“Perhaps we should ask those men and women that you slaughtered to the west,” one man shouted, “…if only they were alive.”
Eva moved to the side to see Wolf more clearly. Her mother had told her about how Wolf had murdered those innocents, how he had slaughtered them with no remorse. Eva never bothered to ask him, and he never bothered to bring it up.
Wolf dropped his head. “Aye.” He rested his hand on his tomahawk and pressed his hefty foot into the snow. “That is what they say, is it not?” His voice was low. Eva could scarcely hear him.
“What makes you any different from the Raiders?” a woman asked, rocking her child back and forth.
“Those men and women didn’t die by hand,” Wolf said.
“The Water Walkers say different.”
“I had heard that the Raiders were in route to the town.” He scratched his forehead and clenched the white wolf around his chest. “The Strikers were many hills away. I crossed three cities to try and stop them, but when I arrived…they were already dead.”
“More like after you left,” a man blurted out.
Wolf ignored the insult. “Three cities I crossed!” He punched the air. The wolf bobbed on his arm. “No man and no woman dared to fight. They let that city burn to the ground, and not one of them refused to blame me.”
One man with a meaty jaw and a beard to match kissed his wife on her forehead. “We have families. This war’s not ours to fight.” He pulled his wife’s hand and shoved Wolf out of the way. Solemnly, the people followed after him.
Wolf stepped out of the way, tears surfacing in his eyes but never falling. He threw his hands out to the side. “The Raiders kill our people only because we let them. We put our confidence in the Strikers who are the only ones bold enough to stand against them. How can you raise your children to live in fear?”
A woman stepped past him, patting her young son on the back who had fallen asleep over her shoulder. “I’d rather my child be alive and afraid, than bold and dead.”
The stagnant tears in Wolf’s eyes trembled on the edge of his eyelids and slid down his cheek. “Then we have chosen to raise a generation of cowards.”
No one heeded his Wolf’s warning. Men and women dragged themselves off the entrance flat out to the wilderness, taking only their essential belongings. But Wolf’s words cut into her, grinding her heart.
Her cowardice had certainly gotten her brother killed. How long would she allow the Raiders to dictate every move she made, slaughtering the masses as they hunted for her? The taste of fear was sour. Her hair tossed in the wind as she watched the people of Winter Hills fleeing…all because of her.
This is what I’ve done. She had only known Wolf for a short time, but never had she known him to be so broken. Her mother had died, and Edward had suffered the same fate. What more did she have to live for?
The woman’s words lodged themselves in Eva’s mind. I’d rather my child be alive and afraid, than bold and dead. Eva closed her eyes and swallowed hard, hoping to rid her thoughts of the woman’s declaration, but it went nowhere, still remaining as a stake in her heart.
She couldn’t let herself be coward for the rest of her life, not after her fear had gotten both her mother and her brother killed. I’d rather be bold and dead, than alive and afraid, she committed to herself.
Eva clenched her fists, eyes watching Wolf who was painfully trying to convince his people to stay and fight. She bit down hard, the muscles in her jaw flexing. “I’m the one they’re looking for!” she shouted.
The people paused, stunned by her words.
Eva called out again. “The Girl with the Scar! They’re looking for me!”
“Eva, no!” Wolf rushed to her and clasped her shoulders, staring directly into her eyes. “What are you doing?” he whispered sharply.
“I won’t let anymore innocents die.”
“This is madness,” he said. “The people will betray you to the wolves.”
Eva pushed her hair off her nose. “As I have done to them for nearly sixteen years.” She knocked his hands away. Jolts of fear anchored themselves in her feet, but she resisted it. “It’s me they want!” she shouted again.
The citizens of Winters Hills halted. Their expressions dropped from defeated to furious. “All these years you’ve let our people be slaughtered!” A middle-aged man rushed at her, ramming his shoulder into her stomach. Her head slammed against the ground.
Splotches of color circled in her head. She forced herself up, but the man was too heavy. His hands wrapped around her throat, and flecks of spit jumped from his lips. “My brother was killed because of you!”
Eva tried to breath, but no air would pass the man’s tight grasp on her neck. Her air was caught in her chest. Blood pressed against her cheeks, and she felt like her eyes were going to burst.
The crowds rushed in on her, screaming. Heavy boots pounded in her belly, and thick fists smashed against her face. This was her fate — to be bold and dead. This is what she deserved. No one else would suffer because of her.
Through the hot breaths and between the cracks of the people, a slither of fire cut through the sky. The slither struck to the earth like lightning, scorching several of her attackers. The people jumped off her, afraid.
Another streak of fire lit up the night, hovering over the throngs, swirling. “Step away from the girl.” Truding down the hill, Jahn held his hand out before him. Sparks skipped between his fingers.
“The Kibitzer….” The people bowed to him and scurried away.
“If you kill this girl,” Jahn said, lowering his hand, fire disappearing overhead, “then the Raiders will be forced to destroy every city in the kingdom. Without her, we are all dead.”
No one responded, afraid of the Kibitzer.
Stasis rushed to Eva’s side and helped her up, scowling at the people who had beaten her. Eva’s face had already begun to bruise. Her bones throbbed, and she could scarcely move her muscles.
“What would you have us do, Kibitzer?” a young woman asked. “We cannot fight.”
Jahn raised his crooked finger, pointing to the south, eyes following his fingertip. “Then you die.”
From the south, fiery torches blazed through the snow-covered trees. They Raiders had come, riding on horses, with cooling mists firing out of their nostrils as they galloped.
The people screamed, rushing off the flat. A volley of arrows rained from the sky, tearing through the backs of those who had hoped to escape. Winter Hills plummeted into an uproar. Children screamed. Women hurried to safety, and the men followed closely behind.
Then came the shriek. The shrill sliced through the cool, icy air like two swords clashing. A blue light, first on the horizon, disappeared and instantly appeared by the flat. The apparition’s hair whipped to and fro, and her long claws protruded from her hands like icicles.
Eva gasped, stumbling backwards but catching her balance. Die boldly, she thought. With what little courage she had left, she balled up her fists and rushed off the flat towards the apparition.
The apparition gleamed at her. “Scar…” it said, voice ebbing as it had before.
Eva waited for the whispers, but none came. Wolf ran to her side and hacked at the apparition. It screamed with a screech so loud that Eva held her ears to stop them from erupting. The Raiders rode up to the flat, slaughtering more men and women as they pursued.
Eva ducked away from the apparition and ran to face the Raiders. “I’m the one you want!” she screamed.
A Raider with a golden falcon on her chest rode through the first flank of riders. Eva resisted the fear of the Dark Queen. The queen rode up next to Eva, staring down at her from her black stallion through the metal-flatted helm. “The Girl with the Scar,” the queen said, voice muffled in the helmet. “Genevieve.”
Eva was shaken. How did the queen know her name? But Eva stood firmly in the snow, waiting for her fate, the death that she knew was coming. “Kill me and end the raids,” Eva said.
“Wo
uld not I rather enjoy that?” The queen removed her helmet. The same black hair and dark beauty surrounded her. “However, the king has sent word that he would prefer you in your current state.” The queen scoured her with foul eyes. “However disgusting of a state that may be,” she added.
“So then I am to live?” Eva asked, trembling as to what the answer might be.
“For now…” the queen said, despising the thought.
Eva stood still, staring at the queen on her horse. Die boldly. She let out a sigh, preparing herself for the death that her tongue would surely invite. “What did you do with my brother?”
“You do not have a brother,” the queen replied.
“I won’t go with you to the king unless my brother is still alive, the spies you caught on the hill.” Eva couldn’t believe what she had said, but it was out now. Besides, if the king wanted her alive, then perhaps the Dark Queen would spare her life for just a bit longer.
“A swift tongue, I see,” the queen replied, fumes seeping up from her head. “But mine is swifter. Dreyshore, burn this city to the ground.”
“No, wait!” Eva grabbed the queen by the leg.
The queen yanked her boot away and shoved it in Eva’s face. “I do not answer to you. I imagined that you might try this farce with me, so rest assured, your brother is safe.”
“Then I must see him, if I am to go with you.”
The queen placed her helmet back on her head, staring at Eva through the dark eyeholes. “Shall I order for him to be slain as well?” The queen did not wait for a response. “You are not in a position to bargain, so do not mistake my mercy for weakness. Burn it down!” The queen commanded.
The Raiders rode past her, torches in hand. The city that had become a safe haven for the kingdom would now be left in ruin. But Eva was not crushed. The city was destroyed, but the people had been spared. The strong are as bold as lions, she thought.
CHAPTER 17
THE STRONG
Despite his pain, Wolf managed to get his people to safety, even though the Raiders decimated Winter Hills. Jahn and Stasis helped with the evacuation. Eva rode alongside the Dark Queen to wherever she was being taken, not sure if Edward was truly safe, but sparing the lives of all those innocents eased Eva’s thoughts.
The Raiders had mounted Eva on a black stallion, though her hands were not bound. Dreyshore rode by her side, guiding the horse in the rightful direction, and the Dark Queen led the caravan.
The snow had let up, and Winter Hills was far behind them. Eva was tiring, but she did not dare sleep. Besides, she would have fallen off the horse had she dosed off. She waited for rest, knowing that the Raiders would need to stop again soon.
“When do I get to see my brother?” Eva asked, calling up to the Dark Queen who did not seem to be so intimidating now that Eva knew that she would not be killed.
The queen didn’t answer. Instead she held up her hand. Dreyshore did the same. The caravan halted. “Should we rest here, Lord Sekah?” Dreyshore asked.
“Order your men to set up camp. We’ll rest for the night and through the morning and leave at the sun’s peak.”
Dreyshore slid off his horse and barked back orders that the Raiders echoed as far back as Eva could see. “Get down,” he commanded Eva in that rusted voice.
She slid off the horse, boots compacting the snow underfoot. She expected to hear the sound of trumpets or bugles for the Raiders to assemble the camp. Her father had told her that the King’s Army would sound loud horns whenever an order needed to be heard. But the Raiders were different. They were silent — assassins trained to kill with fear, stealth, and Empyrean, three weapons that Eva had yet to master.
As their prized prisoner, she expected to camp under their heaviest watch, and she was right. Lord Sekah put her in a tent with Dreyshore, and Eva’s core shuddered. To pass the night with the man who had mercilessly killed her mother invited a new dread and angst.
Without much thought, Dreyshore erected his brown wool tent. One wooden stick, lodged in the snow, held up the front end, and another stick held up the back. The sides of the tent draped to the side.
Eva hesitated, wanting rather to sleep under the open sky than to spend the last few hours of the night in a tent made for one man with the killer of her mother. But before she could voice her concern, Dreyshore’s firm hand clamped on her wrist as tightly as a vice, and he threw her inside.
She slid on her hip in the snow and looked back to face the object of her loathing. He had removed his helmet, and underneath was a handsome man nearly as old as Wolf. The edge of his nose rounded down smoothly, leading to an auburn stubble beard. His hair was as orange as Eva’s, but the sweat matted it to his head, making him as formidable as the Dark Queen.
Eva stared into the black abyss that was his eyes. She titled her head slightly, confused. The man had no pupils. His entire eye was a solid black.
As she examined his gaze, his rusted voice interrupted her thoughts. “You’ll be passing the night in my tent. Try anything, and I’ll spill your blood right where you lay.”
Eva whipped her sharp tongue at him. “Then your corpse would lie dead beside me. The king wants me alive, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”
Dreyshore dropped to his knees and crawled forcibly at her, clenching her neck and pressing his thumb into her throat. The pressure raced up to her chin and down to her chest. She locked eyes into the blackness of his, and her insides paralyzed. “Please…” But there was no mercy in this man.
He squeezed her neck more tightly, his nose nearly touching hers. His sour breath smelled of warm, old spit. “Hundreds have died by my hand, only to be brought back to life to taste a second death. Do not tempt me with your stupidity, or I will soon add you to that number.”
A cold fear, more dreadful than the trepidation she had swallowed from the Haunt froze her spine in place. Her jaw trembled, and her once sharp tongue became as dull as a spreading knife. “Spare me from that fate, I beg you.”
Dreyshore kept his onyx eyes locked on hers, and with the thrust of his arm, he forced Eva’s head back. He lay across from her, positioning himself in the snow until he found a place of comfort, eyeing her as a hawk eyes its quarry.
Within moments, his eyes became heavy. Exhaustion seemed to arrest him in the most unnatural way. It was as if weeks of fatigue had toppled on him at once, and soon after, he was asleep. Not able to keep her mind from her fate, Eva stared at the dark wool tent cover, arms folded stiffly across her chest, afraid to move, not wanting to awaken Dreyshore.
What had she gotten herself into? The fiery boldness that she had in Winter Hills had since fizzled out into a tiny spark that drowned itself in the wet chill of the snow. Now she was left to face herself again, the fear-ridden daughter of Elijah Solace.
Elijah, she thought. She had scarcely referred to her father as Elijah, and the name seemed foreign to her, much less comforting than the title of “Father.” Elijah was a bold man, stout and powerful in word and deed.
She remembered his hazel eyes, but she never thought of them as sugary like her brother's. They seemed more protective, like the calm eyes of a lion that watched over his pride, not fearing death.
Though Elijah had not feared death, death had certainly come, and that by the heavy hand of the falcon-chested Raiders. Her fingers glided up her chest to her eagle pendant, and without warning, warm tears leaked down the sides of her cold cheeks.
She did not dare wipe them away, fearing that any movements in the snow would surely alert Dreyshore. Instead, she closed her eyes tightly, forcing out the few tears that remained.
Why did Father have to die? Why did I let Mother die, and why…? Her mind halted its wandering. What if the Raiders had killed Edward? What if the queen were dragging Eva along this journey, not telling her that Edward had been murdered in the expectation that Eva would remain compliant.
The curious terror of her brother’s whereabouts rekindled her flame of boldness. She turned her head slo
wly towards Dreyshore who had begun snoring, though lightly. She moved her left arm softly to the right side of her body, but the snow crunched underneath.
Dreyshore’s snores ceased, replaced by hard sniffs and savages grunts. He rolled over to his side, and the snoring resumed. Eva remained statued in place, afraid that her next movements would surely awaken her captor, especially since she was seated in the snow that creaked and crunched whenever she moved.
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, prepared to pass the next few hours in this most uncomfortable pose. Then it hit her. Stasis had given her the Essence. Perhaps it would be of some use. She reached her left arm back to her waist and grabbed the small pouch that she tucked behind her belt so that the Raiders would not find it.
Slipping the pouch off her hip, she quietly opened it with one hand, tugging at the leather string with her thumb and her first finger. Once the Essence was open, she dabbed her finger into the invisible matter, not sure if there was any left.
Once on her finger, she could almost feel it tingling on her skin, though she saw no signs of it. There’s nothing here. With that thought, the tingling ceased. What in the name of the gods is happening? She stared at her finger, trying to figure out what she needed to do to make the Essence work. Her eyes cut down to the snow and back to her finger.
Melt, she thought. Almost immediately, the tip of her finger began to tingle again, except this time a warm sensation heated her hand down to her wrist. The Essence ebbed into a bright, orange light that lit up the tent like a brilliant auburn flame.
Dreyshore stopped snoring and grunted. He rolled over facing Eva, blackened eyes wide. She tried to put the light out, but its radiance beamed from her fingertip. Her heart thudded in her chest so loudly that she feared that the entire Raider camp could hear it.
She leaned in closely to Dreyshore. A faint, cool mist seeped from his lips. Still asleep, she sighed. But how is he sleeping with his eyes wide open? His handsome face had lost its full color, replaced by a pale white, now colored with a bruised blue. It seemed that sleep had transformed his features into a cold corpse. Eva would have thought that he was dead if he were not still breathing.
The Girl with the Scar (Dark Connection Saga Book 1) Page 17
