Chapter 14
His armor gleams silver. His own sword is not drawn, though I know it could be in just seconds.
An instinctual fear grips my bones, everything in me telling me to run. Run where? I’m surrounded by enemies.
I wonder which is worse. A burning forest full of challengers and dragons hunting me down … or Harlan Raker?
Definitely Harlan Raker.
Still, I don’t move an inch. I just stare at his reflection in my blade, metal trembling.
“Leave” is all he says, in a deep, gravelly voice forged from the strongest steel.
He says it like it’s an order.
But I’m dead down there. And I guess I really am actively trying to find my death, or whatever he said in the inn, because I summon every shred of courage I have left and whirl around to face him, blade still drawn. “I’m not going anywhere.”
There is a moment of silence. I can hear my own breathing. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I stand firm, spine straight, even though my heart is beating so wildly, I can feel the strain in my chest.
He takes a step forward. There’s another type of gravity around him, a force that thickens the air and quiets the incoming night. I lift my chin, refusing to show an ounce of fear, but still, I swallow. This close … I’m reminded of how much bigger he is. How much stronger.
Harlan Raker. The destroyer. The battle ender. The ancient sword wielder.
He is known by many names, and all of them mean death.
I can’t see his face, but I can feel his gaze on me, sharp as a sword’s edge. “Either you leave of your own will. Or mine.”
I can imagine grown men tremble under his notice. They piss themselves, apparently. But I’ve made it this far. A warrior I despise with every ounce of my being is not going to be the one to make me fail at my purpose.
“Then I guess you’re going to have to finally kill me,” I say, my voice as vicious as his. My stomach tightens, as if predicting the metal that will slice through it.
But he doesn’t move.
We stay like that, staring each other down for a moment. Two. Twenty. Sweat slides along my spine. Still, I refuse to look away first. I refuse to lower this sword that has numbed my arms with its weight.
Just when I think he’s going to cut me down, he sighs and turns instead. There’s a slight rustling as he gets his things. Then he’s back. He makes to move past me, toward the mouth of the cave.
I blink, shock rendering me useless.
It isn’t the fact that he didn’t actually kill me. It isn’t that he clearly let me win. That’s surprising, sure. But what’s even more surprising is that he would rather leave this spot than be in my presence.
I should be relieved. I should watch him go.
Instead, I’m reminded that I’m alone, in the middle of a strange land, without a creature. Surrounded by fire and enemies hunting me down. Standing in nearly extinguished sunlight, unsure if I’m about to be torn apart by mysterious night demons.
He’s my enemy. I’ve hated him for years. I remember that day in the rain. The day he could have taken mercy but didn’t. The scars on my lower back are proof of that. The fact that he caught me on the stairs doesn’t change any of it.
But enemies often make the strongest allies.
“Work with me,” I say, before my pride can silence me.
Those words were gathered from the very pit of my desperation, but he doesn’t stop. It’s as if I haven’t spoken at all. My fury melts into prickling shame. I used to think hatred was the worst thing someone could feel for another. Now I know it’s apathy.
He’s almost at the cliff’s edge. He’s almost gone. I don’t know why I do it.
But before he can leave, I raise my sword to strike him.
He turns in an instant. His weapon is unsheathed in half a second, his metal hitting mine, and—
Music. It’s like music, the ringing.
Two glorious swords meeting. Neither yielding.
A bolt races down my arm, spearing through my stomach, down my legs, and into the ground. The very world seems to tremble.
I wonder if he feels it too. I wouldn’t know. The hood blocks everything.
But not his voice.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he snarls, the words like rocks grinding together.
Yes. Almost certainly so, for being bold enough to try to strike Harlan Raker, the warrior without marks on his armor.
“Work with me” is all I say, panting from the simple movement.
Our blades are still touching.
His voice is even deeper and more chilling than I remember. He takes a step forward, and our blades scrape together, emitting a high pitch that echoes around us. “Why would I ever work with someone as pathetic as you?”
Fury and shame burn my face, but I swallow them down. I’ll do anything to make it to the gods—even if it means working with this bastard.
I glare at him, trying not to let the strain reach my expression. Both of my hands are gripped on my hilt—he’s only holding his with one. “We have the same sword. Clearly, I’m not as pathetic as you think.”
I can almost feel his revulsion. He spits out his words. “Our swords are not the same.”
“I don’t see any cracks,” I say in a sharp whisper. Silence. Our swords are still together. A shred of moonlight gleams between them.
Both are unmarred. As if they are equally matched.
He quickly sheaths his, as if he can’t bear to face that fact, his sparkling metal disappearing like all the stars guttering out at once. I lower mine, trying hard not to drop it, but don’t sheath it.
He turns to leave again, but the words are out of me before I can stop them. “I have a map.”
That makes him pause. He turns, very slowly. I carefully reach into my pocket and pull it out, my sword still between us. I shake it open. “It’s all here. Everything.”
I imagine he’s looking at it. I can almost tell from the direction of his head.
Then he turns slightly, toward me. I keep my posture straight, my skin prickling beneath his study.
“I could kill you and take it.” He says the words without feeling, as though it would take little effort, time, or space in his conscious. If he even has one.
I was expecting that. So I curl the map into a ball—
And throw it past him, right off the cliff. We both watch as it falls into the fire and burns into embers. “You fool, you—”
“I memorized it.” If he wants that knowledge, he can’t kill me. Not until we reach the end of the quest, at least. I stand there watching him, the darkness of his hood like a second mask.
He tilts his head at me. There is something predatory in the way he does it, like a beast staring down prey. He looks like a demon. A nightmare. His cruelty is not just a rumor. I’ve experienced it firsthand.
And he doesn’t even remember.
“You will regret this,” he says, before taking a step forward.
It’s not a threat as much as it is a promise.
But it isn’t a no. His hands are halfway curled into fists.
“If you slow me down, I will kill you. If I find another way across the land without you, I will kill you. If you try to touch my sword, I will kill you. Understood?”
I know I should feel fear, but instead, all I feel is crushing relief. He’ll help me reach the end of this. I know it.
“Same to you,” I say, because he, I think, will be the one to regret ever underestimating me.
He doesn’t even look at me as he walks past, deeper into the cave. I remain fixed in place, refusing to follow.
I don’t plan on getting anywhere near him for the rest of the night, but then I hear it. The faint gurgling of a water source far behind me. In the direction he went.
I swallow, my throat rough with thirst. Now that he’s gone, now that I’m not running, the full force of my hunger and exhaustion hits me at once. My knees nearly buckle. Don’t show your weakness, I think. You’ve gone this long without water. You can last a few more minutes.
I try. I stand, battling with my pride, but I lose. I turn and rush toward the sound, not even looking for the demon knight, eyes and mind and senses solely focused on a stream of water so blue, it’s almost glowing.
Fuck it. I’m so thirsty, I fall to my knees and drink from my hands. I gulp it down greedily, the water streaming down my neck, soaking my shirt until my throat is finally smooth again.
That’s when I finally notice him. He’s turned toward me, leaning against the side of the cave.
He’s still wearing his hood. Of course. Does he ever take it off?
How about the mask? Is there even a face beneath it?
If the rumors are true, there isn’t. He’s a beast. A true devil.
I might not be able to see his expression, but disdain is clear in the way he looks down at me.
He thinks he’s better than me. He’s probably right.
What he doesn’t understand is that I will do anything to reach the end. I will do everything he said he would do to me and more.
I can’t see his eyes—which I know he has, because I’ve seen them, beneath a silver helmet—but mine aren’t obstructed. I glare at him, and I hope that he can feel my hatred. It hasn’t dimmed in years. If anything, it’s grown.
I will use him the same way he’s using me, and then I will kill him for what he did. And he’ll deserve it.
My mind shifts to a flash of him in the rain. The hatred in his eyes, his metal against my neck, and—
My hands tense against the cold stone floor before I slowly start to wash my face. Then, when I feel relatively clean, I sit back against the smooth cave wall.
No way I’m sleeping tonight. Not when I’m half convinced Raker is going to gut me in my sleep and take my sword, map be damned.
He could do that even if I was awake, I think, but I’m not risking it. I grip my blade against my chest and stare out at the opening of the cave.
Darkness has nearly swallowed the sky. The moon is out. Shrieks echo as creatures take off into the fading light, the forest still roaring with flames. They’ve stopped hunting me. For now.
My head falls back against the stone, my body going boneless, relief rushing in, my fight leaving me. I’m tired, so tired. And I’m not even a fifth of the way there.