Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One
Page 74
*Thwunk*
Jamin grimaced. A less-than-perfect shot. He'd only hit the edge of the charcoal-smear heart that he'd painted on the target. Not dead-center. Dead-center meant dead. Less than dead-center meant … he'd seen living proof of what less-than-dead-center meant when it came to the hearts of demons. He'd seen the scar on the winged demons chest the day he'd stripped his shirt and run the gauntlet on what should have been his wedding day.
He grabbed a spear from the dwindling pile and hurled it with every ounce of hatred he felt towards the heart-shaped target. The others had gone home for the night, even Siamek. None of them understood the threat the winged demon represented to their village.
He realized he was being watched…
“Gita,” he said, not even glancing over to meet her bottomless black eyes. “You shouldn't lurk in the shadows. You might get hurt.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I don't know,” Jamin said. “I just knew.”
“You're the only person who ever sees me besides Shahla.”
Her voice had the same sadness he felt. The accursed emotion he was trying to drown out by focusing on his anger. He grabbed the next spear and hurled it with all of his might. He could feel her eyes follow the shaft as it lodged in the heart-area dead center. A perfect shot. Sticking out of the top of the target were feathers. Feathers he'd stuck in after the others had gone to represent Mikhail's wings. He turned to her, giving her the wolfish grin a predator might give as it removed its blood-soaked fangs from a prey animal's torn jugular.
“He doesn't deserve your hatred." Gita's voice was the whisper of the hot summer wind. “It's not his fault the goddess sent him here to protect us.”
Jamin lurched towards her, hand raised as if to strike her.
“What do you know of the goddess?!” Jamin shouted. “Fairy tales! Fairy tales made up to justify bad behavior!”
Gita stepped back, her black eyes large and wary, but she did not run, for they had always had an understanding.
"Bah!" Jamin spat at her
He grabbed another spear and hurled it with all of his might at the target, hatred fueling its flight into the heart of his enemy. The spear pierced the bale of emmet-stalks bound together to represent their enemies and came out the other side. Aha! The winged demon wasn't the only one who could pierce the heart of his enemy!
He turned, his victory cry dying on his lips as a sorrow only he could fathom clouded Gita's jet-black eyes. Yes. They had always had an understanding. He'd taken Gita under his protective wing because only she understood what it was like to watch your mother die.
“Ninsianna is not worthy of your love." Gita's black eyes swirled with a sorrow so profound even he couldn't fully grasp its depths. “You've got to let it go or it will destroy you.”
Jamin's voice lilted upwards, half a shout, and half a little boy's cry of anguish.
“He took her from me!" He grabbed another spear from the pile, his fists clenched around the shaft so tight it felt as though his knuckles might break.
“She's not worthy of -his- love, either." Gita's black eyes looked straight through him as though he wasn't even there. “Just you wait and see…”
A shudder went down Jamin’s spine. Prophecy. It was said her mother's people had possessed the gift of prophecy. His mother's people, if the whispers he'd overheard the night Merariy had reappeared in their village were true. His father had been in a fog of grief, having just lost his mother and baby sister in childbirth. It had been Immanu who had made the decision to welcome his estranged brother … and his traumatized five-year-old daughter … back into the tribe. Not the Chief. He didn't know why, but there was bad blood between the factions.
He looked away, unable to meet her gaze as Gita took the measure of his soul and found him wanting. He looked back and was not surprised to find she'd disappeared back into the lengthening shadows. Picking up another spear, Jamin hurled it with all of his might at the feathery target…
Chapter 69