Another arrow struck. And then another.
Within seconds the sky was blanketed with arrows, all raining down on the dead army.
The group turned, watching in silence as a sea of damned souls covered the ground.
“What’s going on?” Eadith said. “Who’s doing this?”
A faint smile softened Arwan’s lips. “The villagers.”
Flashes of snarled teeth and crazed eyes shone from behind masks of colored body paint.
“How…?” Eleuia looked up at the window of the home. Arwan followed, spotting Marzena with her eyes closed and her fingers pressed against her temples. “She called them,” Eleuia shrieked. “She called them!”
Beigarth looked into Grima’s face. “I have to get her inside. She’s ill.”
Arwan nodded. “Keep her with the others. She’s done all she can.”
“Aye.” Beigarth stroked Grima’s hair. “Ye have done all ye can, lass.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Ye rest now.” Beigarth let her down from his arms. Thankfully, she was now able to walk, thanks to Peter’s healing touch.
“Ye be careful,” Grima said, her hand clenched onto Beigarth’s bicep. “Yer all I’ve got in the world.”
Beigarth fisted his hand and pressed it over his heart, holding Grima’s gaze.
Rows of villagers flooded out of the jungle, each marked in body paint. They charged downhill, ululating, with their weapons poised to strike. Villagers leapt over dead bodies and sliced at the enemy, taking down hundreds in a matter of minutes.
Beigarth turned to the battlefield and pushed out his chest. “Well, what are ye waiting for?” He ran his hand over his face and down his beard, glaring ahead. “We have a battle to win.” He charged forward, followed by the rest of the group.
Arwan handed Zanya off to Drina, who waited in the doorway. “Take care of her.” He held Drina’s gaze. “If anything happens to her…” His throat tightened.
Drina waved him off. “Go, boy. I will care for t'e guardian.”
Before he could leave, Zanya reached out and touched his face.
The warmth of her skin and familiar pull of his soul mate completely encompassed him.
Pale and weak, beads of sweat collected on Zanya’s forehead. “You can’t go…”
He took her hand in his. “I have to. I can’t leave them out there—”
“They aren’t going to make it. None of us will.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Stay with me until it’s over. Please.”
***
Zanya
“That’s not true. Don’t think like that.” Arwan looked at Drina, who lingered behind her. “Take her inside and lock the door.”
Drina braced her hands on Zanya’s shoulders. “Come—”
“No.” Zanya shook the priestess off of her. “He can’t go.” She looked back at Arwan. “Don’t you see?” She looked at the war raging around them. “Even with the villagers, it isn’t enough.”
Arwan turned to the scene.
Blood coated the ground from fallen Mayan warriors as more underworld troops ascended the tree to join in the fight. Whatever triumph they’d had was short lived.
There were still too many.
“I can’t stand here and watch you die. I…” He worked his jaw. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
He slipped out of her grasp and ran into battle. He snatched his glaive from the ground before dispatching several more underworlders.
“Sweet girl.” Zanya looked at Drina, who stood behind her. “You must come back inside. T'ere’s no other choice.”
“Than to hide until we die?” Zanya wiped a bead of sweat drizzling down her nose. “No. I can’t go down like that—cowering in a corner.”
“He is more capable—”
Zanya turned and hugged the Mayan priestess. “Take care of them—especially Tara. She’s terrified. And make sure Grima is comfortable as long as she can be.” Zanya slipped out the door and shut it behind her. She closed her eyes and heated it with a charge of electricity until the handle began to melt—as did the mechanisms—locking everyone inside.
Screams and cries saturated the air, morphing into a soundtrack from her most gruesome nightmares. She slouched against the stone walls of the home and gathered her strength. She’d need every ounce of it for what she was about to do.
Zanya took a knife from her boot—a spare Arwan made her carry at all times—then stumbled into battle.
The world seemed to move in slow motion.
Arwan swung his glaive. Strands of blood-soaked hair stuck to his cheeks and neck.
The clouds seemed to stop moving.
The wind seemed to still, leaving the air stagnant.
Zanya fought the fatigue struggling to take her over. More underworlders poured from the hole in the earth. More hellhounds. More roots from the tree.
The enemy closed in around them yet again.
It was clear in that moment—they would all die.
Zanya let go of her knife and let it clatter the ground.
Bodies of the fallen villagers were being consumed by Yaxche. Vines and roots coiled around their bodies, dragging them under until they were nothing more than a bloodstain.
Hawa screamed and stumbled back when a hound leapt on top of her.
Jayden kicked it off, then shoved a blade in its back, piercing its heart from behind.
Another hound tackled Jayden, snapping at his face while he held it just inches away.
Hawa pressed her hand over her stomach as blood pumped between her fingers. She kicked at another underworlder, unable to defend herself from the onslaught of attacks.
Zanya wanted to move—wanted nothing more than to help Hawa escape. But it took all of her effort to stay standing, and she had nothing left to fight.
Nothing.
A shrill cry pierced the air while several underworlders piled on top of Hawa, hacking at her with hatchets and primitive weapons.
Zanya dropped to her knees, reaching out in despair and helplessness.
Jayden screamed, stealing glances at Hawa while he struggled to keep the hound from tearing his head off. Eleuia ran to his aid and dispatched the hound.
Hawa’s legs went stiff, and then fell lifeless.
Blood rolled over the petrified stone.
“Get off her!” Eleuia bludgeoned an underworlder over the head before diving on the back of another of the enemy.
Jayden grabbed a rock and smashed in the head of his last attacker, stunning it long enough for him to see Hawa’s body splayed out on the ground.
He stilled and dropped the rock.
The savage rage in his eyes stole Zanya’s breath.
The pain was unbearable.
Jayden dropped on his knees beside her lifeless body. Gaping wounds covered her arms, legs, and face. He pulled on handfuls of his own hair while his mouth contorted.
Eleuia checked Hawa’s pulse, then looked up at Jay and shook her head.
Zanya covered her eyes and wailed. “No!” A surge of desperation took her over completely. She fisted her hands and slammed them onto the ground, her entire body shaking. “No!” She clenched her jaw and opened her eyes. Hot, scalding wrath coursed through her veins. Her breath quickened and her stone seared her skin, pulsing with untainted force. “No!” She picked up her fists and slammed them on the soil another time.
A cold sickness flushed through her body and the world was tainted in a dusky gray. The air stilled. The atmosphere grew silent. The ground beneath her hands turned to stone, and the sickness began to spread.
The underworlders fought in slow motion, as did her group. The petrified ground crackled and split as the ability rolled over the battlefield, turning everything it touched to stone.
She screamed and pushed harder, tearing every fiber of ability out of her to bring this to an end. Every underworld soul froze in time as they turned to stone.
Every fallen Mayan villager.
Every leaf or grain of soil.
Even the tree it
self—turned to stone.
She would turn the entire jungle into a petrified wasteland if she had to.
Nothing would survive.
The trees her ability touched hardened and split. Branches cracked under their own weight and tumbled to the ground, exploding into piles of rubble on impact.
When the fog cleared from her mind and she finally came back to the moment, the jungle was a massive graveyard.
She opened her eyes and scanned the battleground. The rest of the group had leapt to the safety of the already petrified training ring, and were busy dispatching the few surviving underworlders.
Everyone had fled to safety.
Everyone but Beigarth.
She spotted his stone figure on the battlefield, an ax raised overhead with his eyes focused on the victim in front of him.
Zanya forced herself to her feet. The adrenaline had already begun to wear off. Her hands shook and her legs trembled beneath her weight. She found her mother, who met her gaze. Her mother’s lips were parted while she stared at Zanya in horror.
Zanya examined the death and destruction—the consequences of her actions…
What had she done?
Her mother stepped toward her, only to stop after a single stride.
“Zanya.” Peter stood, watching Zanya from a distance.
Her entire body was numb—except for a snaking pain winding up her belly. A sharp cramp nearly took her to her knees. With her legs pinched together, she cupped her belly. Warm liquid trickled from between her thighs.
Arwan slaughtered the final underworld survivor before looking at her.
Zanya ground her teeth. “Something’s wrong.” Those were the only words she managed to say before an excruciating pain tore through her stomach, and everything went black.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Arwan
“Zanya!” Arwan sprinted toward her and caught her before she hit the ground. Her eyes fluttered shut.
Peter was there within seconds, running his hands over her body in search of the cause of her illness. “She’s hemorrhaging.” Peter’s face went white. “The baby.”
Arwan ran her to the door, but it wouldn’t open. He saw the handle had been melted, and clenched his jaw. With a swift kick, he broke the door open and ran up the stairs, past the others, and into their bedroom. Tara was the first to arrive in the room, followed by Marzena, and then Drina.
The old priestess hobbled to the bed and pressed her hand to Zanya’s forehead. “She is not well. Not well at all.” Drina removed some herbs from a pouch tied around her waist and slapped them in Tara’s hand. “Go make tea—quickly, child.”
Tara nodded and ran into the hall.
“She used too much of herself,” Marzena said. “She dug too deep.” The seemingly young dreamwalker closed her eyes, only to squint and shake her head. “She is too far gone. I cannot communicate with her.”
Arwan knelt beside the bed and took Zanya’s hand. “Come on, Zanya.” He draped his hand over Zanya’s belly. “Please.” The word came out in a watery plea.
Eleuia darted into the room, covered in underworld blood. She froze in the doorway, staring at her daughter from a distance.
“She needs you,” Marzena said, waving Eleuia in. “Come by her side. Remind her of how much she is loved.”
Eleuia clutched her chest. “So much.”
Arwan pressed a kiss on the back of Zanya’s hand. She mumbled and kicked at the sheets. Her words were indiscernible at first, but as the seconds passed, they became clear. “It hurts.” She arched her back and clawed at her belly. “Make it stop. It hurts!”
Eleuia sat on the other side of her bed and took her hand. “Come on, sweetie. You have to be strong. Not for yourself, but for your baby. Be strong for your little girl.”
Zanya opened her eyes and looked at her mother. Her bottom lip quivered. “Mom…I’m scared.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Eleuia stroked Zanya’s hair, tears building in her eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”
Zanya closed her eyes and curled into a ball, then let out a scream. “Mom!”
Peter skimmed his hands over Zanya’s body. “I’ll do everything I can to stop the bleeding.”
“T’e herbs will help. T’ey will ease her pain and allow her to rest.”
Arwan stood back, fighting to hold down the streak of panic.
Tara returned with a steaming cup of herbal tea. “Where do I put it?”
“Here, child.” Drina pointed to the nightstand.
Tara did as she was told, then stood beside the priestess. She scanned the faces in the room. “Where are the others?”
“Eadith is outside with…” Eleuia paused. “With whoever’s left.”
Tara pressed her fingers over her lips, shaking her head.
“It’s my fault,” Arwan said. “Their blood is on my hands.”
“Stop it,” Eleuia snapped. “You can’t do that to yourself. You did your best. We all did.”
“No.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “I could have done more. I should have…” He turned his face away, too ashamed to look into Eleuia’s eyes.
Tara scrubbed away tears with her sleeve. “Who’s still outside…alive?”
Arwan walked to the bedroom window and stared out at the petrified jungle. There was very little movement. Eadith stood beside Jayden, who cradled Hawa’s body in his lap.
Arwan’s chest tightened.
“Only Jayden,” Arwan said. “And Eadith. That’s all that’s left.”
Tara slowly sat, her features wiped blank from shock.
“I should get out there. Help collect the dead.”
“Who’s going to tell Grima?” Tara asked.
“She’s asleep for now,” Peter said. “She went into what I can only describe as toxic shock from her wounds. We should let her rest, and tell her when she’s regained strength. Otherwise it may strip her of her will to live, and we’ll lose her too.”
Drina hobbled toward the hall. “Come, boy. I will help you gat'er t’e dead and rest t’eir bodies wit’ honor until we can give t’em a rightful ceremony.”
Arwan leaned down and kissed Zanya on the forehead, then whispered in her ear. “Don’t give up.”
When he followed Drina outside, the air was still and the familiar noises of the jungle had vanished. No birds or humming of insects. No rattling of leaves. Just silence, and the all too familiar stink of death.
Drina approached Beigarth’s petrified form and touched his stone face. “You did well, warrior.” She sliced her finger and smudged two streaks of blood over his eyes. “May you find your way to t’e heavens wit’ ease.”
Arwan approached Jayden, who sat silent with Hawa lying limp in his lap.
The seeker, who he’d grown to admire over the months, was not sobbing or rocking his fallen love. Instead, he silently sat, staring out at the lifeless jungle.
Arwan crouched beside him, but couldn’t bring himself to look at Hawa’s body. He’d seen it once since the underworlders attacked.
“I’m sorry,” Arwan said.
Jayden didn’t take his focus off the distance. “There’s nothing left for me now. I have no one…”
“You still have us.” He braced his hand on the seeker’s shoulder. “And you are welcome to stay as long as you would like. Forever, even. You’re family.”
Jayden hugged Hawa tighter against his chest and buried his face in her hair.
Arwan stood, deciding that was enough. The choice was the seeker’s now. Whether he stayed or left, the decision was out of his hands.
“Anot'er was petrified,” Drina said, standing several yards away. She stared down at one of the twin windthrowers, face down on the ground.
He was just a kid. He deserved better.
“His brother’s body is resting beside the house,” Arwan said. “We’ll bury him as soon as we dig a grave. But…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It seems inhuman to leave them like this, like statues on display. What can w
e do?”
“T’ere is not’ing we can do but destroy t’em.” Drina smeared blood over the windthrower’s stone skull and murmured a silent prayer. “T’at, or leave t’em as t’ey are.”
He scanned the surroundings. “How did she do this? Everything—she changed everything.”
“Pain, boy.” Drina looked at Jayden. “Pain will tear t’ings out of you t’at you never knew were t’ere. And it will make you do t’ings you know are fatal…”
A blip of movement caught Arwan’s eye, and he turned to see Jayden snatch Hawa’s battle hammer from the ground, then stomp toward the portal to the underworld. “Come on!” Jayden raised the hammer and brought it down on the tree, cracking the roots and sending shards of stone flying in every direction. “I’ve got nothing to lose, you son of a bitch! Come on!” He brought the hammer down a second time, breaking one of the roots off completely. His frantic attack tore at Yaxche, creating a crater in the ground.
“Jayden.” Arwan walked toward him, but then stopped. Maybe this was what he needed to work through the pain. Who was he to tell him it was wrong?
“I’m coming for you!” Jayden brought the full weight of the weapon upon the tree again and again. A wild gleam in his eyes told Arwan there was no reeling him in. Like Drina had said. It was the pain.
“Boy…” Arwan looked back at Drina, who stared at the ground. Tiny pebbles bounced over the petrified soil.
Arwan looked back at Jayden, who continued to hack at the tree like a crazed lunatic.
“Jayden!” Arwan ran toward him as fast as he could. Before the seeker could strike again, Arwan stole the weapon and dragged him back. “Get away!”
“Let me go!” Jayden threw his head back and cracked Arwan in the nose. Blood dribbled from his nostrils, down his chin. He wiped it from his face and grabbed Jayden a second time. “You have to get back! He’s coming!”
Jayden froze and stared at the tree as live roots burst through the petrified ground and whipped into the air.
Arwan’s stomach sank. “The king is here.”
Chapter Forty
Arwan
Arwan gestured to Jayden. “Get inside.”
Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) Page 24
