Wilde's Meadow

by Wade, Krystal

  I am hope. Arland and I are hope. He and I together are hope.

  I know Griandor said I could still fail, but I don’t plan to, and I don’t plan to be afraid to sleep near people because of my visions.

  “You have misunderstood me.” Arland reaches for me again, and this time I allow him to wrap his arms around me.

  I don’t care how angry I am with him; his touch always soothes me. “I think I understood you quite well.”

  Rubbing his hands up and down my back, he laughs. “I worry for you, also. I do not want you to lose hope. You have already experienced how the future can change. Try to remember that if you have a vision while I am not sleeping next to you.”

  “Is this what married life is always going to be like for us?”

  “Like what?”

  I clasp my hands behind him and pull him closer. “On the run, sleeping on the ground, never having any privacy … you know, things normal people don’t have to worry about.”

  “We will overcome this and then we will have our party with the sun.”

  “Promise?”

  Arland kisses the top of my head. “Promise.”

  “Kate, wake up.” Flanna pushes her fingers into my shoulder, raising me from a dreamless sleep.

  Do I really want to open my eyes? I don’t even remember when I closed them. The last thing I remember is talking with Brit and Flanna about our experiences in the Crossing Caves—apparently, my sister remained unaffected—but I must have dozed off a long time ago; my body aches from resting on the ground. I already miss my bed. What I wouldn’t give to have Arland’s arms around me right now. One more moment of a normal life. Well, as normal as life can get in Encardia.

  “Kate.” Arland touches my cheek with the back of his fingers. “You have to wake up. Now.”

  Releasing my magic, I bolt to my feet and look around. The fire no longer burns. Some soldiers gather their blankets, then lay them closer to the center of camp. Other soldiers draw weapons and sit on their beds.

  Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

  “What’s happened?”

  A loud, heart-wrenching wail penetrates my thoughts, stealing my breath and crushing every good feeling I have inside me. I turn toward the sound. Muriel is on her hands and knees, pounding the dirt with her fists. Tears stream down her swollen, red face. “Where is he? You have to find him. Please!”

  Brit and Rhoswen run and help her up. Muriel fights them off, looks around, then runs into the woods. My sister catches up to her, grabbing the young girl by the back of her tunic before she gets too far.

  My flames diminish, folding over my heart. We’re not in immediate danger, but if Muriel is upset then that means … oh Griandor, please tell me your brother didn’t hurt that boy. Please, tell me Kent is safe. I look up at Arland; he watches the scene before us, but his strong outside hardly ever reveals what he’s feeling on the inside. He stays solid. For the others.

  Face burning, I search for the words I don’t want to form in my mind. “Is … he … ?”

  “Kent is missing.” Arland gathers my blanket and pushes me toward the horses, his heaving breaths the only sign of his distress. “Dunn and Tristan returned about five minutes ago. Daemons attacked a mile from here. They doubled back for the others, but found only Annan’s remains.”

  I take a deep breath, closing my tear-filled eyes, focusing on a memory of Kent’s face, on his square jaw, on his short nose and brown eyes, praying his fate is not the same as Annan’s. Kent is just a boy. A brave, innocent boy who has a crush on me. He is everything to his sister and has a whole life ahead of him. “We have to find him.”

  “That is the plan. Dunn and Tristan are coming with us—”

  “We can’t just leave everyone here. What will they do for protection?” There are too many people for me to keep safe, too many people who could be dead when we return. Perth, Cadman, my sister, Flanna, Vanora … what will they do if Dughbal attacks?

  “Cadman will be here, as well as many other capable soldiers. You spent hours teaching them how to invoke old magic. Many of them were successful. You must have faith, Kate.”

  “Kate!” Kent’s sister screams, eyes frantic, face pale. She struggles against Brit, jerking her arms away, then runs to me. “Please, Kate, please find him and bring him back to me. He is my only remaining family. Please … .”

  I can’t respond. What if we don’t find him, or what if we find him and it’s too late? I didn’t want them to fight. I didn’t want them to be out here facing harsh battles with people more equipped than them. Children shouldn’t be involved in wars, no matter what world they live in.

  Arland looks past the girl, locking eyes with Cadman. “We are going to locate him, Muriel. But you need to let us move on.”

  Muriel’s lip quivers, and I reach out and throw my arms around her as Cadman walks up from behind. “Stay here. Stay safe.”

  He guides her to the others, toward a ridiculous idea of safety, and Arland nudges me the remaining distance to Mirain. I stop and bow my head to hide my emotions. Arland doesn’t want me to scare people, but I don’t have his same acting ability. He should know this; he had to go into hiding at Willow Falls because I couldn’t pretend I didn’t love him.

  Arland rolls up our quilt, then ties it to Mirain’s saddle. Taking a step closer, he brushes my cheek with his thumb, drawing a hot tear from my eye. “We will find him. Get on your horse, and ask her to lead you to him.”

  I do as he instructs, trying to maintain composure. “Where will we start?”

  “Do you remember the path we took to get here? East of where we are now?”

  “Yes. Close to the edge of the forest.”

  “That is where Cadman sent him. Where the Baccain Forest and The Meadows meet.”

  Tristan and Dunn ride beside us, covered in dirt, eyes downcast. I try imagining how they feel, if losing contact with someone so much younger has affected them the way it has me. Tristan and Kent are close in age, close in stature; maybe they were friends.

  “Are you ready, sir?” Tristan asks, his voice a little less than a whisper. Kent’s disappearance has to bother him. The young soldier glances at me, then returns his gaze to the dense forest ahead of us.

  I know what his glance means. I know what they all expect: for me to save Kent, to save them, to save Encardia.

  I swallow hard.

  A nod from Arland has us galloping away from camp, seeking our soldier, our friend, our brother, a child. The horses speed around dead logs and jump over piles of brush, taking us faster and faster toward Kent.

  My stomach turns, squeezing with each pounding of Mirain’s hooves, with each beat of my heart. We have to find him before the daemons do, if they haven’t already. We have to come through for him, rescue him from a death he shouldn’t have to face.

  A shout for help comes from ahead of us, barging through the forest like an ambulance through traffic: loud, frantic, and zipping past everything else.

  No one speaks. Every one of us rides harder, faster, more determined, following the dangerous voice I somehow know will lead us to Kent. Arland breaks off to the left, Tristan and Dunn to the right, and I continue riding up the middle. We remain within twenty feet of each other and draw our weapons, preparing for a fight.

  Mirain jumps over a large hole in the ground and breaks through overhanging leaves of a sumac, bringing me close to the scene of a nightmare.

  There, half a football field away in the middle of at least one hundred ox-like beasts, Kent stands with his legs spread wide apart, arrow notched on his bow, string pulled tight, clothing covered in dead leaves and dirt, holding the daemons at bay with his weak threat of death.

  The creatures don’t notice me slide from Mirain, and I don’t dare make a sound that will tip them off. Arland, Tristan, and Dunn must be seeing what I’m seeing, though I have no idea where they are. My eyes are focused only on the boy and what surrounds him.

  Crouching, I keep my fire inside, keep my presence
and identity hidden. I use the dark to my advantage, hiding in the gloom these horrible abominations created with the help of Dughbal.

  “Stay back,” Kent shouts, his cracking voice betraying his fear.

  A string thunks, followed by a quick thump, and then another.

  “I will do that again until each one of you is dead. Now leave!”

  Kent shot one?

  Hope swells within me. I crouch lower, not wanting to do anything to startle the daemons to attack before we can get to him, but continue moving forward.

  Another thunk, then thump, thump.

  “Kate,” Arland whispers to my left, crawling through the grass like a tiger about to pounce.

  I acknowledge him by nodding, afraid to take my eyes off what’s in front of me.

  “Tristan and Dunn circled the other side. When you rise, they will attack from behind and on the right. I will approach from the left, leaving only the few daemons in front of you.” He takes a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

  The sword in my hand suddenly feels weightless, like there’s no way it will be enough for this encounter, like it will bend upon impact with a daemon. My iron is a mere toy in a war involving magic and dark, dark creatures. I think of how strong Griandor said I am, of Kent and his will to fight on behalf of Encardia, of Muriel and how she needs her brother, of all the people I haven’t been able to save, and whisper, “Yes.”

  “I will tell you when I am in place.”

  “Hurry.”

  Arland stares at me for a moment, then crawls back the way he came, making no sounds as he sneaks through the undergrowth on the forest floor.

  I’m close to the monsters, so close I could take out their legs in an instant, but we all have to be ready, in position, strong.

  I close my eyes for just a second, take a shaky breath. I can do this. I can help Kent. I can kill soulless beings set on murdering my world. I can control the rapid beat of my heart, the cold fear resting in my fingers, the anxious trembling at my core. “Hurry up, Arland.”

  “Now, Kate.”

  I squeeze the hilt of my weapon and rise to my feet. Releasing flames from my heart, I swing the iron blade at two of the unsuspecting tairbs, slicing through the bristly fur and sinewy flesh on their backs.

  Kent whirls around, as do all the monsters at this ambush.

  I jab my sword through one tairb, then move on to the next. “Kill them. Don’t just stand there!”

  He releases arrow after arrow into the daemons, slowing their advance toward me, but many—too many—are close to him, close enough to hurt him, close enough to block my view of the boy.

  Tristan and Dunn appear out of the Darkness, running forward with their claymores held in front of them. Half the daemons change direction, heading now for the two soldiers, revealing Kent to me again. His eyes are wide, whites blazing in the night, but he maintains control of his weapon.

  To my left, Arland silently rises from his hiding spot, chops off the head of a tairb and kicks another in the back, knocking both beasts to the ground. More daemons split away from Kent, traveling toward Arland with the speed of racehorses.

  But I don’t have time to watch. I’m surrounded by glowing red eyes, by heavy breathing and angry faces. Three, six, eight, fourteen, more and more tairbs appear from everywhere, as if they materialized from some far off, safe, location, as if Dughbal sent them here by magic.

  There are too many.

  I shouldn’t be separated from the others. Tristan and Dunn aren’t strong enough for this kind of combat. Arland is capable, but he surely can’t maintain his energy for long, cutting off heads and stabbing hearts and stomachs.

  We’re trapped.

  I stop fighting, standing in the same predicament that, moments ago, Kent found himself in alone.

  “Give up?” A tairb steps forward, hands held in front of him. His deep, resonating voice makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. “Say yes and I will call the others off your friends.”

  I lower my sword, concentrating on Arland, on Tristan and Dunn, on Kent and Muriel, on my family, the sun, Brad, then I shudder. I have to come up with a plan because if I don’t give up, I’ll never be able to save them all. “Yes.”

  “And here Dughbal believed her to be the strongest of them all.” The being’s nose is long with wide, round nostrils flaring near his thick lips. He turns around and laughs, drawing the attention of all the others, including the tairbs around Arland, Tristan, Dunn, and Kent. The overgrown bully snaps, and the daemons shove my friends and family in my direction. Exactly where I need them to be. “She gave up when she saw the child was surrounded.”

  “Should we take her to Dughbal, or should we kill them all?” another asks.

  What happened to their orders and loyalty? I glare at the daemon that spoke, clenching my fists.

  They eye me, humor lining their faces, and the first tairb steps closer.

  “I promised I would allow the others to be free if she surrendered. You would not wish to make a liar out of me, would you, Donali?”

  “Kate, you have to get away. They will kill us all. Do not let him touch you. You know what his blood can do.”

  I keep my gaze on the daemon, afraid if I look at Arland, they’ll somehow know we can communicate, somehow sense I’m not actually giving up, though I still don’t know what to do. Kent isn’t close enough for me to protect him; the tairbs still have him surrounded and away from me.

  “You promised nothing but to call your brothers off them. Why don’t you do that and send them to me?” I turn up my chin, proudly displaying my defiance. Let them hurt me. Let them be mad at me.

  “Be careful,” Arland warns.

  “If I release my flames and call to the magic, do you think you can get to Kent?”

  Laughter surrounds me before Arland gets a chance to respond, but the tairb in charge does not appear happy. No, not at all. He paces around me, dragging his fingernail along the collar of my tunic and armor, grazing my skin with a tingling heat.

  Poison.

  “You are either very brave or very stupid. Which is it?”

  “She’s stupid,” a familiar voice calls from behind the gathering of daemons. “A brave woman would have begged for her friends to be freed, offering her life in their place.”

  Reverent whispers of “Ovarti” circulate around us. The tairbs part, making way for the tallest of them all, the creature who delivered the death threat to my sister, who I thought died in the battle at the cave near the river, but who is very much alive and still as cruel as ever. He must be their leader, not a beast who only does as he’s told. He thinks for himself, and he enjoys the pain he inflicts. He wears his pride in his squared shoulders, in his smug expression, in his hands clasped behind his back.

  This beast is very much like Arland, but no ounce of goodness resides inside him.

  A shudder tears through me as Ovarti marches through the dying forest, his hooves leaving half-moon indentions in the dirt, and I do look at Arland now. I look at Tristan and his young, worried face, at Dunn and the wrinkles around his watering brown eyes, at Kent who’s cheeks are colorless, afraid, void of hope.

  Ovarti pauses next to the boy. “But this woman is not one who would freely offer her life for another, are you, dear?” The daemon shoulders droop, his expression dull and bored. “Would not matter either way. We cannot kill her. That is a pleasure for Dughbal alone, but we can test her bravery on her friends, see if she begs … .”

  He smiles and draws a knife from a satchel across his back, boiling my blood, making my fire rage and plead for release.

  “Don’t touch him!”

  “Oh my. What do we have here?” Ovarti drags the silver blade down his palm. “She is quite protective of this child, isn’t she?”

  The others mutter their agreements, nodding their heads and laughing.

  “Get ready, Kate. We have to fight our way out of here. Now.”

  “But Kent’s too far away still. How will we
save him?”

  “Dear? Did you hear me?”

  I look from Arland to Ovarti to Kent to Tristan and Dunn. Five feet stands between me and Arland, six or seven between me, Tristan and Dunn, but Kent, he’s at least eleven feet away. I’m still holding my sword. If I catch the tairbs off guard, I might be able to run for him, but then what?

  “See, she is so filled with fear, she cannot hear me.”

  I stare at him, long and hard, then lunge forward, all calculations and logic and fear and whatever else cast aside, flames pouring from me and devouring everything in my path, but Ovarti is ready for me.

  He wanted me to react.

  He smacks his bleeding palm to Kent’s forehead and drives the knife into his heart.

  “No.” I lift my sword and whip it through every tairb I pass, straining my muscles as the metal rips through flesh. Screams escape me. My gaze never leaves Ovarti and his cold expression, his joyous laughter, his moment of celebration. Just as I reach him, Kent falls to his knees, hands pressed to his chest, blood dripping from his face where his skin deteriorates, and then he collapses forward.

  My steps slow, and Ovarti rushes back into the Darkness.

  Wake up, magic. Heal Kent. Please. Please, heal him.

  I glance back; Arland, Tristan, and Dunn have returned to fighting. The tairb’s numbers are significantly less. I don’t know if I killed them, if the others did, or if Dughbal magically removed them from here, but I don’t care as long as the rest die quickly.

  Kneeling beside Kent, I press my shaking fingertips to his neck and check for a pulse. “C-can you hear me?”

  He wheezes, blood gurgling in his throat. “Protect her. Get my sister away.”

  Tears blind me, and my heartbeat thrums in my ears, drowning out the rest of the world while I helplessly watch Kent’s life flowing out of him. “You’re going to be okay.”

  It’s a lie, a horrible, horrible lie, but what else can I say?

  “No.” Kent grabs hold of my wrist and closes his fingers around it. “Take her away.”

  “Away … ?”

  “To safety … .” Gurgles rise from his throat.