The Girl with the Scar (Dark Connection Saga Book 1)

by Stadler, William

  Quickly, she jabbed her Essence finger into the snow beneath her hip. The snow glowed bright orange and melted beneath her, creating a thick puddle of mud. She grinned, sat up slowly, and rushed out of the tent, not looking back.

  The cool air brushed past her, no longer shielded by the shelter. Even with her black sleek, she still trembled a bit from the cold. Squatting down, she tied the pouch and tucked it back under her belt, keeping a watchful eye on the other tents.

  None of the troops were out except for a few watchmen who paced about the camp. The number of tents seemed endless, and she had no idea which tent her brother could have been in. There was no way she would find him by morning.

  Eva thought to rejoin her captor after the hope of finding Edward had nearly all be sucked from her, but she decided against it. She would not be the cause for his death as she had been for her mother.

  Bold as a lion, she thought. But what was the plan? Even the bold must not go blindly into battle. She calmed her mind and listened, waiting for the whispers. None came. She squeezed her eyes together and clenched her jaw. Only silence. “Precision Empyrean,” she scoffed to herself.

  Without further hesitation, she stayed low and crept through the camp, kneeling behind the icy trees as the guards turned her way. Contrary to her hope, not all of the Raiders were asleep. Some murmured in their tents, and others called back to one another through the night. Their heavy voices rumbled in Eva’s chest, sending spine-numbing tremors down to the tips of her fingers. If they caught her, they might not hesitate to kill her.

  Crouching next to a tree, Eva caught her breath. She could hear a few murmurs in the darkness, and she looked to her right, not four sword lengths away. A man cloaked in full armor without his helmet peeled his way out of his tent.

  His brown hair, combed and straight, rested just to his shoulders. His smooth skin was young and without blemishes. The man could have only had a few more years than Eva, and he certainly was not as old as Edward.

  “Lord Sekah,” the young man said.

  Eva bit her lip. The Dark Queen was nearby. Where were the guards? How could Eva have gotten so close to the queen without knowing? Perhaps the Raiders wanted to disguise the queen’s tent in the event of an ambush.

  Eva lay flat on the ground, hair brushing over the snow as the wind whistled by. The young man carried a brown pouch that folded over, sealed by a button. He unlatched the bag and ducked his head into the tent next to his. “It’s time for the letting,” the man said.

  “I know what time it is,” the queen snapped. Her voice was pure, pronouncing each syllable, undoubtedly trained by an orator. “Why must you always delay until the hour of my resting?”

  The man did not respond. A candle lit inside the tent, casting eerie shadows through the fabric as the fire shifted from their movements. Eva could not make out exactly what they were doing, but she noticed that the man used the flame to heat something from the bag, and then he set the fire aside, merging their two shadows into a dark mass.

  After a moment no longer than three breaths, the queen grunted, sounding like she had been hit. The man blew out the candle and shoved the heated item into his pouch. He started back to his tent, but then he stopped.

  Eva forced her face in the snow. She heard heavy footsteps creeping in her direction. Then they stopped. She dragged her gaze upwards, trembling. The man stood over her. Her stomach jumped, nearly forcing out a yelp, much like the one that had gotten her brother killed or captured, whichever one she was unsure.

  The man kneeled down to her and grabbed a fistful of hair in his hand. “What are you doing out of your tent?” he asked.

  Staring into his night blue eyes, she realized that his grasp on her head was soft, not forceful like Dreyshore’s. Even his question was tender. But could she even trust him? Before her questions were answered, her lips spilled the words. “Looking Edward Solace.”

  The man looked behind him and turned to face Eva again. “And you thought you’d find him? With all these tents? You certainly have Edward’s foolishness pulsing through your veins.”

  “Who are you?” Eva whispered.

  “Ian. Ian Forrester. I’m a Raider by trade, but a Striker by blood.”

  “What do you mean?” Eva asked, letting the inflection of her voice rise above her intended tone, eased by the comfort of a friendly face within the Raiders.

  “Keep it down or we’ll both be killed. You need to get back to your tent before they notice that you’re missing.”

  Eva picked herself up to her knees. She would not allow this man’s tender talk to sway her from finding her brother. “Not before I find Edward.”

  “Edward’s not here. He and Rufio are a pair, those two.”

  “So then my brother’s alive?”

  A glimpse of confusion smeared on Ian’s face and vanished away. “Edward is safe, though he is not amongst our ranks.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I’ll tell you at a better time. For now you must go back to Dreyshore.”

  Eva nodded hesitantly, still having unanswered questions swirling in her mind. She crept back to her tent, opened the flap and slid inside.

  She found her muddy spot and nestled herself in between the mounds of unmelted snow. Relaxed, she let out a deep, silent sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest, careful not to awaken Dreyshore.

  “Where have you been?” asked the rusted voice, sounding more menacing from the sleep in his throat.

  Eva gulped a mouthful of air, afraid to swallow, not wanting him to hear her, though he was already awake. She had to respond, but her anticipation tarried too long.

  Dreyshore pounded his fist in the snow, forcing himself up to rest on his hip. He slung his arm over and grabbed the hem of Eva’s sleek. “Answer me, scar.”

  “I-I went to relieve myself,” she exclaimed nervously. Then with her mother’s slyness, she said, “A girl mustn’t wet her herself, especially not in the presence of nobility.”

  Dreyshore’s grip loosened, and he pushed Eva back as he let her go. “Do not leave this tent without my permission.”

  “I did not want to wake you.”

  “Do not play cute with me,” he said, voice dragging. With that, he yawned and rolled to his side, falling again into a deep sleep.

  Eva released another sigh, this one being more refreshing than the last. She folded her arms and locked her fingers. Knowing that Ian was looking out for her made her rest much easier. Also, she was glad to know that Edward had made it out alive. Her brother was much more crafty than she thought. Though, how he escaped still baffled her. In the end, he was safe, and that’s what mattered. She tightened her jaw, staring furiously at Dreyshore. I will not let my brother be endangered again.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE RAIDER

  The morning came, and Eva pried her eyes open, sealed shut from the cold. Her body wanted her to go to back to sleep, but whinnying horses and firm orders from the Raider commanders disallowed any further slumber.

  She climbed out of the tent, and Dreyshore stood nearby, waiting for her. Why he had let her sleep was a mystery to her, but she appreciated it nonetheless. She caught a glimpse of his exposed falchion hanging by his side, blade tip lodged in the snow. A chill quivered through Eva’s core. This had been the same blade that had slain her mother. Dreyshore turned his head slowly, eyes landing on Eva. His eyes had not returned to the blackness, but his stare was as cold as winter. Her head jerked as she looked away.

  Since the morning sun had come, the snow on the ground had thinned away, though splotches of white still covered large portions of the muddy terrain.

  “I hope you’re rested,” he said.

  Eva crossed her arms over her chest, nodding swiftly, eyes flicking back and forth to refrain from meeting his.

  “We will not be stopping again for another three days.”

  Three days? He could not be serious. She would fall apart if she could not rest again for three days. “That’s a long tim
e,” she squeaked out.

  “You had best keep up,” he said, thin beard rising as a sinister grin made its way to his lips. “We slow down for no one.”

  Eva pushed her hair behind her ear, concerned. Dreyshore was full of threats, each one more perilous than the one before.

  “You thought I would not notice!” a smooth voice called out to the right.

  Eva turned quickly. As she shifted her head, a solid fist pounded in her jaw, knocking her to the ground. She covered her cheek and looked, tossing her head up.

  Her eyes seemed to have deceived her. Her attacker’s skin was smooth, and his combed brown hair seemed not to have shifted from the night before. This man was Ian. Ian Forrester, Raider by trade, Striker by blood.

  Before she could think any further, Ian’s heavy Raider boot jammed into her ribs. “You thought that you could eavesdrop without consequence, did you?” His voice had lost its smoothness, now ridged with rage.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Eva crawled backwards to escape another blow. As she pulled herself through the snow, her muscles felt bruised and torn at the place in her side where she had been kicked.

  “I will take her from here,” Ian said to Dreyshore, blue eyes pasted on Eva.

  He grabbed her by the head, yanking her off the ground. She reached up with both hands, clutching his wrist to keep him from ripping her hair from its roots, though she could feel a few strands had already been dislodged. She cut glances back at both of the men with her hands still on Ian’s arm.

  “Do with her as you wish,” Dreyshore replied. Eva could sense the evil in his voice, a vengeful scoff.

  Ian dragged Eva through the snowy pines away from the camp. The laughter and howls of the Raiders who watched faded away as they ventured farther away from the others.

  “You’re no better than the others!” Eva scoffed, as Ian let her hair loose. She could see the fury in his face. “What do you intend to do to me?” she asked innocently.

  “To keep you safe,” he replied.

  Eva reached up and showed him the side of her face, ribs aching as she moved. “You call this keeping me safe?” she cried.

  Ian put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “Please forgive me. The Raiders are a harsh people. If you are to survive this, you had best learn to play the role.”

  “I’m not much for playing a role wherein I am beaten. Besides, the king needs me alive. They won’t kill me.”

  Ian shook his gloved finger at her. “Right you are. But the king only needs you alive, and your livelihood does not demand that your limbs are intact.”

  Eva rubbed her shoulders. She could almost feel Dreyshore’s falchion hacking off her arm. “Then I could flee, now, while no one is around,” she said, looking for an escape.

  Ian sighed and gripped the hilt of his sheathed blade. “The Raiders would soon lop off my noggin if they knew you had escaped under my command. Why did you let yourself get captured anyway?”

  “My brother…Edward…I could not let him suffer the same fate as our mother.”

  Ian looked troubled. Creases formed over his brow, and he rubbed his slender chin with the cloth underside of his black gloves. “It appears that the king’s secret about the Girl with the Scar has remained unrevealed.”

  “Secret? What secret?” Eva asked.

  The rusted voice called through the morning from the direction of the camp. “Lord Sekah is prepared to move. Finish your business and bring the girl along.”

  Eva jolted from the call. “Your business?” She drew back.

  “Dreyshore assumes that I would have my way with you. He certainly has mistaken my character. But I need you to play the role,” he whispered. Ian faced the direction of the voice. “The hag’s in season!” he called back. “Perhaps in another few days.”

  In season, she thought. Ian was grossly mistaken. She had yet to bleed, but she could play this role, if it would indeed spare her limbs.

  “Then bring her on. Lord Sekah has become impatient.”

  Ian turned back to Eva, blue eyes staring in hers, shifting. “We cannot tarry any longer,” he warned. “Take this.” He fumbled nervously around in his bag and pulled out Eva’s round-hilted dagger. Then he shoved Eva forward, demanding that she run back to camp.

  Eva stuffed the dagger in her sleek, running, legs turning over and kicking up mud as she hurried back to the site. The Raiders had prepared themselves for the journey, and Eva found the black stallion that she had ridden.

  Before she could climb the horse's back, a hefty boot slammed into her spine. Ian walked off laughing, nodding at the other Raiders for approval.

  How long could she endure this abuse? She pulled herself onto the horse, still feeling the pain of her bruised spine from the metal on Ian’s heel. Wincing, she leaned forward and grabbed the reins.

  The horse felt more powerful than she had remembered. Its mane was thicker, and it glanced back at her, checking to see if she had saddled herself securely. Before, the horse had blindly followed the Raiders' brigade, not caring whether Eva held on or crashed to the ground. This time each step that the horse took seemed to be more calculated, intentionally keeping Eva from toppling over.

  Dreyshore rode up beside her. “Try to escape,” he said, eyes flicking to her unbound hands, “and you would not get farther than a stone’s throw before an arrow pierced you through.”

  Eva dropped her gaze down to her dirtied hands that trembled as he spoke. She should never have turned herself over to the Raiders. She should have known that Edward would escape. But what about the people of Winter Hills? Would they not have all been slaughtered had she remained hidden?

  Too many unanswered questions swirled in her mind. Her stallion had begun to follow the caravan, and Eva’s body rocked back and forth with each of the horse’s trots.

  The day gave way to night, and night turned to day. Eva’s body tingled with exhaustion. Her hands cramped from holding the reins, and her belly rumbled with hunger. Dreyshore had not lied. The Raiders had not stopped to rest for the past three days.

  Eva could barely hold her eyes open, but the fear of death managed to keep her awake. How could these men travel for days at a time? Her mother had told her that these were not men, but brutes.

  The pain in her back had gone away, but her jaw still ached from where Ian had hit her. She opened her mouth whenever she felt herself drifting to sleep, the pain keeping her fading. It didn’t help much, but it did manage to her keep her mind off of her current situation.

  Night fell again, and Eva’s body was near to crumbling. The snow had gone away, melted by the first signs of the cool spring evening. All that remained of winter were a few puddles of rainwater and the silence of the night from no creatures bustling about.

  Wayward pines lined the flat trail that sloped down a wooded hill and led to a slender stream. Hearing the water trickle nearby reminded Eva that she had not had a drink in days. Her mouth became pasty, and her cheeks tingled as they strained to push saliva onto her tongue. Though she was extremely thirsty, she did not dare ask for a drink.

  Dreyshore must have seen her eyeing the stream. “You would not want a swig of that.” His voice was tainted with satisfaction at his unintentional torture. “No doubt that it is poisoned by some dead beast upstream that had hoped to have a drink.”

  Eva sighed and yawned, nearly dosing off just thinking about her condition. The Raiders called out to one another, and the caravan halted. Hope lit up Eva’s eyes. They were stopping. Perhaps she could get some rest, if only for just a few hours.

  A woman draped in a vibrant blue cloak patrolled the ranks of the Raiders. Down her back was the long braid of her hair, and her eyes were illuminated – two balls of emerald fire. A Hunter, Eva knew. The woman came near to Dreyshore who jumped off his horse and beckoned swiftly with four fingers for Eva to do the same. She slid off her stallion, legs nearly giving out from fatigue. The rocks shifted under her boots, and she grabbed the horse’s saddle to balance herself.


  The woman’s eyes locked onto Eva’s mount, glaring with a dark scowl that contorted her pale face. The woman belted out a command with a voice so loud that it rattled off the hills and called every Raider into action.

  The horse that Eva had been riding glanced back at her, whinnying. The stallion’s eyes had a glimmer of jade that faded. Before she could shrink back, the stallion’s bones cracked. Its shoulders snapped. Its front legs gnarled into arms, while its hind extremities formed into powerful human legs. Its snout contorted into the face of man, a man she recognized. Wolf.

  Dreyshore whipped out his blade, the sound of metal echoing through the darkness. The Raiders followed his lead, leaping off their horses and rushing to him. Wolf’s tomahawks lit up with cavorting cobalt sparks. He swirled the axes around the palm of his hand, striking down the Raiders who rushed in on him. As his blade landed in their chests, lightning bolted down from the sky, scorching his victims.

  Eva stepped backwards, shuffling off the trail to keep from being trampled by the Raiders.

  “Genevieve, run!” Wolf yelled, voice empty of the molasses.

  Eva’s legs refused to obey, locked in place by her mind’s fear to run and her heart’s boldness to stay. She thought of when she had left Edward and what could have happened to him, how she had lost him again.

  She clenched her fists, lowered her brow, and rolled her shoulders. The fear in her mind seeped out of her thoughts, drifting away as faintly as the smoke from Jahn’s pipe. The boldness barged in as the Raiders rushed past her.

  Flashes of blue lightning sparked as streaks bolted from the sky over Wolf. Raiders burst into ashes. Eva raced towards Wolf. Her eagle pendant flipped behind her, flapping in the wind as she ran. She reached into her sleek and yanked out her dagger, unsheathing the blade while keeping the scabbard in her other hand.

  “Genevieve, get out of here!” Wolf yelled as he shoved his boot into the silver falcon on the Raider’s breastplate who charged at him.