Mykel moved closer and put a hand on Nara’s shoulder. “Bitty, I–”
Nara pulled away. “See what I mean? To Gretchen, I will always be a horrible thing. In her view, I’m as evil as evil gets.”
“I see your point,” he said. “Reminds me of Pop. He was a good man, folks say, until my mother died. Not evil. Just hurting. But killing innocents? Burning them? Stealing children? That’s different.”
They started walking again, not saying much as Nara thought on her own words. She believed them, sort of. There was wisdom in them, but she wondered if she repeated them to convince herself of something. That she was salvageable. Or perhaps having such thoughts invited hope for the future. Maybe these soldiers were really just good men dealing with bad times and wouldn’t inflict their harsh orders on her precious town. Perhaps they would leave Dimmitt alone. A futile hope, perhaps. The vision of Dimmitt’s doom was powerful, carrying a certainty and dread because she may not be able to do anything about it. Where was Dei in all of this? Didn’t the God of this world care about the suffering of His creations?
The last light of the sun dropped over a mountain peak and Mykel slowed his pace.
“It’s dark,” he said. “I’m following the sound of your footsteps but can hardly see a thing.”
“Use your staff. Or I can flare light if you want.”
“We should rest, Nara.”
“I want to keep going.”
He was right. Flaring health all day long had drained them. They were tired and would travel faster if they could get a few hours of sleep. She sighed. “Okay.”
Nara found a fallen tree, probably pushed over by a high autumn wind, and they made camp in the hollow below. At first, she worried that a fire would attract hostile attention, and her mind flashed to the ambush that nearly killed Mykel months ago. Then she dismissed the concern. They were no longer vulnerable to such things.
She found wood nearby and dragged the sticks and logs into a pile. She summoned the fire rune to her thoughts, extended her fingers and flared the rune. Flames leaped from her fingers, quickly setting the wood alight. As she moved to sit, she glanced at Mykel, his eyes wide.
“What?” she asked.
“Um, I just never saw you do that before.”
“Oh.”
Of course. He had been unconscious during the fight in the castle. He never saw her kill the king. What a shock it must be to see fire magic now.
“Gwyn told me what happened, but I never heard it from you,” Mykel said. “You just said you killed him. But it was incredible, apparently. More than you let on.”
She didn’t respond, not wanting him to know how that happened, how she’d swelled up like a goddess with the power of the king’s armor and used it to extinguish him like a gnat under her shoe. How the power of so much life energy felt as it coursed through her, delicious and unending. Delightful power. She had enjoyed the feeling, and even now she missed it. It helped her to understand why Kayna killed people, taking their magic, consuming the energy in their souls. It had felt good, and that was a horrible thing. Perhaps that was the purest evil of all.
She didn’t want Mykel to know any of that. And she didn’t want it to affect their relationship, though that was a silly wish. How could it not? Young men often sought to be stronger than the girls they loved, clinging to old notions about saving damsels in distress. Mykel might be the most powerful young man in the land, and no doubt he would have similar thoughts. Yet, just now, he looked at her with amazement. Or was it fear?
The wood crackled as they settled down on opposite sides of the flames. The shifting light from the fire illuminated Mykel’s face in odd ways, shadows falling across his hair and nose, making him look like a very different person.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Mykel.”
He didn’t answer.
“We should have gone to Dimmitt long ago,” she said.
“Anne said no. You’ve learned a lot, but you’re not very good using the new runes. And gifted await us, out there. Racers, bears, and who knows what else?”
“Well-trained gifted. Big difference. And I tire when I use runes. ‘Be efficient,’ she keeps saying. Then I use strength or speed, and I fatigue so quickly. I’m exhausted right now. But Sammy needs us.”
“Sammy is strong, Nara. And smart, for a kid. He should be okay.”
“Nice try, but you are as worried as I am. Probably more.”
There were no sounds of travelers pushing through the night on the road above them, only trickles from a nearby creek as it carried away the winter snows. Nara listened to the water and eventually, she was able to quiet her thoughts enough to sleep.
Hours later, Nara woke to see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. It dallied, coming late this time of year, rising slowly to cast its red blanket across the sleeping hills and mountains. Mykel snored across from her, smoke from the failed fire filling the hollow with its acrid odor.
She yawned and stretched, having rested far too little for the running her body had endured. But her mind was too busy to quiet itself again, so she rose and gathered more wood, then stoked the dying coals in an attempt to resurrect the fire. After a few moments, new flames began licking the logs. She reached into her pack and grabbed another biscuit, then took a bite as she watched the horizon, wondering what the day would bring. A few moments later, Mykel stirred.
“Good morning,” Nara said.
He smiled.
“Sleep well?”
“Not at all,” he said, rising and grabbing a biscuit. “We should get going.”
Growing sounds from the road above interrupted their breakfast– sounds of horses moving closer, a wagon rolling, and men walking and talking.
Mykel smothered the flames with a few handfuls of dirt as Nara snuck up the incline to peek at the travelers.
Soldiers. Nara counted a dozen of them marching along the road, accompanied by two figures in robes, leading a wagon that bore an iron cage. Inside the cage were children.
“No,” she muttered. “How dare they?”
Mykel joined her as they viewed the approaching group. The growing light would reveal them to the soldiers as they passed by in a few moments, but two travelers should be of little interest to such men. She could stand there and do nothing. No conflict. No screams. And the children would remain in that cold cage and be carried off to some terrible place, away from their village, away from their families. If they had any family left.
Mykel left her side and when he returned, he held the ivory staff.
“Don’t kill them,” Nara said.
He didn’t respond.
“Please,” she said.
She tore her eyes away from the cage and turned to Mykel. His lips were pursed, and his eyes held a harsh look.
“I mean it, Mykel. They’re just following orders. They may have families.”
Mykel stepped up onto the road and took a wide stance directly in the path of the oncoming soldiers. Nara joined him, standing at his side. As the entourage came closer, a soldier on horseback broke from the others and walked forward. A chain mail coif hung loosely about his neck, and in the dim light of dawn, Nara noticed dirt encrusted on his armor and fatigue in his eyes.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he said with impatience as he stopped his horse a dozen paces away. The rest of his troop stopped behind him.
“What village did you steal them from?” Mykel asked.
“That’s no business of yours,” the man answered.
Nara flared the sound rune to amplify her voice–a trick Anne had shown her. Not very useful in combat, but it would make an impression. They would know she was gifted, and this might end without bloodshed. “Let them go,” she said, her voice booming.
The soldier’s face tightened in surprise, then he smiled. “Interesting trick, but you’re two against twelve. Move aside.” He gave his horse a gentle nudge in the ribs and it inched forward, but neither Mykel nor Nara moved. Nara sensed the anger rolling
off Mykel in waves and she hoped he could restrain himself.
The soldier was only a few paces away when Mykel leaped forward, high into the air, and took the man off his horse with a single punch to the midsection. The stunned man fell to the ground, his armor impacting the dirt and rocks of the roadway, stirring all to surprise.
“Get them,” another soldier yelled as half a dozen ran at Mykel.
In the next few moments, the ivory staff whirled, impacting legs and chests as Mykel delivered destruction. Nara had hardly advanced when the staff hit one man squarely in the temple. She sensed his life end as his skull collapsed under the blow.
“Stop!” she screamed, running forward and flaring protection in the event a sword came her way. “Mykel, stop it, now. Don’t kill them!”
But he didn’t stop. Three more fell in the seconds she had delayed. Others pulled swords and axes to engage with the warrior who waded through their ranks with his ancient weapon. Mykel wasn’t listening to her–he was killing them all.
Anger rose at the senselessness of the destruction. There had to be a better way to save these children.
Nara flared the earth rune in her mind, holding it side by side in her vision with protection. The soil rose at her command, engulfing Mykel in dirt and rocks that solidified about his legs. Trapping him in place would prevent him from advancing on the others, at least for a moment.
His face whirled toward her, angry, streaked with the pain of betrayal. A sword flashed. Nara winced as Mykel took a cut across the midsection. The pain didn’t seem to bother him, but he closed his eyes and flared protection and health, his wound closing. A fraction of a second later, he swung the staff to strike the sword-wielding soldier across his face, sending him to the ground in agony.
Half a dozen armed men lunged at Mykel, but he was immobilized and the fight would now be hers. She flared speed to confront the approaching attackers. Two were in the lead, carrying small axes and shields. She intercepted them, their movements slowing to a crawl as she accelerated. In an instant, she had grabbed the haft of the first soldier’s axe, pried his thumb back, and seized the weapon. She then tossed it as far as she could over the side of the road. She whirled as she readjusted her path toward the second one, removed his axe, but kept this one for herself.
The soldiers continued toward Mykel in slow motion, surprise blooming on their faces as they realized that she had disarmed them. She positioned herself between them, flaring the motion rune and gesturing, focusing her thoughts, pushing them away from her. The soldiers flew into the air, landing thirty feet away, one on each side of the road. A sudden weakness came upon her, so much strength spent in using multiple runes at once.
“Gifted!” The voice carried fear, and the remaining soldiers slowed. She dropped the runes from her thoughts and stood in front of Mykel, axe still in hand, surveying the remaining combatants. One of the figures in the back of the entourage came forward, removing her robe to reveal herself as a young woman in a leather cuirass and breeches, a dagger in each hand and an angry expression on her face.
“We’re on the queen’s business,” the woman said. Her short-cropped brown hair was tangled and her face dirty. “You have attacked soldiers on a royal mission. You are under arrest.” Her voice sounded strained.
Nara heard a sound from behind her and looked to see Mykel step free of the earth and stone that had bound him, his strength rune still flaring hot in her vision.
“Leave the children and you’ll be unharmed,” Nara said.
The attack came so fast that neither Nara nor Mykel could react as the figure dashed toward them like a bolt of lightning. Nara lifted her right arm, still wielding the soldier’s axe, just in time to feel a hot pain dance from her wrist to her elbow, forcing the weapon from her grip. Mykel touched his neck where a wound had appeared and blood now flowed.
A racer!
Nara flared speed just in time to brace for a second approach by the racer. The pain in her forearm distracted her focus, but she avoided many strikes from a second flurry exploding upon her. The racer retreated a dozen paces, slowly now that speed was again Nara’s ally. Blood spilled from Nara’s gut and left shoulder now. New wounds–and so fast!
She flared health and the wounds lessened, even as Mykel advanced on the deadly woman. He would be much slower than his opponent, but with the sight rune, he would know where she planned to strike. Nara searched with her vision for the woman’s cepp, but the glow of energy from Mykel’s staff made it difficult, as if searching for a candle in a room that held a blazing fire. Then she saw them–tiny bone rings, one on each hand, like those Gwyn carried. If she could siphon their magic, the racer would be powerless, but the young woman moved so fast that Nara’s thoughts couldn’t track them well enough. A fight was unavoidable.
Flaring protection and speed at once, she grabbed the fallen axe and stepped toward the racer, teeth gritted, and resolved to return the blinding attacks in kind. Maybe only violence would work with these people after all.
The woman’s eyes widened with surprise at Nara, then she adjusted the grip on her daggers, both dripping with blood. The woman was faster than Nara and far more practiced with her gift.
But she was only a gifted, and Nara was more than that.
She flared sight for just a moment and knew what would happen next.
As the two women clashed, Nara’s axe swung wide, missing the woman’s shoulder by several inches as it whistled through the air. The racer’s dagger, however, impacted Nara in her side, and the pain announced itself in outrageous fashion, causing her to buckle over. Nara let go of the axe and flared strength and speed with all her passion, forcing herself upright and grabbing the woman’s arms with a rapidity and fierceness that took the racer by surprise.
Then Nara squeezed.
The bones in the woman’s forearms snapped, an audible crack preceding her cry. A moment later, an agonizing sympathetic pain raced across Nara’s own forearms, and she shuddered. She stopped flaring all her runes as an ivory staff came out of nowhere to crush the woman’s skull, sending her the ground.
“No!” Nara screamed. “Mykel, no! She was beaten!”
Pain in Nara’s side sapped her strength, forcing her to her knees. She stumbled to the racer’s side, the crumpled form now devoid of movement, broken forearms askew, and blood spilling from the side of her skull.
“I told you no killing!” Nara screamed.
Silence fell. The remaining soldiers stood in place, clearly not knowing what to do.
“They deserve to die,” Mykel said.
“Following orders. That’s all they are doing!” Nara flared health to close her own wounds, then put a hand on the head of the fallen racer. She felt the softness in the woman’s shattered skull, a sick, squishy feeling where there should have been hard bone. She recalled the knitting and sight runes that Anne had shown her, flaring them with what remained of her own strength, the designs popping alive in her vision. Images flooded her thoughts of the broken pieces of skull beneath her fingers. As she fed the knitting rune, the pieces of bone coalesced and fused but there was damage to the brain beneath, and Nara had run out of time. She had almost no practice in the repair of complex injuries and quickly lost hope. A final, raspy breath announced the woman’s end.
She looked at Mykel, anger and frustration rising. “She was young, like us. Someone stabbed her hand with a ceppit, and her life changed.” Nara stood, then took a step closer to him. “Maybe she wanted to be an artist or a baker. Or was in love and wanted to marry. Instead, she was drafted after an announcement ceremony. Forced to work with soldiers, kidnap children and kill their parents. She’s a victim, Mykel. Like so many others. And you killed her!”
“You moved so fast,” he replied. “Like lightning. I’ve never seen anything like it. Both of you. I couldn’t see what was happening, so I trusted the staff. With it, I knew where to strike. Where to move, to protect you. It’s my job, Nara.”
“Don’t trust the staff. Trust
me!”
Blood on her hands, Nara turned toward the remaining soldiers who stood watching, awaiting their fate. The nervous movements of one of them betrayed his fear, an eagerness to run or perhaps to hide.
Standing among the soldiers was a figure in black robes; another gifted. He was in his mid-twenties, she guessed. A bone cepp dangled from a chain belt around his midsection, and fear hung in his eyes. He hadn’t engaged in the fight and probably didn’t know how. Perhaps he was a harvester, a mover of magic, not a warrior.
She understood Mykel’s anger at these people; she had felt it herself. A moment ago, in the middle of the fight with the racer, she had tasted that fury. If she had kept her wits about her, she may have found a way to control the engagement better, but violence had seized her and she had embraced it, much like Mykel had.
“Open the cage,” Nara said. A moment later, two soldiers complied, and half a dozen children spilled free onto the roadway. They were dirty, and their faces were haggard. She turned to the soldiers.
“Now go. To Fairmont. To your mistress.” She needed to say something else, to convince them to end this craziness. Kidnapping children? Killing their parents? But what could she say? They knew the horror of their orders but followed them, anyway. “And be ashamed. To save yourselves punishment, you inflict it upon the innocent. There is little mercy in our hearts for you. If I see you again, I’ll kill you!”
It wasn’t true, but she wanted urgency in her words, to deter them from future wrongs. They didn’t respond, heads hanging low and glancing occasionally in Nara’s direction as they gathered their wounded and dead. They then mounted and spurred their horses on, leaving the six stolen children standing in the middle of the road.
Without turning to face him, she spoke to Mykel. “She was like one of these children once. Now she’s dead.”
Mykel came closer, putting a hand on Nara’s shoulder. “She tried to kill you. It was her job. It’s not fair, I agree, but if someone tries to kill you, I will put them down.”
The Godseeker Duet Page 34
