Take down the leader, take down the whole pack.
Sarah again reached back for an arrow, forgetting she had shot them all. She looked around her. The other archers were occupied with keeping their own wagons standing. They wouldn’t be able to toss her an arrow.
Sarah bit her lip as her mind raced for a solution. There was only one. She tried to steady herself before standing. Then, just as the wagon tilted over, she jumped to another one nearby, landing on the edge of the roof. Her foot slipped, and she began to fall.
“I have you.” The white-haired elf grabbed her wrists and pulled her atop the wagon. “Are you okay?”
Sarah nodded. “Just keep shooting!”
He agreed and began his onslaught. She reached into his quiver and pulled out an arrow. Turning around to face the old wolf, she took aim. She would only have a short time gap for a steady shot. As the wolves on one side pushed the wagon, the wolves on the other side prepared to do the same. This was it. She let the arrow go and it flew into his right leg.
The old wolf howled in pain, and his sons immediately stopped their attack. They turned to him. He glared at Sarah as she stood on the wagon staring him right in the eyes.
“That was a warning shot,” she announced when quiet once again encompassed the camp and all eyes fell on her. She withdrew another arrow and nocked it in her bow. “Leave this camp now, or there’s going to be a lot more warning shots.”
The old wolf’s hair spiked up, and his sharp pearly teeth were showing.
“I know about your curse. The stone is not going to remove it,” Sarah said.
The old wolf’s hair fell back, and he covered his teeth with his lips. He spoke.
“The stone has power beyond your imagination. It can rid us of any curse put on by even the most powerful of witches. You will give it to me, and when I am done you can return it to Lyrica.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’m not here to make a deal. I’m telling you to leave now.”
The old wolf smirked. “Do you really have it in you?” He stepped forward. She aimed.
“Yes,” she said plainly. “I do.”
No one moved. The pack waited for their commands.
“The next shot will kill you,” she said.
“I am immortal, Child. That is a part of my curse. Your arrows cannot kill me.”
“Well, these arrows are made from the bark of a Great Spirit,” she lied. “I’m sure the magic in them is strong enough to do the job. I’m even more sure that if I add in my own, I’ll kill you in one clear shot.”
The old wolf said nothing.
“So?” Sarah said her hand steady on the arrow.
The wolf growled. She didn’t understand. No one would ever understand how it felt to live like this for centuries. To live the life of the cursed, not beast or human, fighting the evil inside that sought to drive him insane. He wanted freedom and though she did not know it, she was offering it to him through death, but he could not set himself free while his kin remained cursed. They were his responsibility. The stone was his last hope: the single thread that had kept him pushing all these years. The Child had finally arrived and the opportunity had presented itself. How could he let such a chance slip away?
The old wolf looked into her eyes. They were leveled, focused and cold.
So, she had learned to kill. He looked at his pack. Many of his sons had already died. How he wished they had never been born. Yet he couldn’t control himself when he was younger, especially when he turned into the monster, and more importantly he was lonely. He turned to Sarah again. She hadn’t moved an inch. She would fight to the last wolf to keep the stone and save Lyrica. He saw that now.
The old wolf smiled. He bent down by his leg and used his teeth to remove the arrow. “Keep these arrows, Child. To have weapons carved from a Great Spirit is a true gift. I wouldn’t want you to waste them.”
He nodded to her and turned around to leave, glancing back to watch the camp. His sons followed silently behind him. Sarah remained with arrows at the ready until the wolves had gone from sight. When she finally relaxed her stance, the camp came to life with a cheer. A white-haired elf turned to her, his eyes large and dancing.
“You’re a pretty good shot,” he said.
“Thanks.” She smiled at him.
He patted her on the back and jumped down from the wagon to join the others in cheer.
The child’s smile grew as she watched the celebration. But even as she smiled, she peered into the darkness the wolves had used to disappear. They were one of the many willing to die to possess the stone.
She looked at her palm. The old wolf imagined there was a thin line of red from where she had held the bow string.
As the wolves continued their retreat, the old wolf heard the child speak once more.
“I can only imagine what waits for us tomorrow.”
Chapter 26
The sword was lighter than Sarah had expected. Abelard did say it was designed for people of a smaller stature. She lifted it from the ground and thrust forward as if she was thrusting into the enemy. The best spot to hit would be the stomach or chest. Damage done there tended to be beyond repair. Alex had taught her that.
She swung it around, slashing the air. The old Sarah who’d climbed the well and stumbled into Lyrica for the first time, probably wouldn’t have even been able to lift it.
Her red hair was tied in a braid that swung past her shoulders as she continued to strike the air. Sarah had never used a sword before. Magic and arrows, as Serwa had put it, seemed to be more her thing, though Sarah disagreed. Abelard disagreed, as well. He insisted she have a sword saying, “One never knows when it will come in handy.”
Sarah had made so many new friends in the course of one day, and though she hadn’t known them long, she felt responsible for their lives as their leader and wished to return each one of them home.
“Are you ready?” Serwa stepped into the small makeshift tent Abelard had prepared for Sarah. “We’re all waiting.”
Sarah stopped swinging the sword and turned to face her friend. She froze in front of the mirror.
“What is it?” the witch asked.
Sarah stared at herself in her new polished armor. The dwarves had brought the metal from their home specifically for her.
“I look like Queen Elizabeth.” Clothed in armor with pale skin, orange-red hair and freckles, the girl couldn’t help but draw a comparison. Serwa bent down and stared into the mirror.
“Hm,” she said, “you do look like the great Queen.”
Sarah turned to her. “You know about Queen Elizabeth?”
The witch smiled. “Some people are so great their lives transcend worlds. Plus, some is known of Earth history here. She was truly a great leader.”
“Do you think I will succeed like she did?” Sarah couldn’t break her eyes from the mirror. Serwa was momentarily silent.
“No,” the witch said, and Sarah could feel her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. “I think you will succeed in your own way, surrounded by friends. You may look like the Queen, but you aren’t her, and this isn’t her battle. This is ours, and we’re going to win.”
Sarah smiled. She took in a long breath. “You know if I was normal, I wouldn’t have traveled to Lyrica and done all of this. I wouldn’t have gone on my first adventure.”
“And you wouldn’t have met me so, I guess it’s good you’re not normal then.” Serwa grinned, patted down a few stray hairs of Sarah’s and left the tent.
Sarah continued to stare at herself as she mentally prepared. “I can do this,” she said aloud. Then, she took one last look at herself, nodded and followed Serwa out the tent.
Everyone was ready outside. They all had gathered scraps of metal as makeshift armor to cover the vital areas. For those that had shoes, they were worn and splitting at the seams. They were just a ragtag group of renegades, but Sarah wouldn’t have had it any other way.
She mounted her horse. On either side of her were Serw
a and Abelard, both also on horses. The twins stood by Serwa’s horse staring up at her with large eyes and bright smiles. Sarah looked at the witch who was chewing on her lips and tapping her fingers rapidly against the reins.
Jacob and Nettle rode on Solar’s back. He smiled at Sarah and waved. She did the same with a hand that was extra shaky from the nerves.
“Are we ready?” Abelard asked. Sarah nodded. His icy blue eyes beamed with the soon to be met expectation of battle. “Hey ho!” he called out to the troops who responded with one unison cry. The cheer was so loud, it sounded like the roar of a million, though their numbers didn’t even graze that amount by an arm’s reach. The small army was not united in many ways, but they had a united spirit.
The march began. Everyone was quiet. Abelard took lead and rode in front. It was a short distance. The mountain was only a few miles north. As the small army drew closer to their destination, the tension in the atmosphere increased, as well as the chances of another surprise attack. Soon they were within a couple hundred yards of the rock. Still, all was calm. The army continued marching until Abelard held out his hand. Everyone came to a halt. He scanned the dry plain. Sarah and Serwa did the same reaching out with their magic.
Sarah’s eyes flared open. “Above us!” she screamed as all eyes turned upward. In the distance dark-flying figures could be seen. A sharp cry erupted through the sky, causing everyone to cover their ears.
“Harpies!” Abelard yelled. The word left his mouth along with bits of spit. He narrowed his eyes at the sky. “Archers, kill the beasts. Kill them now!”
The third line of troops raised their bows and sent a storm of arrows into the air. Several of the winged creatures fell to the ground, but for every one that fell a new one appeared in the sky. It seemed as though their numbers were limitless. Serwa turned to the elder dwarf.
“It’s more than one flock. We need to bring them down to our level. There’s no point in the archers wasting their arrows.”
Abelard nodded. He faced the troops. “Centaurs and swords bring them to the ground and kill them. Twenty archers follow them.”
Without hesitation several half-human half-horse creatures raced into the harpy swarm carrying netted ropes and swords, many warriors following behind them. With netted ropes in hand, the centaurs captured several harpies in the nets and dragged them to the ground. Then, with a sword the wenches were be beheaded.
Soon the harpy swarm began to dwindle, and the tension began to ease. Not for long though as scrawny dark creatures with pointed ears began to move toward the group.
“Imps,” the twins said in unison.
“Best way to kill them is decapitation,” said Emma.
“Yes, sister. Any other limbs tend to grow back,” added Ellen.
“It may be hard to kill them when they’re riding on those.” Serwa pointed out into field. Everyone squinted their eyes, and at a closer glance, gigantic boars could be seen carrying some of the imps on their backs.
Abelard shook his head. “This is not good. Shields! We need shields.” A line of warriors stepped to the front of the group, shields at the ready, creating a barricade. How long that barricade would last, no one could be sure.
As the shield bearers prepared to hold their ground against the monstrous pigs, a booming roar erupted from the west. Thick hairy fists beat against strong iron armor. A mob of bull-like creatures that stood on two legs raced toward the renegades. Their horns were pointed outward, ready to easily tear into the flesh of anyone who got in their way. Their armor glistened in the sun, obviously of good quality.
Sarah looked at Serwa knowing she felt it as well. More were coming. The witch rode up beside Abelard.
“We have more enemies approaching. I felt a few witches, ogres...”
He brought his hand up, and her words to a halt. Without even turning to look at her, Abelard said, “I’ll leave the call up to Sarah. She is our leader.”
All eyes fell on the young girl. The redhead’s heart was racing, but watching enemies surround and continue to outnumber her friends, Sarah knew there was no time.
“Archers hold back from a distance and provide support. Anyone relying only on magic with no fighting experience stay back, as well. Twenty swordsmen should act as their guards. I’m going to try to make it straight through to the mountain. Everyone else, it’s time to head out.” She turned to Solar. “If anyone gets too close, blast them.”
Solar showed her teeth. “I think extra crispy will be just fine.”
Sarah’s orders were followed by a righteous cheer. The archers, mages and twenty swordsmen fell back. With the enemy now surrounding them everyone rushed out to fight. It had begun. The final battle.
Sarah rode through the crowd of monsters and swung her sword at the first exposed flesh she saw. Her prey froze in shock as the steel blade sliced through his neck. She didn’t even turn around to look as the head fell to the ground.
She continued to ride, striking her sword at any enemy. As she swung at one man, he turned in time to block her attack. His skin was a dark purple, and his hair a light gray. He bared his fangs at Sarah and hissed. Her heart leapt.
“Vampire,” she said.
The man smiled slyly. With his pointed teeth and white eyes he said, “Not vampire, close though.” Then, he sunk his fangs into the belly of the horse and tore out a piece of flesh. The poor horse neighed and kicked its hooves in the air as it struggled. Sarah tried to grab the reins. They slipped through her fingers, and she fell to the ground. There were people all around and above her moving faster than her eyes could comprehend.
The monster stood over her. His shoulders were bent and his back arched. His lips were curled into a hungry smirk. Without a word’s hesitation, he thrust his sword down. Sarah pulled a strip of ground across her body. Then, she held her shoulders against the earth, and the ground under gave way. The man’s sword pierced the strip inches from Sarah’s face. He tried to pull his weapon free, but it was stuck. Sarah took this opportunity.
She touched the strip of earth, felt its vibrations and moved them. The earth began to move up the sword, encasing the man’s hand. He screamed in horror, but he was already trapped. She rose from the ground and retrieved her weapon ready to strike.
Before she could deal the last blow, a blade from the back pierced her enemy through the chest. He began to shake uncontrollably as the blood oozed from his new wound. Then, as if it had never been there, his youth began to fade until all that was left standing in front of Sarah were the scrawny remains of an old man.
The blade withdrew, and the body fell limp to the ground to reveal Jacob standing behind him, chest rising fast. He smiled at Sarah. “I told you I got your back.” He gave her a quick look over and left to slay the next enemy. She silently thanked him and continued her charge into the crowd.
Serwa held the demon’s face in her hand. With a wicked smile, she lifted him into the air. His clothes were nearly soaked in blood from the body wounds she’d given him, and he faded in and out of consciousness. But she wanted him to be awake for his last moments so she shook him a bit, and his eyes focused a little.
His eyes, which once glowed a bright red, were now listless as he approached death’s door. Serwa shook her head, still smiling.
“I wanted to wish you a good trip into the afterlife. I promise to try to make it as painful and agonizing as possible.” Then, she slowly elongated her nails until they punctured the demon’s skull. His body trembled unable to do anything to stop the pain. Her nails slid completely through, and when his body became still she retracted and let him fall to the ground. Droplets of blood dribbled across the demon’s face. The witch smirked.
“Sister Serwa, watch out!” She turned around to come face-to-face with a pointed spear. Serwa prepared to dodge the attack when, to her surprise, the spear came to a sudden halt. She froze and eyed the snake man who held the weapon, wondering why he didn’t deliver the blow.
“We have you, Sister,” said Ellen appeari
ng between Serwa and the snake man. Serwa watched her. The young witch placed her hand over the snake man’s chest. She, then, allowed her flesh to melt into his until she had grasped his heart. In one swift movement, she removed her hand from his chest. The snake man’s body disintegrated, and Ellen was left holding half his heart in her hand. Emma stood behind the left overs of the enemy with the other half in her left hand. They both smiled at Serwa. “We can save this for a potion. Hearts like this are rare to come by.”
They were annoying, no doubt. Still, Serwa had to admit they were smart. She gave them an appreciative nod.
“Oh, no.” Ellen pointed off into the distance. Three enemies were blocking Sarah’s path.
Serwa cursed and all three witches ran toward their friend. Yards from her, an ogre stepped into their path swinging a huge club clumsily at them. They ducked and dodged his attacks, the distance between them and Sarah growing.
“I don’t think we will be able to get to her,” said Emma. Serwa jumped to the left, barely missing the ogre’s club. She had been keeping an eye on Sarah and had watched her young friend mull through the crowd of creatures alone, until the damn demon attacked her.
Being so small Sarah could easily go unnoticed, but this also made her an easy target for her enemies. The fact that most Lyricans knew the tale of the Child of Legend didn’t help. They would be able to pick her out if they got a good smell of her.
The ogre roared and swung a wart-stained fist at the twins. Emma took a chance. With a quick move she made a small incision in the ogre’s fist. Ellen followed suit and placed a small insect in the open wound.
“Now multiply,” they said in unison. With those words the one spider became thousands.
The Pariah Child & the Ever-Giving Stone Page 25
