Chapter 9
The beast kept at a steady pace for hours, weaving us over the rolling hills of the shadowy terrain, its coat shining with perspiration.
It had been a long time since I’d heard our pursuers’ shouts trailing after us, yet my pulse still pounded in my ears, my hand gripping the sickle so hard my arms shook.
The familiarity of the Northerner’s arms caged me, except this time, I didn’t fight his embrace. My brain and body were exhausted, and I found myself burrowing deeper into his chest. A shield against the dangers of the terrain.
It was a trauma response. It had to be.
The steadiness of the canter lowered my lids, the adrenaline burning out of my body, the blood loss from my arm, all making me crash into a wall.
“Whoa.” His rumble jolted my eyes open, realizing the scythe was falling from my grip just as he took it from me.
“No.” I grappled for the weapon. “I got it.”
“Clearly you don’t. You almost sliced the horse’s head off.”
As if the horse understood what he had said, he curved his head back to huff at me, baring its fangs.
Swallowing, I inched back, plastering myself firmer into my abductor.
“What is it? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“There is a lot you haven’t seen, kanin. Many things that exist outside of your plush castle walls.”
The jab stirred me in the saddle, knowing it was true but still feeling defensive. Using the last bits of my strength, I pushed away from the warmth and security of his frame.
He exhaled. “They are called draugrhest.” Ghosthorse. A draugr was not really a ghost, but a revenant. A reanimated corpse like a vampire or the undead.
By the looks of the beast, I could see why it was called that.
“Some reside here in the Shadow Rift,” he explained. “Along with many things that are rejected by the other kingdoms.”
“Like those men?” The memory of what happened strangled my throat and chest, my arm throbbing, screaming its sacrifice. “How could people eat other people?”
“As I said, desperation makes you do things you never thought possible, but that group . . .” He tapered off. “They enjoy it. Crave only Raven flesh. They hunt it like a sport.”
Repulsion sizzled down my throat, my mind wanting to block out the fact I had consumed that very same flesh.
“Who are they?” I croaked out.
“They’re called the Jackals.”
My mind instantly went to the J they had marked on their cloaks, the brand on the woman’s neck.
“And we ran into only a handful of their gang.”
“Why aren’t they stopped or arrested?”
“Arrested? By who?” He barked out a laugh. “There are no laws here. And no one who would dare challenge them.”
We went quiet again, the horse slowing to a trot. No longer able to fight my fatigue, I slumped back into him.
“We need to find a place to hide out tonight.” His chest vibrated against my spine as he spoke. “Get some food.”
I started to shake my head. The idea of putting anything into my mouth made me nauseous.
“Something without meat,” he replied.
I must have dozed off, because the next moment I was jolted awake when the horse’s hooves met with a dirt road, clipping over the gravel lane.
Jerking my head up, my heart skittering, I peered around the foreign terrain.
The wind whipped at the trees, rustling them, the horse tossing its head with irritation as small huts came into view on either side of the road.
“Fuck. I didn’t realize we were so close.” The Northerner sat up straighter, taking a tighter grip on the scythe. “Tie your hair back and pull your hood up. Now.”
“Why?” The tension in his frame had me reaching for my hair, sweeping it back in a low chignon and yanking the cloak over my head, the cut strands falling around my face.
“Your kind isn’t liked here,” his voice rumbled in my ear.
“Where is here?”
“Beggar’s Hole.” He pulled me in closer, like he wanted to use his body to cover me. “Now stop asking questions.”
The horse carried us down the eerily quiet lane, the moan of the wind sending a shiver down my spine.
The derelict wooden gable roofs became closer and closer together, packed in, layering back a few lanes as we entered a dilapidated settlement.
A deteriorated tower loomed above the tree line behind the village.
Beggar’s Hole appeared abandoned and forgotten, the animal pens empty, the gardens dried up, the houses collapsing.
I would’ve thought no one was here, except for the smoke twirling from chimneys.
Peering from under my hood, I caught people deep in the shadows watching us in unnerving silence as we passed.
Wearing filthy rags, hoods covering their heads, they were skinny and wary, their eyes burning with suspicion and aversion.
A few men strolled closer, their hands purposely going to the blades at their belts, informing the trespasser to keep moving.
Once they spotted the scythe, or maybe it was the sharp teeth of the draugrhest, they kept their distance, but their attention didn’t leave us for a moment.
A dozen gaunt children grouped together in an empty animal pen with a carved wooden ball, pausing mid-play.
My brow crinkled, spotting several of the older ones with streaks of blond through their dirty hair and murky blue eyes.
Shock had me staring at them in awe, realizing they had Day Raven characteristics in their bloodline.
No one spoke, not even the children. The only sound was the wind, and the clipping hooves over the dirt road. This place felt wrong. Unsettling. Like this town should’ve been abandoned, yet people still lived here.
The Northerner kept a steady, unthreatening pace, but I could feel the tension in his muscles, his body ready to counter an assault.
“Are they following us?” Barely moving his lips, he kept himself facing forward.
Curving my head to look around him, I spotted a few men trailing us at a distance.
“Yes.” I muttered, twisting my head back around. A gust caught under my hood, blowing it off my head. My hair unraveled from the knot, rolling down my shoulder to my waist.
“Jaevel faen!” the Night Raven hissed, letting go of the reins, his hand yanking up my hood quickly. “Tuck it back in. Now.”
Cramming my long, thick hair back in the hood with the wind whipping around us was like trying to repack a cut grain bag. Strands slipped out the more I tried to cram it back in, producing a growl under his breath.
His hand clutched the escaped tresses, tucking them in roughly, his fingers sliding over my ear and down my neck. His touch stiffened me in place, a shiver running through me at the feel of his calloused fingers on my bare neck, the way it trailed down to my shoulder.
“I told you to keep it hidden,” he snapped in my ear, dissolving the odd moment into ire.
“Sorry, I can’t control the wind, Drittsekk.” Dickbag.
A noise came up his throat. Retaking the reins, he slyly peered behind us, the men still keeping a steady distance from us.
“What, a big, strong Night Raven can’t handle a few scrawny men?” I clicked my tongue, tsking.
“To protect myself, sure. But for you?” He scoffed.
“I’m ready to let them have you.” He leaned into my ear, his body firm against mine.
“Do you know what they would do to you if I did?” I swallowed, feeling him harden against my spine, like he got off on the idea of my demise.
My breath fluttered and I tried to squirm away, but he used his elbow to pull me back.
“Let’s just say, you would be better off being eaten by the Jackal.
These people would keep you alive, while they took turns, then flay you open and string up your guts as a badge of honor. ”
The sincerity of his tone pinned my mouth together.
“Now keep your head down and shut up.”
My hands rolled into fists. Escaping him was in my every thought, but my father had taught me sometimes it was better to keep with the devil you knew than the one you didn’t.
Letting the Northerner believe his abductee was no longer fighting him would lower his guard. Make him relax, trip him up somewhere.
Every day I got further from my land, but until I was at the Night Kingdom’s border, I still had a chance. I could make it home.
The men finally stopped following us when we crossed out of their village. They watched us until we all faded into the dusky shadows.
A mile from the settlement, up an overgrown lane that branched off from the desolate road, we came upon the derelict tower perched on a hill overlooking the countryside.
Stone crumbled away from the exterior. The roof was sinking on one side, but a rusty raven weathervane still stood proudly on top.
“We’ll stay here tonight.” The Northerner turned the horse toward the structure.
“Here?” My eyes widened. “Are you serious?” We weren’t that far out of that creepy village.
“They won’t come here.” He slid off, taking the horses’ reins, strolling us up to the eroding fortification.
“Are you sure about that?”
“To them this place is cursed.”
“This whole land is cursed. Why is this any different?” Sliding my leg over, I slid off the horse, my feet stinging with the impact from the high fall.
The horse curved his neck, snapping its fangs at me.
“Fuck!” I leaped back. “Bad horse!”
The Northerner smirked, rubbing the beast’s nose like he was a good pet.
“We don’t have much of a choice. The next town is over a day’s ride away and we need to get off the road. The Jackals are still out there. Hunting us.”
Terror wormed through me at their name, and I swallowed back bile from the memories. The pain in my arm had been a continuous throb, and the drugs the Jackal had used on us were wearing off along with the adrenaline. It was becoming a painful ache, twisting my stomach over itself.