“Please,” he gasped.
His very life seemed sucked away with that one word. Rayad’s echoed shout barely registered. Jace’s wide eyes jerked up. A man dressed in gold and black loomed above him in the smoky haze. Pale light glinted on an upraised sword. Jace broke from shock and fell back as the sword descended. He tensed, but Tyra jumped between them just before the blade reached him, and her jaws clamped down on the man’s arm. He shrieked out a curse and used his free hand to swing his sword. The wolf yelped and fell at his feet.
“Tyra!” Jace’s voice broke free.
He jumped up and yanked out his sword. His blade whirred through the air, and the soldier faced him just in time. Emotion exploded hot inside Jace. It surged through his muscles and took over the fighting reflexes ingrained in his body. The man didn’t stand a chance. In moments, he fell beneath Jace’s sword. Metal clanged from behind. Before Jace could look back, another soldier appeared in the smoke and engaged him in battle.
With Kalli and Aldor’s still forms seared into his consciousness, he didn’t think, he only fought. He took down two more opponents, and his eyes landed on a third. This man was young—his own age or younger. The soldier took one look at him and dropped his sword in surrender. He retreated, but Jace came after him. He grabbed the young man by the front of his uniform and put his sword to his throat. The young man cowered.
“Please don’t kill me! Have mercy!”
Jace’s hand shook with the intense struggle to stay his blade. Had these men shown Kalli and Aldor mercy? A helpless, elderly couple, yet they lay slain in their own front yard. His sword pressed down harder, and the soldier sucked in his breath.
“Don’t kill him, Jace.”
At Rayad’s voice, Jace let his sword fall away from the soldier’s neck, but he tightened his hold on the uniform and glared down at the young man. His pain-racked voice came out raw and strangled. “You murdered them.”
The man shook his head fiercely. “No! I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t want to kill them. I was only here as an extra man.”
Rayad came to Jace’s side and set cold eyes on the soldier. “What was your business here?”
The young man swallowed, and his gaze switched nervously between his captors. When his eyes remained on the older man, he asked, “Are you Rayad?”
“Yes, but what business is that of yours?”
The young soldier shuddered at the icy tone. “Our captain…he sent us out to find you.”
“Your captain,” Rayad repeated. “What’s his name?”
“Dagren.”
Jace had never heard the name before, but Rayad’s eyes slid closed in a grimace. When they opened, they trained on the soldier once more.
“Were you sent to kill or capture me?”
“Either,” the soldier answered with a wobbly voice.
“And were you ordered to kill anyone with me?”
“Y-yes, but I didn’t hold with that.”
Rayad’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know I was here?”
The soldier hesitated, but Jace gave him a jerk. He would find out who all was responsible for this, and they would answer for it. “Tell us.”
“One of the men in Kinnim tipped us off.”
Jace’s heart gave a sickening stutter, and he pulled the soldier closer. “Which man?”
“His name was Morden.”
Jace’s eyes went wide. No! His pulse spiked. He’d faced him just a couple of hours ago—faced him and let him walk away with not more than a few bruises while here Kalli and Aldor lay dead. A fresh wave of searing heat burst through his chest. Throwing the soldier to the ground, he stormed toward Niton and sheathed his sword along the way. Morden would pay for this.
“Jace!”
But he didn’t really hear Rayad. The heat raged through his insides, engulfing everything, including his reason. Rayad ran after him and grabbed his arm just as he reached Niton. Jace ripped out of his grasp. He would not be stopped. Morden needed to answer for this. Kalli and Aldor had to be avenged. But a whisper of warning made it through the roaring haze in his head. He stood paralyzed, caught between a need for revenge and making the right choice.
“Jace,” Rayad spoke urgently, “don’t do this. You’ll be tortured with regret if you do.”
Jace panted, his clenched fists shaking. He didn’t know if he could stop himself. It was too hard, too painful. Elôm! A deep groan of agony clawed up his throat as the full weight of loss crushed him. He slumped over and put his hands to his head.
“They’re gone,” he ground out. “Kalli and Aldor are gone.”
Rayad rested his hands on Jace’s shoulders. “I know,” he murmured.
Jace locked eyes with him, desperate for understanding, for relief, for anything. “We have to do something.”
Rayad’s throat worked, and his voice was hoarse. “I know how you feel, Jace, but there’s nothing we can do. We can’t take this into our own hands. You know as well as I do it would be wrong.”
Jace shuddered with every breath, still fighting within himself. The heat started to dissolve, but it left him with pain that was even harder to bear. Everything that had become familiar and good about his life crumbled away beneath him and left him staggering. Rayad squeezed his shoulders, but even his eyes revealed a struggle for understanding.
They turned back to where they’d left the soldier, but he had already run and disappeared in the smoke. Jace’s instincts rebelled over just letting him get away. The man had done nothing to save Kalli and Aldor, and to Jace, that made him just as guilty as the actual murderers.
But the young soldier vanished from his mind when his eyes fell on Tyra. He rushed to her side as his heart almost failed to beat. Not her too. His throat closed up. He couldn’t bear it. He lifted her head in his hands, and she let out a low whine. She was still alive, but blood soaked the fur around her chest.
“Rayad,” he called. His voice scratched with smoke inhalation, and he suppressed the urge to cough.
Rayad hurried to his side and took a quick look at the wolf. “Let’s get both of you out of this smoke.”
Jace gathered Tyra into his arms, her warm blood soaking into his sleeve, and they retreated from the smoky yard. Behind the cabin, the breeze kept the area clear. Their horses and those of the fallen soldiers had found refuge here. Jace lay Tyra down on the ground while Rayad went to Aros. From his saddle, he brought his medical kit and waterskin.
“Hold her,” he instructed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Jace held Tyra securely with her head nestled in his lap. Rayad pressed cloths to her chest until the bleeding slowed and he could examine the wound.
“I’ll have to stitch it.”
“Will she be all right?”
Rayad looked up to meet his eyes. Jace searched them for the truth. “I hope so. I think, if we’re careful to tend the wound, she’ll recover.”
Jace was afraid to let himself feel any relief. If he lost her too…He struggled to breathe again. Tyra whined, and he held her still while Rayad worked. When they had bandages wrapped around her chest, they let her rest in the cool grass. Jace rubbed the top of her head between her ears, coughing a few times at the hot needles stabbing into his windpipe.
Rayad rose and looked off toward the cabin. He opened his mouth, but the words were slow to come. “I’ll go…get Kalli and Aldor.”
Jace pushed to his feet to follow, but Rayad put a firm hand to his shoulder. “You should stay out of the smoke.”
Jace held his eyes and spoke in a controlled tone. “I need to help.”
Rayad set his lips in a grim line. They walked back toward the cabin, which still blazed but was close to collapsing. Thick haze surrounded them. The afternoon sun and roaring flames turned it a dusty orange, and the air shimmered with heat. They came to Aldor, and Jace couldn’t move at first. He had seen more dead than anyone his age should have, but it didn’t dull the horror of seeing a loved one so still and lifeless. Breathing in, the thick air seared
his lungs like poisoned gas.
He gritted his teeth and bent down to help Rayad lift Aldor up. They placed him under a large sugar maple several yards from the cabin. This was one of their favorite places to take a rest while working during the hot summer days. Kalli always brought their lunch out to them. Jace struggled to swallow as they went back for her. He reached her first and gathered her up with great tenderness and care. His eyes rested on her face. He’d give up the whole rest of his life just to see her smile once more. She was the only mother figure he had ever known. From the moment he’d first stepped into her cabin, she’d treated him as family, as her own child.
A crushing force coiled around Jace’s chest and cut off his air. His blood heated, but without something to expend it on, it consumed him inside. Pressure rose to his throat and eyes, and they burned with smoke exposure and unshed tears. He’d spent most of his childhood and young adult years learning to suppress all emotion, and now no tears would come.
Rayad’s hand rested on his shoulder, and Jace blinked hard. Walking out of the smoke, he laid Kalli gently next to Aldor and stood in silence for a long moment. Just hours ago he’d laughed with her at the table and helped Aldor in the barn, teasing the man over how he talked to their milk cows. He couldn’t imagine ever laughing again after this. That part of his life died with them.
“I’ll get shovels from the barn,” Rayad murmured, his voice far away.
He left Jace in a daze. Even staring right at them, he didn’t know how to accept that Kalli and Aldor were gone. They’d welcomed him into their home, their lives, and their hearts. He thought he’d escaped death and the rampant cruelty of the world, but it had shown up here too, right in the only place he’d ever found refuge.
When Rayad returned, Jace took a shovel from him with numb fingers and drove it into the ground. They did not speak. Flames roared and logs crackled at their backs as their shovels bit into the dirt, punctuated by Jace’s increasing coughs. They worked for some time until he couldn’t take in enough air without a coughing fit snatching it away again.
“Jace.”
He didn’t acknowledge Rayad and kept digging. He would finish this. Kalli and Aldor had given him everything. The least he could do was help with their burial. Rayad reached out and stopped his shovel. Jace gripped the handle hard.
“Go sit down. I’ll finish.”
Jace resisted at first, but a fresh coughing fit ripped through his chest like sharp claws and left him too weak. He dropped his shovel and stepped away. His legs buckled when he reached the base of the maple. He leaned back and fought for air, dizzied from lack of oxygen. His lungs burned and seemed to shrink to a size too small for the air he needed. He pulled in a breath, but deep, hacking coughs gripped him again and flayed his throat. He wrapped his arms around his chest and grimaced.
Rayad stuck his shovel in the ground and brought him a waterskin. Jace gripped it with shaking fingers and raised it to his lips. He choked on the first couple of sips, but the water soothed his dry throat. It allowed him a few short moments to fill his lungs with fresh air. But relief was temporary. This time the coughing coated his mouth and spattered his lips with the salty warmth of blood. He wiped it away and caught a glimpse of Rayad’s strained look.
Biting down, he fought to control the urge to cough. After a few minutes, it subsided enough for him to get a good breath between each bout, and Rayad returned to digging. Tyra, despite her wound, limped to Jace’s side to offer him comfort.
When the two graves were finished, Rayad laid the shovel aside. Jace moved to rise, and Rayad offered him a hand to pull him to his feet. They stood beside Kalli and Aldor. With most of their possessions burned up in the cabin, they had nothing with which to better prepare the bodies for burial. They could only lay them gently in the graves as they were, but they deserved better. Deserved to live out their days in peace and die of natural causes. Not of murder.
Jace gripped his shovel again and worked beside Rayad to fill the graves. The more they covered Kalli and Aldor, the heavier the weight of pain and loss pressed down on him, as if he were the one in the grave being buried. Part of him was. He looked at their faces once more, and when they disappeared, he struggled to hold the shovel.
They stood at the graves for a long while in silence to consider their time with the older couple. Jace had never known peace even existed before coming here. He thought he’d die believing the whole world to be a place of darkness and cruelty. But he’d been safe with Kalli and Aldor—loved, accepted. He sank to his knees as the loss overwhelmed him.
“They’re with King Elôm now,” Rayad said, his voice breaking. “Any burdens or pains forgotten. And we must not completely despair. We’ll see them again one day.”
Guilt tore at Jace. “It’s my fault.”
Rayad turned to him.
“Last night, Tyra and I both sensed danger, but I didn’t investigate it.” His hands fisted and his nails dug into his palms. Why hadn’t he searched out the source? Why hadn’t he trusted his instincts?
“You have no fault in this. None. It could’ve been anything last night.” Rayad drew in a halting breath. “If anyone’s to blame for this, it should be me. I knew Dagren might still search for me, and yet I stayed here.” He shook his head as if pushing away his own guilt. “Listen, Jace, blaming ourselves won’t help or undo anything. We can’t change the past, though we often wish we could.”
The sun rose clear and brilliant above the forest, but Rayad had never seen such a dreary sunrise. He shifted against his saddle propped up behind him and winced at the stiffness in his joints and muscles. His eyes fell on Jace, and he prayed in earnest that he, at least, could sleep. The coughing fits had afflicted him throughout the night and had not subsided until a little more than an hour ago. Of all things Jace had inherited from his ryrik blood, Rayad couldn’t help asking Elôm why this was one of them—this painful reaction to air pollution that was said to be the ryrik’s curse for being the first to follow the path of evil.
He rubbed his hands over his face, and his tired eyes traveled across the quiet farm. The cabin that once held so many memories now lay as no more than a smoking, black heap of charred wood and ash. Then his eyes came to the fresh graves and misted. He blinked and swallowed down the knot in his throat. He’d experienced a lot of hardship, but nothing as difficult to understand as this. Kalli and Aldor were so innocent—so undeserving of such an end. And Jace. He grimaced. After what he’d suffered, all Rayad wanted for him was peace. Where would they find that now?
Rayad prayed for him with all the words he could find until Jace’s sudden hacking cough interrupted him. Jace groaned before waking fully. Moving slowly, he pushed himself up and glanced at Rayad with feverishly glazed eyes. His drawn and pale face concerned Rayad. He’d never been exposed to so much smoke before, though he was no longer coughing up as much blood. At least not enough to worry that his lungs would fill to the point of suffocation, as was the danger with prolonged exposure.
Rising to his feet, Rayad stretched his aching joints. “You just rest. I’ll see what I can do about breakfast.”
Jace didn’t seem to hear him. He focused on Tyra, who lay beside him. Praise Elôm she still lived. To lose Tyra on top of it all would destroy Jace. That wolf was about as dear to him as any person, and a far better friend than most.
From the soldiers’ saddlebags, Rayad put together a simple breakfast. He handed a plate to Jace and sat down with a quiet groan. For a long moment, they both just stared at their food. Nothing appeared appetizing this morning. Rayad gathered his thoughts and closed his eyes.
“King Elôm, You know our hearts, that we’re grieving. Help our focus to be on You, and strengthen us to endure this. Thank You that we’re able to come to You in times of need, and thank You for providing a life after this one, and the comfort of that.”
He had to clear his throat before taking a bite of his breakfast. It settled tastelessly in his mouth, and he swallowed it down hard. He forced ano
ther bite and looked at Jace. The young man wasn’t much interested in food either, but Rayad didn’t have the heart to try to get him to eat. Most of it went to Tyra.
Once the plates lay empty, Jace stared at Rayad. Any spark of hope was hidden by a thick curtain of sadness and fatigue.
“Now what?”
Rayad rubbed his forehead, unsure of what future lay ahead after this. He could only focus on the moment. “We’ll gather rocks for the graves so no animals get into them. We can bury the soldiers at the edge of the forest.” Beyond that, he didn’t know. Now that the emperor’s men had located him, he and Jace couldn’t stay to work the farm. They would have to move on, but where would they go? Wherever they had to. But first things first.
“I’ll go hitch the wagon.”
Rayad started to rise, but Jace stopped him.
“Who’s Dagren?” He peered at Rayad with a need for answers—a reason for the death of innocent lives. “Why is he so determined to find you?”
Rayad settled into place with a heavy sigh, and his mind journeyed back to where this had all begun. “Captain Dagren commands a barracks north of Falspar, where I’m from. For years, Emperor Daican has hinted at his desire to enforce the worship of Aertus and Vilai. My friend Warin and I were quite outspoken in our opposition to it. After a while, his men grew tired of us and targeted me as the instigator. Once they stole my livestock and destroyed most of my farm as warning, I knew they would come for me next, either to kill me or take me to be killed. Call it foolish stubbornness, but I wasn’t just going to stand by and give up everything left in my possession, including my life.”
He paused to relive the memories. Had he made the right choice? How would things be different now if he’d backed down or chosen to flee sooner? Only Elôm knew. “Warin joined me and we stood our ground. There was a fight. Men were killed…including Dagren’s son. Of course, Dagren would stop at nothing after that to have our heads, so it was either flee or face the whole garrison. Warin went off west somewhere, and I came out here.”
Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) Page 9