by Lani Lenore
“I feel that I loved you,” he said quietly into her ear. Her first instinct was to take it as a lie, but he sounded so sincere that her heart ached. “But it has to be this way.”
She was stricken to tears. It was so strange, but as he said it, it was as if Rifter had spoken those words to her from somewhere in the distant future. He’d said that he couldn’t lie to her and she didn’t know why, but she believed him.
“I love you too…”
The man put a little pressure at her back, urging her to walk on – and then the Scourge drew in a hiss of breath and lurched backward in pain.
“Let her go!” She knew the voice well, but it filled her with immediate dread. Henry! The Scourge turned, and she was able to see what had made him wince. There was a flow of dark blood running out from the man’s side. He’d been stabbed.
Henry was standing there a few feet away. His eyes were blazing and a sword was in his hand, dipped in blood.
“Let go of my sister!” he said as threateningly as a twelve-year-old boy might.
The Scourge observed him, but though he had been stabbed, he did not lose his grip on Wren’s arm.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to kill me,” the Scourge responded.
“Henry, don’t!” Wren screamed, but it was too late. Henry was coming at them, his sword raised, aiming for the man who had her. He knew better than this. He’d been warned.
Don’t take on the Scourge. Don’t try to be brave. It always ends the same way.
“I’m sorry,” Wren heard the man say, and before she could beg – No, please, no! – he had drawn his sword and thrust it toward the boy who advanced on him, stabbing Henry roughly in the chest.
Wren wasn’t even sure what had happened at first, and then the Scourge was pulling his blade back and Henry had dropped his own sword as his body fell limply to the deck. It only came home to her when she saw the blood. Her eyes bulged and she drew in a breath that she thought might be her last.
“Henry! No!” She fought herself free and fell on the boards beside him, but there was nothing she could do to take the moment back. The blood that pooled around him was thick and continuous. The boy was pale and empty, his eyes wide but unseeing, and even though his chest rose and fell with breath a few times more, he was not aware of her any longer. He was gone.
No… It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. No!
Wren was still in shock, her hands in his blood, but she didn’t have time to grieve properly before her brother’s murderer was pulling her up by her hair. He wrestled her back toward the edge, holding her by the throat, but she was weak. There was no strength left in her. She was staring at her brother’s body as she was pushed backward toward the edge.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, looking at her face one last time – and then he let her go.
Wren fell backward off the ship, down toward the blistering heat.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
1
Rifter had scarcely thrown off the second wolf as it was shot down by Nix, and when he looked up, he caught sight of his enemy again – but that was not all that he saw. The Scourge was holding Wren near the edge of the ship with the obvious intent of throwing her off, and behind him, Fang was rushing in with his sword raised in an attempt to stop it.
Idiot boy!
Rifter was up in an instant, shooting toward them, aiming to stop what was bound to happen, but the Scourge had already seen the boy’s intent. It was too quick to interrupt. There was a thrust of a sword, a deep groan of pain, and then Wren’s horrified scream. It hurt Rifter’s ears, but that did not make him able to stop it. The boy had already fallen and Wren was on her knees beside him before he had gotten there.
No!
Rifter saw the way she broke down in tears, and that affected him in a way he couldn’t describe. She wasn’t supposed to cry like that. Maybe he had made her cry before, but he vowed that it would never happen again if he could just make it right this time.
The Scourge grabbed her up and forced her back to the edge. Rifter had been aiming for him, planning to grip him and plummet over the rails with his enemy, but that was before the man had let Wren fall over the side.
Rifter saw Wren go over the edge, and he did not give another thought to whether or not he should go after her. He hadn’t been able to save her brother, but he could still save her.
She had a lead on him, but he plunged downward as fast as he could, slicing the humidity. The heat was growing more intense the farther he let her slip away, but he would catch her. He was gaining.
It wasn’t until he had his arms around her that he realized she hadn’t even screamed.
He swooped upward swiftly, rising with the heat. As he held her close, he looked into her eyes, and he didn’t see any fear there. There was only sadness as glittering tears rolled down her face.
“Henry,” she said, burying her face near his throat. He could hear her crying quietly, but it was for her lost brother, not because she might have died just now.
Rifter was so sorrowful and angry that he thought his heart would burst. His battles with the Scourge had been fun before – even his hatred had been enjoyable – but things had changed this time. It had ceased to be a pleasure the moment that the dark man had brought her into it, and Rifter’s entire outlook had changed.
“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly into her ear. “I’m so sorry.”
He realized now, as he was carrying her away in his arms, that he loved her more than himself.
2
Even amidst the chaos with the wolves, the Pack had still seen their brother fall. It was Finn who had noticed it first, yelling out against it, but of course the protest did no good to save the boy. One by one, their attention was drawn to it. They saw the sword withdrawn, watched his body fall onto the deck in a growing pool of blood. Rifter hadn’t been able to get to him in time to stop it.
Fang had fallen.
They saw Wren drop over the edge and watched as Rifter went after her, but they did not fear for her safety. They only saw the one that had fallen. He was one of theirs, and though he hadn’t been with them for very long, he was not any less important than the rest of them. When one of them fell, a little piece of their souls went with him.
They were seething with rage. They could always find the pleasure in danger no matter what Rifter dragged them into, but the death of their own was something that none of them handled well. It broke their hearts and chipped away at their sanity.
They had disposed of the wolves, and now, as they stood staring at that dark man with anger and hate, the boys did something they never had before. They turned all of their ranged weapons on the Scourge, roaring in fury as they sent bullets and arrows toward him, each one for the dead.
Rifter had forbidden them to do this in the past, but things were different now. It wasn’t Rifter’s game anymore. Now that they knew the Scourge wasn’t just some skilled man – he was a nightmare monster like the rest – they were no longer so afraid. They had faced hundreds like him. He was no different to them anymore.
The boys had their anger, but that did not help the effort to harm their great adversary. Their bullets ripped holes in his flesh and passed straight through without staggering him. Their arrows buried into him, protruding from his body, but they did not seem to hurt him. The wounds resealed and he was made whole again.
The Scourge was not deterred by their attacks, even with the way they had unloaded so many rounds into him. He walked forward to stand in their midst, splattered with his own blood, and though they closed a circle around him, they gave him a wide berth, still unwilling to get too close.
“He’s gone after the girl,” the Scourge said. “Now you all see who he’s chosen first. He’s left you with me – all of you at my mercy. Which one of you is brave enough to stand against me in his stead? Hm?”
The man’s eyes locked on Nix, and inside him, the boy felt his heart speed. Still, he looked down the barrel of his gun and didn’t budge.<
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“Perhaps you would like to,” the Scourge suggested.
He took a step toward Nix, and the boy didn’t move away, even though he wanted to. He held his ground. The Scourge smiled.
“He doesn’t know what he has in you, does he?” the man asked him. “But he will soon. Soon, he’ll know what your insides look like!”
The Scourge was too quick to fathom. Nix fired his gun, but it had no effect. The man was beside him in an instant, gripping his arm and striking it so that the bones cracked loudly.
Nix groaned and went to his knees, and the others didn’t know what to do. Were they to stand back and let their brother be killed? But if they came forward, they would be surrendering their lives.
What was brotherhood worth? What was death when there was something worth fighting for?
It was Toss who went at the enemy first, swinging the heavy hammer, but it only took the effort of one hand for the Scourge to knock the boy off his feet. Toss was propelled backward and landed heavily on the deck. The others didn’t move.
“Wait your turn,” the Scourge ordered. “I’ll get to each of you.”
He gripped Nix by the throat, squeezing harshly against his windpipe. The boy tried to fight, but he was weakened by his pain – or perhaps it was the evil one’s cold stare.
“Despite our differences, you were always my favorite,” the Scourge told him, and he saw that Nix did not understand.
The Scourge tightened his grip, preparing to break the boy’s neck – but Rifter crashed down onto the boards behind him, within the circle the Pack had formed. He had the girl in tow, and the Scourge couldn’t say he was surprised, even though he hadn’t intended for it to happen this way. He had meant to kill the boys, but Rifter had come back too soon.
Smiling, he let Nix go. If he could kill the Rifter now, none of that would matter.
Rifter put the girl down but didn’t take his eyes off his enemy as he passed Wren off to the others.
“Take her and get out of here,” he commanded them.
“We’re not leaving you!” Finn protested on behalf of them all, but Rifter wouldn’t hear of it.
“Go! Before the blessing wears off.”
It was with reluctance that they did as he asked. Toss carried Wren, who was still lost in her sorrow, and they took to the air, flying away from the battle and from the volcano that the mountain had become.
Rifter kept his eyes on the Scourge until the others had gone to be sure that he didn’t move against them.
“You killed one of mine,” Rifter accused, narrowing his eyes.
The Scourge stood there, closing his own eye for a moment, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. He ignored Rifter for a time, and then he seemed to snap awake, aware of his enemy again.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said. “You shouldn’t put them in my path if you don’t want me to kill them.”
That was what he had to say for himself? Then again, how could Rifter have expected any better than that?
I know the truth now. Time to end it.
Rifter lifted his sword – the one he had stolen from his enemy – and directed it his way.
“It’s just you and me now,” he said forebodingly. “No one else in the way. No more distractions.”
“Yes, just us until it’s over,” the Scourge agreed, drawing his second sword, meeting the steel of his rival’s blade. “As it began, so shall it end!”
3
The Pack landed safely beyond the base of the mountain, but that was as far as the blessing would take them. They had felt gravity pulling them down as the spell lost its potency, and they were forced to land. The boys were out of harm’s way, though they felt guilty for it. This was what Rifter had told them to do, however. Therefore, it was their only choice.
They took a moment to regroup. Wren was still crying, a shell of herself. Finn and Toss tried to console her but she wouldn’t respond to them. Nix made a tourniquet for his broken arm as the twins counted their arrows. Sly, with his scope, continued to watch the mountain range erupt.
They didn’t have much to say to each other in the wake of the tragedy, though each of them knew they would not leave this spot until Rifter returned to them. They wanted to believe that their faith in him was strong – he would be able to kill the Scourge again, and perhaps for good this time – but the clouds of doubt had rolled in, and they would only retreat with Rifter’s return.
They would have to see it to believe it.
“What if he doesn’t come back?” Mech asked finally when none of the others would.
“He will,” Nix insisted, swallowing his pain.
The others didn’t say anything to that. They would wait. They would force themselves to believe it until they had reason to think otherwise.
“It’s not over yet,” Sly said suddenly. There was a tremor in his voice and they all heard it.
The boys raised their heads toward the flow that was slithering down from the mountain, and they saw what was coming for them. From out of the lava, shadows had begun to rise up in the shapes of men. They were alive, but attached to nothing, lone warriors that had once taken the forms of shadows riding on men’s backs.
They were mimics, and there were dozens of them. It was an army.
For several moments, the boys only stared, marveling, and then they knew. These were the shadows of those that the Scourge had killed – even his own crew that he had hanged from the ship. Perhaps those men had killed themselves simply because he had asked, but it didn’t matter. He had an army that he could control, and there were only a handful of them. It seemed he was bent on killing them all this time. The way the odds looked now, he might get his wish.
“What do we do?” Toss asked, as he and Finn both stood up to shield Wren. “Should we run?”
They looked at each other, as if one would know what they should do better than the next. Finally it was Nix, who stood there staring at the horde, who answered.
“Rifter would never let us run,” he said finally. “Not if it had anything to do with protecting this world.”
The rest of them knew that he was right. Ahead of them, the shadow army was moving down the mountain in front of the lava spill, hurrying on feet that did not touch the earth. They were coming, rushing in to tear them apart before moving on to the rest of the world.
“We’re supposed to let them come into our world and take it?” Nix drew his sword, which was the only weapon he could use effectively with one hand. “We fight until the end of it, and then, well, I guess we won’t have to worry about it anymore.”
Behind them, Wren watched, and words that Henry had spoken to her came up in her mind.
We have to survive, and at least we know that if we die, it will be because we were fighting for our own way.
Looking on at them, she understood it now. Finally, she knew why they had to fight. She knew why Henry had stood up to protect her, and though he had lost his life, it was as he’d said. This didn’t kill the pain, but she looked on at it with new eyes. She couldn’t blame Rifter anymore – not any of them.
The boys did the only thing that their pride would allow. They took their weapons up again and prepared themselves to fight – and if need be, to die. If they didn’t stand up for what was theirs, who else would do it? The group stood their ground as the army of mimics rushed onward – and then they were all aware of a presence behind them.
The boys turned their faces to look, and there in the brush along the tree line stood a small army of Tribal warriors. They were decorated in their feathers and paint, armed with bows and spears and knives.
At the forefront of them, there was a female with a great feathered headdress, standing proudly to lead them.
The group had followed them to the mountain. They had known what was coming.
Nix knew this most of all as his eyes settled on Calico. She had told him that they would need help, and this was what she had meant. The others were amazed that the Tribals had come to aid the
m, but they had never been so pleased to see those savage people.
Calico lifted her weapon and let loose a fierce battle cry that the others joined into. At that, they rushed forward to meet the shadow army. The Pack bled into the group, and the entire lot of them went fearlessly off to battle.
It wasn’t long before the shadows had crashed in, enveloping them like a black sea. Finn and Toss kept Wren between them strategically as they fought through the mass. The rest held their own, battling with the creatures that fought without weapons. There were still many more of them than the Wolf Pack and Tribals together, but they all knew they would fight until none were left standing. It was what they had to do.
It was for Nevermor.
4
With a last clang of their blades, Rifter slumped to the deck, breathless. He used the sword to help hold him up, never taking his eyes off his enemy. The Scourge was hardly winded at all, still on his feet, looking down at Rifter with a smile on his mouth. They had been fighting hard. How was he not spent?
Because he's not real. He's a figment of my imagination. Yet when he blinked, the man was still there.
"Get up," the Scourge urged him. "I thought we were fighting."
Rifter didn't budge.
"I said move!"
From out of nothing, the Scourge withdrew a long black whip with spiky barbs, and lashed out at Rifter. He might've been tired from swinging his sword, but he was still nimble enough to dart out of the way. The end of the whip smacked the deck, hard, dragging across the planks, but Rifter was not in its path.
He was not so lucky the second time. The whip locked around his calf, latching into his clothes and cutting his flesh. He roared for the pain and turned to fight it off, but with a jerk, the Scourge had spun him in the air, flinging him back against the cabin wall as if he weighed nothing.
Rifter hit the wall with force and fell to the floor. He winced, gripping his leg which was sliced with several long, spiraling cuts, but he knew that he couldn’t let that weaken him. When he looked up, the whip was coming at him again. Move! He twisted out of the way as the heavy shadow-chain hit the wall, splintering the wood.