by Greg Dragon
When the ritual was finished and the black sword turned silver, the two girls released the blade and collapsed to the ground. Alysia opened her eyes as the armor retracted. She sheathed the sword and knelt to help them up.
“How do you feel?” she asked Jasmine, and the girl held her hand out in front of her and wiggled her fingers.
Isobel grabbed a mirror and looked at her eyes. The reddish glow was gone and her smile spoke volumes.
“We—we are free, Jasmine. We are free,” she said. The tall black girl looked around in wonderment, her face a mask of uncertainty and fear.
“He will come for us!” she exclaimed suddenly.
“I would like to see him try!” Alysia snapped, whipping out the sword so they could see the blade shine. “I faced down Chaos lord in his own hall with Euphoria. Isobel was there to see the fear in his eyes when it came to this sword making contact with him. He promised me your freedom back when I told him that I would fight in the war for Yalem. I am keeping to my promise and my honor, but Chaos knows no honor. He let you go, but he kept us all as his connected prisoners. What I have done now is to sever the ties. You can be your own people and make your own choices.”
She sheathed the sword and brushed back her curls roughly, then inhaled to calm herself. She looked down at her hand where the spikes had gone through. “Do not fear, Jasmine. Chaos has bigger problems than you and Isobel to worry about right now.”
“Thank you CeeCee,” the tall girl said, and bowed to her before walking back into the bedroom to lie down.
Isobel joined her, followed by Tracy, and Alysia grabbed a chair and handed it to her father. She grabbed one for herself and sat down, their silence broken only by the raindrops that pounded into the glass windows as if they meant to break them.
“I was told that once I finish my duty in Yalem, I would be given status and can move you all there to live out your lives. It could be a lie, since it came from Chaos, but I won’t be fighting for him when I go back,” she said as she took her father’s hand. “With the dangers of the wild, the limited resources, and the constant death that this world presents, I don’t know if you and Tracy want to remain here any longer, Dad. I can ask the head Ert, or whoever is in charge, to put you up while the conflict happens. Yalem is beautiful and peaceful; you can settle down there, rest those old warrior bones, and start protecting our new family.”
James Knight smiled at the thought and looked around as if to weigh his choices.
“You know, when you called me asking for help the day that creature had you on the roof, you were still my little CeeCee. Boy, it took everything within me to ask you to handle it, and your mother was giving me so much hell for babying you. She wanted you to grow up, to be strong like me. College was supposed to do that but for some reason you stayed sweet, adorable, and dependent. I liked it that way; you were always my little girl.”
He bounced her hands and looked around before looking at her with a new intensity in his eye.
“This craziness, this storm that hit us while you were still a young girl in college, it forced you to grow up, baby girl. Even calling you that seems odd to me now because you are the woman we had hoped that you would be. You’re mature, you’re taking charge, and you’re so strong that you told me all that mess about fighting in the demon world. And even though on the surface I want to resist, deep down I know that you’ll be okay.
“Look, CeeCee, we will survive wherever we go, so you don’t have to worry about any of it. The decision to go with you; well, I need to talk that over with Tracy. She has her own feelings about it and we have to respect that. The sort of damage those demons did to the world will take thousands of years to fix, and heat and cold will definitely be a problem. She knows all of this, but your demon world is an unknown. We have to weigh our odds, make a decision, and then we will let you know.”
Alysia nodded and looked outside at the rain. It was starting to flood certain areas and she wondered how long it would continue to pour.
“Go get some rest, Dad. You’ve been fighting forever, your eyes are bloodshot, and you’re struggling to breathe,” she said.
“Where are you going?” James Knight asked.
Alysia got up and unbuckled her sword. “I am going to take in the last bit of humanity that I will be seeing for quite some time,” she said.
Her father didn’t understand but he nodded and walked back into the bedroom to find his bed. Alysia waited for him to leave and then removed her pants and ragged tank top, and the boots from her feet. She walked out into the storm, feeling the water, like magical bullets pinging against her skin. She had always liked the rain, but this felt like heaven, and she ran around the barracks, feeling the wet grass in between her toes.
She thought of Koko, her strongest handmaiden, and of Jaime, who had passed before she could apologize. She remembered their talks and his conspiracy theories, how they assumed it was a manmade thing that produced the demons, giants and kreples. Jaime, her friend, the guy who could have been more. Tears burst from her eyes when she remembered how cruel she had been to the two of them before that fateful day when her father left her the note.
She fell to her knees, crying loudly. Then she lay on her back, letting the water wash away the tears, the pain, and the memory of everyone that was lost.
THE END
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Massacre at Lonesome Ridge
(Lonesome Ridge Series Book #1)
By
Samantha Warren
Chapter 1
“Did you have lessons with your grandfather today?”
Little Bear’s nose wrinkled as he followed Summer Rain back from the river and he kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. “Yes,” he mumbled through his frown.
A tinkling laugh danced across the prairie and the young woman grinned at him. “It’s a good thing you don’t have to be the tribe’s shaman just yet. We would be in a lot of trouble.”
Little Bear ignored the comment and jogged up in front of her to stop her on the path. He brushed a strand of hair back from Summer Rain’s face and her cheeks colored slightly as she lowered her head and raised her dark eyes to him. Her raven black hair was done up in matching braids and she carried a full pot of water under one arm.
“I spoke with your father yesterday,” said Little Bear as he slipped the pot from her grasp and led her down the path away from the river.
“Oh?” Summer Rain plucked a daisy from the edge of the worn path and tucked it into one of her braids. “What about?”
The young man glanced back. She stood a few feet from him with her fingers clasped in front of her. The corner of her lips quivered as she fought back a smile. Little Bear took a step toward her, then another, until he was looking down at her. His knuckles brushed along her jawline. “You know what we were talking about.”
Summer Rain lost the battle against her smile and her lips broke into a grin. “What did he say?”
Little Bear tilted toward her and slipped his fingers around the back of her neck. “We will be wed at the next full moon.”
Before she could respond, he pressed his lips against hers. They were warm and sweet, exactly as he had always imagined. She leaned into him and returned the kiss briefly, but with a slight gasp, she pushed her hands against his chest to break their embrace.
“Not yet, Little Bear. We must wait.”
“Summer...” Little Bear reached for her, but she had already turned and started walking back toward the village. Water splashed onto the dusty ground as he trotted to catch up.
She rounded a curve in the path and disappeared behind the tall grasses for a moment. She was staring at the valley below with her hands pressed against her cheeks. Below them, their small village sprawled across the dip where three hills met.
He cocked his head to the side and slipped his free arm around her waist. “What—“
Summer Rain held up a hand. He followed her outstretched finger across the valley to the h
ill opposite them. Dozens of men on horseback were pouring into the village with their weapons drawn, mowing down anyone they encountered. The screams began, echoing to them, tearing into them.
Summer Rain took a step toward the chaos below as she screamed her mother’s name. Little Bear dropped the pot to the hard ground. He ignored the shards of clay that pelted the back of his legs and ripped small, jagged holes into his skin.
“No, Summer Rain.” He grabbed her and pulled her back to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly to keep her from pushing away.
“My family!” she cried as tears streamed down her face. She jerked against him and pounded his chest with her fists. “Let me go.”
“We will do them no good if we are dead!” He gripped her so tight that the skin on her arms went white around his fingers.
Little Bear glanced from the face of his beloved toward the village. Their shouts had drawn the attention of a small band of men wearing the ragged uniform of Confederate cavalry. The horses were plowing up the hill in their direction.
“Hide!” he hissed as he pushed Summer Rain toward the tall grass. They could make a run for it if they stayed low and used the grass for cover.
Instead, she tripped over a rock and fell to her knees in the dirt. He leaned over and grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet.
“Little Bear!” she cried, but he heard the thundering hooves racing up behind them a half a second before she did and was already reaching for a weapon. He swooped to the ground and snatched up a rock that fit nicely in the palm on his hand. He spun in a circle, using his momentum to whip the rock through the air. It cracked into the skull of the soldier on the lead horse. He didn’t stop to watch the man fall. He reached for Summer Rain and shoved her in front of him as they ran at top speed through the grass toward the treeline. It was their only chance at survival.
They reached the first group of trees just ahead of the horses. Summer Rain ducked behind a large pine as Little Bear ran toward a thick branch laying on the ground. His fingers closed around it and he started to swing it up and back when something bit into his side. With a howl, he fell to one knee. Spittle covered him as a horse blew past him and prepared to swing around. Its rider was looking back with vicious glee in his eyes and the sword in his hand was dripping with blood.
Little Bear pressed his free hand to his side. His fingers came away dark and sticky. Summer Rain was cowering beside him, her back to the tree and her terrified eyes locked on the soldier that advanced on them.
“Run,” Little Bear commanded as he forced himself to his feet. The branch shook in his hand as he stepped out to put himself between his wife-to-be and the approaching killer.
“But Little Bear—“
“Go, please.” His voice was calm and soft, but she did not argue. He heard her light footsteps disappear into the woods behind him, taking his heart with her.
The soldier approached on the horse. His sword bounced in his hand and flicked droplets of blood onto the grass beneath him. He spoke foreign words that Little Bear could not understand, but he didn’t need to know what the man said. He knew they were a threat. Both his and Summer Rain’s lives depended on this miniature battle.
The soldier grinned and smashed his spurs into the horse’s flanks. The beast snorted as it launched itself forward. Little Bear swung, not at the soldier, but at the horse. The branch connected with the horse’s front leg with a sickening crunch and the animal plunged nose-first into the dirt with an ear-shattering screech. The thick branch snapped with the impact, but Little Bear had expected it. He threw himself over the thrashing animal onto the soldier. The man was flailing on the ground with one leg pinned under the wounded beast. His screams were cut short as the sharpened branch punched through his throat and burrowed into the ground beneath.
Little Bear pushed himself to his feet. He leaned his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths. A glint of metal just underneath the horse caught his eye. It was the soldier’s sword. When the beast once again tried fruitlessly to rise, Little Bear darted in and grabbed the weapon before he could be crushed. He ran into the woods as the screams of the horse continued behind him. He kept his eyes on the ground as he moved among the trees. Summer Rain’s footprints were barely visible but, like all the men in his tribe, he was trained to hunt. She ran an erratic path, darting around and between trees, heading back toward the village. He silently cursed her thoughtlessness. She should have run to the river, to safety, not back to find a family that was already lost.
The tree line loomed ahead. Deerskin and black braids cowered between two trees, surrounded by a handful of mounted men. As his heart sank into the pit of his stomach, Little Bear’s hunter instincts kicked in. He moved quickly and quietly toward the love of his life. The handle of the sword was heavy in his sweaty palm and he gripped it so tight that his fingers turned white.
He circled around a copse of thin trees as he edged toward the small gathering. Voices echoed toward him, but he was not close enough to understand any of them. One of the men dismounted, swaggering as he sheathed his pistol. He wasn’t one of the soldiers. His white shirt was dirty and stained, and he looked like he hadn’t washed in weeks. He spoke to Summer Rain with a cruel sneer on his lips. She backed away until a large tree stopped her retreat. She was hemmed in; there was no escape.
Little Bear was close enough now that her fear was overpowering. The horses danced and snorted and he knew they could smell it, too. He was within reach of the nearest horse, but his attention remained on the dismounted man. With a swift flick of his arm, he sent the sword flying. It tumbled through the air with little grace, but it hit its mark anyway. The man stopped in his tracks with an odd jerking motion. One hand came up, scrabbling at his back awkwardly as he twisted his body. His fingers closed around the hilt of the sword and pulled it from his body, but it was too late. Little Bear had buried it between his shoulder blades and pierced his lungs. Blood bubbled from his lips as he fell to the ground, the sword dropping uselessly beside him.
The rider nearest Little Bear, another of the former Confederate soldiers, spun his horse as he looked for his leader’s attacker. Little Bear launched himself from his hiding spot and sailed through the air. He wrapped his arms around the man and dragged him to the ground. His fist burned with briefly pain as it connected with the soldier’s nose, but adrenaline pumped through his veins and pushed away any thought but vengeance. His fist drew back and slammed down without his command, smashing again and again into the man’s already pulped face.
“Little Bear!”
His head jerked toward the sound. Summer Rain was being dragged toward a horse by one man as another rode toward him with his pistol drawn. The weapon was between him and Summer Rain. Little Bear’s legs carried him toward his love, the gun, and certain death. The man raised the weapon and pulled back the hammer, ready to bring an end to Little Bear. Time slowed as Little Bear ran past the horse. The gun fired, the man’s arm jerked, smoke left the barrel. Little Bear waited for the bullet to pierce him, for the inevitable pain, but it did not come. He pulled up short as the man on the horse tumbled to the ground with an arrow buried in his back.
Little Bear grabbed a knife from the man’s belt and raced toward Summer Rain. She was screaming and struggling against her captor. When the man saw Little Bear, he pulled his own knife and settled it against Summer Rain’s throat. He spoke to Little Bear, wiggling the blade a little to send rivulets of blood coursing down Summer Rain’s throat.
Little Bear knew what he wanted. He wanted the young man to stop advancing, to let him take Summer Rain as his slave, or worse. Little Bear would rather see her die. He kept moving and the man began shouting. The man raised the knife, ready to stab Summer Rain and end her life. Her eyes met Little Bear’s. She would die with honor. She would not be a slave or a whore. She would end it herself before that happened. She moved toward the blade, ready to impale herself, but it tumbled from the man’s hand. He blinked repeatedly, his arms dropping to
his sides. His mouth worked ceaselessly, unable to form any words as he sank to his knees. Several seconds passed in surreal silence until he tumbled to the side and lay still.
“Come, quickly.” An older warrior that Little Bear recognized only by reputation was on a painted steed, a nocked bow in his hands. Little Bear grabbed Summer Rain and ran toward the nearest horse. He leapt on and pulled her up behind him. As they followed the warrior away from the village, she wrapped her arms around his waist and cried silent tears onto his back.
Chapter 2
Charity Thomas glanced at the clock ticking on the wall as she shoved the needle through the thin fabric she held in her hands. “Ouch!”
“Charity?” Her mother looked up from the dress she was adorning with tiny, glittering white beads. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah.” Charity grumbled as she sucked on her throbbing thumb and set the unfinished dress on the table. “I have to go. We’re picking out flowers today.”
Her mother looked at her with tired eyes. “Do you have to? The Engels need these by the end of the week. Please, Charity.” Charity’s father had died years before when a train car derailed while he was on a business trip. The poor woman had been struggling to raise her children on a seamstress’s wage ever since. It made Charity sick. After her father’s death, they were put out of their house and had to live on the streets for some time. It was a dark, cold night when Charity decided she would never end up in her mother’s shoes. She worked hard alongside her mother to put food on the table and keep her and her sister from starving, but her dreams were bigger than that. She wanted to do more than just survive. She wanted to thrive. Her dreams were starting to fade, though, with every setback and struggle. Then she met David.
