I fall on the dead grass next to him and brush my palm against his distant eyes, closing his lids so I don’t have to see his lifelessness.
My chest burns. A pressure tighter than anything I’ve ever felt before pushes on me, making breathing impossible. What will I tell his sister? Did I do my best to save him? How did the daemons surround us so quickly? It’s as though they expected us, and maybe they did, but why couldn’t we fight harder? Why was I so afraid to use magic? I should have just barreled through here on Mirain’s back and scooped up Kent like cowboys rescue people in old Western movies.
Glimpses of color flash at the edges of my vision. Golds, blues, reds, pinks, all different magics fighting in the war. Sprites rip through tairbs, uselessly rest on Kent, soar around my body and mingle with my fire, zip to Arland and then to Tristan or Dunn. The magic needs direction, but who am I to direct it when I keep failing?
Somewhere in the distance, metal thumps through flesh and men grunt with the exertion of battle, but I can’t force my legs to work, my lungs to expand, my blood to stop drowning out my thoughts.
A tairb falls next to me. His rank, hot breath warms my arm, and he laughs. “You will never win.”
The daemon wipes his hand over his bleeding face, then reaches out, as if he’s going to touch me.
“Get up, Kate. Get away from him!”
I’m unable to move. Should my fate be the same as Kent’s?
“Get up!” Arland grabs me under the arm and lifts me to my feet just before the beast can touch me. He narrows his eyes, his teeth clenched. He’s angry with me. “You are meant to fight, to protect, to save this place, not to give up. Now, there are ten daemons remaining. Will you help me kill them?”
A quick look around reveals the tairbs falling back. They creep in the same direction Ovarti went into the Darkness.
Cowards.
They wouldn’t know bravery if it slapped them in the face.
”You need to remember this: maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but more lives will be lost. Be strong. Keep your faith. This is not the time to cry. This is the time to fight.”
I should have fought sooner. I could have prevented this. My opportunity to end the war presented itself at the stream, yet I was afraid. Kent and Muriel stayed with us so they wouldn’t get hurt. He trusted in me. And I’ve failed him. My mistake was his end. There may not be any recovering from this.
He was just a boy, Arland’s “competition.”
Muriel will be heartbroken. The thoughts send shooting pains into my heart. I need to be stronger. My grief won’t help anyone. My anger will though. And I’m sick of people I love being hurt and killed. I ball my fists. I’m ready to fight. Now.
I close my eyes.
“You are growing angry.”
“I am.”
“Do not allow your anger to blind you.” Arland calls the horses to us. “We need to go.”
I mount Mirain and then we head into the Darkness again, following a trail of stampeding, scared, beasts. Angry anticipation bubbles inside me. I have to make this right. I have to kill those who steal every good thing from us.
Dunn and Tristan ride next to Arland and me. Holes line their armor. Blood and dirt cover their faces.
“What should we do differently, sir?” Dunn asks.
“I have a feeling Kate will handle this battle easily.”
Arland glances at me but doesn’t smile, doesn’t show any kind of happiness or pride at all. It’s like he’s checking to make sure I’m okay. I don’t need to be checked on. I need to end this war.
“You stated there are ten daemons?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Dunn, get Kent and take him back to camp.” Clicking my cheek, I kick my feet into Mirain’s sides and gallop her through the forest. She doesn’t try to stop me, and Arland follows right behind. I’m going to take care of this. No one else needs to come. Just me and Arland. Us together. I’m mad, and I have every right to be. Flames burst from my core, illuminating all the death around us. Trees. Plants. Animals. So many things lay ruined on the forest floor.
The rapid pounding of hooves comes from ahead of us, mingled with screeching. The monsters know we’re coming and they’ve brought friends, but I don’t care. I want them to think I’m scared and that they can beat me. Then I want to strike each of them through the heart.
Mirain stops on top of a ridge. Arland arrives next to me. We climb from our animals, then stand next to each other. Drawing our swords, we meet eyes.
“You ready to show them the meaning of bravery?” he asks, the muscles in his jaw tight. He’s bracing for what lies ahead of us, preparing for what I intend to be a quick battle.
No one else is around to get hurt.
The daemons run toward us, rumbling the earth. Ten sets of red eyes blaze through the darkness, while only the screams of the coscarthas indicate their approach.
“Show them we’re powerful, Arland.”
Arland’s blue flames radiate, rushing down his arms and onto his sword.
I raise my claymore then run to the beasts, muscles screaming out with excitement. One of the tairbs lowers his head, and like a bull ready to fight, he charges. I run faster, harder, pushing my body to its limits, then drive my blade through his skull.
Burn him.
Crimson magic explodes from the ground and covers his combination of man skin and bristly fur with flames. Nerves shake his body, then he lies still.
Dead.
Arland chops off the head of a coscartha, spins then drives his sword into the belly of another. Four more creep closer to him, but sprites swirl around the monsters, holding them in place.
I smile. He has this under control.
Two more mangled creatures rush me. One lunges forward, and I drop to my knees, avoiding a swipe by his claws.
Returning to my feet, I call more magic to me, focusing on my rage, on Kent, on Encardia, and on Light.
Kill them.
Thousands of red sprites burst from a nearby pine, then drive into the chest of a coscartha. I strike through the heart of the other monster, thrusting all my hatred into it.
I look around, trying to find the remaining tairbs, especially Ovarti. He’s leaning against the trunk of a tree, legs crossed at his ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His red, beady eyes bore through me.
“My friends have gone.”
“And you said I was afraid.”
A tight smile spreads across Ovarti’s face. “You may win this battle, but there is no way your small army can defeat us.”
He turns and runs away, probably hoping to get word to Dughbal.
I can’t let him escape, not after what he did to Kent.
Stop him. Trap that daemon. Make his end miserable.
A swarm of colorful sprites rushes past me. Green leaves, blue drops of water, reds as dark as blood, pinks, whites, so many different representations of nature, of life.
Thunderous growls bounce off the trees, and a white light flashes in the distance.
Arland steps beside me. “We did it.”
“Kent is still gone.” No one is around, no one who looks up to me and shouldn’t see me cry. I allow tears to soak my cheeks. My lungs deflate, and my stomach turns, salty fluids filling my mouth. The smell of burning death overpowers my nose, and I turn and throw up.
Rubbing my back, Arland huffs. “You have never been so angry, Kate. You charged in here fast. Too fast. Next time, we need to be more careful.”
I lean into him. “I feel like I just got off a loop-d-loop ride at a theme park.”
“A what?”
“Nothing. Never mind. I just feel dizzy.”
He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer. “Adrenaline.”
“And the smell. I hate it. Every time we kill them, the air smells worse.”
He takes my hand, dragging me to the horses. “We need to return to camp. The others need our protection. And I believe Muriel will need your company tonight.”
“I think I need her company, too.” But will she ever be able to forgive me?
Arland helps me mount Mirain, then he climbs Bowen. We ride side by side through the dead forest. Neither of us speaks. I’m exhausted from this battle, from using all my adrenaline, and yet I know my night is not over. Muriel will need someone to talk to, to console her. Given her brother’s fascination with me, I’m sure I’m the only person qualified.
Leaves crunch under the horses’ hooves. I move a branch from my path, and the wood creaks and echoes through the forest. Everything is peaceful. The sounds are crisp, like walking outside after a fresh snowfall. The stark silence amplifies every noise we make.
A faint cry comes from ahead. My insides twist worse than a minute ago; I know Muriel needs me. Am I ready to help her? Am I ready to admit I couldn’t save her brother?
Mirain picks up her pace, as if sensing what I need to do: get to Muriel. Bowen and Arland stay right beside, but he still doesn’t speak.
“I am planning. And you are lost in yourself.” Arland’s thoughts carry his warmth, ironing out an insignificant amount of my frustration.
Sighing, I spot the faint light of our fire. The whimpers grow louder. Brit, Flanna, and Rhoswen sit around Muriel. Flanna rubs the girl’s back as she rocks back and forth next to her brother’s still body. My sister offers Muriel a bowl with steam rising from it. The dish is probably filled with the same bland soup from earlier. Rhoswen sits in front of Muriel, speaking words I cannot hear.
What’s Rhoswen saying? She’s certainly experienced enough to know how Muriel feels. I’m glad Rhoswen is here. I’m glad I won’t have to do this alone.
“Kate,” Arland says. “We have arrived. I will take Mirain. You should call to your sister. Have her bring you some water, then you should change your clothes.”
“Why?” I slide from Mirain, then look down at myself. My suede pants are covered in blood. How am I alive? Tairb blood is poisonous. I’m not sure about that of the coscartha’s. “I don’t understand … ?”
Even in the dark, I see Arland’s face flush bright red. Why is he embarrassed?
He grabs the horses’ reins, eyebrows turned down. “When is the last time you … you know … had your—?”
Oh my God. My face radiates with heat. How did I not realize? This certainly explains my anger—or at least part of it—and it certainly explains my emotions and how they spiraled out of control. Now would be a great time to have modern conveniences, but there aren’t twenty-four hour pharmacies around here.
“What do women … do for these things?”
Arland grins. “Your sister had this issue at Willow Falls. Flanna helped her. I am sure she can help you, as well.”
“Brit. We’re back. I need you, and I need water.” An urge to hide behind a tree hits me hard. I haven’t bled through my clothes since first starting my period when I was twelve. Not that I could have prepared for this. There’s been no time to think about anything normal in such a long time.
“Are you okay?” Brit jumps to her feet, pats Muriel’s shoulder, then runs to the other side of the fire. My sister grabs a wooden bucket on her way to me. “Please tell me you and Arland didn’t get hurt.”
“I started my period, Brit.”
“Oh.” She stops, shakes her head, then returns to Flanna. Brit whispers something, then they both come this way.
Great. Now I’m everyone’s problem when I need to be someone’s solution.
Arland ties Bowen and Mirain to a nearby tree. He doubles back and stops just before reaching me. “I am going to meet with Cadman, discuss rotations, and try to communicate with the other groups again.”
I stare into his burning emeralds. How can he look at me this way? I’m a dirty, disgusting mess. I’m a failure to my people, to him, to myself.
Stepping closer, he takes my hands in his. “Do not be ashamed. This is part of being a woman, and considering we are in the middle of a war, beats the other possibility.”
Misunderstanding why I’m so upset, Arland kisses me then turns and leaves me with Brit and Flanna.
“Let’s get you cleaned up quickly. Muriel needs you.” Flanna holds out a bunch of tattered cloth rags. Her face is swollen and pink from crying. I expected sarcasm, but maybe the deaths have her thinking of Lann again.
One more reason I should have ended this war when I had the chance.
Chapter Ten
I keep my eyes on the forest, scanning for movement in the underbrush. Tonight is quiet. Too quiet. Glancing to my left, I check the others who are on post. Flanna has her bow drawn, arrow notched. She’s always on guard and usually the first to attack. Brit and Rhoswen stand to Flanna’s left, hands held behind their backs. They’re not as skilled as Flanna, but they are determined. I look to the right. Vanora and Muriel only have to keep their eyes to the rocks behind us, but neither of the women is of sound mind. Ever since Kent’s funeral, Muriel’s grief has left her shaky, pale, and her thoughts are so inwardly focused, she’d be lucky to spot a daemon if it stood directly in front of her. Vanora, on the other hand, is just a pain. All she cares about is making Perth’s life miserable. And she does a fantastic job of it.
As if our routine wasn’t bad enough.
Every day has been the same. Scout a safe location. Set up camp. Eat a meal with less food in it than the last. Stand guard around our perimeter only to have daemons move in and attack before anyone can get adequate sleep.
Dughbal’s creatures are supposed to rest as we do, but they’ve changed their habits. They seek us out no matter what time of day it is, driving us further away from The Meadows, deeper into the Baccain Forest. It seems everything Arland thought he knew about the daemons was just what they wanted us to think. Ovarti proved the tairbs think for themselves, and the 3:00 a.m. attacks prove they no longer sleep when we do.
They’re adapting.
So, we stick together, stay strong, and fight with all our hearts.
The air is putrid with the sulfuric smell of death; however, none of our own has been lost since Kent. The rot comes from those who deserve to die, but somehow it serves as another punishment for us. The few meals we do eat, usually come back up. No one can stomach this.
Especially me.
I’ve thrown up at least once a day since that first night we lost Kent, and once I go, everyone else seems to as well. Except Arland. He’s made of steel on the inside and the outside.
I love him for that.
Our people need him. He’s a solid foundation.
I need him, too.
We’ve been two people passing in the night. There’s been no time for love, no time for intimacy, although both our minds constantly dwell on moments we shared in the past, on our wedding night, on our last night in the bed at Willow Falls. I’m surprised he looks at me the same after what happened with my period. But like he said, I’m a woman. It’s normal.
Unfortunately, the most time I’ve spent with Arland has been during battle. I’ve grown fond of the fights, merely so I can hold his hand, look in his eyes, and feel his warmth next to me.
The guilt that brings me is nothing compared to how I’d feel if a soldier actually died in one of these battles, but for now, I don’t have to think about it.
“Are you ready to switch?” Dunn asks, placing his palm on my shoulder.
Disappointment ripples through me. I hoped Arland would take my place tonight, but I guess it’s not his turn. He wants us to rotate where we stand, who relieves us, what weapons we stand guard with. Arland is afraid the daemons might learn by watching, and at the same time, he wants them to watch. He doesn’t want to hide behind a concealment spell. Battle is what we need. I just don’t know how much longer we can keep it up.
“Yes,” I say, slipping my sword into its holster.
“Anything out of the ordinary?” Dunn asks.
I shake my head. “The silence is eerie tonight.”
He smiles. “Maybe their numbers are dwindling.”
“M
aybe.” Though I doubt it. My visions showed an army of thousands coming to attack us, and there were only a few of us left to fight.
I reach my blanket and lie down. It’s still warm from Arland. Pressing my nose to the thin fabric, I inhale. His dewy scent settles my nerves. I close my eyes. Sleep is calling to me, draining every muscle in my body, tugging me down where I’d like to stay for a week. A month would be better.
“Sleep well, my love.” Arland’s thoughts drift into my mind, teasing my already enormous ache to be near him.
“Be safe.” As much as I want to see him, I don’t have the energy to seek him out, to stare at his beautiful face and be bathed in his love for me. And I don’t have the time to waste either.
This life sucks.
“Psst, Kate,” Rhoswen whispers.
If I won’t open my eyes for Arland, what makes Rhoswen think I’ll look at her? I’m tired. It’s bad enough the daemons don’t allow us to sleep. Placing my hands under my cheek, I squeeze my lids to show my defiance.
The corner of my blanket shifts, and someone presses their hand to my shoulder. “I know you wish to rest. I do too, but I have been thinking.”
I glare at her. “Rhoswen, please tell me this is important. Because the way I see it, we only have about thirty minutes to sleep.”
“This is important.” She yawns, covering her mouth with her hand. “Do you want to end this war?”
Brit groans. “Would you shut up? Of course we want to end this war. What the hell do you think we’ve been doing? Now, please, be quiet so we can get some rest before those idiotic beasts show up again.”
I sit up and spare a glance around the perimeter. If I’m going to be awake, I’m going to see my husband.
Arland paces between two trees, face turned out toward the Darkness, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back. Tonight he chooses no weapons either, just like Brit and Rhoswen.
Something is odd about this night.
“Rhoswen has something she wants to share.”
He stops midstride and smiles as though hearing my voice in his head brings him joy.
“It did. That is the most you have said to me in weeks.” His gaze finds mine, risking something we haven’t dared risk in the same amount of time we haven’t talked: Arland took his eyes off the forest. “I was beginning to believe Kent’s death affected you the way it has his sister.”
Wilde's Meadow Page 10
