Authors: Colleen Montague
If there was any good place to start looking for a cause, something that scared these men so,
they were told that this would be it.
They
dismounted, the Kultav using Calla’s eyes to scan the ground for some trace of who or what could have destroyed the outpost. There were no tracks on the ground—they would have been erased by now by the elements. With a frown the Kultav proceeded along the line of burnt buildings, going into each ruin to explore what was left. It took several hours to walk from one side of the outpost to the other but still the search turned up nothing, even with them digging at the dead dirt for anything that might have been buried. In frustration the Kultav turned and headed back to where they had left their mount. Calla hoped the fruitless search now meant that whatever had caused the destruction here would now bring disaster straight to Dranl; the Kultav lashed out at her for the thought.
They were only a few yards away from the horse-creature when a noise from the building next to them caught
their attention, unnaturally loud in a constantly silent land. Startled they stopped, listening closely. But the noise was already gone, and the air became quiet once more. Beyond the initial surprise the Kultav didn’t seem concerned about the disturbance; it just shrugged it off and they continued on their way.
They hit the ground after only two
more steps; it had happened so fast Calla didn’t realize anything had happened—even the Kultav was taken completely off-guard. They lay dazed on the ground for some time. Calla could feel a dull throbbing in the middle of her back where she had landed hard on something. While she was still processing this the Kultav stood them back up, surprise turning to building fury as it stared around for what hit them. What they saw wasn’t what Calla expected.
Standing before them was a man, an Elf-like
figure standing taller than anyone Calla knew. As lean as the man was he still looked quite strong, the muscles in his arms and torso well-defined. His hair was a dingy gray color and hung from his head in a series of dreadlocks that reached to his shoulders; as dirty as they appeared they stood out brighter against his tanned skin. His one feature that stood out for Calla was the man’s ears—the tips of each ear came to two points instead of one like that of an Elf.
While Cal
la gawked and the Kultav seethed the man seemed completely oblivious to their presence, his attention focused on their mount. How it could see anything around it Calla still didn’t know, but it was at least able to sense the man standing in front of it. It snarled, revealing just how long its teeth really were. It reared, at the same time bowing its head to bring the double set of horns down. For a moment time seemed to stop, the creature balancing on its hind legs while the man stood poised in anticipation of its attack. But time resumed quickly as the creature dropped back onto all four legs and charged him.
The man was ready for it. The creature’s horns
were within inches of piercing through his chest when he twisted his upper body, angling away from the blow. The creature couldn’t alter its course—it was moving so fast the momentum continued to carry it forward, leaving it with no time to react. As soon as its head had passed him, the man threw both arms around its outstretched neck. As Calla watched he squeezed his arms tightly around it, one arm wrapped around the middle of the creature’s neck and the other pushing against its shoulders as he pulled on its head. The creature kept fighting against him, trying to throw him off. Of the two of them the man was clearly the stronger in spite of how much smaller than the creature he was, holding his ground even as it tried rearing up several times.
The air was filled with the sound of something ripping,
like someone was tearing paper; the sound was unsettling, dragging on for almost a minute until it finally ended with the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. They just stared blankly into space before they realized what just happened: the creature’s head was on the ground. The rest of its body was still standing, all parts twitching uncontrollably, but not for long—with one strong kick the man knocked it over, impaling it on a large, sharp rock that happened to be jutting out of the ground next to him. Clouds of dust flew up where the body landed, and the gray earth was stained dark as the creature’s blood gushed out.
The sight left Ca
lla both stunned and quite nauseous, but she couldn’t focus on those feelings for long. She was immediately overwhelmed by intense rage emanating from the Kultav. This man was a threat, and the fury it now felt was directed at him. Calla was scared, for the man and for herself—she had an idea of what the Kultav would do, and felt deep down that it would go badly for her.
Seething, the Kultav tensed, poised to attack. Reaching down, it drew a long, black-bladed knife from inside Ca
lla’s boot. It meant to kill. Calla wasn’t sure who the man was or why he was there, but she couldn’t help but fear for his life regardless of what he intended for her.
He just stood there
with his head angled to one side, studying them, arms hanging loosely at his sides. He seemed to be waiting for them to make the first move.
With a
screech they rushed at the man, knife raised to strike. The man stayed where he was even as they came right on him. Calla could feel the demon’s lust for bloodshed; it overpowered every other sense such that it was oppressive. As the man continued to hold his ground, she thought he would have the fight of his life on his hands.
The fight was over before it even began. The sharp point of the blade never went within an inch of his flesh, but fell to the ground as he knocked it away
effortlessly. He held Calla’s body at arm’s length from him, one hand closed around her throat, the other around her right wrist. The Kultav tried to push against him, kicking, hissing, spitting, scratching—he still would not let go, not even flinching as Calla’s fingernails were dug into his skin.
The man
just stared at her, his gaze so intense Calla thought he might bore a hole through her skull. He quickly released her wrist and held both hands around her neck. Calla could sense the Kultav’s sudden panic, a feeling she shared.
“
Get out of her,” he said coldly, and his hands started to squeeze together.
Ca
lla could feel her windpipe slowly being crushed. The Kultav obviously felt it more from the way it tried to fight the man off, a pointless effort. The pressure was cutting off her ability to breathe. It was over—this man meant to end her life, and she could do nothing to stop him. She tried to hold on, tried focusing on his face since it was in front of her, something that could anchor her to this life, but still she felt as though she was slipping away. The world around her went dark and she felt herself falling…
XV
Dranl
Dranl was pacing around the throne room, a deep scowl etched across his face. For some reason he was restless, agitated, but he didn’t know why. He walked faster, trying to figure out what could possibly be amiss. His agitation only grew worse. He felt his scowl deepen.
A servant entered, bearing a large goblet
decorated with black gemstones on a silver tray. He walked up to him. “Sire,” the young man said, “the wine you—“
“OUT WITH YOU!” Dranl roared
, swinging one arm towards him. The tray in the servant’s hands fell to the floor with a loud crash, wine spilling all across the floor and onto Dranl’s boots. Terrified, the servant hurriedly cleared the mess and ran out of the hall as fast as he could, not even stopping to stammer apologies. It made Dranl even more irritable.
Something felt
off, but he just couldn’t figure out what it was.
He let out a frustrated breath. Maybe Ca
lla could help him find out what was going on when she finally came back. He sat down heavily on the throne. Calla,
his
Calla—she had been gone for almost a week now. The palace felt colder and emptier in her absence. She became everything he wanted and needed, and more—even if he had cast a series of spells on her to maintain control of her. He propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and rested the side of his head on his hand.
Thinking about her usually made him feel better. Today it only made him feel worse.
“Where are you, Calla?” he asked aloud. Somewhere outside thunder started to rumble as if in reflection of his mood. He wanted her back badly.
—
Then go find her yourself!
—
Dranl jumped in his seat at the sound of
the voice booming through his mind. “What the—“
—
She is gone, forever since your overconfidence has led to your extreme carelessness.—
Dranl sat up straighter in his chair. That voice… “Impossible,” he snapped at the shadows, trying to ignore the sudden sense that those words were true. “The girl is
mine forever!”
—
She will not be returning to you. Deny it all you want, but I have sensed what has truly happened where you have not. The girl is no longer yours to control; another has found a way to break the hold you claimed to keep on her.
—
He knew that voice, feeling the chill of fear that seeped through
to his core. “That can’t be possible, Master,” he said loudly. “The spells were perfect, the demon well-controlled. My art was what put it there, and only my art can remove it again. No one else could possibly—“
—
Young, blinded fool! Your personal desires have always been your undoing; every time you fail I must return to remind you of what you should be doing. I told you to kill the girl when you finally crossed paths with her, and your own selfishness has led to this latest failure.
—
“She will not elude us forever. I will have her—“
—
It seems you can no longer be entrusted with removing her. You decided to play a game by planting that demon in her, and you lost miserably. I cannot depend on you to stop her once and for all since you let yourself be easily distracted. Therefore I am sending someone else to you who will take over, while you continue your training. She, at least, can keep herself focused on the tasks I give her and push personal desires aside. I do not want that child learning of her full potential—I want her removed at all costs.—
There was another loud clap of thunder, and then everything fell silent again. Dranl sprang from his throne, cursing
himself and every other living thing. His hold on Calla had been too strong for her to break away on her own. She had to have employed help somehow; or another Nymph had turned up to continue where the last one had left off.
Or someone else altogether, neither human
nor enchanted creature, had stepped up to release her.
This last thought made him see red, as impossible and ridiculous as the idea sounded. Even a Nymph had little idea on how to break such spells, so how could some random person be
able to do it?
An old memory faded in before his eyes. He could see a young boy
with short white hair, not much older than himself, glaring at him with golden eyes as he received more and more new scars. Dranl had known that boy: he was a slave girl’s son, but somehow he was sensitive to magic. How many times had he been seen watching the mystics as they worked their spells of all kinds? He had been studying them carefully…
Dranl waved his hand in front of his eyes to clear it from his vision. That child died a long time ago in the wastes when his mother tried to escape with him in tow. There was no chance of him still being alive.
It was pointless asking questions he would never know the answers to. What mattered now was that he went and did something about it.
Only a few steps
outside, he started barking orders to the captains standing around, human and Brilken alike. He didn’t care if they were doing other things at that moment. He wanted that girl found.
XVI
The Watcher
He placed two fingers on the side of Calla’s neck, holding his breath as he looked for some sign of life in her. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt the blood pulsing beneath her skin. From the way she had just dropped to the ground when he let go he thought she was gone forever, that the demon had managed to claim her life after all. Somehow she had been able to hold on.
He carefully lifted her up from the ground, cradling her against his chest as he straightened up. He tried not to lean over her as he carried her to one of the burnt-out buildings. He was still covered in blood from the monster that had been her mount—face, hair, everything—and
didn’t want to have it dripping all over her. He would have to figure out how he was going to get it all off.