Kindred: (Into The Darklands)

by K. M. Raya

  “What do we do?” I bring my voice to a whisper that only he can hear; I don’t want the others to overhear. If they hear the hopelessness in my voice, they might lose faith in our mission.

  Thallan pulls back—gripping my shoulders tightly, his eyes are dark and filled with battle ready bloodlust. “You know what comes next.”

  “Commander—” a booming voice calls from behind us. The ground shakes and the rumble of rocks and soil reverberates over my body as Derrund approaches. I make room for him and step aside, watching in awe as the giant king stands before us.

  “You’re Majesty.” Thallan dips his head in respect.

  “My troupe are ready. It will take days on foot to reach Karn, I suggest we move out soon.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Both warriors turn to me in confusion. “We have over a hundred wounded Kindred and missing shadow dracs, how do you expect us to take on Sephrian and the army he has at his side?” Derrund frowns down at my outburst—if you could call it a frown. His stony face moves in a way that causes his eyes to narrow. “My troupe and I are more than enough to outmatch Sephrian and his little band of rebels, princess.”

  I bristle at the slur. Technically, he might be right, but we can’t take any chances. We didn’t go all that way for nothing. I didn’t train for so long just to let someone else fight in my place—to avenge my mother for me. Sephrian murdered my family—my favorite brother and took my Wesley prisoner. I’ll face that monster head on. Giants are powerful warriors and I like to imagine the horror on Sephrian’s face when realization finally dawns on him, but I want to see it for myself. I want to watch as his dark magic crumbles around him and swallows him whole. I want to see him burn.

  Before I can reply, a shadow swoops in overhead and conversation comes to a halt. Shayde drops to the ground, light on his feet—his body is covered in deep gashes and bite marks. He transforms from his dragon back to a man and Thallan quickly sheds his cloak and hands it to the drac. The ends of his dark hair are singed but seems to be rapidly repairing itself. His bloody wounds are already closing and soon he’ll be as good as new. Still, my heart hammers in my chest.

  “It wasn’t one of ours, I fought and tracked her as far as the border of Amaranth before I circled back,” he informs us. His voice is grave, and I can see a sadness on his face—a deep, aching sadness. He’d already been forced to watch another drac die and with their dwindling numbers, every drac’s life is precious.

  “Are you telling me this was done by a single drac?”

  He looks to me and nods solemnly. “Indeed. I recognized the scent as soon as we broke the clearing. It was faint, but traceable. She smelled like the male Derrund killed back at the beach. I think they were mates.”

  Horror almost chokes me. “Mates…” I whisper as the weight of it settles on my shoulders and on my heart. To lose a mate is catastrophic for a drac. Drac’s mate for life. “I’m so sorry, Shayde.” I lay a hand on his arm, but he pulls away. Hurt lances through me and I see the regret in his eyes for only a moment before steely resolve overtakes his beautiful features again.

  “It doesn’t matter, they were traitors. I’ll hunt and kill the female before this war is over,” he promises, and I know he means it.

  Derrund speaks up again and his voice is like the rumbling of waves against the rocky shores. “We leave at dawn, no later. Prepare your army.” The giant walks away, the ground shaking as he goes. Those still on the ground level clear a path for him as he makes his way to his troupe. I can see the rest of them off in the distance, crowded around a large fire in the break of the trees.

  I narrow my eyes at my men. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” I grumble. “More of us are going to die if we aren’t smart about this. We aren’t prepared for war and I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.”

  Thallan places a hand on my shoulder gently, but I shrug it off. He frowns. “We don’t have a choice, Sera. We thought we had more time, but we just don’t. They’ve attacked three times in the span of a fortnight. We can’t wait any longer. With the troupe at our backs, we have a chance.”

  “He’s right,” Shayde says and my glare turns to the drac. My gaze softens as I catch sight of his still closing wounds. I hate seeing him hurt. It’s a stark reminder that I could have just as easily lost him. Seeing that drac fall reminds me that even immortals can indeed die.

  I sigh deeply and look away. “I’m needed elsewhere…” Thallan goes to respond, but Shayde casts him a look and shakes his head, causing Thallan to snap his mouth closed again. I walk away from them without a look back.

  Looking closer, the trees are not as scorched as I’d originally thought, at least not all of them. Some of the homes remain upright, though the leaves are burned down to empty stumps and branches. Of the thousands that live in the Veil, this is a small grouping, but enough to hurt us. I find Anya as she bends over a wounded human who has a broken leg. I can’t remember the human girl’s name, but I do recognize her curly blonde hair and innocent blue eyes. The girl had been only a child when I first arrived.

  Anya works on setting the leg bone back into its proper place and so I bend down and help. I grasp the young girl’s shaking hand before removing a strip of leather from my wrist cuff and place it between her teeth to keep them from cracking. Anya meets my eyes nods in thanks. Wordlessly she jerks the girl’s leg sideways and I hear a deep pop. The girl screams but the sound is muffled by the leather in her mouth. Tears are leaking down her cheeks. It’s moments like this one where I don’t envy humans and their vulnerability. Mages aren’t immortal, but the magic that laces our veins can heal our wounds in a matter of hours as well as extend our life by centuries.

  “Drink this two more times today before the sun sets and you will be fine. Take it with food if possible,” Anya instructs the girl and hands her a small glass bottle filled with a bluish liquid to which she accepts and nods vigorously.

  After that, we work side by side until the sun begins to set and most of the wounded have been tended to. Upon further inspection, it seems as if most of the wounds are superficial, but still there are some we lost—mostly humans. The drac must have been making a point rather than intending to kill, because I am well aware of just how easily it should have been for the drac to decimate hundreds at a time if not more.

  ~~~

  After the sun dips and shadows fall over the Darklands, I follow Anya to her apothecary. Anya knows I need to talk and doesn’t question it.

  “I’m coming with you tomorrow,” she whispers, breaking the silence. She turns around with her hands placed on her hips, waiting for me to argue.

  I just grin. “I know.”

  Anya’s eyebrows rise in surprise as she removes the laces from her tunic. “I expected a bit more of an argument than that, but I’ll take it.”

  “We need you out there…I have no idea what might happen, but I’ll feel better knowing I have you by my side,” I confess truthfully.

  She walks forward and takes both of my hands in hers. Her dainty fingers are calloused from years of hard work and toiling away with medicine. “I’ll always be right here, you know that. It’s been you and I from the beginning. I know I have no magic of my own, but I received the same training as you. I want to fight.” Her jaw is set, and her eyes are determined.

  “Anya, we need a healer.” I sigh, gripping her hand tighter. “We have plenty of fighters already.”

  She frowns. “I know what I’m getting myself into…I’ll fight alongside you and we will win this war. Karn was our home once, well take it from them before they have the chance to do the same thing here.”

  I take a moment to look at my friend and remember the girl she used to be. I often dream of the day we fled our kingdom, thinking we wouldn’t live to see the next morning. Anya was all I had in the world and the only one I let myself trust. To see her now, standing here declaring war makes me swell with pride and affection.

  “We will. Just promise me you’ll get to safety should som
ething happen to me.”

  Anya scoffs and rolls her dark eyes. “If something happens to you, it means I’m already dead.”

  I smack her on the arm playfully. “Not funny.”

  “But really, Sera—I do think we can get through this, I won't lie though...I’m scared.” She casts her eyes down to our hands and blinks a tear away. “I just got him back,” she chokes. “I can’t lose him again.”

  I grab Anya, pulling her into a tight hug and squeeze while her tears drip onto my shoulder. “He’s a man now, he’ll be alright,” I try and assure her but deep down I know it’s no real use. Recovering, she sniffs and shoos me towards the door, claiming she needs her rest, but I know better—she must be expecting Rayne at any moment.

  DorEthe

  Dorethe strapped the thick leather armor to her shoulders and fastened her daggers at her hips. The hide of a marsh saber would protect her from any blade, arrow or magic.

  She drew her long, stringy hair into braids behind her head and bound them with moss. Her horde prepared for the journey as they mirrored her actions before mounting their sabers. They did not speak, nor did they acknowledge one another at all. It was the way of the Hags. They moved as a unit, as a single entity with bloodlust driving their every step. The horde had roamed for thousands of years before being forced into exile by humans. The Kindred ignored them outright, but the persecution her people had faced ultimately drove them into the marshes. So utterly fearful were the mortals of the hideous creatures of the dirt and soil that they hunted them to near extinction.

  She knew of Sephrian and his little rebellion but had never given much thought beyond passing indifference. For as much as she craved bloodshed and justice, she was also a patient Hag. She’d lived for thousands of years and would live yet for thousands more. Her hatred for undeserved life had become a palpable thing that she would soon wield as a weapon.

  Roark came to her marsh, begging for their aid and they would give it to him. They would march upon Karn alongside the Draegan princess. They would slaughter each of the usurpers, one by one until Karn was left in ruins. She cared nothing for the politics of man. She only wanted chaos. She longed for her claws to rip the throats from something living. She craved the bitterness of the blood she knew she’d taste as she tore them apart with her teeth. Dorethe lusted for it. It had been too long since she’d dealt out death with her hands. It had been too achingly long since she’d given into her nature, but now it was time to feed it.

  It was time to leave the marsh.

  Sera

  Sitting against the tree outside of my room, I hesitate to go inside. It feels like a lifetime since I’ve been back, though it hasn’t been more than a fortnight.

  So much has changed since then. I breathe in the crisp evening air—tuning out the sounds of life around me—the clank of metal as weapons are polished and armor prepared. All around me is a frenzy of activity as the Veil prepares for war. My chest squeezes, imagining the amount of my people who are facing down death in the coming days. Death is inevitable, but to have Kindred fighting Kindred under the orders of yet another madman seems wrong. The inhabitants of Karn are fighting without the choice to do so—going against everything the Kindred have always stood for.

  Being Kindred goes hand and hand with being free. It’s the reason the Veil never established a ruler. My mother had been a respected General, but never a queen. The next General will be chosen based on merit and not bloodlines. Though the throne of Karn is rightfully mine, I don’t want it. The stain my father left on this world brings me shame and I want nothing to do with that seat of power. My life is here in the Darklands, and once we rid this realm of the darkness Sephrian insists on spreading, I’ll return—relinquishing my title forever. A part of me wonders if the people of Karn even know I’m alive. Surely Sephrian’s shadow would have mentioned the fact that the heiress to the most powerful throne in the world is still living—only a few days ride from his borders.

  I feel a swell of pride in my chest as I watch my people preparing to defend our home with their lives. Every man, woman, mage, elf and drac around me are my equals. They’re not my subjects and they never will be. I’m not somehow special—only a mage girl who happens to have royal blood in my veins. I’m not some savior put in place to liberate the realm from oppressors. I’m just one link in the armor that protects the Kindred—once piece of the puzzle. I have no delusions of grandeur and no aspirations to become an overlord, I simply want to right the wrongs of my father and watch the kingdom heal its sickness—even if I have to die doing so.

  “I've been sitting her for a while and you haven't said a word,” whispers a voice from beside me and I fight the gasp that threatens to leave my lips. It’s only Thallan. He’s a silent elf, always sneaking up on me and he loves seeing me rattled.

  I feign boredom. “Not much to say, I suppose.” I frown, staring down at my hands as my arms drape over my bent knees.

  Thallan sighs, settling in next to me. “I suppose not.” He reaches out, running his fingers down my arm until he grasps my hand in his. I let him—reveling in the comfort his touch brings me.

  He clears his throat—it’s an awkward sound, telling me he has something to say but isn't sure how to say it. “Spit it out, Thal, the tension’s killing me.”

  Thallan just snorts, yet again a surprising noise coming from someone so refined. “I heard you the other night,” he tells me, and my mind runs wild. “I heard you talking with the necromancer.”

  “And what, you disapprove of that too?” I spit, sounding angrier than I really am. I stand to my feet, turning for my door and striding inside as he quickly trails after me. “I’m tired of hearing it over and over again. I know what he is and what he’s done, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a good man. We all make mistakes, Thallan, and if you really did hear us talking, you’d understand why he did those things. It was an impossible choice he made.”

  “He’s dangerous, and I don’t trust him around you,” he mutters. “I see the way he watches you, Sera, and I don’t like it.”

  Whipping around, I narrow my eyes at him, shoving my finger at his chest. “You don’t have to like everyone—but Wesley is my friend.”

  I sigh a moment later, finger dropping and my anger quickly deflating. I have no energy for this.

  He watches me with knowing eyes. “You really do love him, don't you?” His voice is final, like he’s accepting a fact instead of asking me if it’s true. And to be honest—I really don’t know if it’s true. Do I love Wesley? Of course I do, just as I have since we were infants.

  Running my fingers through my wild hair, I turn around and face the window. “Not in the way you think,” I assure him. “I’ll always love Wes, but it’ll take time for it to develop into anything more—if I even want it to. The years have done things to us that can’t be changed. I’m not the same girl he once knew and he’s not the boy I used to know.” He comes to a stop beside me, leaning against the wall. Reaching out, I run my hand along Thallan’s cheek. “I don’t love him yet the way I love you.”

  His lips part and his face relaxes—the worry lines around his slanted eyes disappear as I turn and pull his face to mine. Our lips brush and I shiver. His hands come up, brushing my hair back over my shoulders as he presses in closer. Pulling back for a moment, his words whisper over my lips. “I can’t lose you, Sera.” He kisses me again—harder and more frantic.

  “Why would you think—” My words are cut off as he grips me by the tops of my arms and hoists me up until my back hits the wall beside my window. My lips devour his and his fingers frantically search for the ties of my trousers. Warmth blooms in my belly as I feel the first whispers of skin against mine. Still, I pull back again. “Thallan, tell me—why are you so afraid?”

  His shoulders are heaving, and his icy eyes are filled with a mixture of terror and heat. They run over the plains and angles of my face as if he’s trying to memorize my features. I find myself doing the same—marveling at his
pearly skin against curtains of long white hair that hangs to his waist. His wide mouth is swollen from my kisses and his tongue peaks out to wet his lips, making my heart race. Long, pointed ears poke out from his hair, reminding me of the ancient and powerful creature he truly is. He’s lived lifetimes in this place and still he chooses to love me.

  “I need you to know that whatever happens in the days to come, I’ll be there watching over you,” he promises and my heart swells and drops at the same time. “I’ll guard you with my life no matter what the cost.”

  “Don’t do anything reckless because you think I need saving,” I snap—gripping his face in my palms. “I know my role as well as you do, but I’m not so delusional as to think my life is any more important than the next Kindred. Don’t put others or yourself at risk because you think I’m some sort of...queen. I’m not—and I don’t want to be, I’m only a girl.”

  His chest rumbles and his eyes darken. “You’re anything but that, Sera Draegan. You’re so much more than you let yourself believe—more than a queen, more than a mage.” He places a small kiss on my forehead. “You amaze me at every turn—with your strength, your devotion to our home...and your ability to love so completely and so fully.” My eyes well with tears. “I love everything about you, and I can’t lose that—I can’t lose you.”

  “You won't lose me, Thallan. Sephrian has no idea what’s coming for him. We have an army behind us, and I won't let myself fall unless I get to watch the life drain from his eyes first—I promise you that much.”

  He growls. “Don’t you talk like that; it won't happen that way.”

  I smile sadly, tightening my hands in his hair. “I need you right now, Thal. Make me forget about tomorrow.”

  With a groan, his lips crush mine and the force of it presses me into the wall—the pain of it barely registering because I want more, I need more. With one free hand, he rips my trousers down my legs as I fumble to take his tunic off. Laughing at our predicament, Thallan hoists me up and walks me over to my bed, throwing me down and ripping his tunic overhead. His lean chest is covered in twisting druid tattoos, making me want to trace every single one of them with my tongue. Anticipation zings through my lower stomach as he climbs up over me, settling between my thighs.