Dreyshore stomped the floor. The wood creaked underneath his foot. Then he tapped the floor with his boot. The jingling metal armor got louder as he stepped towards Eva. His boot pounded the floor over her, releasing a hallow thud.
Eva slid back farther into the darkness, keeping silent, wanting to cry, but the fear of death did not allow it.
Dreyshore tapped his boot away from the hatch, and then he tapped his boot against the hatch. He kneeled over and tapped on the hatch with his knuckles, and then he tapped away from the hatch. The sound was different, and Eva knew it.
Why had she hidden in the cellar? She knew they would find her. What was she thinking? She should have left weeks ago and never returned.
A gloved hand glided over the floor, rustling over dust and over the hatch, eerily looking for the opening. Eva could see his shadow shifting through the finger hole, and she watched that hole without taking her eyes away. Dreyshore felt around for a moment more, and then darkness covered the hole as Dreyshore’s finger slipped inside.
Eva nearly gasped aloud, cowering back. This was the moment that she had feared for years, the times that she had mentioned to Edward about how they would come for her, the fear of seventeen years of running and hiding. Now she faced it, first with the darkness from the finger that would soon expose the face of her killer.
The hatch swung open, and the cellar gulped in the firelight and the moonlight. The Dark Queen coughed up another demand. “Dreyshore, come here, now! We need to move on from here.”
For a moment, Eva hoped, and that moment was as refreshing as the summer breeze. “I’ll be there shortly, milady.” Looking back towards the door and not seeing Eva, Dreyshore's voice split, with part of the sound running outdoors, and the other half, melting down into the cellar like butter over a flame. Then he turned.
His helmet was like a charcoal slat of metal hair that draped down just above his shoulders and protruded to a point over his forehead, casting shadows over his eyes. A night colored breastplate sat firmly against his torso with horizontal iron lines converging on the emblem of a sparkling falcon, turned to the right with its wings spread and its beak open, cawing into the darkness of his armor.
Beneath the canopy of his helmet, his eyes caught hers, tackling her to the ground with his stare. “Lord Sekah!” His rusted voice sprayed out, getting caught in the cellar. “We’ve found a hider!”
“Bring them to me!” the Dark Queen commanded.
The slender bodied man, whose armor made him appear more powerful, descended into the cellar, dragging his feet down the rickety stairs. Eva balled up against the cellar floor, pressing her shoulder into the dirt wall beneath the ground. “Please! Don’t!” Her shriek sliced out of her, though not frightening the man.
He grabbed her coat, the sharp metal gloves scratching into her chest, tightening her dress about her torso as he clenched the fabric in his hand. “Let’s go!” He jerked her out of the depths, nearly carrying her as her legs would not follow the orders of her mind.
Reaching the kitchen floor, she cut her eyes back into the torch-lit darkness, and her eyes caught a glimpse of her mother’s blood near the fireplace. Horror huddled inside her, ready to burst into a raging flame. She jerked back away from Dreyshore, shoving her foot against his hip. He stumbled towards the door, and she looked around. On the table, lay the knife. She snatched it up, holding it toward him, shaking.
Dreyshore stood, chest out. From his hip, he unsheathed a falchion almost as long as her leg, the fire of the torch shining off the blade. Eva staggered backwards, dropping the knife to floor, not watching it tumble down into the cellar, but hearing the metal carelessly clanging against each step before it thudded in the dirt.
Laughing a deep rusted laugh, the falcon on his chest shimmering in the light of the fire, he put away his blade and reached for Eva. She pulled away. Dreyshore reared back and slammed his fist in her face on the side of her nose. She dropped to the ground, sobbing. “Why!” she screamed, letting her quivering fingers touch the blood that dripped from her nostrils.
Dreyshore snatched her arm, pulling her outside where the townspeople screeched in pain and horror. Cabins smoldered, and the mill had been capsized, burned and toppled over by hordes of Raiders.
Eva stumbled behind him, dusty cream-colored dress tripping her up as he roughly guided her to the intersection where Tyel had been slain. In the center of the cross-section lay the stubby miller, dead, blood still leaking onto the road.
Standing as firm as a pillar at the center of the intersection, Eva came face to face with the Dark Queen. She couldn’t look away. Even though the Raiders hacked down the villagers whom she had come to know, she couldn’t look away, eyes stuck on a woman whom the legends had warned her about, the woman whose armor resembled Dreyshore’s, except she wore a gilded falcon on her breastplate.
Exposing her gold hilted falchion, she raised the well-used blade, blood drying on the edge, high in the sky. “Make her kneel before me,” the Dark Queen commanded.
“Please…don’t…” Saliva wasted from Eva’s lips, mixing with the tears and dropping into the miller’s blood beneath her dress. Her hair spilled over the sides of her shoulders. “Please….” She begged, not expecting the Dark Queen to show her mercy. But she needed to believe that there was something she could do to implore the lady’s compassion. She was wrong.
Dreyshore pushed Eva’s hair away, exposing the back of her neck, torchlight and moonlight shining. The Dark Queen gasped, and Dreyshore’s grasp felt weaker underneath Eva’s arm.
“The Girl with Scar!” the Dark Queen marveled, her voice gurgling inside her helmet’s midnight-coated mouth guard. The Dark Queen stripped off her helmet and lowered her sword to the ground, her sweaty, dark hair matting to the sides of her face in slithers like the tongues of snakes.
Cooling mist fumed from her skull, capturing the moon’s rays. Eva felt crushed beneath the Dark Queen’s evil beauty, with her youthful features, only fitting for a queen. The tip of her nose gently pointed down at Eva.
“Please don’t kill me,” Eva cried, covering her face with her hands. Eva paid no attention to the winter winds, hoping that she could survive. The king couldn’t have wanted her dead, not after searching for her all these years. She looked into the Dark Queen’s emerald eyes, quietly pleading for her life.
Then the queen spoke, her words direct and strong. “With you alive, the raids will cease.” Her unmuffled voice was sweet and light, but poisonous like an unfelt bite of a copperhead. “We cannot allow that, can we?” The queen halted, and Eva felt unbalanced and sick, waiting for the verdict. The queen gazed down at Eva, mist steaming from her warm breath. “Kill her. Burn the body.”
“No! Please!” Eva jumped to her feet, grabbing onto the queen’s breastplate. The queen pounded her fist into Eva’s jaw, spilling more blood from Eva’s nose and mouth.
Falling to the ground, Eva’s eyes rolled back into her head, briefly, but her consciousness resumed, her auburn hair spiraling around her as she twisted to the ground, face towards the hells. Vibrations trembled in her joints and in her bones, and something not her, gargled in her throat.
A trickle of crimson blood dripped to the ground, catching moonlight and the light from the fires within in itself as it plummeted, separating into tinier specks as it dropped. With a splatter, it splashed into a puddle of the miller’s blood, and the puddle stood still.
Eva landed on the miller’s corpse, toppling over the dripped blood and landing beside the palm-sized, scarlet pool. She felt that she needed to puke. From her lips, a light as bright as the morning sun shining into an open window, shot out, coiled around, and dispensed into the puddle, disappearing.
The Dark Queen stammered back, reseating her helmet on her head and drawing back her falchion. The light from the episode faded, and a deep growl drifted in with the wind. The night became silent except for the screams of the village people who had been sliced and wounded.
Dreyshore covered t
he hilt of his sheathed blade, speaking softly. “Has death come for us?”
Almost in an answer, the streak of light that buried itself in the blood puddle bolted into the clouds, separating them. The golden light spilled into the sky, and heat from the light stream warmed the area nearby.
Eva scrambled back on her elbows, leather coat scratching against the stones. The deep rumble climbed the light stream, quieting as it got farther away. Then the light vanished, leaving behind golden swirls that faded.
The Dark Queen panted, mist escaping the vents in her facemask. She trudged towards Eva. “What did you do,” she growled, falchion raised skyward.
“Help! Somebody, please!” Eva shrieked, voice raking the back of her throat.
From the clouds, a massive falling star ripped through the sky, emitting a high-pitched, ear-scraping whistle, pounding into the ground at the center of the intersection. Clods of dirt flipped in the sky on impact, leaving a dusty cloud of fire, smoke, and fumes that vaporized, revealing a beast from the heavens.
Eva squinted, one eye more shut than the other, and her jaw nearly touching her chest, trembling at the monster that was twice her height even though it hunched over slightly with arms that reached to its ankles so that if it opened its fist, its claws as sharp as threading needles, would scrape the ground.
Spikes sprouted from its back, and finger-sized fangs hooked from its jaw, two from the top and two from the bottom. Its pointy ears aimed to the heavens, listening as it breathed in heavy growled pants from its elongated snout.
The Beast scowled, stepping forward, claw-tipped paws digging into the dirt, clenched. With its arms to its side, it howled an ear-ripping shriek as it belted its head forward.
The Dark Queen jumped back, revealed her blade, swirled it with her wrist, and aimed the tip forward at the Beast. The Beast charged at her, reaching back to swing. Three arrows pierced into its side.
Screaming, the creature chased down the archers who were stationed to the east in the direction of the Vice, galloping on all fours, propelled forward more by its arms than its powerful legs. The archers wore the same hair-shaped helm, but their lighter armor was made of a threaded black fabric with two leather straps crossing over their chests, hoisted over their silver falcons.
The Beast sprang in the air. Another arrow ripped through its chest. The Beast hollered, writhing on the ground, blood leaking from the wound.
It flipped backwards, landing on its claws. Another arrow sliced towards it. The Beast fell prone, and in a springing bound, it leapt towards the rightmost archer, slicing into him. Then it hopped off the mauled archer, spread its arms wide, and wrestled the second archer to the ground, slaying him.
Eva didn’t see what happened to the last archer, but the baleful screams of agony let her know that he did not survive the barrage. Finding the strength deep below her knees, she picked herself up, arms wide for balance, whipping her head to and fro, looking for an escape.
“Don’t let her get away!” the queen commanded.
Two more archers screamed out as the Beast mangled them to pieces.
I’ve got to get out of here, Eva thought.
Eva scurried away, heading east off the road through the trees, feet kicking the hem of her dress. As Dreyshore chased her, his war cry blasted from his jaws. Eva’s boots stabbed into the ground, bursting her forward, but she could feel Dreyshore gaining on her.
She glanced back, catching the shine of his onyx helm. Cold gloved-covered fingers touched the nape of her neck and clutched her collar, jerking her backwards. She lost her footing. One leg swung across the other from the sudden halt, and her head snapped back. She smashed on the ground, rocks cutting into her knees, leaving blood spots on her dress.
The dress tightened around her throat as Dreyshore spun her collar in his hand. Her eyes looked up into the cold expression of his mask, begging for her life, pupils dilated.
Dreyshore grabbed the dirk from his belt and turned the dagger towards her.
Panting and out of breath, she begged, “Please…don’t…hurt me.”
Dreyshore answered, his rusty voice rattling in his throat. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to kill—”
Dreyshore’s body bent sideways, curled like a horseshoe, as a hairy, muscled shoulder thudded into his hip, sending him spiraling across the grass and tumbling down the hill.
Eva glanced up, not breathing, catching the menacing violet of the Beast’s eyes that stared into hers. Eva scrambled backwards, covering her face with her forearm. The Beast growled, claws out to its side. Before Eva could cry out, the Beast snatched her up, and tucked her under his arm around her waist, speeding off towards the Vice faster than any horse she’d ever ridden.
Arrows jabbed into the ground as the Beast hopped from side to side, dodging, ripping through the Raiders who blocked the pathway with its hairy forearms that pricked into Eva’s side as the Beast carried her off.
CHAPTER 8
THE CONNECT
The Beast strode through the woods past the King’s Extension and on through the location of the Connect, which was empty at this time of night. Exhausted, Eva ceased beating the Beast with her fists, as it carried her way beyond the planes, panting but never tiring.
Entering another stretch of woods, the Beast stopped at an isolated plot of ground with its arms out to its side as he scanned the area. Without warning, the creature dropped Eva to the ground. She landed on her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.
Heavy growls seeped between its fangs, and Eva sprang to her feet, darting away, cutting through the trees. The Beast chased her, tearing through low-flying branches, wrapped its hands around her hips, and carried her back to the plot of ground, slamming her down.
A hard stone rammed into Eva’s elbow, and she screamed out as the pain pulsed up her arm. Jumping to her feet, she tried to sprint away, but the Beast grabbed her before she could take a step. Then it released her.
Giving up, Eva sat down leaning against a tree whose trunk was rough and flaky. There was no path through these woods, and the moonlight scarcely spilled in. Dead leaves still remained on the ground, and the cold was inescapable.
The Beast watched her, waiting for her to flee, but realizing that she had quit trying, the creature dropped forward, landing on all fours, watching.
The encounter with the Dark Queen had numbed the loss of her mother, but now the feeling was slowly beginning to return. Eva had cowardly remained in the cellar as she listened to her mother get killed. Her own weakness disgusted her, and tears peeked through her closed eyelids.
Maria was gone. The woman whom Eva had loved and adored and admired would no longer be able to make her witty remarks. She would never tell Eva how much she cared about her. The pain cut into her, and now that the emotions had returned, she hated the Dark Queen even more for hesitating. Why didn’t the queen just kill her immediately, and this could have all been over?
She had forgotten about the Beast, but when she opened her eyes, he was watching her in the darkness, violet eyes piercing into hers. Where had he come from, and who sent him? She had only heard of magic, but this magic had saved her life, and for some reason, this spawn of the magic seemed to be watching over her or holding her as a hostage.
Pushing her leg out in front of her, she rustled a few leaves and the Beast twitched, ready to stop her from escaping.
The icy breeze wafted in, bringing with it the bright rays of the morning sun that spilled into woods. Golden dust particles drifted in the wind, sparkling. The Beast was disappearing. As the sun continued to rise, more dust specks wafted into the barren tree branches, dissolving the Beast until the creature had completely vanished.
A few flecks passed by Eva’s check, and she reached up to grab them, but there was nothing there, the flecks of dust glistening like speckles of light.
Alone and cold, she sat in the dead leaves. Her thoughts blended together, jumping from the cellar, to the kitchen, to the queen, to the Beast, and then land
ing solidly on her mother.
Her mind deceived her, tricking her to believe that she could just head west through the Vice, and the Green Planes would all be the same. The mill would still be churning, and the Lovelaces would be on their porch, sharpening their hunting knives. For a moment, she even believed that she could pull open the heavy wooden door and see her mother preparing dinner in a pot over the fire, and they would sit anxiously waiting for Edward to come home.
They would sit at the table together, as a family, eating Barachi, swallowing down fat pieces of duck meat, and guzzling down the finest wines. She didn’t need all that, though. Just sitting at the table, complaining about peas with her brother while her mother cheerily scolded them would have sufficed, but this reverie flitted away from her.
The sickness returned spinning her stomach and wringing it out like a wet cloth. She had to move, she couldn’t stay there, but where could she go? The west was too dangerous with the Raiders still rampant, so she picked herself up and headed away.
She made off to the east, not sure how to navigate, but keeping the sun at her back as long as it was before noon. Cutting through the scarcely traveled woods that were filled with high, dead briars and stacks of leaves, Eva pushed towards the river, not knowing how far away she was.
After two days of hiking through the cold forest, enduring the underbrush that scraped against her calves, and passing beyond the planes after the woods, the sound of relief massaged her wearied shoulders. The river was close, sounding like powerful winds all blowing in one direction.
It was morning, and a dense fog hovered over the embankment. Creatures were out of sight, and the sharp breeze cut at Eva’s dress, snapping it as it brushed by. The river, flowing and never ending, should have brought more relief, but the massage quickly became a grinding, mashing her muscles into her bones.
There was nothing at the river, not even hope. Where was she going? She had been off by herself many times, but she had never felt this alone, torn from her mother, destined to live as the only other person alive.
The Girl with the Scar (Dark Connection Saga Book 1) Page 8
