“Woden Thorn,” The voice betrayed a dark smile. “We meet again.”
Letti remembered the blackness of the Udarov, the paralysis of the moments outside its branches. The creature spoke again, and Letti was forcibly reminded of beetles, spiders, and centipedes, things that crawled in the dark, forlorn places of the world. She felt her whole body react to the voice, her stomach begin to inch its way up her throat, her hands grow cold and warm and prickly. She felt her scalp tingle and her eyes begin to dart.
“Emarza.” Thorn’s voice was cold, and Letti returned to herself for its steadiness.
Letti looked around and found Valary kneeling on the ground, his hands over his ears, his mouth open in a silent scream. Metred stood, eyes glazed over, mouth open slightly, as if he were asleep standing up.
“I want to thank you for accepting my invitation.” Emarza spoke again. Every word felt as though it were slithering down Letti’s throat, singeing and soothing the inside of her as it dripped from the surrounding air.
“Why don’t you show yourself. I have guests who would like to meet you.” Thorn answered.
Letti looked at him as if he were going mad. What is he playing at? Letti prayed he knew. She had a strange fear that this engagement was out of even Thorn’s ability.
“I don’t have that blood anymore.” A horrible clacking sound filled the square, and Letti whipped around.
Out of a doorway, a figure emerged. Dressed in black and seemingly barefoot, the creature moved towards them slowly. Letti had the impression it was crawling, as would a spider or any centipede, but for its two legs. Its feet clicked on the stones.
“I know I look terrible, girl.” Emarza spoke directly to Letti. “Your mothers would not have let you know a creature such as I existed, would they?”
Letti felt her feet plant into the ground. His attention made her tremble, but it also seemed to render her immobile. Letti struggled to respond.
“And you, you have found a ward!” Emarza cackled evilly. His head snapped to Thorn’s face unnaturally quickly, like a bird. “A haelfin raised by a witch and a nun.” Emarza’s breathing sounded labored, as though he were breathing through ash. “Can she replace the bairn you lost all those years ago?” He crooned. “I don’t think so.”
Emarza turned back to Letti. He was close enough now that Letti could see his ruined face. His skin was blackened, as if his body were a corpse walking from the wreckage of a burned house. His cheeks sunk into his face, and his nose seemed to flatten horribly. His eyes were the worst features Letti had ever seen. They were pure black, without pupil, without whites. Letti could not tell where the creature was looking. It unnerved her.
“Don’t be frightened.” Thorn said softly. “He cannot see you, not in the way I can. He has lost his ability to perceive good things.”
“Don’t speak of me so.” Emarza hissed, and Letti could have sworn his speech would have scared a snake. “I know majik like you never will. Like the Fae never will. I am unique Woden Thorn. A miracle.”
“You are a power-hungry serpent, slave to your ambition.” Thorn said quietly. “You are an evil thing now.”
“I am what I was always meant to be.” Emarza grasped his sword. “You think you can best me? I subdued your power from spans away. I led you to the black teeth and delivered the best bait in the world to kings. I destroyed the violet villages just to bring you here.” The remnants of his mouth turned up in an approximation of a smile. “And now I have you. Stalker of the west, my great nemesis.” Emarza let the s drag out. “And I have the girl.”
Thorn shifted slightly.
“Oh, now you protect her. Does this mean you have something to live for now, Woden Thorn?” Emarza laughed, his voice high and horrible. Valary fell over, and Metred slid to his knees. “Pity. I had an offer for you. I have found a way to kill you, if you are still interested in dying.” Emarza sniffed.
A funny look came over Thorn’s face, and he stilled. Letti could tell a deep battle waged in him, a battle fought between the pieces of himself for centuries.
“He cannot give you peace, Thorn.” Letti whispered. Her voice was so soft she did not know if he heard her. “He is only pain.”
Emarza moved so fast, Letti did not have time to react. His sword crashed down upon her, meeting Thorn’s above her head.
“He is a failure, little haelfin.” Emarza’s breath smelled of dead things. “He was too weak. The possibility of power destroyed him. You follow him without knowing who he could have been.” Emarza cocked his head and licked his lips. His tongue was forked. “Your blood will taste wonderful.” He whispered. “It will satisfy my bones.”
With a roar, Thorn wrenched Emarza’s blade from over Letti’s head. The two began to fight, faster than Letti had ever seen any blades move, faster than she’d ever seen Candor move.
Thorn was outmatched. It was evident to all involved. With Emarza distracted, however, Metred and Valary recovered slightly. Both staggered to their feet, watching with mounting horror the scene that unfolded in front of them.
~.~
“What is it?” Metred asked.
“That is your majikal consultant.” Letti informed him grimly. Her voice was steady. She gripped her cutlass. “This is what Durevin has aligned itself with.” She turned to look at him.
“What do we do now?” Valary asked.
“We fight.” Letti drew he sword and stepped forward. She felt ill, adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she yelled.
The slight pause was all Thorn needed to press his attack. Letti, Valary, and Metred circled around Emarza’s back, forcing him to whirl and jab. It was all any of them could do parry.
Letti saw Emarza’s sword slice out of the corner of her eye. Metred fell, his chest torn open.
“Leave off!” Thorn howled.
Letti and Valary dropped back, allowing the two witches to continue fighting. Letti ran to Metred’s side. His wound was deep, cut through the ribs. Letti wondered how hard Emarza had struck the man.
“Stay.” Letti intoned, her voice shaking. “Stay with us.”
Metred looked up at her, eyes urgent. He whispered, “Do not let Durevin, do not let them—”
But his words were lost as a gurgle of blood filled his mouth, and Metred’s head dropped back. He was dead.
Valary and Letti turned to the shrinking clicks and clangs from the battle.
“He will not win this.” Valary whispered.
“No.” Letti felt tears fall down her cheeks. “I do not know what to do.”
As the two fought on, Letti and Valary stood, hands at their sides, completely helpless. The night began to fade, and Letti wondered how long they had been in the courtyard.
“Soldiers will be rising soon.” Letti hissed. They needed to get out of there.
Just as Letti began to look around, assessing any hope of escape, she heard a soft breath of air escape Thorn. She turned in horror to see him fall backwards, a slice on his ribcage. Emarza pounced, but instead of killing him, the creature paused for a moment. He leaned forward, his ruined head next to Thorn’s ear, and whispered something. Thorn began to writhe, his body squirming in horror, trying to throw the creature’s weight from his body.
Emarza worked his way down Thorn’s body until his head lay right above the slash on Thorn’s side. In a horribly intimate maneuver, Emarza’s forked tongue flicked out and licked Thorn’s dripping blood. He lapped at it, and Letti turned away, finding the action more violating than almost anything she had yet seen.
When she turned back, she jumped; Emarza stood not a hairsbreadth from her face. “Only your blood can save him.” He cocked his head. “I will see you in Durevin, haelfin. Maybe your mothers will even still be alive to watch us tear you apart.”
He cackled with pure glee before turning and sprinting into the lightening city.
“Thorn.” Letti ran to her friend and dropped to his side. His wound was not closing as they usually did. Thorn groaned.
“Valary, help me.” Letti gasped.
Together, the two propped him up and eventually hauled the big man to his feet.
“Thorn, you’ve got to move your legs.” Letti huffed.
Thorn was dead weight; his eyelids flickered, and his breath grew ragged.
“We need to get out of here.” Letti looked at Valary. “Where is the way out?”
“Milk,” Thorn rasped. Letti stilled. “I need milk.”
Letti glanced at Valary, bewildered. “Milk?” She whispered.
“Come on.” Valary began to tug the trio towards a darkened street. “I know a place.”
Why would he want milk? Letti thought frantically. She thought of the way Thorn had behaved when the assassins’ blades had touched him outside the Udarov. He had not called for milk then.
Together, they staggered through street after street, the morning growing ever closer as they moved.
“Where is everyone?” Letti hissed to Valary. “Where are the soldiers?”
They had not exactly been quiet. Thorn’s feet dragged on the paving stones, and Valary and Letti’s breath came in loud puffs. Twice they’d stumbled, nearly dropping Thorn to the ground.
“I don’t know, Letti.” Valary gritted. “Can we worry about one thing at a time?”
Letti did not answer. She did not have the breath.
“Here.” Valary slowed at the shadow of a door, set into the sandstone structure. A trough of violet water ran into the home through a little opening next to the side of the door.
“This is my aunt’s.” Valary whispered. “Quickly.”
Valary and Letti dragged Thorn inside and seated his limp body by the door. He was muttering incoherently.
“No!” Letti whipped around as a scream tore from Valary. He had crumpled.
Letti had but a moment to recognize the carnage in the house, the utter chaos of the interior before she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Valary.
“No, merciful Anaia, creator of sand and sea, do not let them be gone, bring them back to me!” Valary bent over a body. Letti assumed it was his aunt; the woman bore the same red hair as Valary, her face the same olive hue. Her eyes, Letti quivered with revulsion, her eyes had been torn from their sockets, leaving black and bloodied pits behind.
In her hand, a tiny glass replica of a fish tail lay, as if she had been clutching at a talisman. “Mother.” Valary whimpered. Letti’s stomach dropped.
“We have to go,” Letti whispered urgently. “Valary, we have to get out of here.”
This is why there are no soldiers, Letti thought grimly. They have fled a broken village.
Letti moved slowly around the little room, disturbing debris, desperately trying to find answers. Her vision wavered in and out, focusing on the darkened butchery in front of her and flickering into memories, images of Hroth and her parents, her village burned. A lightness caught her eye, and Letti stumbled forward to the counter that lined the wall. On it, perfectly still, as if it had not been disturbed for days, sat a glass jar of milk. Three dark fruits sat next to it, perfectly aligned. Letti did not stop to think about the agency, the forethought that had gone into this preparation. She thought only of the milk and of Thorn’s desperation.
Letti grabbed the milk and dashed back to Thorn, whose body had begun to shake. His mouth frothed slightly, spittle lightening his lips.
“Milk, Thorn,” Letti tried to tip his chin back. “Open your mouth.”
Thorn either didn’t hear her, or he could not make his body react. Letti pried his jaw open and thrust the mouth of the jar onto his tongue. As it emptied down his throat, Thorn began to cough uncontrollably before collapsing. His shaking slowed, and his eyes fluttered shut.
Satisfied that Thorn was not in as immediate danger as Valary was, Letti raced back to her new friend, who had moved to the far side of the room where a staircase disappeared upwards.
“Abba.” Valary’s shoulders shook. He sobbed.
Letti knew what she had to do, and she hated herself for it. As gently as she could, Letti put her arm around Valary. She applied the least pressure she could and tugged him slightly from the floor. He stood, almost as if unaware he was doing so. Letti led him back through the broken chairs, the smashed table, past the body of his mother. “Don’t look.” She whispered.
Approaching Thorn, Letti turned Valary to face her. She put her remaining hand on his chin and forced him to meet her eyes.
“Valary, I need your help now. Help me get Thorn out of the city. Nothing you can do will bring them back. It hurts more than anything, I know. But you must think of yourself now. Please.” Letti entreated her friend, her voice breaking at the end. Her heart ached for the young man; she knew what it felt like to lose an entire world in an instant.
Valary nodded slowly. He said nothing, but he turned and bent over, sliding his shoulder under Thorn’s arm.
“Thank you.” Letti whispered. She too slid herself under Thorn.
“I can walk.” Thorn slurred.
Flushed with utter relief, Letti looked up at Thorn. “No, you can’t.” She said. “You are hurt. What do you need?”
“Fae blood,” Thorn muttered. “I need Candor.”
“Candor is not with us.” Letti reminded Thorn. She gestured to Valary who began moving out the front door. They pushed through the empty streets.
“I need new magic.” Thorn muttered. His eyes were beginning to droop.
“We will call the horses shortly.” Letti tried to reassure him. Something warm began to seep into her tunic.
Letti looked down. Thorn’s side was oozing, but it was not the red blood of humans. Whatever was emanating from his side was black and thick. It ran over his shirt almost as if it were alive. Letti jumped back, dropping Thorn to the ground. He groaned, then lay still.
“What?” Valary hissed.
“There’s something on him.” Letti leaned forward to inspect the wound.
“We don’t have time, Letti.” Valary’s voice was strained. His eyes still shed tears, and his face reflected in the early morning light the blotchy red from crying.
As gingerly as she could, Letti lifted Thorn again, pressing herself against his side and shuddering as she felt the horrible warmth begin to seep into her again.
“How far?” She asked.
“Not far.” Valary pointed. “We are almost to the wall.”
Letti could see it. The wall loomed not half a span ahead of them. The water had filled all the aqueducts in the city. The light purple water contrasted beautifully against the dull, sand colored city. Letti wished she had the presence of mind to appreciate it. For a moment, Candor flashed through her mind. She would have loved this, Letti thought. Not the blood and despair, of course, but the exploration of yet another unknown place.
Letti realized she was nearly hallucinating. She returned to herself quickly. The wall was not far now, and Letti could see a large door carved into it. Remembering Thorn’s instructions, Letti began to whistle.
She whistled the sad tune that Thorn had hummed to her not a day prior. She whistled it until her lips hurt, and then she whistled it again. Valary did not comment; his face told her he was in utter shock. It was a miracle he was still moving forward. Letti could not remember if she had been in as much shock. She blew the song through her lips, hoping against hope that the horses would hear her.
The door swallowed them, and for a moment, all Letti could see to her side was a sandy wall of stone. The morning broke over them, a warm sun alit upon their faces, and Letti gasped.
Ean, Enri, and Bert stood not ten lengths from the door. Letti could have cried.
“Valary,” she laughed, her eyes filling with tears. “They came.”
Ean stamped his foot. Letti lay Thorn on the ground and stroked Ean’s nose. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
With speed, Letti found Thorn’s pack on Enri’s back and untied it, letting it thud to the ground. Panicky, Letti began to rummage through it, searching for the little vial he had showed her at Garthien’s.
“Please be in here,” Letti muttered.
Her hand closed around a tiny glass cylinder. She withdrew it. It was the salve.
“Take his shirt off.” Letti ordered Valary.
He did so, his hands shaking and swollen. “Rip it into pieces.”
Letti listened to the harsh shredding of Thorn’s tunic as she unstoppered the vial with her teeth. Gently, she rolled Thorn onto his side as much as she could, before spreading the cream onto his gash. The dark liquid began to bubble, sliding off his body as if it had been neutralized. Still his wound did not close. Thorn groaned again, his breath coming quickly.
“Thorn,” Letti shook him. “Thorn!”
He did not answer.
Letti sat back on her haunches, thinking fast.
“Letti.” Valary handed her the makeshift bandages. He bent and propped Thorn up as best he could.
Letti set to wrapping Thorn’s torso, taking care to tighten the bandages. Durevin is too far to the north, and we don’t know anyone there. Letti thought frantically. Garthien is being watched. Letti wanted to cry and scream in frustration. She was in the very middle of the country with no majik, no new magic, and nobody to help. She gnashed, her teeth, ignoring Valary’s vacant expression. As she tied the last piece of the tunic into position, Letti came to a conclusion.
“Help time him to me.” Letti ordered Valary. Carefully, they made to lift Thorn onto Ean.
The horse, somehow understanding what they needed, bent to all fours, as if he were about to lie down. Letti and Valary thrust Thorn’s leg over the saddle, Letti climbing on as well.
“Letti, let me do it.” Valary said as Letti began to situate herself. “You need to navigate.”
Reluctantly, Letti withdrew herself from Ean’s saddle. “Can you ride?” She asked dubiously.
“I’ll figure it out.” Valary seemed to return to himself somewhat as he began to recognize the depth of their crisis.
Valary took her spot, and Letti grabbed Thorn’s rope from his pack. Trying to balance security with comfort, Letti bound Thorn’s drooping body to Valary’s strong, lithe frame.
“Where are we going?” He asked as Ean stood once more. Letti stroked his neck. They had a long ride in front of them.
“We are going south.” Letti said softly, as she replaced Thorn’s belongings and tied his ruck back to Enri. She swung up on Bert, feeling the largesse of the horse underneath her. They would have to switch horses soon, she knew. Ean would need a break.
“South?” Valary asked, puzzled. The rising sun had dried what remained of his tears, leaving streaks of salt along his cheeks. Letti thought it made him look young. She had never felt so old.
“We are going to one of two peoples I know who would fix a body, just to subject it to violence again.” Letti said grimly. “We are going to the Zondarians.”
She turned Bert to the south and urged him forward.
Let’s hope they don’t kill us first.
~.~
