Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1)

by Azaria M. J. Durant

  More screams come from inside the house.

  My attacker turns to me, his face red with anger.

  “Come and pick on someone your own size!” I yell.

  He observes me for a moment, blinking, then throws back his head and laughs. “Sure thing, little man,” he says. “And when I’m done, I’ll use your bones as toothpicks!”

  I grimace, disgusted. “Why would you say something like that?”

  He swings his mace at my head, and I dodge, finding myself suddenly trapped between him and the house. The mace comes at me again, and I put up my sword to block the blow. I do, but the force sends me back into the wall. I hit my head, and fall to the ground. Just as my clarity appeared so too it has gone, and I am left defenceless.

  “Do you even know how to use that?” the man jeers.

  I try to pick myself up, but he kicks me back down again.

  My prickling vision is clear enough to see him loom over me, his mace raised to strike. Then he thinks better of it, and his weapon falls to his side. “You know, I should just leave you here to watch your town burn around you. Hero.”

  He spits at me and turns away, only to stagger back as an arrow pierces his chest. I roll out of the way as he falls back into the wall, then slumps to the ground, dead. About twenty metres away, Bellator nods to me, then turns and knifes another raider in the gut.

  I get to my feet and stagger over to the window. Inside, the flames are already making their way through the walls. A woman and two children are huddled in the centre of the room, coughing and gagging from the smoke. The barricaded door is already in flames.

  “Over here!” I cry, beckoning to them.

  The mother sees me and starts to her feet, hope filling her eyes. But it fades almost instantly, and she shakes her head. “I’d rather we die in here than let those monsters butcher my children!”

  “It’s all clear,” I assure her. “The fighting is moving away from us.”

  Hesitantly, she moves toward the window, leading both children by the hand. She looks past me long enough to confirm my words, then hastens over, putting her daughter through the window, then her son. I help them to the ground and then stand guard as she climbs out herself.

  “Get to the tavern,” I tell her. “You’ll be safe there.”

  She observes the battle for a moment, her face pale but determined, and she takes both children up in her arms.

  “Bless you,” she says, and hurries away along the building’s edge, then off the main street out of sight.

  With renewed resolve, I start toward the fray, determined to do the most that I can. But the battle is over by the time I arrive. The dozen or so survivors are running for their lives back into the forest, and the rest lie dead or injured at our feet. I let the tip of my blade fall to the slippery, crimson cobblestones and watch them leave. The overpowering smell of blood fills my nostrils, and I have to fight hard to keep from vomiting.

  Uri moves to follow the fleeing survivors, but Bellator puts out a hand to stop him.

  “We’ve accomplished our mission,” she pants, pulling her bow over her shoulder. “Let the rest go crying home.”

  Uri wipes a smear of blood from his forehead with a vicious scowl. “But we don’t know who they are yet!” he cries.

  “Yes we do,” I say. “We know exactly who they are.”

  They both turn to me, as if to say that they, in fact, do not know.

  “Those men are from Zandelba,” I explain. “That is, their leader was. I would assume that the rest are as well.”

  “How do you know that?” Bellator demands. She seems displeased that I know something she doesn’t.

  “That first man you killed was an old master of mine,” I reply. “He’s an official in the king of Zandelba’s army.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Zandelba, is it?”

  Spinning on her heel, she strides over to where the prone body of Ralcher lies face down in the street. Once she has rolled him onto his back, she crouches down beside him and puts a finger to his wrist, feeling for a pulse.

  “Is he alive?” I ask tentatively.

  She nods, her mouth twisting into a diabolical smile. “He’s about to wish he wasn’t.”

  Whipping an arrow from her quiver, she slams it into his arm. Ralcher’s eyes fly open with a shout, and his face twists in pain. He gasps for air, stifling another cry, and then bursts into a fit of coughing. Blood dribbles from his lips.

  “Remember me?” Bellator says.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “I knew you wouldn’t forget about me.”

  She looks him over with disgust. “Another word, and you’ll get an arrow in your other arm.”

  He swallows. “What do you want?”

  “You have information that I desire, and you’re going to give it to me.”

  “Promise you’ll spare me first!”

  She snorts coldly. “You’re dying anyways.”

  A faint smile twitches his crimson lips. “Oh, I’ll live. And when I do, I promise, we’ll meet again.”

  Bellator grabs the shaft in his arm and twists it. He howls in agony.

  “Alright, alright!” he sputters when he can speak again. “I’ll talk! What do you want to know?”

  “I have it from a reliable source that you work for King Sedgewick of Zandelba. Is that true?”

  “Your source is mistaken.”

  “Don’t lie to me!” Bellator shouts in his face.

  “I swear! I know nothing of the court of Zandelba! We’re common raiders trying to make a living!”

  “He’s lying,” I say, coming forward.

  Ralcher’s face betrays his disbelief before he can conceal it. “You!”

  “You know this boy?” Bellator demands.

  He nods, cringing from the pain it causes him. “That thing is my slave.”

  I feel a sudden urge to hurt him, and hurt him badly. “I am not your slave! Not anymore.”

  “How dare you speak to me!” he spits. “Worthless half-breed!”

  I can’t stop myself from flinching at the insult. “I am not worthless,” I say through clenched teeth.

  His black eyes dart to me with a cruel glint. “You’re afraid of me.”

  I shake my head, but my breath catches in my throat.

  “Do your new friends know that you are a sorcerer? That you almost levelled a city in your terror?”

  Uri gapes at me, backing away. “You got magic?”

  “Yes, Uri, he does,” Bellator snaps. “Now shut the hell up while I interrogate this piece of filth!”

  Ralcher sneers at me. “A half-breed sorcerer fugitive! How free are you really? Come on, tell us!”

  “You’re wrong,” I say.

  He laughs. “Coward!”

  “Enough!” Bellator bellows, twisting the arrow until he screams. “I want an answer, and I will have one! Do you work for the king of Zandelba?”

  “Yes! Alright, yes, I do!”

  “Did he send you to raid this town during a time of peace between Valamette and Zandelba?”

  He sputters. “What peace? It has never existed!”

  “I am aware of the old feud between Valamette and Zandelba! What’s your point?”

  “My king called me personally for this mission, though I don’t know what he means to accomplish by it. I suspect he’s looking to see how much your king’ll take before declaring war on us and sealing his kingdom’s fate.”

  “He’s not my king!” Bellator snarls. “If you make it home alive, you can tell your king that if he plans to attack this town again, I will be here to defend it! Now, be gone!”

  Ralcher struggles to push himself up with his good arm, but it proves too much for him. He doubles over with a cry, grasping at the arrow in his stomach.

  Bellator rolls her eyes, and grabbing his injured arm, she jerks him to his feet. He screams in pain, sways, but remains standing.

  “Get out of here before I kill you,” she spits.

  He j
erks his head in a nod, and then glances at me. “You! Here, now!”

  A black wave of fear seizes me and all I can do is shake my head.

  He grits his teeth, that mad light entering his eyes. “Attend me at once!”

  “N-no,” I stammer.

  Even in such a weak state, he still manages to find the strength to charge toward me.

  “Stay back!” My voice comes out in a pitiful squeak. I stagger back, pointing my sword at him, all pretence of courage gone. The prospect of going back to being a slave – his slave – brings me more terror than an army of ezixs.

  “Get away from him!” Bellator snarls, leaping between us. Her bow creaks as she pulls back her bowstring, a killing blow aimed at Ralcher’s heart.

  “You would deny me my property?” he demands, incredulous.

  “I have been merciful thus far. Do not test my patience.”

  He quickly thinks better of his protest, and his jaw tightens. “This isn’t over,” he says, jabbing a finger at me. “I’ll be seeing you again.”

  “Eh, I wouldn’t count on that,” Uri says, thumping his trident on the pavement.

  Ralcher glances from Uri to Bellator and then makes a run for it back up the hill.

  I lower the tip of the sword, rather shaken. “Why’d you let him go?”

  Bellator raises her eyebrows in mock surprise. “It’s unlike you to be screaming for someone’s blood, half-wit. Perhaps you’ve seen enough of the stuff for the day.”

  My face grows warm with shame. “I’m not screaming for his blood. But you saw him. He’s a maniac! It’s not like you to let someone like that live without a reason.”

  “You don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do,” she snaps. “As it happens, I want him to deliver my message to the king of Zandelba. There is no other way to ensure Annalyn’s safety.”

  “What?” Uri exclaims. “You mean she ain’t safe here?”

  “She wasn’t,” Bellator corrects. “Once that knave relays my message, as well as the mission report, King Sedgewick will think twice before attacking this town again. Although,” she adds in a lower tone, leaning forward, “I have a feeling that dearest Master Zeldek was the one who initially put them up to this. What way better to punish us for escaping than to hit us each where it hurts most?”

  “You think he was behind this?” I ask.

  “It has his name written all over it. The brutality, the ignorant pawns, even the use of Zandelba – they’re always ready to bully Valamette for their own reasons.”

  “You don’t s’ppose the king of Valamette knows about this, do you?” Uri asks.

  “Oh, he definitely knows,” she replies spitefully. “But he’s a coward and a fool. As long as he stays in power, he doesn’t care what happens to the people!” She spits at the ground. “War will come yet, and I say let it! He deserves what’s coming.”

  With those biting words, she turns on her heel and starts back down the street toward the tavern.

  “Sheesh! Remind me not to get on her bad side again,” Uri says.

  I’m pretty sure he’s not talking to me, and even if he is, I know he wouldn’t listen if I did remind him.

  “Hurry up!” she calls over her shoulder.

  We start after her, making an effort to avoid stumbling over dead, bleeding bodies as we go. This time, as we pass through the street, the people of the town peer out at us from behind curtains and from the doorways of their houses.

  “Ignore them,” Bellator advises. “They’ll find out what happened after we leave. It’ll save us from being detained by their well-meant grovelling.”

  “Why?” Uri demands. “I’d be glad for some ‘preciation for a change.”

  A sharp glance from Bellator is the only explanation he needs.

  We soon stand in front of the tavern once more. Bellator leads the way to the water’s edge, and kneels down on the wooden boards. She must have been gathering her arrows as she fought, because her quiver is full of bloody shafts that she takes out to clean in the water.

  Uri follows her example and dunks his trident into the lake, swirling it this way and that until the water around it is red.

  I look at their clothing, their faces, all splattered with human blood, then down at the clean blade of my own sword. In the reflection, my face has a noticeably green complexion. My stomach churns, and now that my energy is gone, there is nothing to stop my most recent meal from coming back up. I throw myself to the lake’s edge and vomit into the water.

  Uri barks with laughter. “I told you he’d be sick! Didn’t I tell you?”

  Bellator glances at me, unsmiling. “You alright there, half-wit?” she asks.

  I try to nod, but I’m a bit too disoriented to make any sort of reply.

  She slides an arrow into her quiver. “You did good today.”

  My stomach heaves, but there isn’t anything left in it. I straighten up, wiping my face on my sleeve.

  “I know it was hard for you,” she continues, a bit absentmindedly. “But people like us need to learn to survive in this world. Sometimes that means doing what is necessary to ensure that security.”

  “Don’t we have to also be able to live with ourselves?” I rasp.

  She gives me a sharp look. “I suppose you think you can just talk your way out of every situation, then? I can see how well that’s worked for you so far!”

  “I wasn’t saying—”

  “Learn what you will from what I am trying to teach you! Just don’t blame me when the maniac running at you with a sword doesn’t want to negotiate!”

  She goes back to cleaning her arrows.

  Uri clears his throat. “So, uh... I’m just gonna go over by the horses, in case you need me...”

  Bellator ignores him. “Half-wit, clean my sword. And try not to retch on it.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “Clean it!”

  I do as she asks, using the edge of my cloak to polish the blade. I sheathe the sword and unbind its belt from around my waist.

  “Take it,” I say, holding it out to Bellator. “I hope not to have anymore need for it.”

  She glances from it to me, a malicious glint in her eyes. “Oh, I think you will,” she says. “Why don’t you hold onto it for a little while longer?”

  I grimace, but I wrap the belt obediently around my waist once more.

  I proceed to untie the horses from the posts where I left them and lead them from the stables. Darkness has set across the sky, and numerous stars twinkle merrily down at us, oblivious to the suffering so far beneath them. I can feel the weariness of sleep coming over me, but I know that even if I could sleep, I won’t be able to keep the visions of today’s battle from troubling my dreams.

  Bellator approaches, her weapons clean and in order, and takes Nimro’s bridle from me.

  “Redhead,” she says, swinging herself up onto the black stallion, “you’ll ride with the half-breed until we drop you off in Kenwardton.”

  “Actually,” Uri replies, jutting out his jaw defiantly, “I changed my mind. I ain’t going to Kenwardton no more. I wanna go to Twylaun.”

  Bellator stiffens, but her voice remains toneless. “Then we’ll take you as far as we can, and you can travel the rest of the way on foot.”

  The door to the tavern swings open, and Annalyn rushes down the steps toward us. In her hands are two large skins of ale.

  “Wait!” her voice rings out. “The lady inside told us what you did for our village. Papa sent me to give you these in thanks for that and for bringing me safely home.”

  “That’s more like it,” Uri says, snatching up the skin that she offers to him.

  She reaches the other up to Bellator, who takes it with a suspicious frown.

  “Father said that any time either of you comes to town again,” Annalyn continues, “feel free to stop by the tavern, and he’ll give you both food and a place to stay for free.”

  “Tell him we thank him for his kindness,” Bellator says.

  A
nnalyn smiles. “I will. Thank you once again for your assistance.”

  Bellator nods and then takes a swig of the ale.

  Annalyn turns to me, her smile fading. “Ealdred,” she says, “I would like to thank you, even if my father won’t. I’m so sorry about what he said—”

  “Don’t be,” I cut in. “I wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know. But it was wrong how he treated you, and he knows it. He’s still in pain over my mother’s death, that’s all.”

  “You don’t have to make excuses for him. I understand.”

  But I don’t. Since when does causing another person pain get rid of one’s own?

  She sighs. “Father wouldn’t let me bring anything out to you, so you’ll have to share with the others. That is, if they will allow you to. I’m sorry—”

  “It isn’t a problem. Thank you,” I say firmly.

  She shakes her head, and throws her arms around me. “No. Thank you! It was you that got Bellator to take me along, even though I was the reason you were captured in the first place, what with spying on you for Zeldek and all.”

  “It’s alright,” I mumble, my face growing warm. “Really, it is.”

  She pulls away with a shy smile and slides a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’d best let you be off. Goodbye, then.”

  I nod to her. “Goodbye, Annalyn.”

  She turns back toward the tavern and walks slowly to the door, a weight to her steps. I watch her go. A heavy feeling of foreboding settles on my shoulders as I venture to wonder if I will ever see her again.

  “Well, that was sweet,” Bellator scoffs as soon as the tavern door has closed behind Annalyn.

  My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “What was?”

  “That!” She gestures in the direction that Annalyn retreated.

  “I can’t have been the only one expectin’ them to kiss,” Uri sneers.

  “Shut up,” I snap. “I was just trying to be gentlemanly. Not that you would know anything about that.”

  “Ain’t no such thing as a gentleman, ‘cept in books,” Uri retorts.

  “Not that you’d know anything about that,” Bellator mimics, “because you can’t read.”