When the last of the men had charged into the battle, he lowered his arm, motioning for her to remain with him. Carefully, they crept forward through the snow, making their way closer to the line of trees between them and the enemy. She refused to let on her discomfort in his position at her side. Did he not think she was skilled enough to enter the conflict?
“Come with me,” he stated. “The heart of the enemy lies in wait on the other side of the battle. We will take the fight to them.”
He was asking her to fight at his side? She couldn’t hide her disbelief as she fell into step beside him, not wanting to risk lagging behind when granted such an honor. How he knew where anyone was within the enemy forces was a mystery. Perhaps they scouted ahead during the initial attack.
They were running at an angle around the camp, just outside the battle. Occasionally they paused, Okivra’s ears twitching, listening, pinpointing the location of something Leyna couldn’t see. He drew an elegant, finely crafted longbow from his back, an arrow coming to meet his expectant fingers without any effort to utilize the magic to call it from his quiver. Leaning back, he aimed high, exhaling a cold, foggy breath at the moment of release. Leyna was in awe over the speed with which the arrow took flight, helped along by the wind. A sharp crack of branches overhead followed the shot, a pair of Sanarik soldiers falling limply to the ground with a thud at their feet. Leyna inhaled sharply, taken aback by the sight. Two soldiers with a single arrow?
Okivra wasted no time in continuing on, paying no more attention to his victims other than a disgusted snort at the blood staining the snow.
Leyna was aware of the battle somewhere to her left. She was being led deeper into the trees, a small path guiding them closer to a different segment of the enemy camp. Around her, she realized other Ovatai warriors had taken up position on all sides, their movements so subtle she couldn’t be certain her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
Lights flickered from a small clearing not far ahead. There was another camp within the trees, though it was hard to tell how heavily guarded it was from their position. Okivra gave little time for pause as he broke through the tree line with Leyna at his heels, her eyes opening wide at the sight of the Ven’shal soldiers standing ready on the other side.
They took to fighting instantly upon seeing the Ovatai bearing down on them, attacking from all angles, high and low, blood spray covering the ground in seconds. She couldn’t focus on her uneasiness around Okivra. The soldiers were stronger than any others she’d encountered during the war.
Unlike the usual men under Arcastus’s charge, these troops were more skilled with their magic. Tiny bulbs of electricity shot from their hands, connecting with Leyna’s armor in solid hits, her balance compromised briefly while she struggled to regain control over her body.
A second wave stormed her and Okivra from deeper into the camp. Leyna’s heart pounded wildly in her chest, overexerted from the constant barrage of attacks, not ceasing in their ferocity for even a second to grant her some reprieve. There are too many of them. I can’t keep going like this.
The thoughts had barely completed in her mind when an ear splitting scream pierced the air from beside her, Okivra’s body leaning forward under the strength of his battle cry. All around them, the wind picked up in a frenzy, the dead leaves clinging to the trees tossed about, howling with intensity, pushing the soldiers away like rag dolls. Leyna stood in utter shock. Never before had she seen anything like this magic. The strength of it was devastating, and the control Okivra demonstrated was even more frightening.
Among the enemy troops, Leyna could see a familiar figure, blackened eyes settled on her, a smirk curled around Arcastus’s decaying lips. He stumbled only slightly from the force of Okivra’s energy, composing himself quickly to draw a sword from its sheath.
Arcastus was hers. Narrowing her eyes, Leyna took a step forward, cutting through the enemy to get to where he was. This was how it was intended. Had Cadell known where Arcastus would be? Was that why he had Okivra take her there? None of the other fighters would stand a chance against the lich. Leyna was their only hope in bringing him down. But Cadell never would have approved of her coming there without him. Unless he believed Okivra to be a better help in the battle.
At Leyna’s approach, Arcastus sent a wave of blackened energy toward her, blasting against the heavy metal of her helmet, knocking it from her head. The force was disorienting. Her neck snapped backward from the impact, tiny specks of white light dancing in front of her vision while she tried to regain her senses. Sword gripped tightly in her hand, she made the first move. Lunging toward him. Arcastus blocked easily, their blades meeting in a flurry of strikes, one after the other, his skill impressive. Leyna had never faced him in physical combat before. Arcastus tended to hide behind the power of his perverse magic. But it was essentially useless against her. And he knew it.
“I learned something about you during our last encounter,” he laughed, bearing down on Leyna again with his weapon. She parried, countering, meeting with nothing but empty air as Arcastus evaded, stepping out of the way. “It seems I can kill you,” Arcastus lunged again. “I will take great pleasure in doing so.”
With incredible strength Arcastus brought his bony fist across Leyna’s face, the strike cracking her jaw painfully. A coppery taste rolled over her tongue. Blood. Her entire mouth burned from the blow, though there was no time to dwell on it. Arcastus had given her an advantage without realizing his mistake. Head snapping to face him, Leyna spit the thick substance from her mouth, listening to it sizzle upon meeting Arcastus’s face. It distracted him enough for her to charge again, forcing him back, off balance.
Flailing wildly, Arcastus’s sword sliced across Leyna’s right arm, striking close to her still-healing wound from their last battle. She flinched to see the blood soaking into her shirt, fearful that he would aggravate the injury, leaving her unable to use her dominate hand. Content that his move was more accident than tactic, she thrust forward again, sending him tumbling to the ground.
It all felt surreal, yet familiar. They were back where they had been in their last fight, only this time she wasn’t at any disadvantage from Kyros’s meddling attacks. Forcefully she bashed the hilt of her sword against the side of Arcastus’s head, repeating the blow again and again, leaving him unable to focus, losing his hold on his own blade. Leyna pressed the metal of her sword against the laceration on her arm, coating it with a layer of her blood. If she was going to take advantage of his distraction, she had to act fast.
Satisfied with her work, Leyna drove her blade deep into her mark, thrusting it into the lich’s neck. His agonized wails filled the air, only briefly, cut off by a sudden gurgle which sent him into silence. Leyna stared at him, afraid of what might happen. He couldn’t be dead. A man of his power would never fall so easily.
Yet there he lay. Still. Unmoving. A film of light began to build up around his corpse-like form, shooting into the air and splitting into two directions. Astonished, Leyna stumbled backward, unsteady on her feet. What had happened?
Frantic, she scanned the area in search of where the light had gone. One of the beams had been close. But there was no way to know which one of the remaining two was hidden nearby. Oran would never stray far from Damir. Not at a time like this. He was weak. If Arcastus was dead, Oran would turn to Damir for direction.
Revenge nagged at the back of Leyna’s mind, though there was more reason for seeking Damir out than her personal vendetta. He was stronger than Oran.
All around her on the field, Leyna could see the undead soldiers falter, trembling, their bodies collapsing to the ground. They lay still for no more than a moment before wobbling back to life, slowly regaining their footing to take a stance against Okivra’s men. Something was continuing to manipulate them. Restoring their life. Damir. It was the only explanation.
“You know your way with a sword well enough. I understand not why your General insists you be treated like a child while in battle,”
Okivra scoffed from across the battle. His eyes burned into Leyna’s, the icy blue thrashing about in waves from the excess energy contained inside.
“So that is why you brought me with you. General Cadell requested a babysitter for me? I assure you, one is not necessary. Feel free to go about your business as you desire.” She was angry at the thought. Furious. They would accomplish nothing so long as Cadell continued to treat her like some fragile doll. His intentions were good, but they were insulting.
Turning away from Okivra, she threw herself back into the fray, her arms mechanically performing the motions of battle. Enemy troops were coming for Arcastus’s body, but she couldn’t let them take it. Not yet. Forcing them back, she tried to reach him, tearing at the throat of his corpse. The amulet was gone. She cursed to herself, searching the area for any sign of Damir. He would be the one who held the medallion. They would never have allowed it in Oran’s grasp. She had to find him. With the medallion in her possession, she could find a way to finish this.
He had to be somewhere in the midst of all these soldiers, pouring forth from even deeper in the woods. Their numbers seemed never-ending, many wearing armor clearly damaged from previous battles, no doubt healed and revived by Damir. If it was in fact him, his skill with Arcastus’s magic had grown significantly since the night in Kaipoi. He was an eager student under Arcastus’s tutelage. Possibly more deadly in battle than his master. There was no telling what the effects of Arcastus’s death would have on him. She hated how little she knew about the enemy and their rituals. If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her own personal dramas, she could’ve taken the time to discover more of their secrets, but the time for that had come and gone. All that was left was to focus on the present – and find him.
A cool breeze whipped through the trees. There was something unnatural about it. She shuddered hard, her teeth chattering. It was then that she noticed a soft tendril of black smoke lingering on the air in front of her. Taunting her in its subtlety, the wind twirled it in circles around her body, looping again and again, faster with every new rush. She tried to back away but found her legs rooted in place. Eventually the shadows broke away, shooting off in the direction of a new line of trees, almost seeming to beckon her forward to follow it.
It was a trap. Some kind of magic to lure her away from the others. Yet she felt compelled to follow. To see where it would lead her. What are you thinking? It was foolish to even consider it. But she wanted to. She had to. Damir was out there somewhere, and he would be looking for her. If there was any chance this magic would lead her to him… No. She couldn’t. The stress of the battle was making her foolhardy.
Her eyes drifted over the area to where Okivra continued his valiant charge, his gaze moving to glance in her direction between foes. He was still watching her. It was humiliating to think that a man of his status and rank had been asked to keep an eye on her. Get away from him. Find Damir.
“You are going to get yourself killed,” she muttered to herself, her fingers clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword. Her conscience was torn. She wanted to follow the smoke, but she knew it was wrong. The inky tendril rose up, coming to whorl around her once again before moving back toward the trees, tempting her.
With a groan of frustration, she waited for Okivra to look away and then darted off into the trees. Silently she chided herself for what she was doing. It was beyond ridiculous to be separating herself from anyone who might come to her aid in the event of the worst. And the worst was a guarantee where Damir was concerned. Their history made it impossible to think he might show any mercy to her.
From somewhere up ahead she could hear the snap of twigs breaking underfoot. Someone was there. Not far away. It didn’t move with any great speed, though in the cover of the trees, a hasty pace wasn’t necessary. They were concealed from the other fighters. No one would know where they were. Against her better judgment, Leyna continued to follow, led deeper into the woods by the smoky fingers. Eventually she found herself in a small clearing. The tree cover remained thick around her, though a break in the foliage allowed her to make out the figure of a man standing there. Waiting for her.
“Oh, my dear, I didn’t think you would come.”
Damir’s voice sent shivers coursing down her spine. It had been so long since she’d heard it last. Awakened by the sound, nightmares from her childhood sprung to life in her mind. The time had come for her to face the demons of her past. “You don’t know me very well at all then, Damir.”
“I know you better than you think,” Damir said calmly. The swirling tendrils of shadow writhed in the soft wind, wrapping lightly around Damir’s body before dissipating into nothingness. “I know why you’re here. I know what gets under your skin, and who to hurt if I want to make you suffer. You were hard to find at first, but now you are an open book to me.”
“You are nothing to me, and you never were,” she snapped.
“And you were never anything to me other than the bastard child of a whore.”
Leyna’s eyes flashed in heated anger at his words. “My mother was not a whore.”
“No?” he laughed. His legs moved in a casual pace toward her, the light of the moon illuminating his pale features in the darkness, the abyssal depths of his eyes staring through her, filled with malice. “And where is your father now, hmm? Oh – that’s right – dead.”
“Because you killed him,” she spat, her hand clenched into a fist at her side. He deserved so much worse than anything she could possibly do. “You can’t get under my skin, Damir. Do not waste your energy.”
“Oh, I think I can.” He was enjoying every second of this. She could see the spiteful pleasure written on his face. “I could tell you a few things about your mother that I’m sure you don’t know.”
“Leave her out of this.”
Holding out his hand, Damir sent a wave of black energy toward her, the tendrils wrapping around her waist. Leyna tried to back away, finding her footing compromised by a thick root jutting up from the ground, her fall broken only by the support of Damir’s energy holding her in place. He sneered at the sight of her, stepping in closer. Extending her arms out, she tried to strike at him, his fingers clutching at her right hand, twisting it backward to wrench her mother’s ring painfully from her finger. She cried out, snatching at him, desperate to get it back.
Sliding it onto his hand, he held it up, positioning it in front of Leyna’s face, a curious expression distorting the amusement in his eyes. “I meant to take this from your mother’s corpse the day I killed her. A souvenir, if you will. A constant reminder of the family who would pay for their betrayal.” Gruffly he brought the back of his hand across her face, the gemstones on the ring slicing at Leyna’s skin, a trickle of blood building at the surface. “An oversight, really, that it was left behind.”
Leyna struggled against her shadowy bonds in vain. He was strong. More than she remembered. Silently she chastised herself for coming there alone. She’d been a fool to think that she stood a chance. “You will die for what you’ve done,” she hissed, increasing her efforts to break free.
He laughed quietly at her empty threats. “I was surprised to finally find you,” he continued, ignoring her heated glare. “I thought it would be simpler than it was, I admit. You gave me a bit of a run for my money. I had even given up, but then you fell into my lap. And now…” Damir held the ring up. Examining it. In the thick of the trees, the break in the branches overhead allowed the moon to shine just enough light to reveal the blood left behind on the gems from where it struck Leyna. “You will die just as easily as she did.”
“You will find me harder to kill. I don’t intend to go down without a fight.”
“Oh, I hope you put up more of a fight than your mother did. I have been looking forward to this moment for too long for it to be wasted. Your death will be a blessing to the others. One less tramp in this world. And don’t think I don’t know about your escapades with the Vor’shai Consul. Your former husband told me all
about it. I can’t say I’m surprised. You take after your mother in more than just your looks.”
The sight of Damir wearing her family’s heirloom disgusted Leyna. Horrified her. She tried to hide her discontent, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Give me back the ring.”
“I’ll fight you for it,” he smirked, lightly caressing her cheek. Leyna slapped it away, angry and repulsed at the thought of him touching her. At his laughter, she resumed her attempts to break free of the spectral bonds, finding them sturdy. Unbending. “It is a shame you are so beautiful,” Damir smiled to see her struggle. “Your mother was also. It was the only reason I agreed to marry her. If I didn’t want you dead so badly, I might be tempted to try and corrupt you instead.”
Just being near him made her feel tainted and dirty. To see his face there made her want to scream, lash out at him, to make him know the hatred she carried for him. In a hurried motion, she brought her hands up, pushing hard into his chest to knock him backward. To her dismay, he held firm.
In retaliation, he pushed her back, sending her stumbling over the uneven ground, nearly falling under the force, breaking the link with his shadowy hold. Her chest hurt where his hands connected. The strength of his arms was immense. Unnatural. No one could be that strong. “You think you can fight me, brat?” he said through gritted teeth. He moved forward, closing the distance between them again. “Do you think you are strong enough to defeat me? Your mother thought that, and look where she is now.”
Leyna’s hand rose up to reveal her sword swinging toward him. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”
With incredible speed, Damir deflected her blade, his fingers clutched her wrist tightly, digging the tips into the skin, the weapon forced from her grasp. Her features twisted into a painful grimace. His grip was solid. No amount of prying could release the hold. Laughter filled the trees around her at her failed attempts. He was enjoying watching her futilely trying to get away.
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 94
