16. Astraea
Chapter sixteen
Astraea
The ground under our feet shakes as a loud explosion cracks through the air.
It sends shock waves through the forest around us strong enough to make the trees shiver.
A flock of small birds take flight from the boughs.
They pepper the sky with their feared cries.
The horse tied to one of them nearby whines, lifting up on two feet and stomping back on the ground in a nervous fit.
Kyros pulls me from the branch I'm perched on, protectively wrapping me in his arms as he scans the forest and the clearing around the dwellers’ cabin.
It's eerily quiet after such a loud eruption.
“What was that?” I say, trying to peer around the mass that is Kyros’ body, though he uses his size as a protective shield in front of me.
My breath hitches when I see it. “Kyros?” I say in another attempt to get his attention, pointing at the cloud of shadow fast appearing in front of us.
Horror fills my stomach with dread. The sky begins to darken rapidly just beyond the cottage, leaching out into the fading daylight.
“Fuck.” He curses, and I repeat the sentiment as he grabs me by the hand and begins running.
The smoke is billowing in the distance, black as the shadows that Kyros wields, but he doesn’t aim us away from the growing plume.
He pushes forward harder, forcing us to run right toward it.
It’s such a contradiction from him, going from protecting me when we heard the explosion to now urging me toward the flames.
I’ve come to realize that this is much of what Kyros is.
A walking contradiction: Hard and soft. Assertive but leaving room for questioning.
An adversary and an unlikely ally. I push my tired muscles beyond what they are used to because I need to know what lies at the source of the smoke just as much as he does.
It's one of the things that drew me into him.
His unwavering care, even if he keeps it hidden.
“What do you think it could be?” I ask between panting breaths, hoping I am loud enough that he can hear me over the trashing of our bodies as we run.
“Really fucking bad,” he says through his teeth, sparing only a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure I am keeping up.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” I bark and gasp as he makes a jarring move to the left to avoid a large tree root in the path. I narrowly miss it, changing course just quickly enough.
“Whatever it is, I need you to promise me.” He slows a fraction, reaching out to grip my hand.
I thread my fingers through his. “Promise me. Promise me you will do everything you can to protect yourself if I’m—” A guttural growl in the distance cuts off his words, and we both focus forward once again.
The smoke in front of us only grows the closer we get to it.
What I assume was only minutes feels like seconds at the pace we are traveling.
It has taken us only a fraction of the time it would have, but the anxiety of the situation causes time to feel jumbled.
My mind is still struggling to catch up when Kyros skids to a stop as we round the cabin.
When he peeks around the particularly large tree we’ve stopped at, I’m doubled over, holding the stitch in my side, and trying not to fall on my face.
He looks over his shoulder at me, tapping his chest and looking down to where the blades are strapped to me.
I gain a swift nod of approval from him when I unsheath the weapons for a fight that I am severely underprepared for.
He turns around and brandishes his glittering black sword that was strapped to his hip.
The Tsalalerian steel glints as the waning sun catches its sharp onyx blade. Kyros walks carefully to where the smoke has originated around the large twisted roots of the tree. I follow close, but he keeps me within sight, constantly scanning the surrounding tree line.
Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks. I stand at his side confused at first. His blade is lowered, and the tip now points toward the dirt.
I follow his gaze. The deep black plume churns and writhes in a circle; two figures are on the ground in the middle of the smoke.
No, not smoke—shadows. In that fraction of a moment, everything becomes silent.
A stillness blankets every emotion as I am transported to the night that everything changed the last time I saw one of these portals.
“Astraea—ASTRAEA!”
I barely blink out of the shock as Kyros quickly pushes me aside, lifts his sword in an arching upward thrust, and steps into the monster that charges for us.
I suck in a sharp breath and lift my blades, albeit uselessly, as the threat is already taken care of at the end of Kyros’ weapon.
Tsalaerian steel meeting the flesh and bone of the Cerkin that had been coming for us.
Another raspy growl echoes through the air, adding to the melee that surrounds us, before Kyros rushes at an additional monster.
He cuts it down before it even comes close to reaching me.
I leave Kyros to fight the creatures that I would be useless at taking down when I hear the sound of a grating cough from the direction of where the portal had emerged.
The shadowed silhouette of the two figures still huddled on the ground becomes clearer as the smoke begins to dissipate, sucked away by the ringed shadowy vortex of the portal.
Against my better judgment, I move closer to the crouched pair.
All the while, Kyros fights off the horde of Cerkins that just keep coming.
I can better help by staying out of his way.
The cloying darkness from the magick of the portal seems to call to me as I continue to move forward.
“Who opened this portal?!” Kyros bellows as his sword cuts through the air with a whistle of precision and power.
“It needs to fucking—CLOSE!” He grunts as his blade makes its mark, and the Cerkin’s large antlered head drops to the dirt with a loud thud.
Putrid blood sprays across his bare chest before his wild eyes make contact with the slouched figure on the ground, and he bellows his next words as an order.
“Close. The. Fucking. Portal!” Another Cerkin is then felled by his blade.
Then another. I can’t even count how many of their corpses now mark the ground.
My lips part as shock and confusion war in my mind. I look away from the wrath that is Kyros and back at the strike of red I see on the ground in front of me.
No.
Her name rips from my throat in the next breath.
“Cole?!” I scream and careen forward, sliding to my hands and knees where she lies on her back with her red hair spilled out around her, unconscious.
The man accompanying her steadily pushes on her chest in a beating rhythm.
Pumping her heart. I’ve seen it once before with some of the soldiers back in Eathain.
The sun and armor were too much for strenuous training, but my father often pushed his men beyond their limits without care.
Sometimes I feel like he enjoyed seeing the pain of those around him.
One of the more elderly guards had fallen to his knees and then to his side.
It was Kellan who did these chest compressions in an attempt to save his life.
It was futile, though. The man ended up dying in the desert sun, despite Kellan’s best efforts to save him.
By the time they pulled him from the man, Kellan was on the verge of passing out himself.
His face was as red as a beet, and he was drenched in sweat.
I asked about it later, and he told me it was a life-saving measure.
He said that the guards are taught to help keep their ranks alive if something were to happen in the field.
I can't see the outcome of my father’s men here today. Colette has to be okay.
The cloaked man stops his repeated movements, breathing hard over her as he presses his fingers to the side of Cole’s neck.
I gasp, my hand covering my mouth as he slams his fist down on the center of her chest. Colette’s body lurches, bowing off the ground as she sucks in a giant lungful of air.
The shadows that were leaking into the air around us quickly dissipate as soon as the man at Cole’s side falls back onto his ass, chest heaving.
His cloak still conceals his face within the hood.
Whoever it is, I am grateful for everything he’s done to keep her breathing.
“Thank you,” I choke, as I shuffle up to Colette’s body. Laying my head on her chest, I listen intently until I hear the slow beat of her heart. Grasping both of her cheeks in my hands, I lean in close.
“Wake up, Cole. This isn’t the end for you.
You hear me?” I whisper, my lip trembling as I look down at the sister I chose.
The one person within the castle walls I could always count on, the one I have loved so fully.
“Wake up!” I say sternly, barely looking up as I hear the man next to us cough again.
“I have no doubt she’ll live. Now that she’s breathing again…” The man’s voice trails off. A recognition tingles at the back of my neck from his voice as I turn to face him. Lifting Cole’s head, I place it in my lap, and I sweep the sweat and sand-caked hair from her face.
“I know your voice. Who are you?” I ask as the chaos around us begins to settle like a dying fire.
Only random sounds from the distant fight remain.
My eyes jump to Kyros when I hear him grunt.
He swings the Tsalarian blade like it was made for him.
An extension of his own body. The sword slices through the air like a cleaver of death.
With a swift swing, he buries it into what looks to be the last Cerkin.
His hair is loose from its tie, wild around his shoulders.
Sweat-soaked strands stick to his face with every movement.
I can't tell if he’s hurt. Even if he was, I don't think a man like him would show it.
The figure next to me clears his throat, pulling my attention back to the stranger.
I try to see into the darkness within the hood covering his face, without success.
A flash of a gold ring glints through the filth that covers his fingers as he reaches up, pushing back the cloak's hood, revealing a handsome, strained face with a mess of dark brown hair.
“Prince Ruaan?” I ask, and at the same time Kyros’ deep voice growls his name from behind me.
“Ruaan.”
Cole’s hand feels like the heaviest weight in mine. This is my fault. My best friend, the only family I care about, is lying here silently fighting for her life because of my recklessness. I have yet to move from her side. I want to be here the moment she opens her eyes.
Rumbling voices carry from the living room, but I can’t make out what they are saying.
The blood rushing in my ears has yet to release its hold on me and muffles everything as I look down at her sleeping form.
Though the room they have laid Cole down to heal in isn't far from where their murmured conversation takes place. You’re in shock.
Breathe, Astraea. I close my eyes and urge myself to think of what I can do to be helpful.
However, every thought is assaulted with images of how this could have come to happen to her.
Their hushed voices start to become clearer with each deep breath I take. Focusing on matching mine with that of Coles.
She breathes. I breathe.
She breathes. I breathe.
She's alive.
We’re breathing. We will be okay.
I have to consider surviving another day in this miserable world a feat in itself. The alternative is not an option for either of us.