Lifton Village
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Asweet apple scent wafted from Abrax with every stride. Even after starting our journey, the scent kept reaching me. By the look of his shiny coat and exuberance, they had taken good care of him while stabled.
Almost as well as Lord Draven had taken care of me last night. I had ended up draped across him, limp. If only I hadn’t woken up to him being curt again.
His ups and downs frustrated me to no end. My only consolation was the fact that I did not let myself react, which seemed to put him more ill at ease.
But my concern was my behavior last eve. I had lost restraint, or the rice wine had done it, and that could not happen again.
After much of the same surroundings—green, rolling knolls, and lush, compact trees—we reached a section where thick smog coated the sky.
There was a vast difference in seeing something on a map and seeing it with one’s own eyes.
A startling reality. Imagining how truly large a place was impossible without experiencing it.
And I truly had not recognized the vastness of Sycarious, even though logically I knew how far the realm stretched.
Abrax’s pace was relentless, even as a chill intensified.
Then, the horrors began.
“Is that a body?” I breathed.
A corpse lay with a tear beginning from the throat, down to the navel, innards spilling out. The Hollows must not have had enough moonlight to feed on this one. They tended not to leave anything behind.
Another corpse stretched out behind him, half the large intestine trailing out of the cavernous torso. Maggots swarmed the inside, moving with jolting little wiggles that turned my stomach.
Abrax clopped over another two corpses.
“What happened?” With the wind billowing, my hair whipped around my face.
“Hollows,” Draven answered, no inflection in his tone. The clopping resonated ominously.
“Evidently,” I said dryly. “But how were they able to have access to so many people?”
Everyone knew to stay inside when night came.
We neared the crackle of a fire. A bitter scent of searing flesh clouded the sky with ash. Were those bodies?
Limbs poked out from the pile.
Horror gripped my gut and I squeezed Cassiel’s arm. I wrenched my gaze away from a smaller body, attempting not to vomit.
“Why did this happen, Cassiel?” I breathed. “I thought any villages close to the Barren were well-guarded.”
“It was well-guarded,” he murmured.
“Turn it around!” A shout brought our focus to a soot-covered man.
A second man jogged over, similarly covered in ash and with a slice across his side where blood had dried.
He slowed. “Your Highness.” He inclined his head, slowing and keeping a healthy distance from Abrax.
Straightening, he smacked both arms down by his sides at attention.
“Report, Sergeant.”
I squinted. Gold embroidery hinted through the grime, denoting a high-ranking Guard.
The man’s stiff posture remained, and he avoided Cassiel’s eyes.
Draven’s voice had a particular intonation when he spoke to others. A specific tone that rattled through one’s chest and urged them to hide, run, or bow.
“Yes, Your Highness.” He cleared his throat.
“The attack came suddenly and violently . . . but Your Highness . . .” His eyes flicked as if recalling the horrors.
“There were other creatures.” The entire line of Cassiel’s body stiffened.
“And we managed to kill one of them. We have the corpse nearing the Barren.”
That was all he needed. He dismounted and reached up to clasp my waist, then hoisted me off the horse.
“Have the officer over there come watch my human.” My shoulders jerked straighter, and I was just as stunned as the man at the claim. “Take me to the creature.”
“Y-yes, Your Highness.” He turned on his heel, retreating to the other man near the mound of corpses.
“There are so many deaths,” I whispered.
Branches crunched with the approach of the second officer. A burly man with soot clinging to him. “Your Highness,” he greeted.
Cassiel did not respond, turning to me.
“Stay here with Abrax.” He turned to leave and slowed. In a move so quick it made me dizzy, he was before me, clasping the bottom of my jaw. “Do not move.” Then he was gone, following the man.
“Officer,” I started, hesitant.
The burly, soot-covered man turned to me. He placed a hand on his chest and slightly inclined his head. “Officer Vernin.”
“Officer Vernin, what attacked?”
His gaze took on a distant look, and he rubbed the bottom of his jaw.
“Something I had never seen in serving with this Battalion for the last six annums. Creatures that are similar to Hollows, but much, much worse. They crawled on six limbs. They were easier to kill than Hollows.” His mouth twisted.
“That was not the issue . . . they came while there was still dusklight out.”
Oh. Oh.
“Something’s wrong out here, and it’s only getting worse.” The bitter words made me think of the true prophet.
Harbinger.
I quickly placed the thought in my reservoir of questions to ask her when I next saw her.
“Were there no amulets to repel them?”
“Yes, but in the chaos of the attack during dusklight, a fire broke out at the inn. They picked off the rest of the villagers.”
The horrified, far-away look dragged my focus to the pile of bodies.
“This had been the largest Battalion I had ever been a part of. Four hundred in the Guard. Most were slaughtered.”
I could not even fathom . . . how horrid.
“Step away from the horse.”
The order came from behind me. I slowly turned and three figures covered from head to toe with faces masked similar to the ones that attacked Cassiel and me on the path here emerged.
A thud came from behind me, and Abrax whinnied, taking off at a sprint.
“Grab it!” one of the covered figures shouted, then cursed as Abrax galloped away.
The officer lay on the ground. A smaller figure behind him was crouched and searching through his things, pulling a bag of gold from his pocket.
My vision was blurred as one of them yanked a sack over my head, and an arm wrapped around my midsection.
I struggled to escape, managing to slip free for a moment.
Then two pairs of hands grabbed hold of me.
“You should not do this,” I warned.
Of course I was ignored and he tossed my limp body. I landed across a lap with a grunt. A horse snorted, and I was jostled, the thigh taking my breath away every time the horse lost his footing.
“You will not be harmed, Vessel. We just need to speak to you.” A deep male voice announced. “Do not try to remove the head cover or I will need to bind your hands.”
“Who is we?” I had to pause to catch my breath. “And there are much better ways to do this without kidnapping.”
“We will arrive soon.” That was all he said before he clicked his tongue. The horse burst forward, sending me flopping against his legs.
I was too busy trying to catch my breath and keep my head from smacking with the rhythm of the gallop to pull more answers from my abductors. My head began to spin by the time the horse slowed.
Hushed chatter mingled with the clop of hooves.
Hands grasped my waist, and I was dropped to my feet. Someone removed the scratchy fabric from my head. It took a few breaths for my vision to clear. A wide-shouldered man came into view, yanking down his face covering and shoving his hood back.
He had wide features, a stern mouth, and a slim scar across his face. I wanted nothing more than to shout and take off running, but that would be foolish. Exhaling slowly calmed the urge.
A woman peeked out from behind him, her doe eyes so big they almost took up half her face.
“You are scaring her, Archer,” she said, her voice soft. “I am Tabby.” She stepped forward and curtsied, her movement fluid.
I returned one with less energy. Meanwhile, I took in the surroundings.
It was as if there was a makeshift village.
An oversized carriage, about three times the size of the one I had been in, sat on large wheels.
Small huts created of wood and straw spread out across the expanse.
People milled about, a woman carrying a pot full of water, children chasing each other.
Then there were the distrustful looks directed at me.
Long, thin lines of fabric were tied from tree to tree, enclosing the area around a perimeter, while on the ground there was a line of salt running along the same boundary.
“Amulets are attached to the trees where there are strings,” Tabby explained.
“Why did you attack us?” I asked, frowning.
“We did not aim for you, redblood. Our quarrel is with corrupt Elites,” Archer growled.
“Are you with the Resistance?”
“No, we are trying to escape persecution, not invite it.” His gaze sharpened. “You know about the Resistance?”
A dog with furry ears and a brown coat clung to her side. Wait a moment. I found another woman, younger, running with a small feline that looked to be a juvenile panther, that bolted around a boy who also had a wraithling.
I dropped my gaze to her canine.
“You are a redblood?” I whispered.
“Many of us are,” she confirmed.
Archer grunted.
“How—” I shook my head. “Why are you living in the middle of the woods?”
Archer sighed and rubbed his temple.
“Stop being a grump,” Tabby said, “You are behaving as if you did not just steal her away.”
“I was helping her get away from that monster we call king.”
I clenched my jaw to stop the urge to defend him.
“Come inside for some tea. We will explain all of this,” Tabby said, motioning around us. The last remnants of dusklight faded.
Wailing ripped through the forest, causing nearby birds to take flight.
I had no choice but to stay with these people until I was retrieved.
“Very well,” I finally said. “But we will not have long.” Lord Draven would be here soon. They both seemed skeptical, but they did not deny my words. I followed them to the steps of the entrance to the long carriage.
Upon entering, there was the initial section where a slim table stretched out.
I took the first seat while Archer sat across from me.
Candles lit the entire carriage, casting warm light across the space.
Tabby went to the metal container of water where steam wafted from the top. Each one of her movements was graceful.
“I just set a pot to boil on the fire outside.” Tabby grabbed a few teacups and placed one in front of me and one in front of Archer.
Behind him, at the furthest part of the carriage, was a section that was clearly their sleeping area.
A thick mat covered the ground, with piles of fur and pillows strewn around and artfully placed.
“Please keep an open mind, because none of this will be easy to accept.” She took a deep breath. “Everything we know about redbloods is a lie.” I kept quiet, waiting for more information. Her eyebrows furrowed. “You knew?”
“No, but nothing surprises me.” I let the words sit, offering nothing more.
“Do you know about the injections?”
I straightened my shoulders, shaking my head.
She leaned in, voice dropping. “The one all redbloods are mandated to take is not a preventative. We are being injected with ‘suppressors’.”
My pulse jumped, a nervous tingling spreading. Similar to all redbloods, I had received the injections at the clinic every fall under the supervision of Lord Bjorn as was mandated.
The sennight that followed resulted in a nasty cold my body fought off. The agony . . . only a shade of what I had experienced when Al injected me. Had that been the very liquid he placed into me? Impossible, the agony was much more acute . . . Then again, normally, they were a smaller volume.
“What does that mean? What are they suppressing?” My words almost ran into each other.
They exchanged a look.
“Our abilities. We only knew because of me,” Tabby said. “It has been two annums since I stopped taking it.”
“How? Unregistered redbloods are slaughtered.”
“We staged her death,” Archer said, his hand cupping her waist.
“Are you also a redblood?”
“Blueblood.”
I scrunched my eyebrows together.
“I was registered to him,” she said, worrying her lip. “We fell in love.”
All redbloods must be registered to bluebloods, but usually we were in a servitude role . . . We were not assigned for love, nor were we truly seen as equals by bluebloods.
“And you have not been injected for two annums?”
“I have not. The manner in which my body reacted.” She shook her head. “Once I stopped taking the dosage, I became terribly ill.”
Archer frowned, squeezing her hip and rubbing his thumb along her simple gown.
“Archer!” The shout came from outside, frantic.
My spine went ramrod straight.