Chapter 25 #3
Valen is still glaring at me, as if she didn’t, just minutes ago, try to kill me. I have no doubt that if she could reach for her weapons in her current state, she would try again now.
Still, I reach into my pocket. And I admonish myself for being so very stupid as my fingers curl around the vial of steelclaw saliva.
I need this. It’s invaluable; it could save me. But I can’t leave her here to die. I know it’s foolish, I know this is what I signed up for … but I just can’t.
I open the vial and pour it onto her arm.
Valen seizes. Opens her mouth to scream. But before she can, the bone lurches and rights itself. Her skin crawls together. Everything goes back to the way it was. She’s panting with pain. I can’t imagine that was pleasant.
A fold forms in between her brows as she looks at her arm with wonder. She turns toward me. “How—”
“Magic,” I say simply. “Now show me that wound of yours.”
There’s the slightest pause, in her wariness. Maybe she’s weighing whether she should reach for her bow in a flash and shoot an arrow right through my forehead.
Then she scrambles for the bandages on her stomach. Pulls them off. I pour the rest of the vial over the infected mess and watch it melt away, until the gaping wound is no more than skin.
I get to my feet. Step around her, toward the rest of the forest. The wind has lessened the slightest bit. Here’s my chance to make up some time.
Valen’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Why?” she says, still on the forest floor. Looking at me with a mix of confusion and trepidation.
I shrug. “You’ve come too far to be taken down by a tree.”
Then I turn back toward my path.
The storm rages on. I just keep running.
I make it another mile before the knot in my chest tightens. I remember Valen’s words. There’s an entire cavalry after us. There’s a bounty.
I saw their marks on the road. They might not know exactly where Raker is, but he doesn’t even know they’re looking for him. He could run right into them. And he … he’s the best fighter I have ever seen, but even he would fall against an entire cavalry.
An image flashes of that fate. Of a blade going right through his spotless armor. Of that magnificent sword belonging to anyone else.
Fuck me.
Fuck my weak, bleeding heart.
Fuck the sense of loyalty I feel toward someone who has told me they won’t hesitate to strike me down.
He called me reckless. Foolish. He told me I wasn’t strong enough for this journey. I should not care. I should not.
But I suppose I’m just proving him right as I curse through my teeth and turn around.
Rain batters the top of my head as I run through the woods I had carefully prowled through earlier. Running right toward the very warrior I had fought so hard to escape, facing every single danger a second time.
Because even though he has made me feel small, even though he has called me pathetic, even though he has pointed out all my flaws, again and again …
He went through the mist for me. I don’t even care if it was for my sword, because if it really was, he would have taken it then.
I know how easy it is for him to kill anything, so there is a reason he has kept me alive, beyond using me as a mule, beyond the map.
I won’t pretend it is care, or loyalty, or companionship.
I won’t pretend there isn’t a high chance he’ll kill me if he ever sees me again.
Regardless of the reasons, he has saved my life countless times.
Regardless of the execution, he has forced me to become better.
And maybe I just can’t bear the fact that someone like Raker would be crept up on by a group of immortals. Not after everything.
The scars on the bottom of my back pull and burn, the tissue stinging in the storm, the way it does whenever it rains. It’s a reminder that I should leave him there to die, because he did the very same thing to me.
But I am not Raker.
I am loyal, I have mercy, and those might be flaws in a place like this, on a quest like this, but they are traits my mother taught me. So they can’t be wrong. They can’t.
It’s the reminder of her, the reminder of everything she gave me, that has me sprinting through that forest without stopping. That has me ignoring the pull of every wicked thing lurking within it.
And the reminder of him. Of the relief of seeing him in those mists. Of the awe as he cut everything that was about to gut me down.
I’m heaving by the time I reach the cliff that looks out over the black lake.
There it is. The ruins. It’s undisturbed. A wisp of smoke is still curling from the chimney.
They haven’t found him yet. The rush of relief I feel at that is surprising. It’s too strong, like a current that could sweep me off my feet.
It’s quickly smothered when I notice a flash of light on the other side of the water. Panic clutches my chest.
A wave of knights on horses is advancing out of the valley, right toward the lake. There are dozens. All armed with swords.
Raker. My eyes find the boat upon the rocks.
The one I took, leaving him no way of getting to shore.
Not without swimming in that ominous water.
I’ve just made it easier to get to him. They will use that boat, and the other one that was already there, to catch him unawares.
They will surround the lake, making escape impossible.
Guilt pierces my heart as I look from the advancing cavalry to that ruin.
To that fire that we sat in front of together.
They’re after both of us. It is foolish. It is ruinous.
But before I can think about every way that I’m about to seal my fate, I take a deep, rattling breath, bring my hands to the sides of my mouth, and open it to scream across the lake—
A large hand smothers my lips, pulling me forcefully back against a hard chest. My skull bounces off armor.
And a blade settles against my throat.
I go very still. And I don’t know whether to weep in relief or weep for myself for being so damned stupid, because I know that sword.
A voice dark as night says, “You didn’t go home.”
His blade is still against my neck. “No,” I whisper, my pulse beating against its metal.
“You … turned back,” he says, like it’s the most idiotic thing in the world. Because it is.
“To warn you,” I manage to say, the foolishness of that endeavor hitting me with full force as he presses that blade harder, right at the base of my jaw, metal against flesh.
I wait to feel the sting of blood. To suffer the consequence of this very stupid decision that I almost certainly deserve. I inhale sharply.
“Fuck, Aris,” he says, and the cold metal is ripped away. Sheathed.
I whip around to face him. He’s soaking wet, water dripping from his hood, and down his armor. He swam through the dark waters.
Was it to hunt me? Or did he hear the cavalry somehow?
All I know is he just had every opportunity to end me for good and take my weapon. But he didn’t.
We just stand there, staring at each other. I’m still panting from the running.
“There’s a bounty on our heads,” I finally say, through all the heavy breathing.
His head turns slightly toward the cavalry behind me. I hear the splash of water as the warriors begin to wade into it. “I figured.”
“Do you know why?”
“Our swords” is all he says.
Right.
My sword is a gift—but it’s also a death sentence. Apparently it’s special enough that powerful people on Starside want it. It must be one of the heirs. Only they could command such forces.
And if they’re here … someone gave us up.
Was it those knights from the village who alerted their lord to it? Someone else who caught a glimpse of us? Was it the hunter?
Either way, it doesn’t matter. Raker knows about the pursuit. He’s safe.
Of course he is. Did I really think I would be the one to save him? Stupid. I never should have turned back. I just lost hours. My body is aching with all the energy it took to get here so quickly.
He’s made it clear I am a burden to him. He doesn’t want to work with me. Shame heats my face, shame that I came back, and that I am all the things he called me.
“Good luck, then,” I say tightly, trying to maintain any shred of self-respect. I make to move past him.
His fingers graze my wrist. They’re still burning hot, even in the freezing rain.
Slowly, I turn to face him.
Is this the moment he demands I give up my sword again? Or finally takes it from me? Or does the honorable thing of challenging me to a duel, one I know I won’t win?
I wait for his next move, chest rising and falling quickly, and he just stares down at me. He stares, and stares, and all I see is a shadow. A glint of a mask. A demon.
Finally, Raker drops his hand, like my skin has burned him. “You can follow me,” he says, his voice a deep rumble.
I blink, shock rendering me speechless. It takes a few moments for the words to sink in. When they do, I’m immediately furious.
“Fuck. You” is what I want to say. I want to scream. I want to tell him how much his words hurt me, and see if I could ever hurt him back. But this isn’t personal. There’s nothing between us.
This is a quest of survival. And if the snarls and stomps of the dozens of horses below us are any indication, this journey just got much harder.
I can’t trust him. I know that. But I won’t make it to the end of this alone.
I raise my chin. Rain spills down my cheeks. If I’m going to work with him again, I need assurances. “Are you going to kill me? Are you going to take my sword?”
A second of consideration passes. Two. Three.
“No,” he says simply.
“Which one?”
He doesn’t answer me.
And that’s just as well. Because I can’t promise I won’t do either to him.
“Lead the way,” I say, my voice as cold as his. He turns.
I look back at the cavalry one last time—and a shard of light spears through the storm clouds. It illuminates one of the shields hanging off a saddle.
I don’t know that crest. But by its color, I think I know who it belongs to.
“It’s not a lord after our blades …” I say, my voice quiet. Raker has turned around. I watch his body tense as he reaches the same conclusion.
This entire time, we’ve been on a quest to reach the gods. I’ve been on a journey to hunt them down.
And now it’s clear … the gods are hunting us.