Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Arwan

When Zanya dropped to her knees, Arwan ran to her side and scooped her into his arms while the others continued to battle the underworld army. “Peter, get over here!”

“I can’t help her,” Peter shouted as he slashed and jabbed at the enemy. “Get her back inside where she’s safe. We can’t do anything for her if the baby is taking up her energy.”

“But we won’t last a second if these things break through completely.” Eleuia fired several more rounds. “Not without her.” When she reached for another clip on her belt, there was none, and she resorted to reloading the empty clip with a handful of bullets she’d pulled from her pocket.

“What do we do?” Hawa shouted. “I’m out of throwing knives, and my dagger got stuck in one of these things.” She swung a battle hammer and cracked it against the jaw of an underworlder. She swung again, hitting its skull and throwing it back, but not killing it. “And—” She stumbled back, covered in murky blood. “This is exhausting. I can’t pierce hearts with a battle hammer. It’s just slowing them down.” Panting, she wiped a streak of blood from her cheek. “Arwan…we’re running out of time.”

He held Zanya tighter against his chest. He should have told her to run—forced her, if need be. He should have ensured her safety and the survival of his child. Of the others’ lives. He should have, but now it was too late to look back. And even if he had—even if he bent time and did it all over again—he wouldn’t be able to fight off the army alone. They were all doomed, no matter the course of history.

Grima clenched her jaw, holding the wound on her arm. Her muscles tightened and she seized on the ground, a second victim of the underworld toxin.

Peter knelt beside her. “I’ll do what I can to help her, but we have to get Zanya out of here!”

Eleuia looked at him. “Please…save her.”

An underworlder broke through and slammed right into Eleuia, taking her down. It was the same underworlder Hawa had gotten her blade lodged in. She yanked the knife from its back and spun, lopping off the underworlder’s head. Though severed, its eyes darted side to side while its body continued to move. Eleuia kicked it off and jumped to her feet.

Hawa mounted the flailing corpse and stabbed it in the chest, then rolled the corpse away from her.

Another intruder broke through.

Then another.

The group gathered into a tighter formation as they fought with everything they had.

Eleuia ran out of bullets and held the gun by its barrel, using it as a bludgeon. “Fall back!” Eleuia cried. “Fall back to the house! We’re out of time!”

Beigarth scooped Grima into his arms and chased after the group as they fled to the sanctuary of the house.

Tara flung open the door and let Arwan inside. He set Zanya on the nearest step and backed out, shaking his head. “We can’t hide in here.” He turned to the group. “Keep fighting! They’ll break into the house in minutes. We have to fend them off!”

“We’re out of options!” Jayden shouted. “There are too many!”

An arrow whizzed through the air, hitting an underworlder in the chest and pinning it to nearby tree.

Arwan looked at Jayden, but there was no bow in his hand.

Another arrow struck. And then another.

Within seconds the sky was blanketed with arrows, all raining down on the dead army.

The group turned, watching in silence as a sea of damned souls covered the ground.

“What’s going on?” Eadith said. “Who’s doing this?”

A faint smile softened Arwan’s lips. “The villagers.”

Flashes of snarled teeth and crazed eyes shone from behind masks of colored body paint.

“How…?” Eleuia looked up at the window of the home. Arwan followed, spotting Marzena with her eyes closed and her fingers pressed against her temples. “She called them,” Eleuia shrieked. “She called them!”

Beigarth looked into Grima’s face. “I have to get her inside. She’s ill.”

Arwan nodded. “Keep her with the others. She’s done all she can.”

“Aye.” Beigarth stroked Grima’s hair. “Ye have done all ye can, lass.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Ye rest now.” Beigarth let her down from his arms. Thankfully, she was now able to walk, thanks to Peter’s healing touch.

“Ye be careful,” Grima said, her hand clenched onto Beigarth’s bicep. “Yer all I’ve got in the world.”

Beigarth fisted his hand and pressed it over his heart, holding Grima’s gaze.

Rows of villagers flooded out of the jungle, each marked in body paint. They charged downhill, ululating, with their weapons poised to strike. Villagers leapt over dead bodies and sliced at the enemy, taking down hundreds in a matter of minutes.

Beigarth turned to the battlefield and pushed out his chest. “Well, what are ye waiting for?” He ran his hand over his face and down his beard, glaring ahead. “We have a battle to win.” He charged forward, followed by the rest of the group.

Arwan handed Zanya off to Drina, who waited in the doorway. “Take care of her.” He held Drina’s gaze. “If anything happens to her…” His throat tightened.

Drina waved him off. “Go, boy. I will care for t'e guardian.”

Before he could leave, Zanya reached out and touched his face.

The warmth of her skin and familiar pull of his soul mate completely encompassed him.

Pale and weak, beads of sweat collected on Zanya’s forehead. “You can’t go…”

He took her hand in his. “I have to. I can’t leave them out there—”

“They aren’t going to make it. None of us will.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Stay with me until it’s over. Please.”

***

Zanya

“That’s not true. Don’t think like that.” Arwan looked at Drina, who lingered behind her. “Take her inside and lock the door.”

Drina braced her hands on Zanya’s shoulders. “Come—”

“No.” Zanya shook the priestess off of her. “He can’t go.” She looked back at Arwan. “Don’t you see?” She looked at the war raging around them. “Even with the villagers, it isn’t enough.”

Arwan turned to the scene.

Blood coated the ground from fallen Mayan warriors as more underworld troops ascended the tree to join in the fight. Whatever triumph they’d had was short lived.

There were still too many.

“I can’t stand here and watch you die. I…” He worked his jaw. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

He slipped out of her grasp and ran into battle. He snatched his glaive from the ground before dispatching several more underworlders.

“Sweet girl.” Zanya looked at Drina, who stood behind her. “You must come back inside. T'ere’s no other choice.”

“Than to hide until we die?” Zanya wiped a bead of sweat drizzling down her nose. “No. I can’t go down like that—cowering in a corner.”

“He is more capable—”

Zanya turned and hugged the Mayan priestess. “Take care of them—especially Tara. She’s terrified. And make sure Grima is comfortable as long as she can be.” Zanya slipped out the door and shut it behind her. She closed her eyes and heated it with a charge of electricity until the handle began to melt—as did the mechanisms—locking everyone inside.

Screams and cries saturated the air, morphing into a soundtrack from her most gruesome nightmares. She slouched against the stone walls of the home and gathered her strength. She’d need every ounce of it for what she was about to do.

Zanya took a knife from her boot—a spare Arwan made her carry at all times—then stumbled into battle.

The world seemed to move in slow motion.

Arwan swung his glaive. Strands of blood-soaked hair stuck to his cheeks and neck.

The clouds seemed to stop moving.

The wind seemed to still, leaving the air stagnant.

Zanya fought the fatigue struggling to take her over. More underworlders poured from the hole in the earth. More hellhounds. More roots from the tree.

The enemy closed in around them yet again.

It was clear in that moment—they would all die.

Zanya let go of her knife and let it clatter the ground.

Bodies of the fallen villagers were being consumed by Yaxche. Vines and roots coiled around their bodies, dragging them under until they were nothing more than a bloodstain.

Hawa screamed and stumbled back when a hound leapt on top of her.

Jayden kicked it off, then shoved a blade in its back, piercing its heart from behind.

Another hound tackled Jayden, snapping at his face while he held it just inches away.

Hawa pressed her hand over her stomach as blood pumped between her fingers. She kicked at another underworlder, unable to defend herself from the onslaught of attacks.

Zanya wanted to move—wanted nothing more than to help Hawa escape. But it took all of her effort to stay standing, and she had nothing left to fight.

Nothing
.

A shrill cry pierced the air while several underworlders piled on top of Hawa, hacking at her with hatchets and primitive weapons.

Zanya dropped to her knees, reaching out in despair and helplessness.

Jayden screamed, stealing glances at Hawa while he struggled to keep the hound from tearing his head off. Eleuia ran to his aid and dispatched the hound.

Hawa’s legs went stiff, and then fell lifeless.

Blood rolled over the petrified stone.

“Get off her!” Eleuia bludgeoned an underworlder over the head before diving on the back of another of the enemy.

Jayden grabbed a rock and smashed in the head of his last attacker, stunning it long enough for him to see Hawa’s body splayed out on the ground.

He stilled and dropped the rock.

The savage rage in his eyes stole Zanya’s breath.

The pain was unbearable.

Jayden dropped on his knees beside her lifeless body. Gaping wounds covered her arms, legs, and face. He pulled on handfuls of his own hair while his mouth contorted.

Eleuia checked Hawa’s pulse, then looked up at Jay and shook her head.

Zanya covered her eyes and wailed. “No!” A surge of desperation took her over completely. She fisted her hands and slammed them onto the ground, her entire body shaking. “No!” She clenched her jaw and opened her eyes. Hot, scalding wrath coursed through her veins. Her breath quickened and her stone seared her skin, pulsing with untainted force. “No!” She picked up her fists and slammed them on the soil another time.

A cold sickness flushed through her body and the world was tainted in a dusky gray. The air stilled. The atmosphere grew silent. The ground beneath her hands turned to stone, and the sickness began to spread.

The underworlders fought in slow motion, as did her group. The petrified ground crackled and split as the ability rolled over the battlefield, turning everything it touched to stone.

She screamed and pushed harder, tearing every fiber of ability out of her to bring this to an end. Every underworld soul froze in time as they turned to stone.

Every fallen Mayan villager.

Every leaf or grain of soil.

Even the tree itself—turned to stone.

She would turn the entire jungle into a petrified wasteland if she had to.

Nothing would survive.

The trees her ability touched hardened and split. Branches cracked under their own weight and tumbled to the ground, exploding into piles of rubble on impact.

When the fog cleared from her mind and she finally came back to the moment, the jungle was a massive graveyard.

She opened her eyes and scanned the battleground. The rest of the group had leapt to the safety of the already petrified training ring, and were busy dispatching the few surviving underworlders.

Everyone had fled to safety.

Everyone but Beigarth.

She spotted his stone figure on the battlefield, an ax raised overhead with his eyes focused on the victim in front of him.

Zanya forced herself to her feet. The adrenaline had already begun to wear off. Her hands shook and her legs trembled beneath her weight. She found her mother, who met her gaze. Her mother’s lips were parted while she stared at Zanya in horror.

Zanya examined the death and destruction—the consequences of her actions…

What had she done?

Her mother stepped toward her, only to stop after a single stride.

“Zanya.” Peter stood, watching Zanya from a distance.

Her entire body was numb—except for a snaking pain winding up her belly. A sharp cramp nearly took her to her knees. With her legs pinched together, she cupped her belly. Warm liquid trickled from between her thighs.

Arwan slaughtered the final underworld survivor before looking at her.