The Crimson Spark, page 19
part #1 of Vagabond Legacy Series
The man stared at Leo, blood running from his throat, eyes wide with shock. He let out one terrible, rattling breath and then stumbled and fell back against the tree. Leo looked on in horror, not believing what he’d done. It had all happened so quickly.
The dying man took the opal from around his neck. With what looked like tremendous effort, he raised the stone to his eyes. Leo saw a light reflected there, and the man’s eyes rolled over blindly. He let out one last rattling breath, then nothing.
Leo stepped back, horrified. Without warning he was on his hands and knees heaving the contents of his stomach up onto the leaves. He wretched until there was nothing left.
He had killed a man. He, Leonardo Fortunato, had cut a man’s throat and watched him bleed out like an animal. The gasp of the dying man, of the life he’d ended, danced before his view no matter how hard he tried to shut it out. It hadn’t been skill, or even luck. The man simply hadn’t believed Leo to be a killer. Well, he was wrong. Dreadful guilt sat like a weight on his chest.
The man still sat there, collapsed against the tree, covered in blood. Leo looked at his face, forcing himself to memorize it. Then something glinted in the briar’s hand and Leo realized that he still held the opal.
He crouched down and gingerly removed it. Why had the man been so transfixed on this, even as he died? Leo saw something like fire, or light, flickering within the depths of the gem. He squinted and held the gem closer and found himself somewhere else entirely.
He was in the arms of a woman, his wife. They were dancing. Leo wasn’t sure how he knew but he was certain this was his wife. He wasn’t shy about the embrace, she was his and he was hers. She was so warm, so perfect, that he thought he would stay with her like this forever. All the darkness, all the cruelty of the world became fantasy when she held him like this. Like they were the only two on earth. He would—
“Leo!”
Leo was jarred from the embrace, and vaguely aware of slimy hands, prying the gem from his fingers. Gem? What gem? He was dancing with his wife.
“It’s not real!” Kokaleth’s voice came like thunder, bursting through his reverie as the gem was wrenched away. Reality came rushing back to meet him and he fell back, gasping. He was back on the forest floor. With a jolt he realized there were tears in his eyes. He stared at the corpse, the man he’d killed, his sadness so heavy it might just drag him down into the earth and bury him. Just outside his reach, the opal lay, glowing faintly in the moonlight.
28
Boiling Point
Nea couldn’t sleep. Her mind was full of too many questions she didn’t want to answer. A walk in the moonlight was as good a way as any to clear her head. She had drifted down the empty streets for a little while but eventually found herself in the cemetery. Always the quietest place in any town. It had been built beside a pond. The moonlight shone off the water and stone graves making Nea feel at peace.
Nea caught a glimpse of her reflection in the pond’s surface and winced. She was amazed at how much longer her hair was, she’d forgotten to keep it short.
Too much else to think about.
Nea dipped her knife into the water, and started hacking away her bangs. She could’ve used scissors; Cain undoubtedly had some among her tools but Nea liked the jagged way her hair looked after the knife was through, like a boy who couldn’t be arsed to do it properly.
When she was finished, Nea tugged at the wet locks, admiring her handy-work. Even she was astonished at how restless she felt. She wanted to run, burn away this energy and get some rest. Or…
She looked around, there wasn’t a soul in sight. The town had long since gone to sleep. Carefully, Nea got to her feet.
Don’t you dare.
The “education” aspects of life at Glatman had been little more than window dressing. Designed to teach them how to act and a few tricks to entertain. She hated every second of it. Almost. Ever since she was a little girl, Nea had loved to dance. Even before she’d been sent to that damn school. Their dance lessons at Glatman had been largely ceremonial, but the love of it hadn’t left her. Nea had enjoyed the rhythm, it was liberating, there was freedom in it. And Nea had precious little of that at Glatman.
Nea hadn’t danced in some time. It embarrassed her terribly, especially now. The needling voice in the back of her head mocking her for enjoying something so feminine. It was shameful, just another thing about her that was weak. Yet when she did dance, she didn’t feel weak at all. She felt alive, happy and free, as though she’d never been sent to Glatman at all. As though she were still that happy little girl.
Movement – out of the corner of her eye – Nea stopped dancing, spinning around even as two large shapes collided with her. She was seized her by the arms, suddenly and violently jerking her down. She swept a kick into the knees of one of her assailants, hitting him hard. He lost his grip and she wrenched herself free and reached for her bow, but she was seized around the waist and dragged back. Nea whirled on the attacker. Then stopped, fists hanging limply in midair. She recognized the ginger-hair. It was Rupert, one of the boys from the pub.
That momentary hesitation was enough, the other boy, one of the brothers, was behind her again. He seized both of her arms behind her back and held them there. Rupert and the second brother held her shoulders. She flailed about madly in desperation, but it was no use. A howl escaped from her lips, again she was at the mercy of those more powerful.
No! Do something!
“Well, what do we have here?” asked Jason, stepping out from behind a tree. He looked her up and down, contempt on his face. “Lady Cain’s little man, dancing in the moonlight?”
Weak! So weak!
“I’ll kill you!” Nea snarled at him.
“I’m trembling,” Jason laughed. “There was something funny about you, couldn’t put me damn finger on it until we were fighting; bulges in the wrong spots.” He lifted her shirt revealing her binding.
They can see you!
The rage from when she’d slammed that girl’s face back in Limani, flared back up. Nea struggled fiercely but they locked her arms tight, laughing.
All she could do was stand there in her binding, not looking remotely like a boy now. It was coming back in waves. Glatman Finishing School, the hours, days, weeks, years she’d spent, a walking corpse. Her mind was blank, filled with memory after terrible memory dragging her away from reality. It was like trying to swim up a waterfall. Jason was moving closer now.
“Don’t have much to begin with,” he laughed. “Why tie them up?”
“Little slut wanted to run around playing soldier,” said one of the brothers.
A terribly familiar look came across Jason’s leering face. “Did she? Well I think she needs to be taught a lesson, don’t you?”
There was a murmur from the other boys.
Jason’s eyes narrowed and he seized Nea by the chin. “What are you going to do now little man?”
Nea felt his hands on her body and a wave of white-hot madness engulfed her. She snapped at his wandering fingers. She tasted blood, but Jason struck her across the face with his free hand before she could bite any deeper.
“Hold her down,” he ordered and Nea felt herself being pinned on her stomach. The rage boiled impotently, she thrashed and screamed but there were too many people holding her down.
No! No, you can’t let them!
She wanted to die, to lose consciousness, to be anywhere but here. All around her was the sound of jeering laughter. She was so weak. Despite everything, these idiots had overpowered her.
Pathetic.
Then one of the boys let out a cry of alarm and the arms pinning her to the ground loosened. Nea exploded out of their grasp, scrambling away. The boys were in a panic, there was someone else in the clearing now. Jason was already on the ground, unconscious, his friends had swiftly broken ranks as the newcomer scattered them with her fists. And just like that it was over.
Cain stared at Nea and Nea stared back.
No, please not her too.
But there was no covering up now. Cain could see her for what she truly was, a weak, pathetic, scared little girl who couldn’t even defend herself.
Nea staggered to her feet searching for the wave of anger. The feral rage that she’d had before, where had it gone? She needed it back. She needed that strength. For a long time they just stared at each other.
Run.
She’d been trussed up and helpless, just as she’d been at Glatman. Her disguise had done nothing, not a damn thing except given her the illusion that she was stronger. What an idiot she’d been, all of that talk, all of that swagger and she’d been brought back to where it all started. If it hadn’t been for Cain…
Now Cain knew as well. Nea couldn’t bear the knight looking at her like that. That terrible, tender, pity. It was worse than any pain on this earth.
Run.
“I knew,” said Cain, her voice muffled.
“You…you what?”
“I knew from the minute I saw you. It’s okay Nea, a lot of girls on the run—”
“You knew?” Nea said almost hysterically. “You knew the whole time and you just let me pretend?”
“Nea—”
“Shut up!” she screamed, driving her fists into the dirt. “You don’t understand a damn thing. Nobody can see me like this! I trusted you! I trusted you and you’re just like everyone else.”
Cain refused to break the stare, her eyes shining. “I didn’t realize… I thought you were just keeping yourself safe. I didn’t realize it was so important.”
Nea turned away, and her eyes fell on the crumpled form of Jason, knocked to the ground by one of Cain’s punches.
Look at him, lying there all helpless.
The rage returned, filling her with renewed vigor and she pressed her foot to his throat. She could crush his neck under her boot just like she’d smashed that stupid girl’s face back in Limani. And that had just been for seeing her binding – he had done far more than that.
They found you out. They touched you.
She was aware of hands again, this time pulling her away from the unconscious boy. She struggled and screamed, but Cain’s grip was as strong as it had been their first night together and Nea was just as helpless.
“Let me go!”
“Nea…”
She struck Cain across the face, sending her staggering back.
Cain righted herself, eyes shining. Then Nea struck her again and again, knocking her to the ground. She wanted to beat that sympathetic look off of her damn face. But no matter how hard Nea hit her, the flood of old memories refused to stop.
She’s letting you. She’s letting you hit her because you’re weak and she knows it.
Cain stared back her, her face bloodied but unharmed.
Run.
Nea ran.
“What are you doing?” Cain called behind her. “The grassers are still after you!”
But Nea didn’t listen, she couldn’t listen. She just ran, she wanted to get away, wanted to cover herself, but she could never hide it from the person it hurt the most.
You’re not a boy or a girl. Just a monster.
She wanted to cry out again. But she had no more rage left in her; the fire had burned itself out. She was as docile as a drunk; her movements slow and awkward as she ran.
Why does it hurt so much?
She had run away before, it was part of who she was. The only reason she’d been traveling with Cain was because it had been a better alternative than the damn grassers.
You could’ve left any time you wanted to.
Cain. She couldn’t lie to herself. It had always been Cain.
For hours she ran through the woods, blind and mad with grief. Unaware of how far she’d gone or what direction she was headed, all she knew was that she needed to get away. Nea stumbled into a clearing, halting to catch her breath, when a man on horseback came upon her like a shadow. She knew who it was instantly. He wore the same dark cloak held together by that unmistakable brooch, one of The Black Briars.
“You know where this road leads Nea,” he said, his hood up so she couldn’t see his face.
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“The slaving companies will find you. You’ll be right back where you started, unless you come with us.”
“Go to hell!” said Nea. “I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m finished with all this.”
“Are you?” The briar was unmoved by her protest.
Nea nodded. “I’ve had enough.”
“Did we not show you enough injustice, enough of the misery? Would you have us send you the long route, past the mass graves of the Feryls, or show you the husks of those lost in the catacomb city? You see the horrors brought about by Chiron and his cowardice, and you turn away? Are you truly that selfish?”
Nea stared at him for a long time, “I don’t know anymore. I don’t blame you lot for being angry, hell I’ll even wish you good luck. But you’ll have to do this without me.”
“Where will you go?”
“West,” said Nea commanding herself to remember that which had been her goal all along.
“And you don’t think that this misery will follow you?”
Nea stopped her horse. “What?”
“You can’t outrun the darkness Nea. It’s burned into your soul like that brand upon your finger, casting scars upon the mind. It’s within us all. I see it in you clear as day; Quinnel, the father and Brumani saw it as well, else they wouldn’t have sent you on.”
Nea looked off, somewhere into the darkness. Was he right? Would this pain follow her everywhere? And because of Cain she no longer had the rage to keep it at bay.
“You really want me to come with you?”
“Now that Captain Cain is no longer a factor, we’re willing to welcome you with open arms.”
“The hell do you mean no longer a factor?”
“She knows our secrets, knows where our trail leads. We hadn’t wanted to kill her yet, but you’ve left us no choice.”
A chill ran down Nea’s spine. “W… what?”
“Our agents are dealing with her as we speak.”
Nea’s drew her bow. “Get the hell out of my way.”
“Nea you know that I can’t—”
He hadn’t expected Nea to shoot first, or perhaps to shoot him at all. She did, and fast, faster than she’d ever shot in her life. He was stunned for a moment, staring down at the arrow protruding from his stomach. Then the shaft broke off and the burrower began to drill its way into his gut. He fell from his horse in a crumpled pile.
Nea paid him no mind. Ignoring his cries, ignoring the voice in her head that screamed at her to stop, she mounted the Briar’s horse. Her mind was made up. Every logical impulse ignored, Nea was not going to leave her friend to die. She would not run, not this time.
29
Boil Dry
The cemetery was deserted. So she guided her horse back down the road towards the inn. Nea nearly crashed into the stable but she refused to slow down. She righted the animal, casting an eye around the stable. Cain’s horse was nowhere to be seen but there were tracks, fresh ones. They were deep too, the horse had made a mad dash from the stables.
God don’t let me be too late.
Nea followed the tracks down the road and east, the town giving way to farmlands ripe with the last harvest before winter. It was here that Nea saw the other tracks; she couldn’t tell how many, but Cain’s horse had not been alone.
A faint light caught her eye, six pinpricks dancing about in the darkness. As she drew closer she saw to her horror that they were torches.
Six riders were circling a massive field of rye, their torchlight casting the crop in an orange glow. She couldn’t quite make them out from where she was, but Nea had little doubt in her mind who they were. Now where in the hell was Cain?
The knight’s tracks transformed into a path of beaten down rye, leading into the field. But Nea couldn’t see any sign of a horse. The light was growing, leaping up into the sky with a horrible crackling sound.
They’re burning the field.
Her horse reared up in panic and Nea leapt from the saddle, crashing down into the rye, she hit the ground sprinting as fast as she could along the trail. The fire was closing in now, impossibly fast. The rye was being swept up in droves and devoured by the hungry blaze. Then she caught sight of a figure at the end of the trail, slumped over and not moving.
No!
Cain’s limp form was on the ground, not ten feet away, pinned under her horse’s arrow riddled corpse.
“Cain!”
Please don’t be dead, God please.
She’d hit her head, badly, her soft face covered in a scarlet mask of blood. “Wake up damn it,” Nea shook her by the shoulders, but Cain didn’t move. Was she breathing? For a few horrible moments, the only sound to be heard was the roar of the fire, drawing ever closer, then—
“N…Nea?”
“Cain!” For the briefest moment, Nea forgot everything and threw her arms around Cain’s neck.
“You came back,” she whispered.
“Can you move?”
Cain nodded and together they wrenched her legs free. Nea thanked every god she could think of that the lady knight’s legs weren’t in pieces. She helped Cain stand. Her movements were little more than unfocused twitches and she was in constant danger of falling over.
She’s in a bad way.
“Lean on me,” Nea told the knight. Cain nodded confusedly, and bent to let Nea help her. Together they moved through the rye step by step. “Come on,” Nea said, half yelling, half crying.
