by K R Leikvoll
After another half hour past what I felt I was capable of continuing, Kirin finally made us stop to rest. I sat down on the dead ground immediately. He spent a few minutes scanning the desert in every direction before cautiously following suit. I was unable to stop shivering silently as I focused on the ground. Kirin handed me one of his flasks.
"It will help warm you," he said softly. I struggled weakly with the lid until Kirin cracked it for me. The cold was cutting into my skin. Bottoms up, I thought numbly putting it to my mouth. My lack of food and water instantly caused me to feel intoxicated from the wine. He was right about it warming me up, just not in the way I needed. Even though I consciously didn't feel cold, goosebumps covered my arms. I was still shivering intensely. I wished we had a fire. Kirin probably would've been against a fire had there been material to burn, but I would've made him make one.
"Fine, come here," Kirin said, breaking the silence. He had his cloak fully draped around him and was welcoming me into his arms. Oh, fuck no, not this again.
"No, thanks. I'd rather freeze," I said back as I breathed into my hands. They were red and numb.
"Stupid, stupid girl.”
He reached over and grabbed me by the arm. With almost no effort, he yanked me into the shelter of his cloak.
Holy hell, it was warm. My desire not to be near him was overpowered by the desire not to get hypothermia. Turns out my body actually wouldn't rather freeze. I curled into a ball slightly away from him. Kirin sighed peacefully and nestled further in. Ugh, I wanted to hate it, but I couldn't.
"I guess you were right," I mumbled rolling my eyes.
"I'm always right," Kirin replied with a smile in his voice. Stupid bastard.
Before I could stop him, his arms slithered around me. I tried to get away, but per usual it was useless. Kirin pulled me in a death grip into his chest and held me there. I tried unpeeling his fingers, but he wouldn't budge. I could see a dumb, satisfied smirk on his face.
"I hate you, Kirin," I said loud enough for him to hear me.
"Do you want to freeze to death? You should take my generosity as the highest honor," he whispered above my ear. I glared at him irritated. Every single moment spent with his dumbass was playing through my head. Especially all the times he had called me "stupid girl." I wanted to spit fire in his face.
"Don't get any fucking ideas," I said, finally shutting my eyes. His arms grabbed me closer for a moment in a pseudo-hug. It was really awkward and unlike him.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. So, he was being a dick to make me angry. I tried a few more times to get out of his hold, but he didn't budge. He just chuckled.
Between the booze and the warmth, it didn't take too long for me to get drowsy. I could feel Kirin's heartbeat on my back and neck. Its strange rhythm and his even breathing were lulling me to sleep.
"Am I interrupting something?" a deep voice said above us. Kirin was on his feet so fast that I was dropped onto the hard ground with no warning. My first reaction was to bitch him out, but my Praetis experience kept me silent. I saw the shadows of Famine forming in Kirin's hands as I shakily climbed to my feet. I cautiously peered around Kirin's form.
"I wouldn't have recognized you had it not been for the foul stench of Lazarus' blood," Kirin growled with anger in his voice. The crescent blade was up against the throat of a demon.
It was a man. Err... half of a man. The only word that came to mind to describe him was a satyr. He had the furry, black legs of a goat, long claws, and two pairs of curled ram's horns. His eyes were bright red and he had an unkempt, dark beard. He didn't have any weapons or belongings. The demon just smiled at Kirin with sharp teeth, fearless of his scythe.
"This is the price of being a traitor," the satyr replied, gesturing to his goat legs. Kirin's blade didn't move.
"Demons come in all forms," Kirin hissed back. The satyr put his empty hands in the air.
"I did not come to fight you, Maundrell. I was sent by Zariya," he said calmly. Oh, Zariya! I had completely forgotten about the Forest Queen with how horrific everything had been with Lazarus. And if Zariya sent this guy, that meant she was alive!
"I don't believe you," Kirin replied, moving the blade slightly closer to him. The satyr nodded coyly.
"I would not expect you to under normal circumstances, but I do not lie. Zariya specifically told me to relay the message that the Valkyrie is on its way," the satyr said with a steady look. Kirin's blade moved slightly. "She even stayed to protect your people."
"How do I know you're not under Lazarus' sway?" Kirin asked with hesitance in his voice.
"I would not stand here, cursed as a lesser demon, if I was still serving her," the satyr replied. Kirin didn't move, which made the demon sigh. "If you must know, I defied Vince, and to Lazarus there is no greater crime. The worm was a more loyal pet than I, in her eyes," he said matter-of-factly. "She cursed me to the Ashlands years ago in this form after the siege of the Capitol."
"Then it should please you that he is dead," Kirin replied. Famine evaporated from his hands.
"The worm?" the satyr's face lit up.
"No," Kirin said quietly. The demon's eyes stared at him in disbelief.
"How?" he asked in shock.
"Lazarus."
The demon took a step back and shook his head. "She wouldn't—"
"She did. She was vocal about it as well. Declared herself Queen of the Infernal Army," Kirin tried to convince him. The satyr cleared his throat.
"Puzzling news, but I am pleased to know that bastard finally got what he deserved," he replied.
I could tell Kirin was trying to hide me behind him, low-key. I wasn't sure if he was being overprotective or what, but it made me uneasy. He really didn't seem to trust that guy, and—if he had ties to the psycho bitch—I didn't trust him either. Thinking about them again nearly gave me a panic attack. I was doing my absolute best to breathe evenly to slow my heartbeat. As if he could hear it pounding in my chest, Kirin discreetly grabbed my hand behind his back and held it. Had I not been reliving the stone prison, I would've pulled away, I told myself.
"Let me accompany you and the Divinus through the Ashlands. It was the request of the Forest Queen," the satyr said. "Speaking of which, do I have the pleasure of meeting the Light?"
I let go of Kirin's hand and slowly crept around his side. I gave the demon an awkward half-wave.
"Um... hi, nice to meet you," I said barely above a whisper.
He stared at me intensely, scanning every part of me. His eyes traveled back to Kirin and narrowed into a glare. "You did not," he said with a hint of anger in his voice. "This is sacrilege."
I looked up at Kirin in confusion. He folded his arms across his chest and was staring fixedly at the ground.
"She's the Nephilim.”
"Explain the nature of your bond, Maundrell."
"What are you both bitching about?" I asked, finally getting frustrated. They didn't need to talk about me like I wasn't there. They definitely didn't need to be bringing up shit that was over my head, either.
"I have done what is necessary for us to make it this far," Kirin said talking over me.
"I hope your allies feel the same way," the satyr replied, shrugging. He stretched out his legs before lowering himself to the ground. "I am pleased to meet you, Nephilim. My name is Varnoc Stonebreaker. Forgive me for the state of my home; Maundrell decided it would look better as a desert. I hope the weapon that he took from Sendrys is serving you well," he said, gesturing to the cracked wasteland. I expected Kirin to get mad, but he didn't. He just sat back down uneasily a few feet away from the satyr.
"I'm Valentine Ash," I replied, using my true last name for the first time. It was weird. Good weird. I swear the ring buzzed on my finger when I said it out loud. I turned back to Kirin and shot him an angry glare. We were going to have another talk later.
"I suggest we only rest a few hours. The fog is rolling in, and we need to start moving before it
gets too thick to see the stars," Varnoc said laying down on the cracked ground. He seemed to trust us a lot more than we trusted him.
I stood there uncomfortably between the pair. It was freezing. I really wanted to be back in his cloak, but it felt more awkward than it already was. Varnoc's red eyes were watching us curiously, waiting for us to go back to trying to sleep. He was silently judging us, and we both knew it.
Kirin's hand brushed my calf. He laid back down and politely opened a gap in his cloak for me to crawl in. I forced myself to turn away from the satyr's bloody gaze. I retreated to Kirin's blanket of warmth and closed my eyes. I just wanted everything to be over. All I wanted was to not get a cold.
"I won't let him hurt you," Kirin murmured in my hair. It sent chills up my spine. I scooched further away from him and nestled into the fur. After a few insufferable minutes of silence, I slipped into an unrestful sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
The journey through the Ashlands proved to be worse than the previous desert. My waterskin was almost drained, and I was getting dehydrated. All we had left to drink was liquor, which I avoided like poison. Varnoc was correct about the fog as well. When we awoke that day, the entire wasteland was covered in hazy maroon clouds. It turned the desert into a disorienting, dangerous environment. Our guide, despite my fear, led us onward.
The satyr and Kirin spoke so much that I couldn't get any words in. I just wandered on the cracked ground, staring straight ahead. They talked for a long time about their mutual hatred of Lydris. Apparently Varnoc did the Dark Sacrament under Lazarus before Lydris was in the picture. He talked about how the worm did his best to come between them and manipulate her. According to Varnoc, Lydris was the person that turned him in for defying Vince. There was an awful lot of hatred for that piece of shit going around.
I was surprised that we hadn't run into other demons. With how thick and blinding the fog was, it was the perfect setting for an ambush. I was too scared to walk in front or too far away, so I stayed directly behind Kirin. I was so jumpy, I had to cling to the back of his cloak like a baby elephant holding on to its mother. And with my luck, the fog didn't disperse in one day. It was consistent the entire trek through the desert. Varnoc had to carve an arrow on the ground in the direction we were supposed to be walking when we slept. If he hadn't, we probably would've wandered in circles.
Sleeping was shit as well. The awkwardness of having to huddle in Kirin's cloak didn't fade. It was just as bad every night, though Varnoc's presence seemed to be deterring him from touching me. Since I was being driven so ragged, each time I slept it was as though I didn't exist. No dreams, no conscious thought—only dead sleep. When I opened my eyes, I felt every time that I hadn't rested at all.
I really wanted to be alone with Kirin so I could discuss the "bond" bullshit. I'm not an idiot; I knew that it meant something pretty big. I also knew it had to be connected to the Dark Sacrament somehow too, but I was clueless beyond that. Obviously, we hadn't done any special rituals or anything I was aware of. It made me uneasy knowing that all Varnoc had to do was look at us to determine we had one. I was self-conscious. Kirin had mentioned forever ago that my eyes changed colors when I used demonic power but was keeping suspiciously quiet about it now. That was the only thing I could think of that would hint our blood swapping.
Our final night in the wasteland was when I collapsed. Kirin had been coaching me through the past week to help me ration my miniscule amount of water. I had my last sip the previous day when Varnoc promised that we were close to the end of the Ashlands. They were refusing to stop until we were safely out of the desert.
My legs buckled underneath me shortly after I achieved my runner's high. I reached out numbly to catch myself on Kirin, but I was too weak. My mouth was so dry I couldn't even speak. I could only watch the ground come at me closer and closer. Even if I had caught myself, I was too exhausted to hold my body weight.
Kirin and Varnoc walked ahead for nearly a minute before they realized I was behind. I couldn't call out to them; I laid on the cold dirt and closed my eyes. I felt multiple pairs of hands pulling me back to my feet. My legs still wouldn't support me and they had to catch me again.
"Val, we are so close. I'll let you drink as much water as you want. Hang in there," Kirin said gently.
They tried to release me, but I couldn't do it anymore. Kirin caught me in his arms and decided it was easier to carry me. I didn't want to impose, but I was glad they weren't going to make me walk anymore. I couldn't open my eyes. It was far too much effort.
"Stay awake," he murmured to me.
The steady rhythm of his steps inevitably lulled me to sleep. It wasn't a deep sleep; I was still aware of everything going on around us. Varnoc and Kirin spoke in quiet voices about the place where they wanted us to stop for rest. Rimestone Hold, Kirin said it was called. The thought of another hold like Kirin's made me hope that there would be a bed. Even if it was only one night, a bed. I was privileged back home.
I'm not sure how much time had passed between dozing off and reaching the edge of the desert.
"Damn it," I heard Kirin's voice say irritated. I opened my eyes as much as I could.
In front of us was a beautiful, holy stream of water. The river cut through the dry land, separating the Ashlands desert from what looked like the icy north. There was an abundance of plant life and mountains greeting us on the other side. The only thing stopping me from bolting to the river was the massive demon standing at the water's edge.
"Let me use the bow. I can cover you," Varnoc said to Kirin. The idea of lending out the bow was a big "fuck, no" to him. He shook his head.
"Demons cannot wield the bow," he said simply. They probably could, but I knew he didn't want anyone touching it.
Varnoc shook his head angrily. "You are going to fight it alone?"
Kirin started to set me down slowly. "I'm going to go kill that thing really fast," he whispered. "Then you can have some water."
I hesitantly used Varnoc's arm to steady myself.
The demon by the water was interesting. It reminded me of a Minotaur, only it had tiny bat wings. It was lumbering around with a massive two-handed axe oblivious to our presence.
"Kirin," I managed to say in a cracked voice. "Are you sure you don't need me to help you?"
The black essence of Famine formed in his open hands. He started walking toward the monster.
"Just rest for a moment, Val," he called back reassuringly. The Minotaur noticed him now. It let out an infuriated roar and stomped its heavy hooves.
A flash of the fight against the plaguebearer played in my mind. I was going over the horror of when he was impaled by the hook. It made me uneasy to watch him taking the monster on alone. Varnoc didn't like the idea either. He was studying our surroundings, trying to think of some way to be of use.
"Are you able to use that ring thing of yours?" he asked, eyeing me.
"I haven't been able to use it 'the right way' very reliably," I replied honestly.
"And the wrong way?"
The Minotaur began to charge directly at Kirin. Kirin didn't fear it at all; he simply kept walking calmly toward it. It used both of its muscular arms to swing its heavy axe straight at Kirin's head, but he ducked and dodged. Kirin tried to chop at the beast's legs, but the tiny bat wings somehow lifted the creature out of the way.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I whispered, focusing on Kirin's movements.
It'd be nice if the ring would cooperate for once, but I wasn't holding my breath. It was shitty the demonic power came to me so much easier. I hated the flames. It really wasn't a fair trade in my opinion. It definitely made sense to me why all of the demons were so violent and bloodthirsty. Even the pope would beg for blood to stop the fire.
Kirin was deflecting hits and dancing around the demon trying to target its limbs. It was almost funny watching them dodge every strike over and over, though it was probably just my dehydration. The beast clipped his shoulder eventually, b
ut at a grave cost. Kirin took the blow in exchange for the opportunity to bring Famine across the Minotaur's throat. I watched the shadows eagerly slash the monster's head off with a blast of black rain.
"Sloppy! Sendrys is rolling in her grave!" Varnoc called to Kirin. He was walking back toward us and wiping the black blood off his face. The shoulder that had been mangled by the bats was reopened with the slash mark from the Minotaur's axe. He didn't seem to notice.
"I also don't kill people by the hundreds to sate its thirst. You try wielding a piece of the Essentia and denying it what it wants," Kirin retorted with a glare. His gaze softened when he reached us. He pulled me from Varnoc's arm and picked me up.
I was not at all prepared for what I saw when I reached the water's edge. I looked like fucking hell. I was mortified by the state of my reflection. It looked so unlike myself that I was overcome with instant body dysmorphia. My hair wasn't its normal golden blonde, it had grown nearly white. It was a tangled mess that would probably take hours to brush out. It framed my face, which I had never seen so narrow and thin. Near starvation caused my cheek bones to protrude from my face. It was all nothing compared to my eyes though; I was right and it was worse than I thought. I stared at my reflection. Two bright, orange eyes stared back at me. To top it all off, my skin was stained with the dried blood of various sources from god-knows-how-long ago.
I touched my cheeks. The only thing I could do was turn to Kirin in disbelief.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. Somehow my body found the energy to expel a few tears.
"We will talk about it later. For now, wash yourself, but be fast. This water is cold enough to make you sick," he replied quietly. He handed me his leather bag.
I watched Kirin lead Varnoc to the other side of the water into the trees. I waited until they were fully out of sight before I looked at my reflection again. Goddamn it. Now that I was faced with the sweet drink of life, I wasn't thirsty. I numbly lowered myself to my knees and filled my hands.
