Chapter 11
A Traveler’s Dread
Paced steps flattened the forest’s
grass as a dark figure glanced to the encamped travelers, staying behind the
trees so no one would see. The figure looked up and around, eyes wide against
the darkness. Where is the cursed bird? . . .
Wings fluttered.
Talons scratched bark.
Frost hissed and overtook a limb.
The figure turned as the snowy owl fluffed her feathers and
settled onto a high tree branch. “I—” The figure swallowed. “Pain has a way of
uniting. Potentially, at least.” The white bird said nothing as it stared down
with her hollow, icy eyes. “Pain is what should be used. That is what I think.”
“Wait,” the snowy owl whispered. “Lady Olivia shall be dealt with.
In Wraith’s Hollow. Wraith’s Hollow. . .”
“No, no, listen. Tell the master there is another way. We can—”
“Dealt with in Wraith’s Hollow.”
“We can use the pain of losing that dame to—”
“Wait. Wait. Wait.”
“Poisoned air! Listen!” The figure peeked at the encampment with a
hush, hair standing on end. “Stones on bones . . . Did he not give you
something else to say? Any new message?”
“Wait,” the owl repeated. “Lady Olivia—”
“Silence!” the figure hissed. “I have an idea! We must use the
master’s backup plan! Must use that horrid Wilder woman! Lady Olivia’s demise
will give us nothing! Now, listen. I have it all planned to the slightest
detail. Once she is removed from the equation, the throne can more easily be
taken. Trust me.”
The snowy owl shut her beak and leaned forward. Her blue toes
fidgeted with the tree’s branch as its frost crept deeper in, freezing more and
killing the life. She closed her icy eyes as she took in every word of the
scheme.
– – –
It was noon, though the sun’s rays
were pale as they passed through the tree branches, and the travelers stopped
for a quick meal of bread and ale. A few sat on the ground or in their wagons,
but most stood with their uneaten food held in clammy hands.
The knights muttered among themselves and passed a canteen of
water between them. A few squires attended to the horses, and servants talked
in low voices, but all conversation was short-lived. Silence clung to all as
they watched the still trees around them. None of the knights would let go of
their weapons.
Olivia turned to Theron as they sat
on the ground beside Sobriina and Aldret. She held out a piece of bread to him.
“Want the rest?”
“You should eat it,” Theron said.
“It’ll keep your strength up.”
“I’ve eaten enough. Here. Can you
take it?”
Theron’s eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down, but he took the
bread.
Olivia heaved a sigh and hung her head. “I know. . . It’s just
bread and should not pose a problem.” She sighed as she brushed crumbs off her
silky green frock.
Theron’s brow softened as he gently rubbed her back. Olivia closed
her eyes and leaned against him with the reassurance of his protection.
Sobriina watched the two, but looked away when they touched.
“We’re almost out of this vile place,” Theron whispered as he
kissed the top of her head. “Almost there—”
Sobriina took in a wheezed breath, her eyes wide and staring. All
looked to her. Olivia froze. “Mistress?” she whispered.
Theron grabbed his sword and stood, ready for action. “What do you
see?” he hissed. Sobriina did not answer, her purple eyes bulging and her mouth
open.
Olivia’s throat dried as she stared. What was happening?
Sobriina’s eyes rolled back, her hand over her mouth, and sneezed
with a violent jerk. She groaned and wiped her nose. “I saw nothing,” the
she-elf mumbled, her skin reddening her tanned gray-blue cheeks. “I apologize—”
“A sneeze?” Theron snapped. “All that was, was a sneeze!” Servants
who were nearby watched the group and held their tongues. Some looked to the
trees and swallowed hard, but most fought against an amused smile.
Olivia looked between Theron and Sobriina and a smile lifted her
lips. She threw back her head and laughed. “A sneeze! It was only a sneeze!”
Sobriina grinned, but her blush spread down her neck. Duke Aldret shook his
head and called for more ale. Theron glared down at Olivia, his grip on his
sword still firm. “Oh, come now!” the young lady gasped. “Laugh! It is much
needed here!” Theron released his sword and ran his fingers through his hair.
With a heaved sigh, Theron sat beside Olivia once again. “Wasn’t it funny?” she
asked.
“Yes. Yes, very funny. Quiet now.” He shook his head.
“But why? We all need to loosen our shoulders, and allow a smile
to come.”
A groan gurgled beside them and they turned toward a guard who
stood a pace away. His hands gripped his abdomen, his eyes wide. He lifted his
head and looked at the four, his face dazedly confused. Blood dribbled from his
opened lips and down his beard. An arrow jutted from his stomach.
Olivia recoiled with a screech.
Theron was on his feet in a flash. He wrenched his sword free and
pulled Olivia behind him. “Ambush!” he cried. “Ambush! Everyone, to your
posts!”
Everything was dropped as weapons were drawn. An arrow whizzed
through the air and struck a knight between the joints in his armor. His shriek
chilled Olivia to the bone, and she pressed her hands over her ears.
“Elshender!” Theron cried.
The large man looked at his prince, his eyes wild and alive.
“Protect the women if something happens to me!” Theron seized his
shield from the wagon, though there was no time for his helmet. Another knight
fell, coughing up blood, an arrow struck through his throat. A servant
screamed, loud and shrill.
The entire forest came alive.
Men crashed from under each bush, morphed from shadows, and leapt
from trees. They were dressed in earth tones and mud streaked their fierce
faces. They screamed like wild cats and held their weapons firmly in front of
them. Stocky men, in Flavencen armor made by dwarven hands, wielded maces
tipped with jutting points. Swords were drawn and raised; most were short and a
few were hooked like a fisherman’s line. Small axes were fisted in calloused
hands as the men charged with wolf howls and a thirst for blood.
Not all were human. Sulpheros hurled
themselves through the underbrush, their bodies lined with white scars and
black-paint smeared with mud. Their sicky yellow, sun-bleached hair and
sun-burnt rust skin made them look more animal and less elvish. A Black Dwarf
raced alongside, his jet black beard, hair, and skin letting him be one with
the shadows.
Olivia froze with terror as the blood drained from her face. She
paled like a ghost freshly raised from a warm corpse. A hand seized her arm.
Panic overtook her and she jerked away with a cry. The hand tightened around
her.
“My lady! Stop!” She looked up and saw Theron, his gaze firm like
stone. Krea and Cedany stood behind him, silent screams disfiguring their
faces. “Come!” He turned to Sobriina to protect her as well, but stopped.
The Lunaris had drawn her two anelaces,
the short, double-edged swords gripped in her strong hands. She stood, her legs bent
and body poised for action, and her purple eyes darted from one attacker to the
other. “Do not dillydally and concern yourself with me, my prince!” Sobriina
cried above the din. “My blades have tasted blood before!”
Theron stared at her for a moment, never seeing a dignified woman
face a horde of attackers.
Sobriina’s eyes narrowed. “Go!”
Theron lifted his chin and turned to the three ladies who cowered
behind him. “Keep up,” he said to the ladies-in-waiting. He yanked Olivia to
his side and wrapped an iron-firm arm around her middle. He ran to a horse as
it stood with head raised and ears jerking this way and that. Its rider lay
fallen in a pool of blood. Olivia clung to Theron, trying not to fall as he
dragged her on.
“He’ll get us! He’ll get us!” Krea’s scream clapped Olivia’s ears.
To Olivia’s horror, a man leapt between them and their escape, his
face painted like a barbarian and sword drawn back, ready for the plunge.
Theron reacted with practiced speed and clarity. He released Olivia, shoving
her behind him, and readied his blade for blood. “Elshender!” he cried over his
shoulder before lunging at the attacker.
The chaos spun about Olivia, disorienting and paralyzing. The
three women clung together in a tight bundle, whimpering and pale. A hulky form
raced toward them, one sword drawn. Olivia watched numbly as Elshender raced
forward, lobbing the head of a Sulphuro as he came. She turned away from the
surprised-looking head as it tumbled at her feet.
Elshender seized Olivia and heaved her onto the horse, trying to
keep it from running out from under her. “Get down,” he told Olivia, her eyes
intent on Theron and his foe; they were battling further away with every parry
and lunge. She sat hunched, her chest heaving and eyes bulging. An arrow
whizzed by. “Down!” Elshender seized her head and forced her body against the
horse. Olivia screamed and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck, her eyes
closed and teeth clenched in a stifled whimper.
Krea shrieked something, but her words were lost in the chaos
around them. Theron yelled and grabbed for Olivia, though she did not
understand. What was going on? What was happening?
The horse whinnied, high and loud.
Olivia felt the animal topple. Her eyes flew open as the ground
met her. She shrieked and struck the forest floor; her head bounced against the
ground. The horse’s great weight came down on her leg. Olivia arched her back,
her face distorted with pain and her hands clawing at the ground. Her stomach
leapt into her throat as she gasped for air. The ground is so cold, she
thought. So very hard. She wanted to think of nothing else.
Above the cries of battle, a low rumble snarled close to Olivia.
It was like the thunder of rage in the eyes of a vengeful man. She looked up,
all hope of life shattered. She was left in the cold seclusion of terror.
The head of a massive wolf stared down at her, its black lips
pulled back and fangs dripping with blood and saliva. Its body rippled with
firm muscle under its dark gray fur. Its eyes, though yellow, were filled with
a human’s intelligence.
Olivia recoiled, but could not look away from the werewolf. Its human
build and wolf form straddled the fallen horse, and it eyed her hungrily as its
claws sank into the horse’s sides. Blood bubbled around its black claws, and
the horse shrieked and kicked.
Fear strengthened Olivia and she ripped her leg from under the
horse’s body. She crawled back as the werewolf reached forward, its clawed
fingers curled. Olivia yelled and trembled on the ground, her hands pressed
against her ears.
The beast’s ear swiveled back and it recoiled with terrifying
speed. Elshender’s swords hurled past its head, but missed, and sank deeply
into the horse’s middle. Olivia gritted her teeth and tried to block out the
horse’s final cry.
“Under the wagon!” Elshender shouted to the trembling women. He
wrenched his blade free and drew his second sword. He faced the wolf-man with
fiery eyes.
Olivia whimpered as a soft hand grabbed her. “My lady! Hurry!”
Cedany cried as she helped Olivia to her feet. “Under the—”
An arrow thudded into a tree beside them. The ladies screamed and
clung to each other. Cedany pushed Olivia under the wagon and forced Krea, face
streaming with tears, to follow. Olivia gripped Cedany’s arm, her eyes wide and
her chest heaving. “Nan—” she gasped. “Where’s Nan?”
“I don’t know, my—”
“Nan!”
“Quiet!” Cedany hissed. “Don’t you move!”
Olivia moaned and fell silent. She thought of The Wizard. Where
was He? He could strike the beastly foes with blindness, or order their limbs
to detach and fall to the ground in lifeless heaps. We did nothing wrong! Olivia
flinched as someone—she did not know if friend or foe—was thrown to the ground.
A dagger jutted from his chest. Why must you allow this? But Theron will
protect me. Where is he?
Her bright green eyes darted throughout the fray, frantically
searching for Theron. He had unknowingly forced his attacker into the heart of
the fight, his zealous strikes fatally accurate as he sliced down one foe after
another. Olivia stared in awe, a cold chilling her at the sight of his
blood-splattered face and teeth bared like an animal’s snarl. She was grateful
he was on her side—
A calloused hand snatched her ankles. All thoughts shattered.
Olivia’s face turned deathly pale. With a sudden jerk, she was pulled backward.
Cedany grabbed her arms as she screamed, but could not hold on. Krea did not
move; her sobs rendered her useless. Olivia kicked and cried as she was dragged
into the open, the road’s dirt and the spilled blood streaking her clothes.
“Theron!” Olivia shrieked as she dug
her fingers into the hard ground. She heard Cedany shout something, but did not
understand. Olivia screamed as a man grabbed her middle and jolted her upright.
“Let go . . . of—me!” She kicked and struggled against her captor, but the
man’s grip was unbreakable. “Elshender!”
The large warrior looked her way, his face speckled in blood and
sweat. He stepped toward her, but a clawed hand came down on his shoulder. He
yelled and fell to the ground, his shoulder sliced open. The werewolf snarled
with a grin, its fur bristling and yellow eyes piercing.
Olivia’s breath wheezed in and out
as she thrashed in the stranger’s arms. He ignored her cries and hauled her
toward the trees, away from the fight. Away from salvation. The man chuckled
and his hold tightened. The tree shadows fell across them and the limbs crept
in to hide the raging fight. Olivia’s wide eyes skimmed across the skirmish.
She could no longer see Theron.
“Theron!” She gasped to scream again, but the trees were all she
could see. The din of battle faded and she was alone.
Olivia cried and pulled against the man’s hold. It was no use; his
hands were like iron. He laughed and threw her to the ground. Olivia blindly
fell and rolled across the forest floor, hitting sticks and rocks as she went.
When she came to a stop, she lay still and breathed heavily, her pale lips
trembling and her throat raw. She glanced up at her attacker as blood seeped
from her elbow and side.
He towered above her, his back
straight and broad shoulders relaxed amid the hysteria. Their struggle had been
effortless for him, for his chest heaved with steady, smooth breaths. His gray
eyes delicately ran over her shaking form and flashed with amusement. The fire
in his eyes dulled to the blaze of his red hair. He lifted his chin, fisting
and unfisting his hands. His lips were pulled into a half-smirk, like a child
giddy to play a game.
Stomping
feet approached as a knight broke through the underbrush, sword raised and
vindictive cry exploding from his gaping mouth. Olivia’s quivered breath
calmed, for her assailant was not armed nor did he wear armor. She smiled
darkly, plugging her ears against the man’s inevitably fatal cry.
The darkly claded
stranger turned irritably and made a fist. The hilt of a sword materialized in
his firm grasp and an unendingly sharp blade sprouted to a harsh point. Fire
engulfed the sword, hissing and licking along the blade like from an inferno.
Olivia’s heart leapt into her throat. The attacking knight’s eyes widened as
his battle cry faltered, realizing this was no ordinary man. His charge did not
slacken as he rushed onward, facing the gray eyed stranger and his mystic
sword.
The knight’s sword
slashed. The man stooped low and lunged. The knight’s cry halted, morphing to a
gargled wheeze. The flaming sword jutted out his back and caught his cloak on
fire. The gray eyed man stood, wrenching his blade free, and dismissively
turned from the dying knight.
He stepped toward Olivia with
relaxed confidence, the sword’s fire cashing half his face in shadows. A cry
caught in her throat. “Theron. . .” she whimpered. The man stooped and released
his flickering sword. The weapon fell and, before hitting the ground, faded to
nothingness. His hands reaching for her, fingers curled like claws. Olivia
screamed and crawled back along the ground. He was on her in a moment. Olivia
thrashed as he held her down. Tears welled in her eyes and blurred her vision.
“No! No, please!” she panted. “You can’t! Please!”
“Ah . . . What’s wrong?” the man
cooed as he stroked her cheek. Olivia flinched away from his caressing fingers.
“Everything’s prepared for you to be with me. Was given a good idea the other
night. So good I decided to follow it.”
“Theron!”
“Shhh. . .” the man cooed and
touched her lips. “No more of this. You’re mine. All mine, Lady Olivia.”
Olivia stiffened, and her eyes turned up to the man. Her hair
stood on end as every nerve felt stripped and raw against his touch. His gray
eyes burned into her, and her heart skipped a beat. The man’s grin broadened.
Olivia’s mouth opened in silent pleas, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
___________________________________
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“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7
Hearts like fragile clay jars.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
If you have any comments, critiques, or concerns, please comment below!!!
If you have any comments, critiques, or concerns, please comment below!!!
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