Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
FRID
The bright light of the torches guided the way to the castle and slashed the pitch black sky above.
I hurried ahead of Rowan and Theo, opening the door for them as they carefully carried Victor up the stairs.
Even in the dim light of the few candles, Victor looked too pale, his skin was nearly the color of the storm clouds outside.
His light hair was matted with blood and grime.
His flying suit was ripped. Once again, he jumped in front of a crawler, protecting me.
He never respected me enough to think that I could handle an enemy on my own.
A sudden flash of irritation flared in my mind, but I did not let it flourish.
There will be time to yell at him about his behavior when he was better, but for now, I had to make sure he survived.
We made it all the way to his room and Rowan and Theo placed him on the bed.
“How are you?” Rowan hesitated, looking at me.
“Good. Thanks,” I responded.
“I mean . . . um . . . Do you need anything?” Rowan rubbed the back of his neck.
I knew both brothers wanted to check on their families in the valley. They were probably beside themselves with worry.
“I’m good. Go, help the others,” I said.
“Later,” Rowan said.
Theo only nodded and both of them stumbled toward the door nearly colliding with each other and the next moment, only Victor and I remained in the room. I did not waste any more time and lit several candles, moving them closer to Victor.
I stepped toward the bed, surveying Victor’s once strong, agile body that now looked broken and lifeless.
There was no time for feeling depressed about it.
Slowly, and with extreme care, I took off his boots.
His left foot was soaked with blood. Somehow he managed to injure his shin and the blood poured freely inside his boot.
I moved to a stack of folded towels next to a pitcher of clean water and brought them to the side table. Carefully, I pulled his flying suit off. Moving as gently as I could, I wiped the blood off his skin. Working from his neck to his chest, I uncovered more hidden injuries on his body.
If he only knew that I was taking his clothes off, he would shower me with inappropriate jokes, but his lips were sealed.
His breaths were so soft, barely distinguishable.
His skin appeared sallow, lifeless. With every new wound I came across, I clenched my teeth harder until my jaw started to hurt.
How could anyone stand this amount of pain without complaining? He continued to fight when he was already way past his limit. The crawler’s bite was the last injury he got, but I had no idea about all the other ones he had simply endured.
Why didn’t he go back to the castle when he had the chance? Why did he stay with me?
A flash of anger rose somewhere in the pit of my stomach. He was always so careless about everything, never taking things seriously. But how could he treat his own wellbeing with such indifference?
“Frid,” Victor called.
“I’m here. I’m here,” I whispered, leaning over him.
“Frid . . . safe?”
“Yes, we’re in the castle.” I placed my hand on his shoulder when he tried to sit up. “Don’t worry. Just rest,” I said, cleaning the burn on his stomach.
“Don’t . . . want you . . . hurt,” he whispered.
“I need to get more temple water. I’ll be back,” I said.
“No.” He suddenly appeared agitated.
“I’ll be back in no time.”
“No. Stay.”
“I have to do something about your wounds.”
“No.”
“Victor?”
“Don’t . . . leave me,” he whispered.
“I have to. You’re too weak. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I covered him with a blanket.
“Don’t.” His hand clasped my arm with surprising force.
“Please, let me—”
“Don’t leave.”
“It’ll only take a moment.”
His hand fell lifelessly onto the covers, his lips twitched as if he wanted to say something else. I used the opportunity to step away, and approached the door. I hated leaving him all alone, but he needed more help than I could give.
I walked through the corridor, trying hard not to look at the destruction, all the blood and gore.
I passed a few servants and warriors who moved through the empty halls, seemingly, in a daze.
In the great room, children wailed and women cried, mourning their loved ones that were placed on wooden tables by the walls.
Almost against my will, my eyes shifted toward the tables.
One after another, I recognized the faces of the fallen; women from the village, children, and many black clan warriors.
I curled my hands into fists, forcing myself to remain strong.
Tears would not help anyone. They were useless.
I had worked hard to completely extinguish that weakness from my soft heart.
But despite everything I kept saying to myself, my eyes continued searching the bodies.
Suddenly, I saw the ashen face of a person I had seen only hours ago.
Cara was looking up at the ceiling, her arms were extended as if she was welcoming death.
Her light, curly hair was darkened with blood, an open wound was clearly visible on her head.
Someone killed her because she was turning.
She was only sixteen years old, barely a woman.
She will never get married, have children, and never grow old.
Why did she have to die? What was the purpose of it all? Why did we have to go through all this pain and suffering?
I pressed a hand against the wall, supporting myself. My throat contracted but my eyes still remained dry.
A sudden thought brought me back to reality as fast as a flash of lightning. Victor was still alive, badly injured and he was absolutely alone. I had to do everything in my power to help him. I continued down the hall, no longer daring to look at the bodies.
“Lady Aly! Aly! Aly!” A group of people burst into the room, carrying another body.
For a long moment, Alina was concealed by multiple black clan warriors.
“Alina?” I called, but my voice was drowned by the din.
I made my way through the thick crowd.
“What happened? Tynan? Is it Tynan?” I shouted.
“He fought two clan leaders and won, but he got beat up,” one of the men explained.
“Alina!” I pushed more warriors out of the way.
When I finally made it to the figure with bright red hair, she was holding on to Tynan’s hand. He seemed barely conscious, his blood dripped onto the floor.
“We need temple water!” Alina turned.
Her face was paper white, her eyes appeared almost wild. And the warriors searched for any they might still have on them.
“No! I don’t need it. Save the infected first.” Tynan’s voice came out weak but firm.
“Bring him here!” Alina commanded.
Even under the extreme stress, she seemed calm and collected, but I knew that underneath it all, she must have been terrified.
I followed them into the room where Tynan was carried
“What should we do now?” one of the clan warriors asked Tynan.
“Continue helping the injured. And send someone to collect more water from the temples.” Tynan was placed on top of the covers.
While Alina was taking his flying suit off, his head dropped onto the pillow. He passed out.
“Can I help?” I asked her.
Alina’s eyes landed on my face, and deep down, I saw her fear. She shook her head.
“I’m going to stay with him. How’s Victor?” Alina asked.
“He needs more water,” I responded.
“We’re out,” someone said behind me.
“There should be some left.” I turned to see who was talking.
“We used the last of it on several who were infected. Now we can only pray that someone will bring more.”
“But, it’s days of flight. To go there and back will take more than half the week,” I said.
“Frid, walk through the castle and ask in the village. Someone may still have some.” Alina touched my arm.
I squeezed her hand and a moment later, sprinted into the hall.
Everywhere I looked I saw signs of destruction, and as much as I disliked these walls, all my hatred evaporated long ago. I did not wish any harm on these people. They did not deserve this.
The floor was covered with dirt and splatters of thick blood. I saw corpses of the undead dragons and many broken and torn bodies.
“I need water, please!” I shouted running through the halls.
Everyone I met only shook their heads.
I rushed outside, sliding on the wet stone. I immediately transformed and lifted up, following the curvy road. I approached the remains of the houses, some were on fire, others were severely damaged. When I saw some people in the valley, I lowered myself to the ground.
It was an old woman mourning over the body of another woman.
“Do you have any temple water?” I shouted, trying to catch my breath.
The woman slowly turned her head toward me. Her heavily wrinkled face reminded me of a ceremonial mask. Messy coils of hair tumbled over her face.
“Mama!” the child cried.
My heart stopped when I saw the old woman caressing the dead mother and the child crying beside them.
“I poured the water on her wound, but she never got better,” the old woman said and her words sounded empty and devoid of any emotion.
“Mommy!” the child whined.
I saw the bottle with the remaining liquid in the old woman’s hand.
The woman turned to the dead body and poured more liquid on her head.
I crouched beside the body and pressed my fingers to her neck. Nothing. She was long gone.
“She’s dead,” I whispered.
“Grandma,” the child called.
“No! You’re wrong! You’re lying! I know you, the bastard girl, the clan whore.” She hissed, spitting saliva.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I said quietly.
“Grandma.”
“I know what I'm saying. You live with men, sleep with them, and even dress like one of them.” The old woman pushed me away.
“Grandma, my hand hurts,” the child cried again.
I glanced at the boy who was holding the palm of his hand. There were black veiny lines that already stretched toward the elbow.
“Give me the water!” I growled at the woman.