caedmon’s fate. No help awaited them there. Yet if they were to die, they would die together. Just as they were always meant to be. Better for their lives to end at the hands of the Dreggs than the poisoned blades of Braedric’s traitorous minions.

  Hatred darkened her vision. And if they followed, she would welcome them as a wraith from hell. With Helios as her witness, before the last breath left her body, she would bleed their foul lives to the ground.

  An arrow whizzed past her head. She ducked and swerved right. Dart zoomed by, his piercing screech goading the stallion faster. Belial snorted and pitched forward, hoof beats pounding the earth like waves roiling against the surf.

  A ray of light pierced the mist as Helios beat back the fog. Shadows leapt from the forest, tangled and stretching like long-fingered hands. Arrows thudded to the ground as the horse neared the twisted tree line. A chill dried the sweat on her brow as they pierced the desolate gloom. One more glance over her shoulder and she gritted her teeth in both frustration and relief.

  The distance between them had grown. Steam shot from the muzzles of their black steeds as the hashishans reined in their mounts. They weren’t prepared to cross into the Black Forest.

  “No-o-o,” Caedmon groaned, his hand tightening at her waist. “Dreggs…danger. Do not enter…this place.”

  “We’ve got no choice!”

  Belial reared and danced away from the forest, his high-pitched whinny filled with fear. She cinched his mane harder and forced his path to remain true.

  They crashed through the warped branches of the leafless trees and the foul odor of rotting vegetation and hoary slime coated the inside of her mouth. Belial faltered in the muck, stumbling and lurching to find solid ground. Dart chucked from his roost on a gnarly branch and, as they cleared the first quagmire, he flitted to another tree a few paces ahead. Rowena steered the horse in that direction and the marshy bog gave way to firmer soil. She wasn’t about to argue with the falcon’s instincts. He’d saved her ass more times than she cared to count.

  She followed as Dart picked their path until, at last, the trees opened upon a large circle of sodden moss. A massive flat boulder jutted in the center, tilted at an awkward angle as if over the centuries the weight of it had caused one end to sink into the spongy turf.

  She slipped the knot at her waist and Caedmon moaned and tumbled to the side, collapsing on his back to the ground.

  “No!” She leapt off Belial and knelt at her prince’s injured side, cradling his face in her hands. Blood coated his chest, trickled down his arm and dripped from his fingers. A strange blotchy pattern etched the waistband of his leather pants. Her pulse leapt in alarm. Goddesses wept, he was dying before her eyes. No one could lose that much blood and survive. “Look at me. Caedmon, look at me.”

  He reached for her with his uninjured hand, but it fell lifeless across his chest. “Don’t cry, my love.” He grimaced and pain flooded his gaze. Raspy breaths hitched in this throat. “I found…my way back…to your arms. Nothing else…matters.”

  “You can’t leave me.” Misery tightened her shoulders and she lowered her forehead to his. Her tears dropped and slid down his cheeks. “You hear me? You can’t die. Not now.”

  “Kiss me…one last time…and I shall depart this realm…within the memory of your…sweet lips.”

  “No!” she screamed, fisting her fingers in his hair. “I won’t. I won’t kiss you unless you swear to me you will live.” A sob wrenched her shoulders and she buried her face in the slope of his neck. A cruel pain knifed her chest. Agony fractured her heart into a million serrated shards. How…how would she ever breathe again? Where would she find the strength to take another step? “I won’t allow it, you hear me! I won’t ever let you go.”

  “I once promised…never to lie to you. Don’t ask…as much of me now.” A gentle smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Kiss me, my love. In farewell. And I shall await you in paradise.”

  She should have ridden faster, tried harder to get him to safety. She should have accepted him the moment he walked back into her life, hair dripping salty tears from the sea, brown eyes filled with love as he sank to his knees before her.

  Holding his cheeks, she pressed her lips to his, trying to drink him into her soul, gather some small part of him she could always keep with her. His mouth parted, the tip of his tongue swept hers. A small breath eased from his throat and he went still.

  Her hot tears mingled with the last two, soft touches she placed on his lips. She withdrew from him, the back of her wrist pressed to her lips to contain a wail of despair. She had brought this upon him. Dying in a swamp. A kiss given freely only at the moment of death. And now emptiness. Self-loathing. Grief.

  The curve of his bottom lip swept her palm as she dragged her hand down his face to close his lifeless eyes. He’d deserved better. So much better. She tilted her head to the sky and her sardonic laugh fell hollow against the sodden air. He’d offered her love and, in return, she’d brought him death.

  A low hiss gathered force inside the trees, the soul-shuddering flap of veined wings. She slowly lowered her head. A clawed foot stomped from the forest, larger than human, the leathery black skin covered in coarse dark hair. It was quickly followed by another, and then several more.

  A clan of male Dreggs. They had her surrounded.

  She sprang to her feet, the last two silver spikes from her chest plate spinning home to the centers of her palms. The beasts were human in shape but stood several hands taller, with lidless black eyes and pointed ears topped by tufts of black hair. The pointed joints of their black bat-like wings soared several feet over their shoulders, each boney ridge ending in a sharp talon ideal for decimating flesh. No clothing adorned their hairy bodies, the dense covering thicker and longer around their genitalia. Leather cords encircled their necks, decorated with little bones and teeth secured on multicolored twine—no doubt trophies from their unlucky victims. Yet the one thing that sent icy shivers down her spine were the flat, moist slits that posed for a nose, and the skinny forked tongues that flicked and slithered past sharp fangs as if tasting the damp breeze.

  “The first one of you to touch him dies.” She crouched low and spun in a slow circle, meeting each pair of soulless blank eyes. Two dozen, maybe more. They blended so well with the contorted trees it was difficult to discern their numbers.

  But she would go straight to hell before she allowed these vile creatures to desecrate Caedmon’s final sleep.

  Chittering laughter erupted through the ranks, so piercing and high the whine drilled into her skull like a swarm of enraged bees. She sl
apped her hands to her ears and shook her head to try and clear the needling vibrations.

  “Tressspassser, ’tisss not human flesssh we ssseek.” The largest of the Dreggs edged closer and she quickly stepped between him and Caedmon’s body, waving a silver spike under his pointed chin.

  Perhaps he was the leader. And perhaps if she took him down the rest would skulk back to the dank cave they surely infested. “Then what do you want? Leave me to mourn in peace and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Your mate ssstill lingersss in thisss realm.” His tongue snaked out and moistened one of his eyes, coating it in a thick film of glistening slime. Her stomach rebelled and she clenched her teeth to suppress a gag, swallowing the bitter bile that scored her parched throat. “He can be sssaved.”

  “You lie!” They were playing tricks on her. Trying to make her drop her guard. Several more tears trickled down her cheeks, tumbling from her chin to the ground. “I felt his dying breath with my own lips.”

  “Hisss sssoul awaitsss in the Cave of Tearsss.”

  What gibberish was this? Yet her heart lurched with the terrifying pain of renewed hope. If one chance at saving Caedmon existed, she would take it. Whatever they asked of her, she would go to the ends of the earth to fulfill their demands.

  Leaves crunched behind her and she spun, jabbing her weapon in the air. Another drone of chittering laughs swept the forest and she whirled in a lame attempt to drive back their slouching advance. “What is it you want from me? Speak your devil’s bargain or get lost.”

  “White ssssorceresss, prophecy foretellsss only you hold the ability to sssave usss.”

  Save them? Her? Save them from what?

  She forced down an enraged shriek. Oh no, not this. Anything would be better than this debilitating illusion. This horrid realm and their moronic prophecies. Did these Dreggs really believe she could predict their future? Or, better yet, maybe they expected her to recite some archaic enchantment that would magically transform this foul swamp of theirs into a forest of fairies and unicorns. If the goddesses had graced her with such power, she would do it. Anything to save Caedmon’s life.