CHAPTER 19 #2
The echoing snap of a branch draws my gaze to the forest, and I lock eyes with a boar. My heart matches the boom of thunder sounding overhead as I slowly reach back to draw an arrow from my quiver. Something shifts behind me and the boar bolts, heading deeper into the forest.
Swearing under my breath, I plunge into the trees after it.
The general swears behind me and I hear the crash of the brush as he follows in pursuit.
I weave between bushes, ducking beneath low hanging branches, leaping over small creeks flowing with icy runoff from the mountains to the north.
The light patter of rain quickly turns to heavy, frequent drops as I rush through an open glade.
Lightning strikes in the distance and thunder rolls across the land.
The boar disappears into the forest on the opposite end of the glade and the general yells behind me, “Take the bridge!”
I don’t have time to puzzle out his words as I duck back into the woodland.
The dense cluster of trees begins to thin before me and a wide, rushing river comes into view.
A bridge lies to the south, but I’m losing the boar, and a fallen tangle of logs spans the river in a natural crossing at my feet.
If I had time to stop and roll my eyes at him, to slow and consider the heat of my annoyance, I would.
I’ve spent the better part of my life proving to men in the La’tari regime just how capable I am, only to have the male behind me question my ability to maintain my footing on a wide deck of fallen logs.
I don’t hesitate before jumping onto the fallen trees.
Midway across, I skid to a halt, quickly stringing an arrow to take my shot.
Inhaling a deep breath, I set my sights on the boar and exhale, ignoring the general when he shouts my name.
He calls my name again, the rest of his words lost to the rumbling peel of thunder as it cracks just overhead.
I feel it then, the icy tendril that licks up the length of your spine when hidden eyes land upon you.
My heart stutters to a stop and again, thunder roils in the clouds as I whip around to face the male standing on the shore behind me.
His eyes grow wide just as a chilly iron grip encases my ankle, tearing my leg out from under me.
I go down hard, my head hitting the log beneath me with a sickening crack before I plunge into the icy depths of the turbulent water.
The current takes me east, frigid and swift, tumbling me over the jagged stones beneath the whitewater.
Roots and debris from fallen trees litter the riverbed, tearing at any exposed flesh they find.
A thin branch cuts my cheek as I’m swept by and I reach out, desperate to grasp something secure.
My hands wrap around a thick tree limb, and I settle my feet on the ground, pushing off until I break the surface, gasping for air, and freeing myself from the heavy drag of my wet cloak with a pull of the clasp.
A cold hand wraps around my calf, pulling me under, and water enters my lungs as I’m tossed back into the current. I tumble into a sunken bramble, sharp thorns cutting the fragile flesh below my breast, just before I’m caught up in an eddy and thrown against a large boulder.
My side takes the brunt of the impact, the loud snap of my rib nothing but a muffled pop under the water. My lungs ache for air as the last of my breath is forced from my chest. I free myself from a tangle of branches and push off from the creek bed, angling myself toward the shore.
I slide the letter opener into my hand, preparing for when I break the surface.
I sputter a wet cough when the cool air touches my cheeks.
A firm hand wraps around my calf, and I drive my dagger into the water before it can pull me under.
The creature’s shriek pierces the river in a deafening pitch that makes my ears throb to the frantic rhythm of my heart.
It releases me, and I pull my makeshift dagger free as I quickly head for shore.
My lungs expel the frigid liquid as I drag myself up the embankment on the northern side. I grasp the thick roots of a nearby willow, wincing each time I pull myself further onto the shore. I only allow myself to roll onto my back and catch my breath after my feet are well clear of the current.
Despite what I hope, it doesn’t take the creature long to find me.
A cool spike of fear snakes through my veins when its head breaks the surface of the water, its eyes like dark river stones.
Reaching the bank, it stalks toward me, and I only have time to scramble back a few steps before it pins me to the muddy earth.
Its hair is a stinking mass of green algae, riddled with a variety of aquatic eggs.
Its skin is tinged a deep green and its teeth are every bit as sharp as the sprites’.
These teeth I have cause to fear, as the creature’s eyes explore the exposed flesh of my neck.
A blue liquid oozes from a wound on its forearm where I’d struck it with the blade.
Its eyes follow my gaze and a vicious growl tears from its throat as it widens its jaw unnaturally.
“Stop!”
I don’t take my eyes from the creature when I hear the general’s voice, but it seems to understand him when it pauses.
“A favor for her life,” he says.
The fea tips its head at the general, as it considers the offer and says, “Haasei’eth, kai’den vessai.”
“It’s a bargain,” he says without hesitation, walking toward the creature.
The fea falls to its belly and, keeping a wary eye on the letter opener, it slithers backward, disappearing into the dark rushing river.
I slide the blade back into the sheath and take the general’s hand when he offers it.
My left leg buckles the moment I put weight on it, and I pitch forward, headed for the ground.
An arm sweeps beneath my knees, and he hooks my waist. I gasp against the pain as he lifts, settling me against his chest.
“I’m fine, I just got lightheaded,” I lie and wince, clutching at the sharp pain in my side when I try to squirm out of his arms.
He pushes out his disbelief on a breath, firming his hold at my waist as he turns north, not south as I expect.
The sky flickers and another booming crash echoes overhead just as the pattering of rain on the canopy turns into a fierce deluge.
My body starts to tremble as the adrenaline keeping me warm begins to fade and the glacial temperature of the river seeps into my bones.
I tense my muscles, willing my body to still, forcing down the frailty of my human form.
“Where are we going?” My teeth chatter.
The general glares at me. Quickening his pace, he says, “There is a winter hunting lodge close by. It will do until morning.”
I don’t even want to argue, and that’s a bad sign.
A dry place to rest while I regain my strength is the best I can hope for.
My head feels like it’s made of steel as it lulls and tips against the general’s shoulder.
My forehead rests in the crook of his neck and under all the ice of his exterior I never expected the male to feel so warm.
“Foc,” he says under his breath, and a sharp pang slices through my gut, hollowing out my stomach.
I ignore the sinking feeling and his aversion to my skin against his own.
I can’t bring myself to care or summon the strength to fight my way out of his arms. He quickens his pace, turning up a steep incline of large boulders covered in years of overgrowth and moss.
I close my eyes, clenching my jaw to stop my teeth from clacking against each other.
I’m vaguely aware of the loud crack of splintering wood as he kicks open the cabin door. The force bounces it off the wall and it swings closed behind him, latching shut. I feel a strange kinship with the latch for remaining strong in defiance of his brute strength and demands.
The cold wall of the cabin presses against my back when he eases me out of his arms and onto the floor.
I immediately regret the loss of his warmth when he unthreads his arm from under my knees, only to imagine slamming my blade into that same arm when he pinches my chin between his fingers and rattles my head.
“Open your eyes,” he demands harshly, “Take off your boots. We have to get you out of those clothes and into something dry. Either you do it, or I will.”
I glare at the male, an act I’m not even sure he notices before rushing out into the rain. A distant and quickly fading part of me knows he’s right. I need to get dry. I need to get warm.
My fingers tangle with thick laces, my hands are numb and each attempt to grasp the cords feels like a monumental effort in futility.
I’ve never been more annoyed about knotting my laces in lieu of a simple tidy bow, a habit I picked up when I began to spar and a loose lace rarely meant anything but defeat.
The general bursts into the cabin with an arm full of dry logs, his frown deepening when his eyes fall to the boots still laced securely around my calves.
He stacks the logs in the stone fireplace, produces a flint and steel from his satchel, and strikes it to the kindling.
No sooner do I hear the woosh of the flame than I feel him hurriedly working my boots free of my legs.
“You’ll warm up soon,” he reassures me, pulling the boots from my feet.
“I’m fine. I’m not cold,” I say, suppressing a shiver.
“Yes, you are,” he growls, “You’re freezing.”
He hooks my waist, and I wince at the sharp pain in my side as he lays me in front of the fire.
He’s on his feet, digging through a large chest in a dark corner of the room before I realize he’s even left my side.
A thick quilt is in his hands when he returns and that too he places close to the flames.