Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
I had never known such fear as the moment Victious’s ax swung through the air and lodged itself in Tolek’s thigh.
Blood splattered across all three of us as he hit the ground, not moving. The coppery tang cut through the air. Sound stopped around me. Bodies moved, but senselessly.
I reached a shaking hand to my cheek where a drip of something was congealing, tickling my skin as it slid down. Not something—blood. Tolek’s blood. There was too fucking much of it on my skin, hair, leathers.
No. Tolek had not done that. Victious had not done that. My vision turned as red as the blood flowing around Tolek.
I released a bloodcurdling scream that had even Victious’s pale face slackening in fear.
It was with little effort that I raised Starfire and brought her shining silver blade down across the Engrossian’s thick neck.
The grinding of metal through flesh, tissue, and bone that ricocheted up my arm was satisfying.
His head tumbled through the air, an arc of blood painting the sky, and thudded into the grass.
His body crumpled beneath Sapphire’s feet, and I smiled.
Blood dripped from my blade as I panted, fury and fear battling within me. The sounds of my friends’ battles ended, and I turned to see two more Engrossians fall, the third and final fleeing toward the tree line.
“Absolutely not,” I growled. I kicked my heels into Sapphire’s side, and she shot off as if she, too, wanted revenge for our fallen friend.
We were gaining on the warrior, but he had a head start, and I knew that if he disappeared into the trees, it would be impossible to find him.
I reached behind my head and wrapped my fingers around the spear.
The weapon warmed in my hand, begging to be used for this moment of vengeance.
That familiar energy shot up my arm. Taking aim was significantly harder while Sapphire moved, so I pulled her reins to stop her.
In one swift movement, I balanced the spear, aimed, pulled my arm back, and let the fated weapon fly toward my retreating target.
It shot straight through the back of his head with a squelch that I could hear across the clearing.
I released a sigh at the sound. My breathing steadied as the enormity of what I had done hit me: struck a moving target from fifty yards with a spear.
A feat by any warrior’s standards—especially mine.
But that mystery would have to wait.
“Tol,” I breathed, remembering why I had chased the enemy down.
I retrieved Malakai’s spear and raced back to where Tolek had collapsed. The gentle rise and fall of his chest lodged a sob in my throat. He was alive. Sprawled in the grass with his head in Cypherion’s lap, pale and blood-soaked and shaking—but alive.
Santorina inspected his leg, giving Jezebel directions of what to pull from her backpack.
I threw myself down beside them, wrapping both of my hands around Tol’s. Tears stung my eyes as I looked at the damp stain surrounding the ax still lodged in his thigh. Crimson pooled around the wound—splattered his face, leathers, and hair, tinted the grass red. Spirits, there was so much blood.
He cried out as Rina prodded the skin next to his wound.
“Sorry, sorry,” she murmured. She sounded much calmer than I felt. “Hell, I can’t tell what the damage is with the ax still in there. We’re going to have to remove it quickly.”
Tolek nodded without opening his eyes, but his grip tightened on my hand until his knuckles turned white and my bones ground together.
“Here.” Cypherion removed the leather band around his arm, emptied the blades, and forced it between Tolek’s teeth for him to bite on.
Santorina’s face was hard, eyes narrowed in concentration as her slender fingers gripped the weapon. She met my gaze for a brief second, then tightened her grasp and pulled. The blood flowed fast, but Jezebel was there with a dressing, applying pressure.
“It didn’t hit an artery.” Rina sounded relieved.
“How do you know?” I asked.
She looked up. “Because he’d already be dead.”
I swallowed, fear swooping through my stomach at the understanding that removing the weapon from his thigh could have been the end of Tolek.
The ax had sliced cleanly through his leathers. My stomach turned further at the consideration of what poison must have coated the Engrossian weapons in order to penetrate our reinforced garments. They were out to kill.
I was glad I’d ended them.
As if reading my mind, Rina said, “The magic worked into these training leathers may be the only thing that saved you, Tolek.” Gently, excruciatingly, she cleaned the wound using vials and linen strips that I hadn’t even been aware she had packed but could not have been happier for.
Then, she stitched his skin back together using a Bodymelder thread that would fade into his skin as the wound healed.
I couldn’t look away from the needle and thread that pierced Tolek’s flesh, weaving in and out as if through mere cloth, each puncture thickening the sweat pouring down his face.
“This should have gone deep enough to either take your leg off or cause you to bleed out. But it didn’t. You’re lucky.” Rina made the final stitch and tied off the thread with one skilled motion.
Tolek spit out the leather strip that his teeth had nearly gnawed through and grimaced. “I must be blessed,” he panted. His face was too pale. Though the pain was evident, he looked to me, and his eyes softened.
As Jezebel and Santorina searched for materials that might help support the injury, I reached a hand to his hair.
It was standing in disarray around his face, dark brown strands sticking up and out.
I brushed my fingers across each sun-kissed highlight, his chocolate eyes melting in his blood-splattered face as he calmed with my touch.
“You’re an idiot, Vincienzo.” I shook my head. “Why did you do it?”
“Ophelia,” he whispered, breathing through the pain. He fought to get the words out, his voice low and labored. “Why did you do it?”
Cyph glanced up from his friend’s pained expression, but I avoided his eyes. A gash bled steadily from his forehead, staining his auburn waves. He didn’t seem to notice.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat—the truth fighting to get out. “It was the only option.” I couldn’t let any of them die, but I could sacrifice myself.
“No.” A modicum of energy returned to Tolek’s voice as he repeated, “No, Ophelia. Never.” His squeeze of my hand was merely a flutter, but it was reassuring and admonishing and concerned all at once.
I looked at the now-wrapped wound, wiping tears from my eyes.
“Tolek Vincienzo,” I said, voice cracking, “never do anything like that again.”
“No promises,” he exhaled, wincing. My heart sank at the sight.
Spirits, this was my fault. All of it. Dragging my friends into this journey, into unpredictable danger. They did not deserve this pain. The attacks, the fear for their lives—they should not have seen any of it. These were risks that I should have faced alone.
Fear was a hot iron stabbing my innards as I remembered the weakness the Curse had plunged into my body.
I almost lost Tolek—my closest friend, my guiding moonlight in the dark night, and the knot that tethered me to reality—because of it.
I wanted to rip the damned affliction from my wrist, claw it out one dark tendril at a time until it suffered as much as we had.
The Engrossians—this all went back to them. If I survived this journey, and was granted more time by the Curse, they’d be next on my list of targets.
A molten desire for revenge budded in my gut as I looked at Tolek’s face, pale from loss of blood.
If it hadn’t been for his sacrifice, I would not have the chance to avenge those I loved so deeply.
Though I hated the circumstances, perhaps there was something to be said for not moving through life on your own.
“We can’t stay here,” Jezebel said, wiping her hands on the grass and leaving it smeared with Tolek’s blood.
I assessed my sister. Her face was stern but steady.
She was covered in dirt and blood—hers or Engrossians’ I was not sure—but she seemed otherwise okay, save for minor scratches.
Rina was similarly situated, with a split lip that swelled slightly.
“He can’t ride.” Cypherion sounded offended that Jezebel would even suggest it, and I knew he was going to spend the next few days guarding Tolek like a mother wolf.
“What if more rogues attack?” Jezebel asked, but even as she said it, her gaze flashed to Tolek’s wound and uncertainty lit her eyes.
“I’ll be okay,” he insisted. His eyes were closed as he reclined against Cyph, hands locked above his head.
“Stop being a fool,” Cyph warned.
Tolek cracked an eye open at the tone. “We need to move. Give me something to numb my Spirits-damned wound and replenish my blood. Santorina, I’m certain you have tonics for that?”
Rina was already mixing ingredients from vials in her pack.
“I’m not certain how well they’ll work given that I can’t properly measure proportions.
” She sniffed a dark concoction, then dropped a white powder into it, swishing it until it dissolved.
“Try this.” She mixed a second one hastily, this liquid a deep crimson, and Tolek downed them both.
“Thank you,” he said. Without waiting to see what effects the drugs would have, he dragged himself into a seated position. “Shall we?” he asked, looking at us all as if we were the reason we had stopped moving.
I chewed my lip as I considered the risks of each alternative. “We walk,” I finally decided. Even that would risk Tolek’s leg, but it had to be better than the jostling of a horse and the strain that would put on his thigh muscles.
Tolek’s eyes flashed open. “That will be much too slow. Surely, I can get on—”
“You aren’t mounting anything, Vincienzo.
” My voice was firm, but he laughed at the suggestion in my words.
At least his humor hadn’t been harmed. “I’ll walk with you; the others will surround us on horseback.
We send one scout ahead every few hours to check the way.
Should there be a threat, we either divert to another path, or we throw you on a horse and pray to the Angels and Spirits for your health.
” Warriors healed more quickly than humans—I only hoped it would start to take effect soon.
His mouth was a tight line as he decided whether arguing with me was worth it, but whatever he saw in my eyes confirmed that it was not.
“Fine,” he conceded. “Someone find my damned weapons and help me up.”
Once Tolek was—painfully—on his feet, arm slung around my shoulders, spear strapped across his back, and sword secured in Astania’s saddle, he said, “Oh, I believe I won our bet, CK.”
“What bet?” Cypherion looked skeptical.
“I did indeed stand up on horseback mid-battle. I may not have fired an arrow, but I think jumping from the saddle counts for something.” His grin warmed my chilled body as he squeezed me to his side.