by Aimee Moore
The Warlord performed a crafty maneuver that sliced upward at Dal in a deft twist, taking off Dal's smallest finger. My heart shot into my head in a dizzying rush and I covered my mouth to stifle a scream. Dal's howl of rage and pain echoed far away in the cavern, and still he fought as if nothing had happened, as if his blade handle wasn't slippery with blood.
I had to do something before Dal lost more than a finger. Had to help. There were two of us and one Warlord, the odds were stacked against the towering figure of death battling the man I loved. I had a powerful gift, and now was the time to use it.
I stepped out from the doorway, taking a tentative step into the leyline room. The closer I got, the more the power of the leyline hummed in my blood, unaffected by the halt in time. I was emboldened, my adrenaline and throbbing power overriding the pain in my foot, my aching legs, my nausea.
My back straightened, and I came closer, weaving my hands over a space in front of me, creating a writhing mass of fire. I would burn that son of a bitch to the ground, I would raze this whole damn cavern, set fire to the world around me so that it could start anew.
I threw my ball of fire at the Warlord's back as Dal took a mighty swing at him. The Warlord, twisting around, batted my ball of fire back at me with an evil grin on his face and still returned to Dal in time to block his next attack. I threw myself to the side to dodge the flame roaring past me. Even though I had made the flame, I didn't want to chance the force of it knocking me back.
Terror filled me as I realized that perhaps I didn’t have a chance after all. I threw more fire out at the Warlord, and again he dodged my fire with ease, shifting away or knocking it back toward me, all while fighting Dal. I tried to bring a wall of flame around him, but the Warlord pushed through it with ease as he deflected Dal, the white fire licking his blistered skin back together.
Again I threw fire, and again the Warlord struck it back at me in between Dal's blows, deep laughter ringing through the cavern. I threw myself on the ground to avoid the roaring fire, my injured foot pulsing in protest. I rose again slowly, hate etched on my face.
Dal got in a deft slice and a trail of red leaked down the Warlord's shoulder. My hope flew, but then the white flame undid Dal’s small victory. My warrior was fighting a losing battle. I had to get closer so that the Warlord would not have a chance to react to my flame. I hobbled nearer, hands aflame, heart pounding, face grimaced with each agonizing step. Dal's eyes met mine in between blade swings.
“Turn back!” He roared at me, but I ignored him. I was not going to let the man I loved die at the hands of the Warlord, this close to our goal. I was going to end this nightmare.
The Warlord swung his massive blade at Dal, laughing. “Yes, human, turn that cowardly back on me.”
I growled, summoning more fire and throwing it, missing every time, hobbling closer. The Warlord dodged and swayed, concentration etching his twisted, horrible features as he battled Dal. The two of them whirled about like a dusky skinned tornado of blades topped with a black smoke of hair.
The unseeing eyes in the Warlord's hair peeked out at me now and again, stilling my heart for a moment as the reality slammed into me that my eyes may join those when this was all done.
But not yet. He was focused, the taunting sneer was gone. I was gaining. Dal and I had the advantage. Still I hobbled closer, throwing more fire.
“Seraphine!” Dal roared, backing away with the Warlord close on his heels.
No. I was going to bring this blight on my existence down so that no other would suffer as Dal and I have. I neared the Warlord's straining back, summoning a ball of fire that was impossible to dodge this close. And just then, the Warlord swung hard enough at Dal to make him stagger back over a rock.
But instead of advancing on his opponent, the Warlord turned to me with a nasty sneer, and my heart dropped into the jagged pit of adrenaline in my stomach. By the stars, he had complete control over the situation all this time.
Pointed teeth shined at me as he curled his lips back in a menacing grin. “Say hello to the other maggots in eternal nothingness for me, fool.” And with that, he lifted his powerful leg high and kicked me in the middle. The blow was so hard that I flew backward, rolling over rocks and tumbling half way into the open wound of the leyline, hanging on to a jutting root barely peeking into the veined purple pit that housed the pulsing ball of purple. I screamed as my sweat-slicked hands clawed at the root, as dirt caked under my bending nails.
Somewhere far away, Dal's roar shook my bones, and the Warlord's laugh carried high over us. I couldn't get a foothold, the purple veins throbbing from the middle of the pit seemed to draw me in, pull my feet back down. I was going to die here. I had to save Dal. If I was going down then I was taking this Warlord son of a bitch with me.
With a scream I mustered everything I had and thrust my palm up. A giant bird exploded out of my skin, bigger than a horse, screeching fire from a predatory beak. Sweat dripped down my brow as my arm trembled on the root, directing the roaring inferno of my bird toward the towering black death before me.
The Warlord was swinging down at his prey as Dal raised his sword to block. It wouldn't be enough, Dal was on poor footing from his stumble, he wouldn't match the strength of the Warlord's blow. I drew upon every ounce of my gift, every grain of power I contained, and it drained me, drained the life in my veins as I forced that flaming bird to shoot through the air like the falling stars of my dying world.
Time was moving too slow, my heart hammering too fast, my muscles quaking as I drained myself of everything I was to send that inferno straight into the man I hated. The clang of steel rang through the cavern just as my bird burst into the Warlord, exploding in an orange burst of feathering flame and a shower of sparks.
Triumph shot through me, bittersweet, because my hands were slipping and the leyline would have me soon. The Warlord screamed as the fire began to consume him, began to tear away at his flesh and clothing. The white healing fire battled my own raging inferno, and darkness began to pull at my lids as Dal's roar shook the cavern once more. I held on, forced the hot licks of flame in my blood to turn my inferno bird molten.
The Warlord's scream was cut off abruptly, and then he was stumbling backward, to the wound in the ground, to me. My eyes widened as he lost his footing over my head, bringing a flaming heel down into my shoulder, and I grunted in pain as it forced my arm limp. I lost my grip on the small root, and then my breath was gone as the leyline sucked me into its embrace beside the screaming, writhing inferno that was the Warlord.
Dal's strong hands grasped my wrist, my shoulder joint screaming in pain as my body weight jolted to a halt.
“Burn it, Sera!” Dal roared at me as he pulled me out.
I didn't think as I rose, as the wind rushed in my ears, as I let my physical being be someone else's problem for just a moment in my existence. I sucked in that pulsing leyline power like air, drank it into my skin and channeled it into the flaming phoenix feasting on the Warlord.
Purple lightning arced out of the corners of my vision as I screamed once more, giving everything I had, everything the leyline gave me. My world, I did it for my world. The power in my veins burned, tore at me, and the Warlord's body ignited in the leyline as a great rumbling in the earth caused rocks and dirt to lift off the ground, caught in a shockwave.
The explosion that resonated from the leyline knocked Dal and I against the far wall.
Blinding purple light forced my eyes shut as the explosion made my ears ring, as Dal's roar sounded somewhere far away, as sharp edges and blunt blows met my weightless body. Choking dust filled my throat, and the roar of something else entirely rumbled through the blackness of my existence.
The strong arms were around my middle again, and I chanced to open my eyes, but pops of blinding blackness were all I could see as wetness shoved me and Dal about. My weight moved against Dal's, his breathing strong and hard. Every piece of me was in agony.
“Swim!” Dal yelled from some
where far away, and so I did. I didn't know which way was up or where I was kicking to while Dal's strong grip on my arm nearly pulled me in two. My heart thundered and my ears rang as I kicked, as I sucked in great breaths of ash and dust. I didn't know if my feeble attempts were helping Dal or hindering, but still I kicked, still I struggled as I kept my head afloat over the water.
Dal's angry snarl sounded as blackness swam in my head, and I tried to force my limbs to work, to kick hard, to wake up and move, but the darkness was too heavy, my muscles no longer getting the message to kick, to paddle, to preserve life.
I'm sorry, Dal. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry for everything.
Blackness consumed me as the cold wetness smothered my face, and I no longer knew of time or water or fire.
Chapter 30
Warlord’s Slumber
Whispers pierced my blackness, and awareness flooded into me at the same time the burning pain did. I groaned, shifting to relieve the pain, but it lingered, firing up with every movement. The whispers stopped, and I chanced to open my eyes.
My vision was restored, and the top of a Kraw tent materialized out of the blackness I had known. I turned my head slowly, and Dal rolled into my sight, the hazel of his eyes intense, brow furrowed in worry. He was alive. I was alive. No joy was greater than that right now. I smiled at him, and he pressed my small hand in his.
“Did we...?” My voice was hoarse, pain greeting my throat.
Dal gave a single nod, the deep comfort of his voice rumbling over me. “The leyline is destroyed, and the Warlord is no more.”
I smiled, then tears began to cloud my vision as everything I had endured over the last year rammed the floodgates of my emotions, struggling to be free at last. It was all over, finally, over. Dal's large hand came down on my shoulder as I rolled onto my side with an aching sob. Everything hurt. Even breathing. But it was all over, at last. I regained control on careful breaths, clutching my seashell necklace tightly.
“She needs sleep,” Chatska's voice scratched my awareness. “She'll heal faster.”
“I know,” Dal said.
I sat up on a pained grunt, dashing away the wetness, when a horrific cramping sensation clenched my middle, followed by a hot gush.
I gasped and put my hand over my belly, turning wide eyes to Dal and Chatska.
Dal only took a steady breath, watching me without giving anything away. Chatska was turning toward me with that starlight potion in hand when her gaze touched my face. She lowered her hands slowly.
“The child?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Chatska's black eyes pooled with pity, but her back straightened and she handed Dal the vial. “Two drops,” Chatska said. “Don't forget to paste the foot.”
My heart was hammering. Why was no one saying anything? Why was Chatska acting as if I hadn't spoken? When she turned to me, I let horror etch every line on my face. Chatska put one hand on my shoulder, then left through the tent flap. No, it couldn’t be. I turned to Dal, opened my mouth, then closed it, afraid to put words to my question. Right now, I didn't know. That meant there was a chance.
Dal let off a long sigh, his voice strained. “He didn't make it, Sera.”
I put the back of my hand over my mouth as I choked out another sob. The world spun on its axis, sadness tore at my insides.
“No.”
Dal's eyes said everything and nothing.
“It's all my fault,” I ground out.
“No, Sera.”
“Why didn't I listen to you? I should have been more careful. I should have—" I couldn't breathe. I choked again, shaking my head as the tears stung my eyes, leaving hot trails down my cheeks and hand.
Dal stepped closer to hold me, and I shoved him away.
I whispered in a shaking voice, “It’s my fault he's gone, my stupidity.” I turned blurry eyes to Dal. “You should hate me,” I stumbled over the last word as air blocked up in my throat, and another sob escaped.
Dal let a large breath out of his nose and set the vial that Chatska had given him down. He reached to the table for that horrid yellow paste that I had grown so used to, and pulled the blankets back to reveal my feet and shins. I pressed my hands to my mouth as I stifled another cry at the sight of my purple, swollen left foot.
Dal scooped the foul paste onto his fingers – only four of them now – and began applying it, pain blossoming into my ankle and leg at being touched, but he was feather light in his ministrations.
“You do not get to feel sorry for yourself, Sera. You saved your world.”
“And you? The arrow in your side? Your finger?”
“Chatska has handled these things. I will adapt to my fate as a nine-fingered man in time.”
I sniffled as more hot tears streaked down my face. “How long have I been out?” My voice croaked, as broken as I was inside.
Dal didn't look at me as he worked. “One day.”
One day and they knew already that my child was gone. I had to turn my thoughts away from the agony of that loss. “The battle?”
Hazel eyes brushed mine for a moment before returning to their work. “The death of the leyline blasted through the bottom of the lake and out of the castle, reducing the back half to rubble. I am told that Kraw saw the plume of destruction from here. The humans, outmatched in numbers and strength, fled at the sight of their crumbling capital.
“Kraw have withdrawn and now prepare to depart.”
I palmed away my tears. “I'm sorry you had to carry me all that way.”
“This is not the first time I have delivered a broken Seraphine into Chatska's reluctant arms.” Dal gave me a small smile and continued his work, taking care not to be too rough on my injuries. It was a marvel that he did not hurt me, since his fingers were huge compared to Chatska's.
“Is it... broken?” I lifted my gaze to Dal's face as he drew his brows together and set his mouth in a firm line.
“I owe you an apology,” Dal murmured.
“No, you don't.”
“I do. Your foot is beyond repair. Even for Chatska's skill. She set it with considerable expertise, but still it will probably pain you. For the rest of your life.” Those lovely eyes met mine. “I am sorry, Seraphine, for what I have done to you.”
I took a shuddering sigh and palmed away the last of the wetness on my face. I considered a lame foot to be a fitting punishment for the death of my child. I deserved worse.
“You warned me, Dal. I was going to rush in there with barely any idea how to defend myself. You were only protecting me.” I whispered.
Dal shook his head, applying the paste up my ankle. “You could not have known of the Warlord's cunning. Even so, perhaps it was not the Warlord's actions that stilled the child's heart, perhaps it was the death of the leyline, or the burst of your gift. You have suffered much.”
Images of those final moments flashed through my mind. The tall and imposing Warlord, screaming as death took him, the blinding light as I ignited my power, the confusing tumble of memories involving blackness and hard edges slamming into my tender flesh, and then water.
Another memory struck through my mind, and it caused my heart to gallop faster as I watched Dal. “You told the Warlord that you loved me,” I whispered.
Dal's hands stilled, and he lifted thick black lashes to me. “I do,” he said, the deep rumble of his voice like a caress. “You've known since the capital's prison that I am in love with you, Sera.”
“I wanted to hear it,” I breathed, touched that he chose to use my wording for it.
Dal gave me a small smile, his broad hand reaching to touch my face. “Do you still wish to go with me, to that place where war cannot find us?”
“Yes.” It was the first time my voice had come out strong since waking.
“Then, Seraphine of Lambston, together we will go to that place. Already the Kraw are half gone, anxious to return home. We will not be missed.”
I placed my hand, small and pale, over Dal's. Our futures were free, wide open be
fore us. Our loss would forever be heavy in my heart, but the joy of our freedom from war, from brutality, and from the Warlord himself, would help to heal the loss in time.
Maybe the future stretched before us would outshine the quaint dreams of my youth. Maybe my sacrifices had forged both of us into something more than what we were before. Maybe I would no longer be a dragonfly, but a bird; a phoenix; rising from the ashes of my tragedies.
“Are you the Warlord now, Dal?” I asked.
Dal shook his head. “You are.”
I let a gust of air out of me as more cramping came. “I do not want it,” I said with a wince, wiping away another tear.
“Then cast it aside. They cannot make you lead if they cannot find you.”
I lay back, body aching everywhere, and let off a shaking sigh.
“You are in need of sleep,” Dal said.
“I only need you,” I whispered.
Dal set the paste down, then ensured that the tent flap was closed all the way, plunging us into darkness. My warrior crawled onto the creaking cot with me, and then he held me close into his warmth. Just like all the times before, his even breathing gave me comfort, and his steady beating heart gave me hope.
Yes, there was loss and pain during our journey here. Sacrifice and terror that caused wounds deep within both of us. But now my world was not dying, and the roads ahead of us were bright with promise and life. We would travel them together, wherever they took us, in this world or the next.
A deep sleep took both of us as the elixir of slumber winked on the table next to us, untouched.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aimee Moore has been writing for the last ten years. She thoroughly believes that a good cup of coffee gives one super powers, the family dog doesn't get paid enough, red wine and French fries are the ticket to parental sanity, and there is no better way to spend a rainy day than sitting by the fire with a good book and more coffee.