That got him to laugh. “Because of the trees?” His eyes roamed the area, until they settled on Cam.
“Everything you say about it. Not only the trees. The people, the society, nature.” Cam quieted, looking away. “I would not wish to live there.”
It was a moment before he spoke, “Me too. I like this world a lot better.” And then, with a sudden swiftness, the Harbinger gave him a good whack on his back. “It’s a good thing I decided to stay here, isn’t it?” He stretched his arms above his head. “It is a shame that the fellowship had to disband after we beat the Dread King’s army.”
We, Cam thought. There was no we. “Harbinger, if you desire another fellowship—”
He stopped him there, saying, “Come on, Cam. I think it’s just Vince now, don’t you?”
Vince. Cam did not like that. Not one bit, and he was about to voice his thoughts when a wind swept through the clearing, swiping through them faster than possible. Except, it was not wind. It was not a single entity, but multiple enemies, each narrowing in on their targets before Cam realized who they were.
“Ulen,” Cam shouted as he and the Harbinger both unsheathed their swords. The Ageless Blade shone in an ethereal light as their backs slammed against each other. Caught off-guard, the other Elves of the squad were already dead, bleeding out into the grass, their red blood gushing. Too much blood. Far too much.
They were his friends, his allies. They were his family now, Elven brothers united with a single cause. And they would not breathe ever again.
The Ulen—a pack of five paint-covered creatures—stood around them, circling them like hunters, their eyes glowing maroon. Cam realized at that moment that this might be his last few seconds alive.
“If you think a few Ulen will stop me,” the Harbinger growled, “you are sadly mistaken.” Yes, for he had fought and defeated the Dread King—there was no one in either of the worlds that could beat him.
His confidence was misplaced.
It happened fast. Too fast for Cam to react. Two Ulen lunged for him, their blood-covered swords clanging with his. A swipe to his left and one to his right; he could not block both, so he did not try. He instead went on the offensive, landing a deep blow to the leftmost Ulen’s chest. It cleaved through him, but so did their weapons on him. Pain shot through him as they threw down their swords and ran at him, fangs bared, teeth sinking into both sides of his neck.
Cam could not even let out a cry of pain as he watched his charge, his hero, fall in much the same way. Cam did not wish to watch the Harbinger meet such an untimely death at the hands of some random Ulen, so his amber eyes shut.
All he could hear was slurping and licking. All he could feel was violation. Death crept over him, encased him as the Ulen released him, laughing to themselves as he collapsed onto the ground, blood spewing around him in a macabre painting. His body was heavier than stone, weaker than a dried leaf. He was ready to go, because he had failed so spectacularly.
But death did not take him that day, and when he opened his eyes to the gruesome scene before him, his vision focused on one thing: his sword, and the blood that rested on it. Cam reached a shaking hand to it, crawling in his own blood, feeling absolutely weak with his wounds. He grabbed his sword and brought it to his lips, hesitating for only a moment when he realized that the Harbinger was nowhere to be found. The Ulen had taken him.
If he was still alive, Cam would save him.
He drew his tongue down the metal, picking up the blood as it went, the sword cutting into his soft tongue effortlessly. Cam used the last bit of strength he had to swallow, and then…and then the world went red.
Frantic, alive and changed, Cam was no longer the Elf he once was. Any doubts he had fell away as he gazed upon the corpses of his friends. They did not remain intact for long. What little blood lingered in their veins, long cold with their demises, filled him, and it only made him hungrier.
Only when he wanted more, more, more did Cam realize how hard it was for the Ulen to control themselves. How easy it was to snap and break and kill everything. The body was such a weak thing, truly. It was only after he drained his last friend dry when he froze, tensing up as he gazed at the area around him.
So much blood.
Blood everywhere, staining everything. The grass was no longer green; everything was red, and even if the sky opened and poured onto him, cleared away the gruesome scene, it would remain forever imprinted in his head.
Cam abruptly dropped his friend, the Elf before him a shriveled thing inside his armor. Cam tentatively reached for his own mouth, feeling his teeth. The world spun around him as he felt the sharpened points. This was it. This was the end of him. It had to be. He was no Elf anymore, and the Ulen—they would not take him when they realized that he hadn’t been made into one of them on purpose.
He felt heavier than he had in his life, even though his wounds were healed, even though his vision returned to normal. His muscles felt new and strong and yet he would gladly give it all away if it could rewind time, bring his friends back, bring the Harbinger back.
The Harbinger. Vince. Cam had to tell the Court of their failings, of his failings.
And so, with a heavy heart, Cam steeled himself to return to Springsweet, where he knew the Court would not expect him. Why would they? They were supposed to be gone for a few fortnights. It took him no time at all to return, and when he arrived at the palace doors covered in dried blood, the guards went to restrain him, and—
A slap on his back brought Cam to reality, bringing him out of his past and into the current night. He didn’t have to look beside him to see who it was. He knew. He knew because he could smell her, because he wanted her, because—by all that he was—nature demanded it. But after spending so many years tucked away in the black pits of Crystal Cove, learning to control himself, Cam did not reach for her, did not move aside her hair and bury his mouth into her neck, teeth into her flesh.
He wanted to, though. Simply because he could control the beast inside did not mean the beast was no longer there. It was always there, always waiting. Waiting for him to slip up, to waver, to break down and give in. The beast was a patient fellow, truly.
“You okay?” Faith asked, her hand lingering on his back, touching him a way the previous Harbinger had never touched him. When he did not answer, did not even look at her, she added, “You seem out of it.”
“This clearing,” Cam whispered, eyes focused on the pitch-black forest around them, “reminds me of a place I’ve been, long ago.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” She offered to listen, though he knew she had no idea what she was offering to listen to. If Faith knew it was his one life-changing event, would she still offer to? Would she understand that it all happened so fast, and that even though he was trained for it, he was still no match for the Ulen?
That if, perchance, the Ulen ever decided to stand on the Dread King’s side, the Harbinger would lose for certain?
No, she would not wish to hear that, so Cam simply muttered, “No.”
To his surprise, she did not immediately walk away. Faith did not give up easily, did she? “Okay,” she drawled out, “let’s pretend that was believable for a second.” She moved even closer to him, quiet for a few moments before she added, “And now make-believe time’s over. Tell me what’s really going on. I don’t want this fellowship to fall apart before it even starts.”
Fellowship.
Cam felt a strange familiarity with the word, and he felt himself smiling. Part of a fellowship, was he? It felt…odd, yet his Ulen side—better known as the haughty and self-righteous side—felt that it was a long time coming. That he deserved this when in fact, in reality, he deserved nothing of the sort.
He felt her staring hard at him, and he was slow to meet her eyes, the smile slowly falling off his face as he asked, “What is it?”
“You,” she whispered. “There’s something about you, Cam. I don’t know what it is—could be your sparkling personality, or your s
teely grey skin, or even the way you act quiet and reserved when I know you’re the opposite.”
Cam said, “You don’t know me.”
“No, I don’t. I’m trying to, though.”
He studied her, how she stood, how she gazed up at him, expectant. The orange hue of the campfire danced across her tanned skin, shining on the silver dot in her nose. Even though she was everything a female Elf wasn’t, Cam couldn’t help but want her. Was it because she was the Harbinger, or because of something else? He realized her hand still rested on his back, and he shrugged it off, stepping away from her. “You don’t want to know me,” he whispered. Behind them, Light and Jag were busy ganging up on Finn.
Faith did not back down. She stepped closer to him, not letting him escape. She slid both her hands into her back pockets as she said innocently, “You don’t know what I want, Cam.”
Looking away, he said, “I’m sure I can think of a few things.”
“Name them,” she challenged him.
Cam was not one to be challenged, so he instantly said, “Getting the bones of Dracyrus, for one. Stopping him from rising altogether, two. Finding your missing fellow students—”
“All very good things,” Faith said with a nod. “All I agree with. What else?”
What else? What else was there?
When he did not say anything else, Faith went on, “I want you to be comfortable. I want you to want to tell me things. Yes, we might not know each other very well right now, but I want to change that. I want to know you, Cam.” The last few words, whispered so wistfully, so strongly, so naively. She did not wish to know him, for if she did, she wouldn’t like him.
His cloudy gaze turned to her again, and he held her intense stare for a moment, reaching up and gently touching her cheek. Smooth, soft, warm. She was everything he wasn’t. His grey skin looked garish by hers, and he quickly dropped his hand, looking away. “It’s fine,” he muttered, not even believing himself as he said it. “It’s better this way.” He started walking away from her, but a new presence in his hand stopped him.
Hers. Her hand, in his. Her fingers, gripping his. A weird sensation.
“No,” Faith said earnestly. “It’s not.” She did not release his hand, even as he stood across from her and tried tugging it back. Granted, he did not tug it with all his might, for he did not wish to hurt her.
As her green eyes held his like a similar pair of strong-willed eyes had all that time ago, Cam decided, he swore to himself, he would not fail this Harbinger like he failed the last one. No. This was not some transport mission. This was something much greater. She was greater. She was his, just as he agreed that he was hers. She was his Harbinger, the only one that mattered.
It had been far too long since he had felt anything other than contempt. Even longer than that since he had felt naked skin on his. As Cam stared down at her, as her fingers tightened around his, he could not remember any other female’s face. They didn’t matter anyway. Not anymore.
Using his other hand, he swiped the hair on her shoulder to her back, his fingertips grazing her neck, touching her lightly enough to get her pulse beating faster. His hand rested there for a bit as her skin flushed. Cam could sense the desire coming from her, and it took all his willpower to not take her here and now. Even though it was what was agreed upon, the first time should be somewhat private.
“If you must know a little about me,” Cam whispered, lowering his face, bending until his cheek touched hers, “know that I look forward to spending time alone with you—that I will worship you, have you in a way only an Ulen can.” Just as she inhaled sharply, he pulled away, his hand finally disentangling from hers.
He could still hear her frantic heartbeat even as he sat near the fire. It was a good feeling, knowing he was wanted like that, as an Ulen. It was an even better feeling knowing that he wanted her as badly. He had no idea how long he would have to wait, but regardless of the time, it would be far too long.
Chapter Eighteen
A shimmering, pretty little Fae, her body clad in a dress that would have been laughed out of Furen Phyre. On her lithe form, the frayed dress looked good, hugging her thin body tightly, wisps of fabric floating around it, as if she were caught in mid-tear. Like she wanted to get out of it. Her eyes, so large and bulbous in the way Fae’s always were, blinked at him, their hue so startlingly unnatural to his kind that he froze at the sight of her.
He remembered her, and he hated her almost as much as he hated the Harbinger.
She was less than half his size, but that never stopped her before. It took all his strength to push the memories away, for she was the last creature he wished to think of now, after all this time. She was dead, long dead, yet here she was, standing before him in the waterworld, gazing up at him with eyes that made him mad.
Dracyrus wanted to pluck those eyes out and put them on spikes. Surely then she would look upon him no longer.
“You know it’s almost time,” she whispered, her voice light and airy. It would entrance any other male but him. Her voice, her body, nothing about her had ever enraptured him quite like she wanted it to. “You know what you must do to rise again.”
He stared at her, hatred burning within him. The waterworld seemed to freeze the instant he stated simply, “No.” He stood, hands clenched, naked in front of her. This was how it always was. This was not only his prison, but hers as well.
But then, if that was true, what about the other female who was here before? How long ago was that? Time mattered not to him here. There were no nights and days to track. The sun in the distance never moved.
The Harbinger. Dracyrus thought of her, and a new wave of anger washed over him. She would make no opponent. Finally, after all this time, he would win and rule and take back everything that was stolen from him. The Humans would bow at his feet, and the Elves would pay for their treachery in helping them.
“No?” the Fae woman tilted her head, her wild hair shooting every which way. “Do you remember what transpired the last time you said no to me?”
The Fae. Only second to Humans in his hatred. Dracyrus growled, his wide chest thundering, “Yes.” There was no need for the Fae to remind him of it. As if he could possibly forget.
For such a tiny body, she held such malice towards him. She hated him as much as he disliked her. Why were they stuck in this never-ending cycle of war, death and rebirth? Why could she not end it?
“Then get on your back, Dracyrus,” her smooth voice dripped venom, a venom he had put there. But he did not care. Not anymore. Truly, he never did.
“No,” he said again, a bare whisper, glaring at the tiny woman before him. “I am not your pet. I am stronger than you.”
The Fae did not miss a beat. “Because of the Harbinger?” Her tiny frame bristled as she started to fade. The edges of her body turned into dust, slowly eating away at her. For while this waterworld was his prison, it was also her mind. If she did not want the Harbinger to be here, the Harbinger would never have stepped foot in the strange place. “Will you seek to defeat her as you sought mercilessly to defeat the others?” Her hair turned into golden sparkles, reflecting off the water below. And, oddly enough, her voice wavered, revealing emotion that had never been there before. For a moment—just a quick moment—she was her old self, her sane self. “Will you let go of your hatred to live?” Her cheek and her arms faded, her feet completely gone.
He glared at her, unfeeling. “Why would I do that?”
“Because,” the Fae spoke, eyes disappearing into bits of sparkles, “this is the last time you will…” The rest of her body faded, leaving Dracyrus alone in the waterworld, wondering what she meant.
The last time? The last time for what?
Baring his teeth, Dracyrus sat. At least he was alone again. At least there were no Fae females to make demands of him, from him, use their magic to make him do things he never wanted to do. She grew tired of this? As did he. He would be fine with ending this once and for all, after he had the Harbin
ger’s head severed from her body.
He was never one to revel in this. Time and time again, he simply tried to win, an age-old tale that had long grown tiresome. This had been his life for how long? Too long, the only answer. Dracyrus wanted it to be done as much as anyone.
And, if the Fae’s words meant anything, it sounded as though this would be it. This would be his chance at victory, and he would gladly take it. No Harbinger would stand in his way, female or not. His body hardened in a way that told him the time neared.
Soon, the water that remained below him would rise and devour him, pull him into the world he left after the last Harbinger defeated him at Furen Ere. It was a disgrace to Dracon kind. His race had grown soft, almost as soft as the Humans and the Elves. Once he breathed new life, he would instill in his kind what the Dracon were supposed to be.
Terrifying. Intimidating. Inspiring.
As he thought this, as Dracyrus sat and pictured dozens of ways to end the tiny Harbinger’s life, he couldn’t help but wonder why it felt so easy. His victory would be the opposite of difficult. He could breathe and knock the female over, crush her throat with a single finger. She was not a challenge. She wouldn’t be.
And yet, Dracyrus recalled her, she was fiery, feisty—far too talkative for her and anyone around her’s good. Wholly irritating, especially while wearing his cloak. His cloak. That could only mean that she somehow had a hold of it outside the waterworld. That had been his cloak since the beginning. He had the fur re-stitched, the edges lined with leather so it would not fray. The cloak meant more to him than she knew.
It had seen war, blood and death, more than the female could ever comprehend. It had been with him through thick and thin, the only thing he kept with him since the beginning. He would kill anyone, everyone to regain hold of that cloak.
Dracyrus could not wait until he rose again, for he would wring her neck with it.
Chapter Nineteen
The Fellowship: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Harbinger Book 2) Page 11
