Chapter 36 #2
A snort echoed as the brush parted, cloven hoofs sinking into the damp earth. Tusks, the yellowed bone blade-sharp, parted the leaves to reveal a boar.
The rabbit might have been of Earth, but this beast was not.
Lia slowly lowered her meal, not daring a full breath. Beady white eyes met hers, ringed with sagging pink skin. The coarse hairs blended with the dark. Antlers, six total, mirrored the pale branches of dead trees littered in this area.
Her pen was an inch before her.
The boar toed the ground.
Both moved simultaneously. Light flared as the pen morphed into a spear, the boar charging over the open flame. Embers sputtered, the light dying. But Lia didn’t need it.
Trusting all the years Kayce had goaded her into tracking after dark, Lia darted back on the balls of her feet as the boar barreled past her. What little light the pen provided caught the beast’s eyes, narrowed in rage.
This was no friendly troll or unknown horde tracking her down. But Lia wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing she was skewered by an overgrown pig with anger-management issues.
Steam clouded the air before its nostrils, and the boar charged again, central horn raised.
Trust your instincts. Stop thinking.
Lia rolled to meet it, springing with sudden force from the momentum she had gathered. Her spear ran through the boar’s jaw, the soft underside giving way to sizzling heat. Those pearlescent eyes rolled back, the ground shaking when it dropped.
A breath shuddered through her, the spear dimming and retracting to become a pen once more. The horn had scraped her cheek, a thin welt stinging but barely larger than a cat scratch. Far too close. But the voice that urged her on was her own. That was a victory.
Marcus would have to settle for a boar’s horn. She would do her absolute best to steer clear of any others on her tail until she was off this sphere, souvenir or not.
Lia was ready to go home. Earth, Norenth, it didn’t matter.
She wanted a bed. She wanted a shower. She wanted her friends. She wanted Kayce.
She needed to tell them about the increase in tears. The owls on Earth—and the one in Norenth. It didn’t matter if she was ready or not. Lia couldn’t do this alone.
The suns were dipping, the shadows lengthening as Lia left her shelter. Fee had instructed Lia to return to an open clearing once the second day ended. Hopefully whatever—or whoever—held the torches Lia had seen on that first night were long gone.
This excursion, while disconcerting with its revelation on the rifts, had been oddly relaxing. Focusing on basic needs for food and shelter, caring for herself. The boar horn was a heavy weight in her pack, but it reminded her that she’d faced it. Defeated it. All without hesitation.
She couldn’t wait to tell Kayce.
Last night, she had found herself thinking of him more, especially the way he’d held her after she opened up to him.
His touch unmade her; it anchored her. And when they’d parted, it was like a piece of him had embedded itself into a soft, vulnerable place she seldom wondered about—had never allowed herself to.
In his absence, that piece tugged at her with its own current.
Not an undertow, but a beckoning toward shore.
Traipsing through the swamp, curiosity over the feeling nagged at Lia. Was she reading too much into it? She likely was. The Weatherstone boys had always seen her as a sister—until the inaugural ball.
Lia pulled up short of the clearing.
Terranth had asked her to dance and the look on Kayce’s face…was that jealousy? She hadn’t been able to read it then. But now, in light of everything, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps there really was something he’d been trying to say before her head split open and her world tore apart.
She couldn’t think much more of it—the breeze had died. Insects ceased their song.
A chuckle chased over the field. “We had hoped ye would find a way back to us, little fox,” the voice said. Several grunts rose to meet it. “Our dinner has been a long time coming.”
Lia pressed against a tree, heart clanging. It was as if this horde knew her route, knew her plans. Knowing Fee, this was the last test. A final part of her training here. Not that it would ever be over… Lia sensed this was all just the beginning.
Steeling herself, Lia’s pen unleashed into a broadsword, the weight comfortable in her hands. There was no point in running. No point in hiding. Dropping her pack, Lia forced an ease she did not feel into her limbs before trekking out to the field. She just prayed she lasted until Fee arrived.
Trees rustled and shadows parted. There were five of them, like the earlier torches had suggested. Orcs, heads bald and ears pointed. Bodies stocked with muscle and bare apart from scrappy leather jerkins and torn breeches. Small skulls adorned the belts at their waists.
Lia stopped in the center, the horde several paces away. It was an effort to tilt her head up, to meet the leader’s hooded, yellow stare.
He arched a wiry brow. “Care to dance, little fox? Ye will find no city men here.”
Lia’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t come here to dance with men.”
The pen shifted into a flail, the metal ball embedding itself into the orc to the leader’s right as Lia spun low.
Dark blood flowed when she pulled the spikes free, the illuminated chain swinging in a vicious circle.
That orc dropped, and she dove under the retaliating axe of another, its chipped blade singing through the air where her head had been.
Five—well, four—on one. Not good odds.
She gritted her teeth against the traitorous thought, narrowly missing a sword.
Light pulsed, and the flail morphed into a bolas.
Lia, her stature smaller compared to these giants, wove around their thundering legs.
Muscles coiled, she swung the throwing weapon.
It was a risk to release her pen, but she had to get these numbers down.
She collided with the ground, watching the interconnected cords expand and entangle several orcs. The weights locked, the group falling with a thud and rattle of axes.
The leader watched with interest, stepping on her pen as it dimmed and shrank back on itself. “Sorcery,” he mused, grinning savagely as he tested it with his weight.
Lia’s heart faltered.
But the pen didn’t break.
The orc frowned, snarling before stomping on it. The pen remained unscathed.
It strengthened Lia’s resolve. With a cry, she tore up and tackled the orc’s legs. The shock, not her weight, took him off guard, making him falter. Lia snatched the pen, a sword bursting from the crystal nib.
She didn’t anticipate the meaty backhand to her cheek, the impact knocking her to the ground. Stars burst in her vision, her tongue burning when she bit it.
The orc laughed. “Feisty little fox! Perhaps we keep her for sport.”
The others stood and joined in his mockery, drifting back to let their leader deal with her. She spat blood from her mouth, chest heaving. Their laughter rained like stones, each one a chip at her resolve. The thoughts swirled, predators all their own.
You can’t do it. Kayce will see who you really are and find it weak—
No, he wouldn’t.
Fighting monsters? The nightshriek was defeated by pure luck—
Please…
You can’t put yourself at risk. Who would be there for Marcus, Mom—
Stop it—
You’re not good enough to be in Norenth, so settle to be—
SHUT. UP!
It seemed like the more Lia stepped into herself, into the life she wanted, the more her mind was intent on sabotage, on sucking her back into its murky depths.
Not that she wanted a life as an orc punching bag.
But one that was at least hers, one where she was strong enough to fight for herself.
There was no one on this world to tell Lia that she couldn’t, that she shouldn’t.
You’re not ready, that traitorous voice of hers whispered.
Spitting another wad of blood and saliva, Lia acknowledged the thought. The current tugged, wanting to pull her under. But unlike before, she paused. Allowed it to sit for a moment. And then, like a leaf on a river, let the thought flow past her.
Because she was ready. She chose to be.
Lia wasn’t interested in the record-keeping of the Order, or the politics involved with the Seekers, or cover-ups. Her role—her core—was an explorer, a defender of these realms.
Like her papa had been.
Some days, she could be a warrior. Others, an anxious mess. Most days she was a bit of both. But every day, beginning with this one, she would be there standing. Trying. Fighting.
Because she was all of herself. All that was Lia of Earth. All that was Norenthian Aurelia. Compiled into simply…her. Aurelia Corvine. The introverted bookworm. The justified smuggler. Daughter, sister. Best friend.
Anxious courage, ordered chaos.
And she chose everything.
Lia rose to her feet, sword of light in hand, and ran toward the roar.