Capering on Glass Bridges (The Hawk of Stone Duology, Book 1)

by Jessica Hernandez

In the distance, two silhouettes emerged from the woods—one walking ahead of the other. Judging by their large builds, they appeared to be males. They moved at a relatively slow pace, showing no signs of alarm. Had they not heard the rustling? Or was it that they produced the sounds?

  “What are they doing out here at this hour?” asked Bennett.

  A small object flew across the air, hitting the second figure on the head. The first figure made to run, but he altered his course and returned to his fallen friend. He grabbed him by the wrists, leaned back, and took small, quick steps. When he failed to make substantial progress, the man stooped over and wrapped his arms around his unconscious friend; his new method allowed him to move faster.

  “They are heading straight for the field,” said Bennett. “We have to warn them.”

  Pelliab blocked Bennett with his arm.

  A third figure emerged from the forest. Kaia and the others were too far away to discern precisely what it was. It certainly wasn’t human. The shape was wrong; it was much too tall and much too thick, almost like a bear.

  “A turned one,” said Nahv.

  It was walking at a brisk pace. The first figure, realizing that the monster would undoubtedly catch up to him in a matter of seconds, knelt down and, looking over his shoulders intermittently, frantically shook his friend. Sword in hand, Bennett took off running in the men’s direction.

  “Bennett!” called Warrin, chasing his brother.

  “Folken! Attack!” commanded Nahv, pointing at the turned one.

  The dragon refused to budge. Instead, he lowered his head and, looking at Lyon, let out a harrowing growl.

  Lyon lowered his sword and froze in place. “Nahv,” he whispered.

  “Move aside, Lyon!” she said.

  The number of boulders had increased. Several of them began to quiver and expand. They morphed in such a manner that they no longer bore any resemblance to a rock. They sprouted legs, arms, and a head. Their gigantic hands featured long tentacles in place of fingers—tentacles so long that they brushed the ground. The hairless beasts were hunchbacked and potbellied, and they had two horizontal slits for eyes. Though not as tall as Folken, they dwarfed Kaia and her company.

  “Turned ones!” shouted Nahv.

  Someone screamed in agonizing pain. Kaia searched for Bennett and Warrin. The two princes were confronted by three turned ones—gone were the two other ‘men.’ One of the brothers was on the ground.

  Folken lunged forward and took one of the beasts in his mouth. With a twist of the neck, he tossed it aside and went for another. There were too many for Folken alone to ward off, though, and the pack of monsters easily bypassed him and swarmed around the group.

  “Do not kill them!” reminded Nahv.

  Wielding their weapons, the group formed a tight circle. Ani stood between Elania’s legs, ready to strike at the feet of those who got too close. The beasts approached with caution, reminded of their own mortality by the blades. For a few moments, the two groups stared at one another, neither one moving, both assessing the other.

  One of the turned ones reached for Thomas’ leg. Thomas swung his sword to block it, and Pelliab, too, struck at the brute. They succeeded only in robbing the monster of a single tentacle; it still managed to viciously seize Thomas by the face with those which remained and tear him from his comrades. A few of the turned ones gathered around Thomas, who struggled not and made no sound, and yanked on his limbs. Heartened by their victor, the rest of the beasts abandoned all trepidation and threw themselves at the group.

  Everything fell out of focus for Kaia. She could feel herself being stepped on and dragged by a leg. She dug her nails into the ground in a fruitless attempt to keep whatever was pulling at her from prevailing; she accomplished little more than loosening the soil. She would not die, she decided. She would do whatever she had to, exist in whatever form; she would not perish.

  Disentangled from the pit of bodies, Kaia flipped onto her back and kicked as hard as she could. She was not being hauled by one monster, but by two! Raising the sword that she had managed—by some miracle—to keep a hold of amidst the chaos, she sliced at the four knees in front of her in a single, sweeping motion. Though it was impossible for anyone, or anything, to succumb to such minor wounds, the injuries did compel the ghastly creatures to release Kaia, allowing her to crawl away.

  Kaia got up and took stock of the pit. Folken, who had decimated the ambitious, bold band that had chosen to target and attack him, was picking the beasts off of the humans. Kaia looked for Elania, calling out her name. Her heart sank when her sister did not answer.

  Without warning, something struck Kaia’s back, knocking the air out of her and sending her toppling to the ground. She screamed and thought she would cry from the sharp pain that shot through her body. One of the turned ones stood beside her, holding a log above its head, readying itself to smack its prey once more. Kaia saw it; she rolled over and jumped back.

  Unable to put enough space between herself and the log-wielding beast, Kaia stopped running and held her ground. The creature that pursued her was smaller than the rest. Kaia’s heart swelled with confidence; the surge lasted no more than a fraction of a second, yet it was more than enough to bolster her. She had a chance, she told herself. She waited for it to act. When the log came crashing down again, Kaia dodged and weaved, making for the turned one. It, however, adapted quickly and pushed up on the end of the trunk still in its grasp, sending the log hurtling towards Kaia and forcing her to retreat. She had mere seconds before it rearmed itself. She would waste no time. Kaia extended her weapon and renewed her efforts. The turned one shied not. It tore the blade away from her, throwing it aside whilst simultaneously pulling Kaia in. Feeling the creature’s teeth sink into her shoulder, absolute, unrestrained terror coursed through Kaia’s veins, heightening all of her senses and endowing every fiber of her being with a superhuman strength; Fear would prove more potent than Confidence. Kaia delivered a series of ruthless blows to the beast’s head. She heard a crack and felt the turned one loosen its grip and lurch to one side. When it didn’t release her quickly enough, Kaia pushed her hand into the space between the monster’s teeth and lips. She took hold of its flesh in an attempt to pierce the skin with her nails. The beast yelped and let Kaia go. She, in turn, ran to her sword and picked it up. The wounded monster did not flee. It walked clumsily towards Kaia, refusing to be routed. She could probably outrun it, she realized.

  A bright, white light suddenly washed over the scene. Kaia instinctively raised her hands to cover her face. She could not see a thing; she blinked several times, yet not even shapes could she distinguish. The turned ones shrieked; it was a cry soaked in hatred and discomfort. Rapid stamping could be heard.

  As Kaia’s eyes adjusted, she noticed Aylin crouching on the ground. A bright light wrapped around the Speaker. Aylin shifted her position, allowing Kaia to glimpse at the light’s source. It was no bigger—and looked like nothing more—than a mere stone, albeit a luminous one. The light that it produced was such that there was not a sliver of darkness for hundreds of feet in any direction; Kaia was reminded of the fissure in the ceiling of the ship’s dining hall. All of the turned ones had left. Only the dead remained.

  Elania and Ani rushed to Kaia; they were all whole, they would be okay.

  “Thomas!” said Aylin, staggering towards her fellow Zavonian.

  Pelliab was examining the partly dismembered Speaker—an arm, a foot, and his nose were gone. “His neck, it was likely broken immediately,” observed Pelliab solemnly, without removing his gaze from Thomas.

  Aylin grabbed the young man’s lifeless hand and held it in hers.

  “It was fast,” said Pelliab to Aylin.

  “We need help!” shouted Lyon. He and Warrin were flanking Bennett, practically carrying their brother towards the rest of the group.

  “One of the beasts took two of his fingers,” said Warrin, as he set Bennett down.

  There was a pool of blood on Benne
tt’s shirt from where he had rested his hand. His face was as white as a cloud, and his pinky and the finger beside it were completely gone. Bennett, however, seemed to not be in pain. He was so relaxed that, had it not been for his open eyes, Kaia would have thought him to be asleep.

  Warrin grabbed a piece of cloth and tried to clog the wound. “The bleeding won’t stop!”

  “You need to cauterize it,” said Elania.

  “What? No!”

  “Nothing else will work and we haven’t a physician. Aylin! We need a fire and a knife.”

  “I have a knife,” said Warrin, motioning to his bag.

  “A clean one. Aylin!”

  The fire-haired Speaker reluctantly let go of Thomas and set herself to the task at hand.

  “Heat the blade,” instructed Elania.

  “Who will do it?” asked Lyon. “Has anyone cauterized a wound before?”

  “I saw my father do it once,” said Nahv. “On an ox.”

  “Could you—”

  “I could talk you through it.”

  “Alright.”

  “Talk Elania through it,” suggested Kaia, stepping closer to the huddled mass. “She has some medical experience.”

  “Do you?” asked Lyon.

  “Not of this nature,” said Elania.

  “Please,” begged Warrin. “If your hand is qualified, even in the slightest, help him! We cannot lose another brother.”

  Elania nodded uneasily.

  “It’s glowing red,” said Nahv, hovering over Aylin. “Take it out of the flames. It needs to cool a bit.” Nahv turned to the princes. “You will need to hold him down.”

  “He’s barely conscious,” said Lyon.

  “This will wake him.”

  “Pelliab, grab his shoulders,” commanded Warrin. “Lyon, you and I will hold this arm. Kaia and Aylin, restrain his good arm.”

  Aylin handed Elania the blade. Everyone took their positions. Ani sat beside Insee a ways off and watched.

  “We are going to do this in a series of advances and withdrawals,” explained Nahv. “We’ll stop applying the blade when there’s no more bleeding. You want this side of the blade to make contact with his skin. Understand? Don’t push down too hard; you have to be gentle. Ready? Wait. Steady.”

  “I cannot control it,” said Elania.

  “You have to.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to do it?”

  “Yes.”

  Elania rubbed her hands on her thighs and jiggled her arms. It seemed to help a bit.

  “Alright. Now,” said Nahv, giving Elania the go-ahead.

  As soon as Elania pressed the blade against Bennett’s wound, the prince shook off the sleeping spell that had overcome him. His body became stiff all over, and he screeched in anguish. His raspy voice begged for an end, to no avail.

  “Pull back,” instructed Nahv.

  Bennett relaxed, dropping his head and closing his eyes. He took rapid, shallow breaths. Some red still flowed forth from his wound.

  “Again,” ordered Nahv.

  “No! No, no, no, no, no!” pleaded Bennett, trying desperately to free his injured arm. Elania was merciless. She knew that if she wasn’t, the prince would die. Bennett bent his knees and dug his heels into the dirt. His face turned scarlet as he screamed. The veins on his forehead and neck bulged.

  “Pull back. Go again.”

  Unexpectedly, Bennett stopped squirming. His body fell inert.

  “The pain was too much,” said Nahv. “Keep your hands on him, in case he wakes up. Pull back. Again.”

  Folken lounged nearby, feasting on the corpses of the turned ones.

  ***

  How strange it is to look upon a face and know, with certainty, that you shall never see it again; to hold a friend’s hand and not feel them squeeze yours in return; to watch an eternal cold settle over their body, and shiver, though they tremble not; to realize that, only moments earlier, they were brimming with thoughts and aspirations yet now are empty; and to know that want resounded in their heart’s final beats—want for help, for more time, for another chance.

  The group—sans the slumbering Bennett—gathered around Thomas’ grave, heads bowed. As per Zavonian tradition, all stood in solidarity with Thomas and pronounced not a syllable. Pelliab shook his head. Kaia thought that his lips looked thinner than usual. Likely the angle, she dismissed.

  Kaia pondered the nature of Aylin and Thomas’ relationship. She had not thought the two particularly close. They hadn’t had any exchanges to suggest that something beyond the expedition united them. Most of the time, each seemed almost unaware of the other’s presence. But perhaps she was wrong; Aylin appeared to truly, deeply regret Thomas’ loss. Maybe their relationship was one that transcended friendship—one that was somewhat familial and had its bonds forged in circumstance. After all, both had a councilor for a parent. It was entirely possible that that very situation had placed them in one another’s path before the expedition was organized. Perhaps they walked in silence in Mar because they felt as at ease with one another as do natural siblings, not because they were strangers.

  Aylin spoke. Her voice was weak at first; it grew louder near the end of her brief speech. “I say that engraved in this marker of Thomas Zealston’s shall be the following words: Here lies the body of Thomas Zealston—a fearless, young man who fought nobly for the restoration of Mar. So I say.”

  Seeing the inscription on the wooden marker completed, Aylin took her leave of Thomas’ grave and sat with her back against one of the boulders. The others followed her lead and, one by one, walked away.

  Though the group was exhausted, none could go to sleep. Instead, they spent the remainder of the night quietly staring at the dark sky, waiting for morning. Kaia cradled her shoulder. Her wound was not at all deep, but it did inhibit her movement to a degree. She was not alone; all had parted the encounter with cuts or gashes of some sort.

  The tinlisit that Aylin had uttered into existence still glowed. The turned ones would not be returning. Kaia remembered their bellies, their hunched backs, and their tentacles. What could they have been guilty of? She thought of asking Nahv. No, she decided.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Day of the Grand Ingress

  Death alters all. Death changes nothing.

  After travelling for the better part of the morning along the dirt road that cleaved the woods, the group finally came upon a town. Nahv decided to keep hidden in the trees with Folken whilst the rest entered. Bennett was supported on either side by his brothers. His face was colorless, save the rings around his eyes, and his feverish head hung low. They needed to hurry.

  The crowded main street of Jenio was bustling. Rosy-cheeked children were calling to one another and boisterously running around. Adults waved and took hold of each other by the arm; they were all moving in the same direction. The women wore colorful gowns, and the men donned elaborate, vibrant shirts which were embroidered around the neckline and down the middle.

  What was going on? Kaia knew that it couldn’t be an evacuation; no one had bags with them and the people were much too happy.

  Pelliab stopped a woman by the wrist. “Where does the physician live?” he asked.

  “Down this street and to the left. I doubt you’ll find him; the festival is about to begin.”

  “Can you help us?” asked Kaia. “Our friend,” she said, moving aside, “he was attacked by one of the turned ones.”

  “Oh!” she gasped, covering her mouth. “Go to the physician’s house. Down this way and then to the left,” she repeated. “It’s the one with the red door. I’ll find him and let him know.”

  Kaia and Pelliab cleared a path—the princes, Elania, and Aylin followed. To their right, in an empty space between the baker and the butcher’s shop, a four-pillared stage was being set up. Green drapes were being loosely twisted and tied to the columns in such a way that they formed a boxed-in ‘x.’ At the very end of the street was a large building of two stories. It was into ther
e that everyone filed. Right before reaching the building, the street forked. Kaia and Pelliab veered left.

  The second road was considerably less congested; there was only a family or two of stragglers.

  “Here it is,” said Kaia.

  “Now we wait,” said Lyon.

  Kaia remembered what day it was. How odd, she thought. Could that be what they are celebrating? In Greyland, that day always passed with no fanfare. It was acknowledged, not commemorated. If not that, then what else?

  An elderly man with a cane turned onto the street. He was accompanied by an equally elderly woman, sans cane.

  “Attacked by a turned one?” asked the old man, looking at Bennett.

  “Yes,” answered Warrin. “Last night. It took two of his fingers.”

  “Let’s go inside and take a look.”

  Bennett was laid on a wide bench. The physician sat beside him and scrutinized his wrapped, right hand.

  “Best if you wait outside,” said the physician’s wife. “Truly, you will only make yourselves uncomfortable if you stay. Your friend—”

  “Brother,” corrected Warrin.

  “Your brother is in good hands,” she said, pushing the princes outside. “Go and watch the show. By the time the festival is over, my husband should be done.”

  “Your names?” asked Warrin.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Curalden,” answered the lady, as she shut the door.

  “Watch the show,” echoed Lyon.

  Kaia, her curiosity piqued, felt her heart leap. She lifted her uninjured shoulder and took a few steps in the direction of the main street. Convinced that their absence would not harm Bennett—and that the prince, now that he had a proper physician, would be okay—she beckoned her sister with her head. Elania resisted, scowling at Kaia’s insensitivity.

  “I shall stay,” said Pelliab, seating himself on the ground.

  “As shall I,” said Aylin somberly.

  “We can do no more,” reminded Kaia.

  “It’s not that. I’d just prefer to sit awhile.”

  “Alright. Warrin? Lyon?”