Feral (The Irisbourn Chronicles Book 1)

by Victoria Thorne

  “Adrian,” I repeated. “They don’t want to kill you anymore – they said they’ll help.”

  “Who?” Adrian released the soil he was holding and crouched beside me.

  “They said they’ll help,” I said again. I was desperately grasping at the memories of my encounter with the kelpie, but they kept slipping through the cracks in my mind like sand through fingers.

  Adrian looked worriedly at Dylan, who had materialized beside him, and Dylan just shrugged.

  “Sometimes she wakes up like this.”

  I shot Dylan an offended look. “I’m not delirious. I saw the kelpie last night. They said we could pass and –”

  Adrian’s jaw dropped. “You saw the kelpie?!”

  “I was sleepwalking – Kaela called me, like a siren. Which you did not inform me they could do, by the way. Anyway, they said that we could all cross safely, and that we needed to return to the river as soon as I woke up.” The words came pouring out of me now in a rapid, uncontrollable stream.

  “Sounds like she was just dreaming,” Arisella snorted before taking another bite of her Slim Jim.

  “It wasn’t a dream!” I roared with slightly too much fervor. “It all happened.”

  Arisella stood up. “And let’s say it wasn’t a dream – that you went to the kelpie in your sleep, and they told you they would let us all pass without so much as hurting a single hair on our heads. How do we know this isn’t a trick?”

  “They said they owed it to me, to my people. An Irisbourn perk, maybe?” I surmised.

  Arisella crossed her arms and looked at her brother.

  “I think we should go to the river,” Adrian concluded. “We don’t have another way to cross, so we at least need to look into this.”

  Arisella gaped at him.

  “We’ll be careful,” he assured her.

  We packed up our camp quickly and made sure to remove any traces of our presence before setting off toward the river.

  The closer we got, the more I began to doubt myself. What if it had actually been a dream? What if we got there, and the kelpie thought we were handing over Adrian? Or worse, what if it had been real, and we were walking straight into a trap?

  Nervous sweat trickled down my temple, and I hurriedly brushed it away. Now was not the time to panic. I needed to remain calm.

  As I neared the river, I noticed something resting on the smooth surface of it, bobbing up and down with the current.

  “What is that thing?” Dylan inquired, voicing what all of us were thinking. Dylan squinted at the anomaly and used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

  Upon moving closer, I realized that it was a huge curved leaf, draped in eelgrass and flower buds. I gingerly placed my palm on the side of the leaf and immediately discovered that despite its waxy surface, it had the toughness of wood.

  “It’s a boat,” I concluded.

  Two gangly rods shaped like oversized twigs sat within the leaf, undoubtedly meant to be used as oars.

  So it hadn’t been a dream.

  Without waiting for further instruction, Dylan hopped over the side of the leaf-boat and landed inside with a hollow thump.

  “Dylan!” I barked, taken aback by the suddenness of his action. “How did you know that wouldn’t sink?! For Christ’s sake, it’s a leaf! And,” I added in a whisper, “it could have been a trick!”

  “Well put,” Adrian commented.

  “I was actually kind of hoping it would sink,” Arisella frowned.

  From inside the boat, Dylan just smiled stupidly back at us.

  “Don’t tell me you all-powerful Divinbloods are frightened of a little leaf?”

  “Shut up,” Arisella spat as she intentionally threw her backpack right on top of Dylan and jumped into the boat with feline dexterity. Adrian went in next. I knew I was clumsy, but the amount of effort Adrian and Dylan spent helping me into the boat was completely unnecessary.

  We all held our breaths as Adrian sliced the vine that held us to land, sending us drifting down the river. Adrian and Arisella rowed the oars carefully but quickly, and we crossed the choppy river in tense silence. With every wave that rocked the boat, I was sure we would all plunge headfirst into the river to be killed or consumed by the kelpie. But that never happened, and at last we made it to the other side. When our boat bumped against land, we all collectively exhaled.

  We wasted no time exiting the boat. An overwhelming feeling of relief filled me when my feet touched land. We had finally done it – we had crossed the dreaded river. I took a minute to study the new terrain around me. We had entered a land of rolling, grassy hills, dotted by a few trees and shrubs – quite different from the Black Forest.

  Adrian was the last to leave the boat, and as soon as his foot had left it, the water around the boat began to gurgle. The boat shook, then began to sink, water spilling over its sides and flooding its inside. I watched it disappear under the water, never to be seen again.

  “So it wasn’t a trap,” Dylan said in awe.

  “Clearly.” Adrian continued to stare at the spot where the boat had disappeared, before turning to continue our journey.

  We had no time to bask in our achievement.

  I turned back to the river to look at its waters one last time, and made out a pale face with red hair smiling diabolically at me beneath the surface. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving me with the smoke-like memory of its disturbing smile and the words, “That Bloodbourn boy will be the death of you.”

  Chapter Thirty

  After walking for an entire day, we finally reached a city – or rather, a ghost-city. Its buildings stood in shattered ruins, debris clogging the empty streets. The closer we got to the heart of the city, the more monstrous the buildings became. What started as broken, straw huts grew into the remains of what could only be described as skyscrapers. At the very center of the city stood the remains of a razed palace, utterly destroyed beyond recognition, save for a few marble blocks scattered about the ruin.

  Adrian explained that the city had been known as Vieyrin, that it had been one of the first cities to be destroyed during the Blood War. The Bloodbourn had attacked during the night, burning the central palace to the ground with the Irisbourn family that lived within it. The Bloodbourn continued to raid the city afterwards, often in destructive drunken stupors, and Vieyrin’s inhabitants quickly perished or fled. Not a single living soul was left.

  By the time we reached Vieyrin, the long, dark shadows of the buildings were swelling into one another, and we decided to set up camp on the ground floor of the most stable building we could find.

  We ended up choosing some primitive form of a clothing factory. Dozens of abandoned tables were arranged in orderly rows and columns with cloth strewn about them. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, and wooden cups still sat on several of the tables, the liquid they once held long evaporated. On one table I even found a plate with several small bones, as if someone had abandoned his meal in a hurry, with no time to consume it.

  We didn’t dare explore the floors above us – the building was in very poor condition, and sleeping on the first floor under a ceiling that threatened to collapse was dangerous enough.

  We didn’t make a fire that night either. Because we were so close to the Blood Kingdom border, Bloodbourn soldiers still occasionally patrolled the city. Instead, we feasted on some of my canned food and what little smoked moonrabbit Arisella had saved. Luckily, earlier in the day we had found a small stream where we could restock on water, so we had plenty to drink.

  We consumed our food in a circle around a flashlight balanced on its base, which served as a sad sort of substitute for a fire (Dylan’s idea). I kept glancing at Adrian anxiously, as I picked at my meal of watery green beans. We hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to each other all day, and I wondered if we would ever address what had happened the previous night.

  Beside me, Dylan got to his feet and, without any explanation, made to exit the build
ing.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Arisella demanded through a mouthful of meat.

  “I have to pee,” Dylan stated matter-of-factly. “I’d prefer not to do it here. Although I can, if you’d like.”

  Arisella gagged and made a shooing motion. “Go.”

  “Don’t go far,” I called after him. I frowned at myself. Recently I had been sounding like his overbearing mother— not the kind of relationship I wanted to have with my best friend.

  When she had finished eating, Arisella snatched the flashlight and got up to inspect the cloth on the many tables. Occasionally she would run her fingers over one piece of fabric, make a small noise in satisfaction, and swipe it.

  “What’s she doing?” I asked Adrian curiously, as I watched her.

  “Finding clothes. Spellbourn used to work in this building, enchanting Beastbourn fabric so that the clothing would change with them. If I were you, I’d join Aris, before she takes everything good,” Adrian recommended.

  I followed his advice, starting on the side of the room farthest from Arisella. The fabric was rough against my fingers, but wearable. Knowing how old they must have been, I was surprised they didn’t fall apart at the slightest touch.

  By the time Arisella and I met, I had claimed two light shirts, a pair of undergarments, and some shorts – a jackpot, I had thought cheerily, until I saw Arisella’s pile of clothes, which was over twice the size of mine.

  She looked at the clothes in my arms with a hint of greediness, as if she wanted to have mine as well. Were these clothes really that important to her?

  I stuffed the clothes into the bottom of my bag, praying that I wouldn’t have to get into a petty argument over them with Arisella.

  “Human’s been gone for a while,” Arisella noticed.

  She was right. For a bathroom break, Dylan had been gone for an exceedingly long time.

  “He may have gotten lost. I’ll look for him,” I volunteered. Arisella tossed me the flashlight, and I caught it deftly. I took an embarrassing amount of private pride in the fact that I hadn’t dropped it.

  “That may not be the best idea,” Adrian began.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not some helpless seventeen-year-old girl who constantly needs someone hovering around her for protection,” I shot his words back at him before striding into the darkness. Until then, I hadn’t realized just how irritated I’d been with him for avoiding me. Based on the surprise on his face, apparently he hadn’t either.

  I went straight to the place I felt a boy would find most appropriate to pee – the street. But Dylan wasn’t there. I continued to search for him up and down the street, being careful not to catch my foot on a stray piece of rubble.

  Just as I was about to turn around and start searching in the opposite direction, I heard deep, gravelly voices behind me. I quickly switched off my flashlight and crouched behind the remains of a wall. Was that Dylan’s voice? I was too far away to tell.

  I maneuvered around the rubble, staying close to the ground, as I crawled toward the source of the sounds. Two big, brawny men with dark hair and black robes stood in the street. Between them sat a scrawny boy bent over on his knees, his unruly hair flopping over his face.

  Dylan.

  Despite my fear for his safety, I couldn’t help scowling into the darkness. Of course, he had to go and get himself captured by Bloodbourn soldiers. Of course.

  “Of what birth are you?!” the larger of the two men shouted at Dylan.

  Dylan made a small, mouse-like noise, and the big man kicked him. It took everything in me not to jump out and strangle the man. But I couldn’t do that – at least, not yet. I needed to know what they wanted, what they were capable of, first.

  “He asked you a question!” the smaller-but-still-huge one stormed.

  “Caucasian!” Dylan finally cried out.

  I buried my face in my hands. He was so, so hopeless.

  It was the smaller one’s turn to kick him now. I had to admit that he kind of deserved that one.

  The two men conferred between one another in confused, impatient whispers before resuming their questioning.

  The big one bent over Dylan and started yelling at the back of his head. “Where does your loyalty lie?!”

  “I-I don’t,” Dylan stammered.

  “Speak up, fool!” the big one commanded. “Do you fight for the one true Blood King, or not?!”

  “Fight?” Dylan said confusedly. “I am neutral… like… like … Switzerland!”

  This time the big one and the small one kicked Dylan at the same time. I saw a rivulet of red trickle out of his nose, and I sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t let this go on too much longer.

  “He speaks nonsense,” the big one decided. “He must be mad.”

  “We should end his worthless life now,” the small one agreed, ignoring Dylan’s heartrending pleas for his life.

  I saw a dark thin blade appear in the large man’s hand, and a wild hiss escaped from the back of my throat.

  “What was that?” The large man spun around, searching for the source of the noise, and I ducked closer to the ground.

  “You’re hearing things. Now hurry, I’d like to get this done.”

  The large man took one last glance in my direction and warily returned to Dylan.

  “Weak little creature,” the large man muttered, as he raised his blade above his head.

  I launched myself at his outstretched arm, just as he was about to bring the knife down on Dylan’s neck. I wasn’t quite sure when I had changed, or if I had even done it on purpose, but I knew I was a panther when I sank my incisors into his forearm, making him release a rather unmanly shriek in pain.

  “By the King!” I heard the smaller man behind me exclaim.

  I released the muscled, bloody arm from my jaws and growled at Dylan, nudging him hard toward the direction of our camp with my nose. It took him a few seconds to understand what I was trying to communicate to him, but eventually he got it, and limped off in that direction.

  He didn’t see the blade that sliced through my back – in a way, I was glad he didn’t, or he would have never left. I cried out in pain and turned on the smaller man. He was still double my size, and already armed with another blade. I didn’t take my eyes off his weapon, as I lifted myself onto my haunches and pounced on him. I succeeded in knocking his knife out of his hand, but as soon as I had, he had already produced two more, this time in both of his palms.

  Imagine fighting an opponent who never runs out of weapons, Adrian’s words echoed in my head.

  I placed my paws on his biceps and dug my claws into his elbows to prevent him from moving his hands. It must have been incredibly painful for him, but he endured it silently – the only sign of his suffering was the bulging whiteness of his eyes. I was about to tear into his neck without a second thought, when I felt a blade sink into my shoulder. I roared at the sharp, ripping sensation and released the man below me.

  Despite the deep wound in his neck, the big man had gotten to his feet behind me and was preparing to throw another knife in my direction. I turned my attention to him and swept at his legs, but I was too slow, and he moved out of the way easily.

  I managed to avoid the knife he sent whizzing in my direction, and successfully tackled him. Determined to finish him off, I went straight for his neck, but he was able to block my strike by holding the dull edge of his blade against my neck. I furiously bit the air in front of his face, but his hold on the knife did not waver. For the moment, we were locked in a stalemate – if he released the blade, I would bite off his face; if I relaxed, he would stab me in the throat.

  I sensed movement behind me, and with horror realized that I had forgotten the second soldier. I felt another knife penetrate my other shoulder, courtesy of the forgotten soldier, but somehow maintained my stalemate with the big soldier underneath me.

  I was faced with the sobering reality of choosing between two ways to die now: be stabbed once in the throat
, or stabbed several times through the back.

  I continued to force myself against the big soldier’s knife, but I could feel him gradually gaining the upper hand. It was only a matter of time now.

  For the first time, I heard the small soldier break his silence to release a shrill, airy cry, but I couldn’t turn around to see why. All I knew was that the blades had stopped sinking into my back, and for that I was grateful.

  It was only when I heard the guttural growling that I knew what was going on.

  Arisella appeared in front of me, her shiny fur colorless in the moonlight. It was almost as if she smiled mercilessly before burying her teeth in the man’s face beneath me. The pressure on the knife immediately disappeared, and I looked away from the grisly sight, only to find Adrian knelt over the smaller soldier, over a dark knife protruding from the enemy’s heart.

  Dylan stood further back, vociferously cheering Adrian and Arisella on behind some rubble.

  “Gods,” Adrian breathed as he took in the sight of me.

  I felt myself shift back into human form and fall to my knees – I couldn’t hold the change anymore. I had sustained too many injuries. The pain was becoming too much. My entire body was overwhelmed by a single pulsating sensation of agony. Hell, I didn’t even care about my lack of clothes anymore.

  I faintly remembered screaming when Adrian pulled the knives from my back. I hadn’t meant to, but the agony had simply been so much more than I was expecting.

  “We need to stop the bleeding,” Arisella said quickly. Her hands were on my back too, now. She must have changed back into her normal form.

  Through my fuzzy vision, I distinguished Dylan handing her a backpack. My backpack.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Dylan demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Arisella said anxiously.

  The entire time, pairs of hands moved about my back, applying pressure and removing the thickened, cold blood.