Strength

by W. J. May

  He’s going to make me shift back, she thought in horror, imagining herself lying naked there in the sand. I can’t keep up the transformation in this amount of pain—

  Another scream ripped through her as she lashed out with her claws. This attempt was already weaker than the last. It was only a matter of time before those screams became human.

  A single tear slipped down her face as she looked desperately for her friends.

  It was hard to see anything from the ground, even harder given the violent mayhem spilling over the beach. But she managed to get glimpses. Just glimpses—but things didn’t look good.

  In just a short amount of time, things had taken a turn for the worse.

  Freya was gone. There was no sign of her, save a torn swatch of fabric from the cloak she’d been wearing. On the other side of the battalion, Cosette was out of arrows and fighting with her bare hands. It was a brave attempt, but there was a giant gash on her forehead bleeding freely down the side of her face. As the princess watched she dropped to both knees, blinking in a daze.

  Seth appeared to be nursing a broken leg. It was hard to tell in his lupine form, but he was retreating more than attacking and gingerly favoring one side. Sensing weakness, more soldiers were already clamoring towards him—raising their weapons with savage cries.

  Which leaves just one.

  “EVIE!”

  The second she thought his name, the princess heard Ellanden’s voice in the crowd. He was fighting his way towards her, massacring anyone foolish enough to get in his way. But in the end, it was just a numbers game. In the end, the friends were simply overwhelmed.

  There was a metallic hiss as one of the Carpathians lashed out with a whip-like weapon the princess had never seen before, raking it down the fae’s back. A spray of blood flew into the air as Ellanden let out a tortured cry, then the horde closed in and he was completely hidden from view.

  The sound of quiet laughter made Evie lift her eyes.

  “See—this isn’t so bad. Not compared to what it could be.” The man holding her prisoner smiled, stroking the silver coin down the side of her face. “And I have to admit, I’m surprised you’ve been able to hold out so long. Most people would have already...there it is.”

  Like the release of a breath, the wolf vanished and a trembling, naked woman appeared in its place. A trail of blood followed the progress of the coin down her face, and waves of fiery crimson hair fanned out upon the sand. Her eyes tightened with pain as she stared up at the man kneeling over her, but no matter how fiercely she tried to resist she no longer had the strength to fight back.

  He nodded slowly, as if he sensed the end was near.

  “That’s it...just give in.” His knee pressed mercilessly upon her collapsed ribs, speeding the process along, then he pulled back with a grin. “Actually, I think we might play a little first—”

  A sharp collision threw him onto his back. The coin flew into the air.

  The princess blinked in a daze, still lying in the sand, when the silhouette of a man appeared in the sky above her, two glistening fangs shining in the moonlight.

  Asher.

  His body curved slightly as the Carpathian pushed to his feet, hovering over her like a guardian angel—one who may have spent some time on the dark side in his misbegotten youth. A quiet hiss escaped his lips, and suddenly the princess realized what was so strange about his posture.

  He wasn’t just protective. He was territorial.

  “You?”

  For a split second, the Carpathian simply stared.

  It must have been a strange sight—a shifter and a vampire. Historically, the two peoples didn’t get along. Historically, vampires didn’t get along with anybody.

  But Asher was in no mood for talking. A single thought occupied his mind.

  With a speed and savagery that left her truly breathless he threw himself upon the soldier, forgoing conventional weapons entirely and ripping the man apart with his bare hands. There were screams and snarls. Sudden splashes of blood painted the sand. For good measure, he picked up the silver coin—holding it aloft before pressing it straight through the man’s face.

  Needless to say, he died...badly.

  Asher stared down at him for a moment before turning to the naked girl in the sand.

  “Love?”

  She let out a kind of gasp, then rolled suddenly to her side—coughing violently as the bones in her chest finally started to repair. The vampire was beside her in a moment, whispering soft words of comfort and steadying her with gentle hands. A monster one moment, an angel the next.

  How does he do that? How does he switch between them so well?

  The second it was over, he lifted her gracefully to her feet. She leaned against him as he draped his cloak around her shoulders. He smelled of kerosene and pine. When they pulled apart his eyes were shining with concern, but the battle was still raging.

  “Will you be all right if I—”

  “Go,” she interrupted immediately, grasping the hilt of a sword.

  The next second he vanished—moving so quickly it was like he was never there.

  At this point, it was the only thing that might save them. Vampires were hard enough to track on the best of days. They were damn near impossible if you didn’t know they were coming.

  Asher swept across the beach like a vengeful tide, destroying anything and everything that crossed his path. Soldiers fell to the sand with shouts of astonishment. Weapons flew into the air as he tore through what remained of the battalion, dark vengeance shining in his eyes.

  One by one, he fought his way to the rest of them—dragging Freya from behind the sand dune, ridding Seth of the soldiers fighting against him, ripping apart those men attacking Cosette with such ferocity the princess almost had to hide her eyes.

  Just a few seconds, then only one person was left. Granted, he was also in the most trouble.

  Ellanden had been fighting with a skill and fury to match even the vampire’s, but he’d been doing it much longer and that legendary endurance was about to run out. Almost half the soldiers on the beach had swept towards him at the same time, overwhelming his efforts to fight back.

  It had finally proven enough.

  Just one mistake—that’s all it took. Just one moment of hesitation as that deadening fatigue sank into this arms. Then they leapt upon him like a plague, claiming death before its time.

  The first strike knocked him backwards. The second knocked the blade from his hand. The third would have taken his life but, ironically enough, it was his beloved bow that saved him. As a battle-axe swung from behind the curved wood absorbed the blow, shattering on the spot.

  He dropped to his knees, no longer able to see the others.

  True to form, he didn’t call for help. Warriors of the Fae were unspeakably proud, and he’d been raised in the heart of the ivory city. Instead he simply lifted his eyes, watching as the crowd parted and a solitary man came through.

  The same man whose arm he’d broken. A man still wielding the same brutish blade.

  There was no wind-up or sinister speech. Without ever breaking his stride he strode forward and plunged the knife straight into the fae’s chest, lodging it deep in the bone.

  Ellanden cried out in agony, lifting his hands to dislodge it. But the Carpathian wrapped his own hands around the handle, refusing to let go.

  “Clever boy,” he sneered, pushing the blade in farther. “But the thing is, you actually did me a favor. You see, with our commander gone, I’m the one in charge.”

  Like the rest of his friends, most of the damage the prince sustained had been blunted by adrenaline. Unlikely to fully manifest unless he survived to the next day.

  But this he felt.

  As the blade twisted in deeper he let out a soft cry, bowing his head in pain.

  His hands were trembling. His breath was coming in shallow pants. Yet when the man stepped closer to finish the job, he stared straight at him—completely fearless, even in the end.
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  Evie stumbled forward, eyes wide with fright. She was still clutching the sword, but she was too far away to do anything but watch as one of her two best friends silently met his death.

  NO!

  The blade tore from the fae’s chest in what looked like slow motion. The scream that followed echoed in the night. The Carpathian soldier raised it once more, preparing to end things once and for all. But as it sliced through the air—

  —a man appeared in between.

  It was hard to tell who looked more incensed, the Carpathian holding the blade or the vampire holding his wrist. Just based on what happened next, Evie would guess the vampire.

  Even all the way across the sand, she imagined she could feel the impact. The dull thud as the Carpathian’s head detached from his body and buried in the sand. She hadn’t even seen Asher do it. The rest of the soldiers were still reaching for their blades. The only one who didn’t look particularly fazed was Ellanden. He simply reached for the vampire, half-collapsing against his side.

  “What the hell took you so long?”

  Asher’s lips twitched, though he never took his eyes from the Carpathians. “You know us vampires, so easily distracted...”

  At this point, the remaining soldiers seemed to reconsider their options. They took a step back. Then another. Then they glanced around and realized they were the only ones left. The beach was a graveyard, a smoldering wasteland of sand and blood.

  The one in front opened his mouth to call for reinforcements. The settlement was close enough that, even cavorting inside the noisy taverns, other battalions might still be able to hear his call. It was a call that would have ended things. But it would never come to pass.

  As he pulled in a breath a final wave of fire swept over the length of the beach, incinerating every Carpathian soldier who stood in its path. Evie’s eyes glowed with the strange light, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come. Leaving nothing but the waning light of a silver moon.

  And a blood-soaked witch, kneeling shakily in the water.

  “And with that...I retire.”

  The friends laughed weakly as they slowly came back together, limping across the sand. Not all of them could manage. The second Ellanden tried to stand, he collapsed into the vampire’s arms.

  “Just take it easy,” Asher soothed, lifting him gently. “I’ve got you.”

  Instead of firing back with his usual sarcasm, the fae let out an exhausted sigh and closed his eyes—allowing himself to be half-carried across the sand. Not until they were halfway there did he pull back in sudden alarm, staring at the vampire’s blood-soaked shirt.

  “Asher, wait...” His hands lifted weakly to his chest, trying to stem the bleeding, but there was no point. It was all over both of them. “Are you—”

  “I’m fine,” Asher replied calmly. The two stared at each other for a long moment before he offered his arm once more. “I’m in control. I promise.”

  The rest of the friends were already waiting when the two men finally joined them, assessing their own injuries and trying to evaluate what supplies they had left. The salcor had been lost, but the woodland princess had already recovered it. Most of their weapons had been broken, but there were plenty scattered around the beach. No doubt there were even more waiting on the ship.

  Evie lifted her eyes in the darkness, staring out towards the sea.

  I can’t believe this is really happening...

  Somewhere beyond the black expanse of water, the Dunes were waiting. And somewhere within that wretched hellscape, a mythical stone was waiting as well.

  Months of travel. Unspeakable sacrifice. Countless miles crossed.

  The moment was finally upon them.

  “So that’s the ship, huh?” Freya asked, more to break the silence than anything else. Her clothes were torn and her arms were bleeding, but her voice was strangely calm.

  The others followed her gaze, peering up at the shadowy sails, then Seth cocked his head with a little grin. “Unless you’d like another. I’m sure there’s another battalion further up the beach.”

  Evie stared another moment at the water before turning back to the others. “Last chance to walk away. Once we step onto that ship...there’s no turning back.”

  For any of us.

  Her eyes lingered on three people in particular—the three who hadn’t originally set out with them on the quest. Rather than avoiding her gaze, they stared back intently.

  After a few seconds, Cosette stepped forward.

  “I’m coming.” Considering she’d lost several pints of blood, the young fae was surprisingly steady. She slipped a dagger into its sheath before nudging the witch. “Freya’s coming, too.”

  That’s four...

  “I get seasick,” Freya blurted. Her cheeks colored as the rest of them turned incredulously, then her eyes flickered to Ellanden. “But yeah, I’m coming, too.”

  That’s five...

  “Seth?”

  To Evie’s surprise, it was Ellanden who asked the question. Perhaps he’d seen the shifter fighting and decided he was a valuable asset. Perhaps he’d simply lost an obscene amount of blood.

  The shifter looked up slowly, glancing at the lovely princess by his side. Their eyes met ever so briefly before he gave her a little wink.

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  That’s six.

  It wasn’t what she’d envisioned, and it certainly wasn’t what she’d been counting on. But maybe, just maybe, it was what the fates had always had in mind.

  EVIE’S FIRST THOUGHT stepping aboard the ship was how strange it was that the Carpathians hadn’t given it a name. The first thing sailors in both her father’s and her mother’s navy did once completing a vessel was to christen it with a name. Yet the bow of this ship remained blank.

  Her next thought was how much bigger it was than it had looked from the shore. There was a reason these kinds of maritime voyages came equipped with a full crew. As she gazed up at the masts, she felt suddenly nervous the six friends wouldn’t be able to handle it alone.

  Fortunately for them, the crew of this particular ship was indeed getting drunk in the taverns as the fae had predicted. With a battalion of soldiers patrolling each of the docks and the ship itself at anchor, there wasn’t reason to leave a single man behind.

  At least, that’s what they thought upon coming aboard.

  “I don’t much care what they have in terms of provisions,” Freya whispered, hurrying after the others as they made their way to the deck. “As long as there’s some kind of bed—”

  “If there is a bed,” Asher interrupted, “Ellanden gets it. And I don’t want to hear a word of argument from anyone. He needs to rest.”

  He had been quietly fretting over the prince since their departure from the beach. Of all the injuries they’d sustained, a stab wound to the chest was by far the most serious. What worried him even more was that the notoriously stubborn fae wasn’t even refusing his attempts to help. Aside from a few half-hearted protests, he’d allowed himself to be carried along.

  “It’s fine,” Ellanden mumbled, trying hard to stay awake. His boots shuffled weakly against the slick wood. At times, they didn’t even touch the ground. “I’m fine, Ash. You can let go.”

  The vampire’s eyes tightened as he adjusted his grip.

  “If I let go, you’ll fall over,” he said softly, glancing for the umpteenth time at the fae’s blood-soaked clothes. “I really wish you’d let me take a look. It wouldn’t take much time—”

  The fae tried to laugh, but ended up coughing instead.

  “We did all this to steal a ship, remember?” He grimaced in pain as they made their way up the stairs, lifting a bracing hand to his chest. “It’d be a real shame if we forgot to do that last part.”

  “Yes, but...”

  Asher trailed off suddenly as they stepped onto the deck. At a first glance, the place looked deserted. Not until a closer look were they able to see—

  Holy crap!

 
; The friends stopped cold as a Carpathian sailor turned around.

  He was even bigger than the soldiers they’d fought on the beach. And there was something familiar about him. It took the princess a moment to place what it was.

  “Holy crap!”

  This time, she said it out loud—staring in open-mouthed amazement as she recognized the man they’d met in Tarnaq, the one who’d told them the gruesome tale about the fae archer he’d dragged away from battle and trapped in a cave. It was the stuff of which nightmares were made and, needless to say, it had earned a permanent place in her mind. As had the man who’d told it.

  He stared back in equal surprise, pushing slowly to his feet.

  “You?”

  It was phrased as a question. There was simply no explanation for what they might possibly be doing on the ship. He didn’t call for anyone. He appeared to be the only person on board.

  “Ellanden,” the vampire said sharply.

  The fae had pulled away from him, stepping forward to bridge the gap between the two groups. If the princess remembered the encounter in Tarnaq, there was no doubt that the prince remembered as well. His eyes dilated ever so slightly as he took a step closer.

  “From the bar,” he said quietly, reaffirming it to himself. “You were at the bar.”

  He went suddenly cold.

  “Telling stories...”

  The Carpathian straightened up slowly, one hand drifting to his blade.

  The odds may have been stacked against him, but he’d beaten worse odds before and these teenagers were already bleeding. There was no doubt in his mind that he could do it again.

  “You remember my story?” he asked with a smile. The fae was still beautiful, but he looked as though a strong wind might finish him. “You remember what happened in the end?”

  His fingers hovered just above the blade, another strapped and waiting on his back. But the prince made no effort to attack; he simply stood there, gazing back at him in the dim light.