The Broken Bow

by C D Beaudin

  “You don’t hold anyone’s life! You are nothing but a servant, who feeds on people’s fear, and who uses people’s hate to your own advantage.”

  “And how could you possibly know that?” His amusement is back, the knife loose in his grip.

  “Like you said, this is a dream. I can crack inside your head.”

  “No, that’s not how it works.” He walks toward her. “I’m inside your head. You’re not inside mine.” His head tilts and his eyes narrow as her back hits the wall. “You wonder who Revera truly is, don’t you?”

  Awyn goes to shake her head, but his hand hits the wall next to her, his palm flat against the marble.

  “If you do, then it is only fair you reconsider my position in this war. Who am I? Really?”

  “You’re a monster who doesn’t deserve to live.”

  “Aw, you hurt my heart.”

  “You don’t have a heart.”

  “Says you.”

  He kisses her, a touch she wasn’t expecting. It isn’t like the one she shared with Neodyn. This one is colder, poisonous. But she knows this is a real kiss, not just her imagination. Well, it’s real in her mind at least.

  If this is real. If they are living in their own minds, then…the consequences won’t be in the real world…right?

  It doesn’t matter. She draws her hand across his face, and he jolts back.

  He rubs his red cheek. “What was that?” He’s hardly offended, more amused.

  “You don’t go around kissing your enemies!”

  He smirks. And it’s not the evil grin he had a few minutes ago. Instead, it’s the charming, handsome smile that makes her want to kiss him against her own will.

  Her eyes widen at her own realization. What?

  “Awyn, enemies kissing enemies is part of every story. We’re avid readers, so we should both know about Ardon’s twisted history with dark lords and princesses and elves.”

  “How do you know I love to read?”

  “You really have no idea which questions to ask, do you?” He shakes his head in clear amusement. “You are an unusual one, aren’t you?”

  Awyn hates herself when she softly smiles at that, but she wipes it away quickly. “I prefer the term, unique.” He’s too charming, a snake set out to bite me.

  He tucks her hair behind her ear. “Well, you certainly are that. Your mind and beauty couldn’t compare to the women in the old songs.”

  “Well, I pride myself in both.” Don’t get taken by his charm.

  “As you should.” His hand rests on the wall behind her.

  Why do I want to kiss him? He just threatened to kill me. Awyn feels his dead energy, its allure and mystery. Timelessness and youth. Its wisdom and strength. And along with all the evil he’s done, she can feel the bolt of hope that struck her when he kissed her.

  Hope? The most attractive word. The thing she’s coveted for years. Hope.

  And maybe she doesn’t have to explain it. What she feels toward this horrible, terrible stranger. Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t know. Maybe it isn’t a feeling at all. All she does know is that she’s kissing him and he’s kissing her, and she doesn’t have the will to stop it.

  It’s a twisted thing. An evil thing. But she’s tired of fighting. Tired of people judging her. And judging other people. Giving herself a chance to live is the same as giving someone else the chance to redeem themselves. Maybe that’s what she feels for Aradon. But never mind him. Karak isn’t killing her. He should be. But he’s not. Maybe he’s thinking the same thing she is.

  For whatever reason, her mind let him into it. That wouldn’t happen if…well, she really doesn’t know. She’s trying to rationalize everything. Forget thinking. Forget everything. I’m done with fighting, done with trying. At least…at least right now.

  He pulls away, his icy stare looking into hers. “You think there’s more to this than there is?”

  Of course, he heard her, he’s in her mind.

  “You came here, didn’t you?”

  “I needed to find out what you knew about my master coming back. I can convince Revera of a few things, including opening your mind to me for…intimidation purposes.” He smirks. “You both are naïve. But trust me, Princess. Trying to rationalize our encounter to justify your guilt is a fruitless effort. Keep trying to convince yourself that, Princess.” He tilts his head. “Nice kiss. Let’s do it again sometime.” He turns from her, walking out the door.

  And she’s brought back to reality.

  Awyn wakes up. Why did she do that? Why? How could she have been so stupid? She just went through a whirlpool of emotions in the span of five minutes. She went from begging for her life to thinking kissing her enemy was actually all right.

  Sitting up, it takes her a moment to realize there are others in the room. Saine, and Kepp. And another figure. A woman. Adriel, she recognizes. She’s not in her room in the palace, but at the house she visited Kepp in.

  “How long have I been out?” Her question stirs them from sleep, and Adriel rushes to her side.

  “Awyn, how do you feel?”

  “Fine.”

  Adriel breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I thought Zyadar was blocking me out. But you were just dreaming?”

  Awyn wants to tell them what happened, but she can’t decide if she should. Karak must have been blocking her.

  “Uh, yes. It was about…cats.” She winces at the terrible lie.

  The others notice, but they don’t say anything.

  Adriel grasps her hand. “I’m just glad you’re all right. I nearly fainted when Saine stormed into the palace telling me you had collapsed.” She looks at him, and Awyn can hear her thoughts. “Not to mention the overwhelming relief that he was okay.” She smiles softly at him.

  He returns the gesture, but sadness is entwined with the happiness of the expression. He has to fight again.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Awyn asks.

  “Not long,” Kepp says. “Only a few hours. It’s not yet daybreak.”

  Awyn nods slowly. A few hours? It felt like a few minutes. For a moment, it’s quiet. She looks expectantly at the two men.

  “Oh.” Kepp stands, and Saine follows, awkwardly walking back out into the night.

  Adriel looks at her. “What?” she asks.

  “Sorry, this is more of a…sister, thing,” Awyn says, receiving a smile from her sister. “Okay, I wasn’t dreaming about cats.”

  Adriel chuckles. “Really?” she says, rather sarcastically.

  “I…was paralyzed…and…someone was there.”

  She lifts a brown eyebrow. “Who?”

  Awyn bites her lip awkwardly. “The…Last Lieutenant.”

  Her eyes flame. “What? Was this just your imagination, or was he actually there? His literal self?”

  Awyn hesitantly nods.

  “What did he want?”

  Awyn pauses. Surely, she can’t tell her everything.

  “Oh, you know, threw around some threats.” Awyn awkwardly plays with a loose piece of wool from the blanket.

  “Threats? I’ll kill him.” Adriel’s protectiveness is amusing but doesn’t distract Awyn from her night.

  “No, no. Don’t do anything rash. He sort of…well he...” Awyn isn’t sure how to say “kissed.”

  “Awyn, you must tell me,” Adriel urges her.

  Awyn takes a deep breath. “Okay, he told me that Aradon, Hagard, and Eldowyn are traveling here as we speak. But he also said he might send some troops up to stop them.”

  Adriel sighs sadly. “Eldowyn. It’s usually Kepp getting himself into trouble. My little brothers are so stupid!”

  “You can hardly blame him,” Awyn says, surprised at Adriel’s hostility.

  “Oh, no, sweetie. I don’t blame him. But when they make me worry, I like to blame them for the unpleasant emotion.”

  Awyn nods, understanding…sort of.

  Adriel sighs once again. She puts her hand on hers. “Did he say—do—anything else?”

/>   Awyn thinks back on the kiss. The fact that a twisted part of her liked it shakes her to her very core.

  “Uh, no. But he did say I was poisoned. My guess is by Revera when she visited me last night.” Poison. No. A spell to make me vulnerable to that snake.

  Adriel’s eyes widen. “She visited you? In your room?”

  Awyn silently nods.

  “Okay, I am sleeping in your room until Revera either dies or you are married. Poison. Now her attempts at killing you are just pitiful.” She takes her hand. “She isn’t going to visit you again, all right?”

  Awyn nods again.

  Adriel exhales. “Good.”

  They hug each other tightly, but Awyn can’t help thinking about Adriel’s thoughts on Revera. She isn’t attempting to kill me. She’s attempting to destroy me.

  Outside the house, Saine and Kepp sit by the fire, cleaning and sharpening their swords. In the distance the sky lightens, chasing away some of the stars. A slight orange glow lights up the black sky.

  “So, will I be joining the fight?” Awyn says as she and Adriel approach them.

  The three of them look at her in fear that she might actually be considering it.

  Awyn looks like she stifles a laugh. “Oh, I couldn’t if I tried. You’d sooner drug me than let me go into battle.”

  Kepp notices the others don’t look any more convinced than he feels.

  Awyn rolls her eyes, sitting down on the ground next to him. Adriel does the same on the other side of the shrinking fire beside Saine, leaning her head on his shoulder.

  “I’m afraid to ask, but has my uncle or cousin died yet?” Awyn inquires.

  Kepp exchanges a dark glance with Saine.

  “I don’t know,” Kepp says breathlessly. “We haven’t seen them in a while.”

  Seeming satisfied with the answer, Awyn rests her head on his shoulder. He smiles softly. He likes having a little sister. In these days it’s good to have as much family as possible. Lose one, you have extras. Perhaps it’s a gruesome thought, but it’s true. His smile leaves him. No matter how many sisters he may have, no matter how great a friendship he has with Saine…he’ll never be the same if Eldowyn dies.

  He may already have.

  “You two should be leaving soon,” Saine says after a moment of silence.

  Awyn sighs and stands.

  Adriel leans in and kisses Saine goodbye. “The next time I kiss you, that heart better still be beating.” She kisses him once more before she stands, and a soldier leads the two of them into the palace.

  “Should we have told her?” Saine asks, when they’re completely out of earshot.

  Kepp looks from them to him. “No. If we can give her a few peaceful nights, then it was the right call,” Kepp says, pain in his voice. He knows everyone will be mourning someone when this battle is done.

  If there is anyone left to mourn.

  The Plains of Iandore are flat, but roam like the sky. A few hills dot here and there but are almost unnoticeable as the Everbreeds gallop effortlessly on the snow. Their graceful bodies move heavenly even with the saddles, bags, and men on their backs.

  The wind whips through Aradon’s cloak as he gallops. They were lucky enough that Kera gave them different clothes to wear, not those jungle animal wraps and Eldowyn’s chiton. They cleaned the paint off, and now they feel somewhat normal again.

  The forest of Cannan is in view. He knows it’s impossible, but the world seems a whole lot smaller when war has been brewed.

  Since arriving at the Kawa again, Aradon hasn’t had the courage nor the want to grieve for the dead princess. The bartender in Olway said there were two female elves. But that could have been a lie, it’s only a rumor. Maybe part of him believes she’s alive, or at least wants to believe it, but he knows there is no way she survived the crumbling metal and marble tower.

  Not even an elf could survive that.

  But more than her being dead, if she was killed like that, she must be roaming the countryside as a Dalorin, devouring the souls of mortals. That’s what he’s really sad about. The fact that she’s no longer Awyn.

  She might simply be…a monster.

  It sends chills up his spine.

  There’s something wrong about the attachment he has to her. He met her when she had just escaped her uncle and captivity. He doesn’t even know her that well. The parts he doesn’t know seem to be unimportant, and yet they are probably the things that matter the most. What was her favorite song her father played for her at bedtime? Did he even? It’s the little things that make a person lovable, that make them human.

  He only knows the shell.

  “Aradon, we should rest the horses, have lunch,” Eldowyn says, riding up beside him.

  They dismount and sit on the ground, the horses grazing nearby—though, in this winter, there’s nothing for them to graze. Their food isn’t plentiful, the Kawa weren’t willing to give as much as last time. Packs of dried, salted meat make up most of their food for the week. Along with some berries, bread, and a few water skins.

  “When do ya tink we’ll arrive at Rohea?” Hagard asks, chewing on a piece of meat.

  “Don’t know,” Aradon says in between bites. “Probably another day. We should try to arrive at Cannan by nightfall.”

  The dwarf nods.

  Above them birds peal. The pale blue sky is washed and faded, clouds streaking across in flat lines, not their usual dancing shapes. Only the fresh air stands between the endless sky and the once green plains.

  The sun shines behind a thin, white cloud, stretching across the sky like dough under a rolling pin. Behind the fluff, the sun is only a bright circle, the edges whiter and brighter than the faded middle. When the cloud moves on, the sun’s usual starbursts shine down, lighting up the snow from the cloud’s shadow.

  Too bad it doesn’t lighten the shadow over Aradon’s heart.

  But he’s not even sure he has one anymore.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ethiah runs stealthily through the woods. She jumps over logs, bends around trees, all without making a sound. The herbs she carries are essential for her mentor’s healing, and she must get them to her, whole and unscathed, or they won’t work.

  When she gets to the hollow, she ducks inside the tree. She rushes down the stairs her mentor constructed with her light magic and finds herself underground in what has been her home for the past ten years.

  “I’m here. I have the herbs,” she says, quickly preparing the kettle to boil. Putting the herbs in a cup, Ethiah hurries to pour the water, and sits on her chair beside the bed where her mentor lies.

  “Here.” She helps the woman sit up, propping a pillow behind her back, and hands her the tea. “Drink it all.”

  “Thank you.” The woman takes a sip. “You are doing a very good job, my little elf.”

  Ethiah nods, blushing and flattered. “I only know what you teach me, and I am very grateful for the past ten years, under your guidance. The Spirits only know what would have become of me if you hadn’t saved me.” Ethiah smiles. “I wouldn’t think of not caring for you, not even for a minute. You’re like a mother to me.”

  The woman smiles. “I have many children, none of whom I dare visit at risk of their lives.” She reaches out for Ethiah, tucking a loose strand of her soft hair behind her ear. “But you are as a daughter to me as I am a mother to you.”

  Her mentor pushes back her long, wavy white hair as she takes another sip of the green tea. Her fair hands are frail, and her body thin. And yet she hasn’t aged a day. The cup in her hand, she rests her head back. “Do you want to hear a story?”

  Ethiah’s heart lights up. “Oh, yes, please.” She picks up a pillow from her bedroll on the ground, and places it behind her mentor’s back, propping her up more.

  “All right, then.” The woman takes another sip. “It all started eighteen years ago…

  The trumpets flared as Daron walked onto the dais, his red, fur-lined cape flowing behind him. The trumpets died down and
he sat on the throne, waiting for the court dealings of the day to begin. Beside him, Adara sat, her gold dress flowing over her feet, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder. A crown was on her head, encrusted with sapphires, as was most of the jewelry she wore today. Beside Daron, Lord Tamon stood, waiting to give his counsel whenever needed. The hall doors opened, and the day began.

  One by one, villagers and farmers and nobles alike would present their concerns to the king. One man—a warlord—walked inside the hall in a particular flurry.

  “You! King! You said you would give me five dozen gold pieces if I rid you of that feuding lord. Well, pay up!” he commanded. His lie was written clearly across his face.

  “You liar. I would never offer such a thing. Guards, take this thief away,” Daron demanded.

  Guards rushed to the man, and the shock and anger on the warlord’s face grew ten times fierier.

  “Hey! No! Get off me.” He struggled under the guards’ strength but managed to break free and dashed for the open doors. In a bang they slammed shut. He ran right into them, knocking himself out.

  The room of people stared at the woman who had made the doors close. Dressed in all white, she lowered her hand. Her white hair tumbled over her shoulder, and her fair skin sparkled in the morning light.

  “You did that?” Daron asked, now on his feet.

  She looked at him. “Yes, My Lord.” Her voice was strong, powerful, but floated on the air.

  “Who are you, exactly?” Daron inquired.

  The woman smiled. “I am a representative from Radian, My King. My sister is with me as well.” She gestured to the woman next to her, the equally as fair woman’s black hair was done in an intricate braid. “We are here for the interests of our people. Our father sent us.”

  Mutters rose from the room. Their father was the Elven Majesty, King of Radian.

  “So you must be Raea. And your sister...” Daron was stuck on the name.

  “Revera,” the sister said. Her voice was raspier, harder, than her sister’s, with a mysterious air to it.

  Daron, satisfied, sat back on his throne.