The Broken Bow

by C D Beaudin

  Let’s just say he needs his weapons.

  He cringes as the door creaks when he opens it. The light washes over him, and when his eyes adjust to it, he sees something…kind of beautiful.

  A village. Huts like this one honeycomb the dirt ground, grass surrounding the village. People walk everywhere, hauling sacks of food and grain, some pushing carts. The honking of a donkey sounds as one goes by. A man with tribal markings, a colorful cloth wrapped around his waist, and sandals on his feet, walks beside the donkey as it hauls a wooden wagon filled with food and crates.

  Children run down the streets, some jumping into piles of straw that match the thatched roofs of the huts. Others play games with sticks and stones. Near the houses women hang up clothes or kneel by fires, and smoke comes from inside some of the huts, wafting through the air from the top of the roofs—calming, refreshing, and serene.

  Aradon’s stomach growls as he smells meat cooking. But it’s a strange smell. It’s almost…sweet. He frowns as he walks a little way out of the hut, standing behind a large pile of straw just a few feet from the door, to get a closer look.

  The meat is tan, with a pinkish tint. It almost looks like—

  Oh no. He’s seen that too many times to count. Aradon races back into the hut, shutting the door behind him. He gasps as he catches his nervous breath. Eldowyn and Hagard are now awake and looking at him strangely.

  “What’s wrong?” the elf asks as Aradon gulps nervously, fear gripping his stomach. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I might as well have,” Aradon says shakily.

  The elf looks at the dwarf, and both raise an eyebrow.

  The words can barely leave Aradon’s lips. “We’re in Terandore.”

  “Terandore!” Hagard yells. His eyes are bugged out of his face and his chest heaves. “We’re goin’ ta die!” He starts to gasp for air, and Eldowyn helps him drop to the ground.

  “Deep breaths, Hagard. One. Two. Three. One. Tw—”

  “I know how ta breate, ya idjit!” the dwarf exclaims.

  Eldowyn backs off and leans against the wall, his arm resting on his knee.

  Aradon looks down at them. “We should be quiet if we don’t want to be their next meal,” Aradon whispers. “Eldowyn, you once said Kepp has a friend here?”

  The elf hesitates.

  “Well does he?”

  Eldowyn grimaces which clearly implies getting to this friend won’t be easy.

  “He’s not here, exactly.”

  Aradon raises an eyebrow, waiting, while Hagard wheezes.

  “He’s in Poy.”

  Aradon’s head falls back as he turns, feeling defeated and useless. Poy is not only the capital of Terandore and the home of the Emperor and High Priests of the Temple, it’s also two days away—at best—on foot. The plains between this village and the city have no cover, so they’d not only be walking out in the open in an unfamiliar land, they’d be walking through cannibal territory.

  Perfect.

  “Before we even think about this, what can this friend offer us, anyway?” Aradon asks, sitting down on the ground beside Eldowyn. “I’m not going to put our lives at risk for a chance.”

  “Kepp saved a son of one of the High Priests from a lion years ago. He owes him his life. He will definitely help the brother of his savior.”

  Aradon frowns. “Are you sure we won’t end up on a sacrifice slate instead? I’m not interested in a priest cutting out my heart and eating it.”

  Eldowyn pats him on the shoulder. “You’re a Besged. If anyone’s in danger, it’s them.”

  “Right,” Aradon says quietly. Sure, he can defeat small armies by himself, but the Trads of Terandore have gods on their side. Aradon used to think it was all a lie, but he came across a band of Trads when he was a young man, and he found that they had unnatural powers that only the greatest sorcerer could achieve. And the Trads don’t believe in magic. If their gods aren’t real, then they must be big liars.

  Either way, Aradon barely came out of the battle alive.

  They can’t make a decision and as the evening comes, the light from the door starts to fade. Aradon knows now this village is Naroe, and it’s quieter as families settle into their beds for the night. It’s not even dark out yet, but these people already have odd customs, he’s not surprised they go to bed before night fully falls.

  Hagard is dead asleep, but the elf and himself are wide awake and alert. They decided to let the dwarf sleep, knowing they would be less likely to draw attention to themselves if Hagard wasn’t talking.

  “Do you know anything else about the Trads?” Aradon whispers to Eldowyn.

  “Not much. Kepp only had a brief encounter with them, so he’s not exactly an expert. But I do know that every full moon they sacrifice one of their own children—that is if they don’t have a prisoner from another land. We’re the prisoners, now.” Eldowyn closes his eyes, frowning deeply. “I can’t imagine what kind of god would want a child sacrificed. And who would listen, let alone worship one that did? It’s sickening.” He huffs, crossing his arms. “Child killers.”

  Aradon looks down.

  He was a child killer. He doesn’t even remember all their small, terrified faces. Lily was the turning point for him, and at the beginning of this adventure with Awyn and Eldowyn, he’d met her again, the Queen of Hadore. It’s hard to imagine that killing her family caused her to become a wise queen, but he’s not taking credit. At all. He will always regret what he did to her. What he did to all those children. If only they were all as lucky as Lily.

  Or if only he’d reached rock bottom sooner. Or at least realized he had.

  He snarls, eyes narrow. “Let’s just go to sleep,” Aradon huffs, turning over, his back facing the elf. His eyelids are heavy, and after a few moments of listening to Hagard’s snores, he falls asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  The hot sun beats down on the cracked ground below, and the scorching haze blurs the flat horizon. The reddish-yellow ground burns as if a fire was blazing. And where there was once a black tower, now stands just a pile of metal and marble rubble. It almost seems as if there was never any lava to begin with.

  They lie on the ground, burned and slick with sweat and ash. Their faces are covered in gray and black powder, and their limp bodies caked with dirt and dust. If their lips are cracking, their skin is even more so.

  Ever since Kepp told Awyn and Adriel to jump, they haven’t moved. And since Kepp hoisted his friend Saine over his shoulder, they haven’t moved. Paralyzed. Asleep. Blood is mixed in with the ash and burns, the ground under them stained red. The two girls are painted crimson, the ash making them look like monsters. Kepp has a deep gash on his leg, making him feel faint and lightheaded, barely able to keep his eyes open. If he looks like the others, he’s probably pale under the black powder as he bleeds.

  Saine, though. He doesn’t have a drop of immortal blood in him. The chances of him waking up are quite slim. His arms are dislocated, and his left ankle looks badly swollen. But if he does wake, hopefully it’s sprained and not broken. Blood stains his forehead, with a large gash across it.

  He should be dead… Kepp shakes his head. This has to be the work of magic. Mother or… He shudders at the thought that this could be Revera’s. It means she wants them to live through this. What she has planned for them must be…

  There isn’t a word in any language he’s been taught.

  They are bodies. Lifeless in the desert. Vultures hover above, and bugs crawl over their skin and shredded clothes. They will be skeletons if they don’t wake up soon. They will be Dalorin—even elves can die of blood loss.

  He feels himself drifting, hearing a crow squawk overhead, it swoops down toward the four limp bodies. It hops from one body to another, pecking at their faces. When it gets to Kepp, it starts nipping at his skin, then crows in his ear. He twitches, and the bird flies away.

  His arm moves sharply, but ever so slightly, and his eyelids flutter. Slowly, feeling s
tarts coming back to his body. He feels the pain thud through him. The blood drips down his leg. A groan escapes his dry, bloodied mouth. Painfully, his eyes open wider.

  The view is blurry at first, a smash of colors, but then the picture starts to sharpen. The cracked ground. The blue sky. Flat horizon. Then something else comes into focus, reminding him.

  Saine’s limp, broken body lies several feet away. Kepp opens his mouth. “S—” He struggles with the word. “Saine.” His voice is raspy from his wheezing breath. “Saine.” His chest feels as if it could explode at any moment. He reaches out his arm, yelling out as a sharp pain fills him, shooting to his head. Tears stream down his dirtied face and he cries out as he gets to his knees. The pain is almost unbearable, but Kepp knows he has to bear it if Saine is to live.

  On all fours, he crawls painfully with every inch he takes. His jaw is tight, and his teeth are clenched, but he doesn’t stop himself from screaming, knowing he won’t make it to his friend if he holds back.

  Several feet from Saine, Kepp collapses on the ground. His face feels contorted in pain, his eyes nearly sewn shut. He cries out as he tries to get back up again. His teeth grind as he locks his jaw, and his face twitches, fighting the excruciating pain that runs through his body.

  He doesn’t have one broken bone from what he can tell and if he’s in this much pain, it will be unbearable for Saine. One. Two. Three. Four… Kepp heaves Saine onto his back, and the man cries out. A deep furrow dents his forehead and his eyes squeeze shut as he yells out.

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Kepp says as he sits Saine up against a piece of broken black marble. Thank you, Mother. Thank you for not letting us die.

  Saine’s breathing is ragged. “I-I can’t f-feel my-my arms.”

  Kepp’s brows knit together in confusion. He should feel his arms. Dislocation wouldn’t result in numbness. Kepp tries to ignore that fact.

  “Okay, it’s probably just temporary,” he says, wanting to reassure Saine and himself there’s nothing to worry about. He starts wrapping his own leg with a piece of cloth he found lying on the ground. But he stops tying the tourniquet when he sees Saine’s blank expression and turns his head to follow his gaze.

  The girls—their lifeless bodies must look awful to Saine, covered in ash and blood. Bits of marble and metal lie over and around them, one is stuck under a large piece of marble.

  Black hair. Kepp looks back at Saine. His eyes move to the next body. I can’t let him know Adriel is here, he’ll try to get to her. I need to pop his arms back in, then he’ll probably pass out, which will give me a chance to dig them out.

  Kepp takes a deep breath. “Okay, Saine. I’m going to put your shoulders back in place, okay? This is going to hurt a lot.”

  Saine manages a small smile.

  “Nothing can hurt more than that summer five years ago.” Saine’s voice is slight and weak, but Kepp smiles.

  “You fell down a cliff, and I tumbled right on top of you.”

  “I seem to remember your sword fell right on top of me. Into my chest.” Saine weakly swallows.

  “Right, right. Well, I had to pull it out of you, and deal with all your whining afterward, so I think we’re even.” He smirks.

  “Well, you’re a lousy doc.” Saine looks Kepp in the eye. “I don’t want to lose my arms, Kepp.”

  He reassuringly grips Saine’s shoulder.

  “Let’s focus on you living, huh? Now, you’re going to scream, then probably pass out. But I’m going to let you, okay?”

  Saine weakly nods, and Kepp takes a deep breath. “Okay. Here we go.”

  Saine lets out a harsh scream and slips into blessed unconsciousness, allowing Kepp to do the other arm too.

  Kepp hurries over to Adriel. She lies on top of a block of marble, with a few bits and pieces on top of her. He brushes the rock off her almost completely bare stomach and picks her up, her dark brown hair hanging.

  He takes her over a little way, not quite to Saine’s rock, and lays her on the ground. Her shredded dress barely covers her, revealing gashes and heavy bruising. Her face is completely unrecognizable—caked black and red, with ash and soot and her own blood. He looks back over to the monstrous pile of rubble. Time to get Awyn.

  He runs, the pain bad, but not as noticeable now that he has a distraction. Thank the Spirits he and his sisters are elves. They can withstand a lot before death, Dalorin or the final death inflicted on elves by a sword bathed in a Pool of Light. But Saine…being alive, can only be the result of magic. Whether it’s his mother’s, he can only hope.

  He skids on the ground and drops to his knees where Awyn’s top half pokes out under a large piece of black marble. “Awyn.” He breathes. Standing, he starts to heave off smaller slabs of marble, clearing them so he can lift the heavier one off her.

  “Kepp.” The voice is small, but Kepp hears it.

  He kneels down on the ground as Awyn struggles, shaking, under the heavy marble rock.

  “Kepp.”

  He grabs her trembling hand.

  “Hey, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.” Her hand is icier than normal. That’s not good. He takes a deep breath.

  “Okay, I’m going to get you out of there. Trust me.”

  Awyn weakly nods, whimpering in her shaky breathing.

  Kepp stands back up and places his hands under the edge of the slab. Okay, mother. This is the moment I ask for your help. Please let me have the strength of my kind. He heaves, and the slab moves. Reassured, he grunts as he lifts it higher and higher, the slab now off her. He pushes it hard, and the marble lands with a thud on the ground. Kepp rushes to get all the rubble off her and lifts her up gently, bringing her to where Adriel now sits, looking confused, her violet eyes dark.

  She crawls over to Awyn as Kepp lays her on the ground. “Awyn!” She scrambles, holding her face. “Awyn? Can you hear me?”

  There are streaks in the ash on her cheeks. Tear marks.

  “She was talking,” he says, trying to reassure her.

  Adriel looks at him, and in a split second he’s enveloped in his half-sister’s hug. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly.

  “Thank you,” she whispers in his ear, then pulls away. “You saved us. All of—” she stops. Turning her head, she doesn’t even hesitate to start running when she sees Saine, limply lying against a rock. She collapses onto the ground, but she manages to get back up. Dirt picks up under her feet as she runs faster and faster, falling to her knees when she reaches her long-lost love. Sobs rack her body as she holds him in her arms, cradling his head.

  Kepp picks up the sleeping Awyn and walks over to them, laying her down again, and sits next to her. He just watches Adriel sob, her arms protectively around Saine, not wanting to let him go, probably in fear she might lose him once again.

  She sniffs and with watery eyes, brushes her fingers through Saine’s matted hair. “Will Awyn be all right?” The question is only half-there as her attention seems to only be on Saine. Rightfully so. They’ve been apart so long.

  “I don’t know. But she should be fine. It doesn’t look like anything’s crushed.”

  Adriel shakes her head in astonishment.

  “Mother was looking after us today.” She looks down at Saine. “All of us.” She kisses the top of his forehead, just over the gash and looks back at Kepp. “You’re injured too, your leg, the bandage.”

  “Eh, I’m all right.” Kepp winces.

  Adriel seems to brush it off. “We fell from that height and didn’t die. I would hate to be a Dalorin.”

  Kepp chuckles. “Well, you’re much too pretty for that.” He moves over to her and tucks a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. It’s a small attempt to comfort them both, but it seems to work a little as a small smile twitches her lips.

  She sighs. “Will Saine be all right? What if he can’t walk? His leg is obviously badly injured.”

  “We’ll know when the time comes.” The two pause for a long moment.

  Adriel d
oesn’t hold any tears back, and Kepp wonders if she even has the strength to. “I lost all hope in seeing you, Saine or Eldowyn again. I know we’ve never been the closest of siblings…but I do love you two cabbage heads.” She chokes. “I wish I could have been there when Revera took over Radian. I could have done something.”

  Adriel wasn’t in the city when Revera took it. She was still in Eron with her father, Lord Aiocille, but then they never saw her again. They just assumed she was killed.

  Kepp touches her arm. “No. You would have been killed or worse, turned into a Dalorin.” His gaze drops. “And I’m glad you weren’t there to see me fall. I nearly killed our brother.”

  Adriel’s lips curl into a slight, painful smile. She seems to know what he’s talking about, and that’s when he remembers she can see things in her dreams, and in her wake.

  “But you didn’t, little brother. Eldowyn knows you were under a spell. You couldn’t help it.”

  “I could have, though. I didn’t have to let jealousy and rage consume me that night of Radian’s destruction.” He desperately wants to hide it, but there is no hiding his pain from his sister.

  “Well, you’re with us now. And Eldowyn is too. I saw him and two others in my dreams.”

  Kepp looks at her, feeling expectant and hopeful.

  “Two others?”

  “Yes. A man and a dwarf. They were on a mountain.”

  Kepp feels a spark of hope. “Then Aradon and Hagard are with him. They’re alive… We have to wake Awyn up now!” He starts shaking the limp girl on the ground.

  “Wake up, Awyn! Come on, wake up,” he yells, but Adriel places a hand on his wrist.

  “Kepp, stop. She has to ease into consciousness. You can’t just force her awake.”

  Kepp stops, rubbing his forehead, distraught, and he sighs sharply.

  “Awyn? Please wake up. You need to wake up now.” He feels the pain and regret. “What if I killed her by making her jump, Adriel? What if she turns into a Dalorin?”