Chapter 31 #2
I shrug a shoulder. “He’s embarrassed by his face. He doesn’t have one.” I give my most sympathetic look. “It’s just … it’s just a coil of snakes under there.”
Daphne’s mouth parts in horror. She nods understandingly, readily believing that all humans might not look like immortals.
I can almost feel Raker glaring at me. It makes me smile.
Daphne bows her head before him. “I apologize for your … for your affliction,” she says, voice dripping with pity. Then she quickly moves down the line, as if Raker’s coil-of-snakes face could somehow be contagious.
I’m still smiling to myself when Raker says, “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
I lift a shoulder. “I think I’m hilarious.” I turn to him. “One of us has to be.”
“And if I really do have a coil of snakes as a face? Will you feel bad about mocking me?”
I blink, stunned to hear anything resembling teasing coming out of his mouth. I press my lips together, considering. “No,” I decide.
“No?” He seems shocked.
“No. You’re too much of an asshole for me to feel bad for you.”
He makes a derisive sound. “And you’re perfectly pleasant, Aris.”
There it is. My name again, sounding like an embrace. I ignore the chill working its way down my back.
“Thank you,” I say sweetly. “One of us has to be.”
We travel for two more days with the group, only stopping for a few hours every night. That’s when I realize this might have been a mistake.
Immortals don’t need sleep the way we do.
They stop just to play music, and to eat, and to tell ancient stories about the Traveling City, most of which don’t match what we saw at all. It’s nearly impossible to sleep, but I do, until a peel of laughter wakes me up.
I blink my eyes open, only to see a group of children circling Raker, holding wooden swords up, all of them pointed right at him.
Shit.
I rush to stand, worry gripping my bones, ready to save them from Raker and his perpetual bad attitude, when all at once, he slides his towering blade from his spine.
My eyes widen, my lips part—
I’m too late. There’s a crack as his blade meets one of those wooden swords.
But he uses such little force, the oak remains intact.
I blink. He doesn’t break the blades with his bare hands, the way I know he could with little effort. No. Instead, he play-duels with them, battling all six swords at once, letting some of the kids get a few hits in.
The boys scream with delight, closing in, and he hunches over, pretending to be injured, until they’re nearly on him. They make to tackle him.
Before they can, he stands to his full height, lifts his sword high, and roars.
The children scatter in a mess of giggles and gasps.
I’m standing with my mouth hanging open, wondering if I’m still dreaming, because there’s no fucking way Raker just played with those kids.
Slowly, sword still up, he turns right toward me.
He just stares and stares. Neither of us break our gaze. Then, he steps forward, sword up, just like he did with the children.
I don’t run. I take several steps forward, until I’m right under him and his sword.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I say casually. I tilt my head. “But I am a little scared I died in my sleep, because there’s no other explanation for what I just saw.”
He huffs a laugh, returning his blade back into his scabbard.
“Do you … do you have siblings?” I ask, wondering about the life he left behind when he decided to go on this quest. The idea of him having a family feels odd.
Wrong. He’s a deadly knight, with a reputation.
I can’t even imagine him … sitting at a dining table.
Laughing at a joke. Bringing a mug to his lips.
No. I can only see him as he is now, fully armored, wearing a mask, ready for battle.
I watch his body tense beneath all that metal.
“I did,” he finally says.
And then, he turns around again.
I did. I stand very still as the group begins to pack up once more. Those two words haunt me.
I frown, remembering what the Gardener said in those mists. Harlan Raker is a demon. There’s no doubt about that. He has hundreds—if not thousands—of kills on his blade.
But never did I once consider that often monsters aren’t born … they’re made.
The line is moving. I find Raker and stagger behind him, trying to keep up. My eyes are dry and red. My legs still feel stiff.
“This was your idea, remember?” Raker says from in front of me, as if he can hear me struggling. His voice is rough. I wonder if he attempted to sleep at all.
“How could I forget?” I say, taking a swig from one of the many water pouches the group has offered us. “You keep reminding me.”
Excitement blooms toward the front of the line. The youngest in the group, one of the immortal boys that was playing with Raker, has been chosen to hold the orb.
He’s traveling with family. They cheer him on at the front. The music is livelier than normal.
The stars are so bright here, a blanket above us.
I look at them, fighting to stay awake. “Maybe … maybe we veer off after tonight,” I say.
Behind Raker’s back, I consulted with one of the older immortals, drawing parts of my map in the dirt during one of our breaks.
We’ve been heading in the right direction so far, but they plan to make a turn soon.
If we keep going straight, we’ll be out of this forest in three days, and into a desert.
Miles and miles of sand are all that sits between us and the Land of the Gods. Reaching it sounds almost easy.
Then I remember what I learned in the Traveling City.
Even in this jovial group, with music spilling through the woods, I can’t help but feel the whisper of danger prickling the back of my neck.
Wondering if the gods are watching us now, readying their attack.
They aren’t going to stop until they get my sword. I just hope I can face them in person.
They can have my blade.
Covered in their silver blood.
I almost trip, and Raker’s hand steadies me. He drops it the second I’m on my feet again. The roots are thick here, snaking across the powdery dirt. I have to step over them every few minutes, and my knees ache with the effort.
We’re moving too slowly, thanks to me. The rest of the group passes us in the line, chatting with excitement.
I’m surprised Raker isn’t telling me to hurry up, or leaving me. I know he can walk faster, even with the lack of sleep, and all the armor.
We should have taken more of those flowers, I think. The ones from the Traveling City. I wish I could ask Raker to carry my sword, but of course I can’t. I wonder if he would be able to take it from me. I think about the blacksmith’s warning.
If Raker knew it was a godsword, would he kill me, map be damned? Even after everything?
Wait. Is Raker’s blade a godsword too?
A sharp gasp drags me from my thoughts. I hear it, even at the end of the line.
It’s followed by a sickening crack.
Everyone ahead lurches to a sudden stop. The music cuts off on a shrill note. The boy must have tripped.
He dropped the orb.
And shattered it.
In a flash, silver light races to the sky in high-pitched shrieks, as if the previously contained stars are eager to return home. It’s a brilliant brushstroke of blinding starlight.
Followed by darkness.
The line goes deathly quiet.
The only remaining light is around my neck. But it isn’t large enough to cloak us all. Not like the orb.
One second of silence. Two.
Then the scraping begins, as if the demons have been crawling along the fringes of the light, waiting. Waiting.
My heart hammers as that slicing continues. Closer. The carving is closing in.
Then—the first mind-splintering scream echoes through the woods, followed by the sounds of ripping flesh and splitting bone. An immortal is being torn apart.
Chaos erupts.
My head jerks back as someone grabs my necklace. I gasp then choke as the immortal tries to rip it straight through my neck.
“Human bitch,” a voice I don’t recognize shrieks. “Hand it here. Your life is worthless, anyway.” Other hands, clutching. Ripping. I hear Raker’s blade unsheathing.
Before he can strike anyone, the grip goes limp. Gasping for breath, I turn to see Daphne standing there, knife in hand. She plunged it through the immortal’s back.
“Run!” she says, and I grip her hand, pulling her into the safety of the light. “They’re beneath us!”
I squint at the ground. Shit. She’s right.
Onyx blades are stabbing up through the dirt. Bone-white claws are breaking through, grabbing anyone they can. An immortal runs right into that grip—and is dragged through the dirt before I can even try to help.
Fuck.
“Stab through the ground!” I bellow, plunging my sword in and out as I go, but it’s too late. And so few have weapons. They had blind faith in the starlight. They thought it would keep them safe.
Screaming. So much screaming.
We sprint as fast as we can, and I try to pull more people into the light, but one by one, they’re dragged away. We all need to get to higher ground. At least there, we wouldn’t have to worry about being taken from below.
Daphne has the same thought. “The cliffs!” she yells.
Then, her hand is ripped from mine. An immortal has grabbed it, in an attempt to be saved from attack. I stop and turn, lifting my sword.
Blood spatters onto my face as Daphne is torn in half by teeth sharp as knives.
“No!”
Roaring fills my ears. Fills the forest.
I stumble back, screaming, into a strong body.
Raker.
He’s fighting them off, one by one. A demon emerges a few feet away, outside the crown of light, and Raker’s sword gleams as it cuts the beast in two. But there are too many.
They’re everywhere.
Hundreds of them. As if they’ve been called.
And the demons might not be able to pierce our light … but the immortals can. Bloody and desperate, a woman who served me food lunges for me, reaching for my throat, trying to rip the necklace off.
My back hits the ground. My head cracks against a root.
The immortal is clawing at me, reaching for the orbs.