Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 9

  Without hesitating, Stanwyck drew his own sword, turned his attention back to the woman lying underneath the blankets and slowly walked over to her. He stood over her, knowing who it was hiding from his view now. Though he had feared her in the past, he feared her no longer, knowing that without Bloodbinder in her hands, she was not so deadly.

  Stanwyck took a deep breath before leaning forward and pulling the hood away from her face. He jumped back quickly, expecting her to jump to her feet in defense but she did not. Her eyes remained closed and though her face was pale and sunken, Stanwyck recognized her immediately. Never would he forget the face of his foe and now here she was, obviously sick and helpless at his feet. He raised his blade high into the air, his heart filled with elation at the knowledge that her life would end by the tip of his sword. He only wished that she would open her eyes to see him before he plunged his blade deep into her heart.

  Then suddenly, her eyes were open. She was staring up at him, wide-eyed and frightened. He could see that she was trying to move her arms and legs but lacked the strength to defend herself. It made Stanwyck laugh. He smiled down at her in triumph.

  …

  Rhada was in complete darkness. She had been for some time now, though she could not say for how long. Her nightmares had stopped suddenly and she was left with nothing. But she wasn’t alone, she knew that. She could hear whispering- she could sense someone’s presence. She sat motionless, quiet, waiting for whoever it was to reveal them self. But the darkness thickened and the whispers grew quieter. She could not hear what was being said. There was a growing sense of doom in her heart- a throbbing, vile pit in her stomach that grew in density and weight. She could not shake it and it made her feel as though she could not move.

  The whispering voices grew louder and something brushed against her arm. Rhada shivered. The air around her grew cold and though the darkness was heavy, she could see her breath as it escaped between her teeth. She pulled her arms in and folded them across her chest, as though that could save her from the icy chill that swirled around her.

  Something gripped her arm, made her turn her head. She could see now, through blinding light and blowing snow, the man who had trapped her in her dreams. He stood next to her on a plane of snow, gripping her arm tightly. His black hood was pulled down and his white hair billowed in the wind. His eyes were not humanly. They were milky and swirling. He was looking ahead, into the blizzard. When he turned towards her, he smiled and his eyes cleared, revealing a soft gray not unlike her own.

  He released his grip on her arm and raised his hand, opening his fingers to reveal within his palm a blue stone. But this stone was not like any stone Rhada had seen before. It was pulsing- beating like a heart. The surface of the stone was smooth but moving- it was swirling. It was as though she was staring at an entire ocean from above and far away, unable to see the violent, rolling waves, but watching it move as one body.

  “Watch.” Amag’mar said. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the stone and closed his eyes. The wind shifted and began to blow the falling snow in the opposite direction. Rhada shivered and leaned away from him, realizing the cold and wind were coming from him. He opened his eyes and they were glowing red. He opened his hand, revealing the stone once more. But it was changing. The azure glow was fading and the pulsing was slowing. Around the edges, a dark cloud was forming, flowing inward, swallowing the magic of the stone.

  Rhada cried out and tried to take it from him, tried to save the magic of the stone from dying, but Amag’mar pulled his hand back and stepped away from her. She knew she was too late to do anything when black smoke began spitting out through his fingers. It flowed down towards the ground, swirling around his legs and flowing over the snow-covered ground like a blanket. It wrapped around Rhada’s legs and she wanted to run from it, but there was nowhere for her to go. It flowed outward, like a sea of black fog, completely covering the ground which was within her view. And suddenly the ground began to shake. A rumbling could be heard from underneath the soil. Rhada stepped backward as snow and dirt began popping and flying into the air. She cried out in fright as skeletal hands jutted up from the ground, pulling the rest of themselves free of their frozen graves. They clambered to their feet and stood with glowing eyes, eyes that could see from the beyond the grave. Rhada spun and they were behind her as well.

  The shadow walkers shrieked- it was a deafening cry. Rhada covered her ears and closed her eyes tightly, wishing they would stop. She opened her eyes again when she heard them move. They were unsteady and clumsy but moved with frightening speed. They reached for her, grabbing her shoulders, her hair, her arms. She screamed as they tried to pull her off her feet. That’s when Amag’mar reached forward and grabbed her at the throat. He yanked her from their bony grasp and shoved the blackened stone into her hand.

  The shadow walkers stopped their advance. They stood motionless and even Amag’mar stepped away from her. She looked to him with curiosity as the red glow in his eyes faded, revealing the gray once more. She turned the stone over in her hand and peered down at it. It was no longer moving- just a black rock in her fingers, cold to the touch. The living, breathing stone of magic was dead; corrupted by the black magic of Amag’mar.

  But though the stone had died, she could feel life in it again. Her hand began to tingle as though the stone was slowly burning her flesh. She held the stone up and felt it pulsing and vibrating, whispering to her as though she could understand it.

  The shadow walkers suddenly began to shriek again. Rhada looked up, startled, and watched in amazement as they began to tremble and fall, piles of bones scattered across the cold ground. Amag’mar let out a sound that was not quite a scream, but more of a growl. He reached his hand out for the stone but Rhada pulled it away from him. The falling snow around them suddenly stopped and the cold air turned bright and warm. Rhada could see a fire in the distance. It was glowing through the black fog, making the cloud melt away as though it had never existed.

  A sudden shriek reached her ears. She looked back to Amag’mar but he was no longer standing next to her. He had vanished, perhaps with the fog. She opened her palm and the stone was gone as well. She suddenly felt ill- dizzy and weak. She felt hunger in her empty belly, growling angrily at her. Her throat was so dry she could not even form any saliva to swallow. She fell to her knees, shaking and nauseated. Her eyes focused on the fire before her, growing brighter as the world around her grew darker. It burned like a beacon in the night. The smell of its smoke mingled with that of pine wood and dirt. Rhada gasped and choked, trying to take in a breath of air. She was on her back now, lying on the cold ground and staring up at a stormy night sky. Bloodbinder was screaming in her ears though it was nowhere to be found. She moved her fingers around in the soil, trying to feel for the sword that was calling her back to consciousness but with no luck.

  The sword screamed again, louder this time and she turned her head in the direction the sound had come from, finding Protector Stanwyck standing over her, sword drawn, point aimed at her chest. She tried to open her mouth to speak, to beg him not to kill her, but her mouth was too dry for that. She tried moving her arms and legs to roll away from his sword but she was too weak.

  Stanwyck’s lips turned upward into a triumphant grin. “I was hoping you would wake. I wanted you to know who it was that ended your miserable life.”

  Rhada closed her eyes and waited for the impact of the blade. Instead, she heard the swift, whizzing of an arrow. The sound of it piercing through the air was familiar to her. Apparently, it was a familiar sound to Stanwyck as well, for he fell to the ground the moment he heard it. She saw the arrow zip through the dark of night like a bat is visible only by its wings blocking out the stars. She knew that had he not fallen when he did, Stanwyck would have the butt of an arrow protruding from his ear.

  Stanwyck’s sword was lying on the ground next to Rhada, and Stanwyck was lying on the other side of it. He was rubbing his chest and head, apparently searching for an arrow tha
t could have struck him.

  Rhada mustered what little strength she had and rolled to her side, gripping the hilt of his sword and pulling it closer to her. When Stanwyck saw what she was doing, he reached for the sword, putting his hand on the hilt above her grip. He stood and tried to yank the sword free but Rhada held to it tightly. She did not think she could pull it from his grip but at the very least, she could stop him from stabbing her with it.

  Just then, a loud, bellowing cry rang through the forest. Stanwyck and Rhada both turned to see a tall, muscular man with bulging arms and wide eyes, sword raised above head, rushing at them. Stanwyck realized he had no time to wrestle with Rhada so he raised his foot and kicked her hard in the gut. Her coiled fingers fell away from his sword and she rolled to her other side, clutching her stomach tightly and trying to breathe.

  From behind, Rhada heard the sound of steel meeting steel, clashing together in a ringing rage. Another arrow whizzed through the air but apparently missed its mark- the swordsmen fought on.

  Rhada closed her eyes tight and focused her attention on the pain. She imagined it as a ball, rolling over her belly. She pulled it inward, drawing it into her chest with a deep, laborious breath. She opened her lips and breathed it out, feeling some of the pressure melt away. She did it again, and when she opened her eyes, she was breathing normally.

  With a grunt of anguish, Rhada rolled to her stomach. She placed the palms of her hands on the ground and pushed herself to her knees. After that she needed to rest a moment. She turned her gaze out and watched the fighting men.

  Stanwyck had his back to her. The man he was fighting was tall, blonde, and in a rage. Light from the fire was making his face glow with a red anger. He brought his longsword upward and slashed through the air at Stanwyck. Stanwyck was quick however. He raised his own sword in defense, deflecting the strange man’s blow and countering with a forward thrust of his own. His sword met flesh, tearing through the man’s left lower side before he could step away. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees. Stanwyck wasted no time in raising his sword for the killing blow, but another arrow could be heard flying through the air. Stanwyck rolled away quickly, the arrow missing by less than an inch. Stanwyck scrambled to his feet again, while his opponent was blindly fishing in the dirt for his sword, unable to see through the pain of his wound.

  Rhada took another breath and pulled one foot out in front of her, planting it firmly into the ground. She pushed herself up with the other foot and stood on shaking legs. The world around her began to spin and the pain in her belly was still throbbing. She tried to take a step forward, but stumbled and nearly fell.

  There was a sound coming from the woods behind her. Something was moving within the shrubs, clumsily racing towards their camp. Mayvard pushed himself free of the bushes just in time to stop Stanwyck’s sword from cutting his foe’s throat.

  Stanwyck jumped back in surprise. He lowered his blade as Mayvard raised his. The archer stepped out of his hiding place, bow drawn and arrow nocked. He had it pointed directly at Stanwyck and there was no hope of him jumping out of the way now.

  The blonde man finally found his sword and stood, holding to his side. Blood was running freely between his fingers and dripping onto the ground.

  Stanwyck turned and looked at Rhada. Their eyes met through the darkness; she was still clutching her stomach where he had struck her but she stood tall and stoic, and he lowered his sword in defeat.

  “I almost had you.” He whispered. She wasn’t certain if he meant for her to hear his words but she did.

  “Pity for you.” She replied. She slowly walked over to him, knowing that if she moved too quickly the light-headedness she felt would cause her to fall. She stood before him and held out her right hand. Stanwyck grunted in anger and glowered at her, but handed over his sword all the same. He turned it over and held it out, pommel first. She grasped the hilt and pulled it away quickly.

  Rhada turned to the archer, who she vaguely recognized and knew he was one of her men from Axendra, and gestured for him to lower his arrow. He obeyed and they all stood staring at their new prisoner.

  “I gave the command to Captain Mayvard before leaving your camp that no harm should come to you. If you want that order to stand, I suggest you gather your belongings and leave.”

  Stanwyck glanced over at Mayvard, realizing for the first time who he had been traveling with. He then turned his eyes to the other two and finally looked back to Rhada.

  “Why not just kill me?” He asked, clearly confused as to why she did not attack. In truth, Rhada wondered why she did not just kill him. He was, after all, her enemy and he stood before her unarmed and helpless. He had tried to kill her moments ago, and given the opportunity, he would try again. Surely it would be better for her if she did away with him. She rolled his sword around in her hands and considered her options. Though he was her enemy, he was a good man at heart. His people of Tanis loved him. They would be devastated without him and they would hate her more if she took him away from them. She wished he would go home to Tanis and forget about this war, but she knew that was wishful thinking.

  Kill him!

  The voice took Rhada by surprise. She looked up, startled, feeling the cold in the air thicken and her throat tighten.

  You want to kill him!

  She looked around but knew she would find no one there. The voice was in her head. Hearing it gave her some reassurance that what she was about to do was the right thing. She fixed her gaze upon Stanwyck and stepped closer to him. She raised the sword in her hand and held it at his throat, threatening but not touching.

  “We have been here before.” She said. “And I let you live the first time. It would upset the King if I let you live again.” She saw Stanwyck tense, his arms and legs tightened and he swallowed hard in the back of his throat. “Fortunately for you, I care not for the King’s feelings.” She lowered the blade and turned it in her hands again.

  “However, I must ensure you will not follow us. And I feel I owe you for that kick to the gut you delivered to me a few moments ago.” She raised the sword again, grasping it high upon the hilt and tilting the blade outward. She brought it down swiftly, before he had time to react, and felt the pommel connect with his skull. He dropped to the ground as though he was dead, but Rhada could see his chest rising and falling with each breath. A slow stream of blood trickled down the side of his face and his eyelids twitched as they sometimes do when lost in dream.

  Mayvard stood dumbfounded for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He lowered his blade and nodded to Bayard.

  “Bayard and Barrett Raynold. What are the two of you doing out here?”

  “We were sent by Captain Theodoric to find you, on the King’s orders.” Bayard replied through gritted teeth. He finally dropped his sword and slid to the ground, his brother rushing to his aid.

  “I will be alright, brother.” He said, pushing Barrett’s fussing hands aside. He had been trying to pull Bayard’s tunic up to get a look at the wound. “The sword barely broke the surface of my skin.”

  “If the King sent you to find me, he must know of the rebellion.” Rhada said, lowering Stanwyck’s sword to the ground. It had become too heavy for her to hold.

  Bayard nodded. Barrett looked to Rhada with concern. “So war truly is coming to us?”

  “Aye.” Mayvard replied. He sheathed his sword then walked to where Rhada stood and placed a hand upon her shoulder.

  “I must say, I am relieved you are here. We need to get Rhada back to Axendra quickly.”

  Bayard nodded in agreement. He could not pull his gaze away from her pale, sickly face. “What happened to you, madam Protector?” He was watching the way she swayed on her feet, leaning against Mayvard for support.

  “I am ill.” Was all she said in reply.

  “We should take Stanwyck’s horse and leave him here. Perhaps his comrades will come looking for him.” Rhada said. Barrett shuffled to Mayvard’s and Stanwyck’s tied up horses and began loos
ening the tethers.

  “I assume you two have horses of your own?” Mayvard asked.

  “Yes, Captain. We left them on the road when we saw your fire through the trees.”

  “Good.” Mayvard wrapped his arm around Rhada’s shoulder and pulled her towards his horse. She saw the hilt of Bloodbinder sticking out from underneath the saddlebags and reached out to grab it. She pulled it free from the strap that held it and wrapped her arms around it, never wanting to let it go again. She felt a new wave of strength flow through her, strength she could have used several minutes ago when Stanwyck attacked.

  “I’ll help you in the saddle.” Mayvard said but Rhada shook her head.

  “I think I will be alright on my own.” She turned to the brown beast that stood before her and gripping Bloodbinder tightly with one hand placed her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up with the other. Once she was comfortable, she reached down and grabbed Mayvard’s waterskin. She filled her mouth with the cool, refreshing liquid and savored it, feeling it trickle down her throat slowly, coating the dryness like a wet blanket. She sighed with relief and took another, faster drink. She drank until the waterskin was dry and replaced it back in his bag.

  “Is there food?” She asked, feeling around in his bags for jerky or cheese or anything she could consume on their journey. Mayvard placed his hand into the bag and began shuffling around. He pulled out a loaf of bread, a handful of berries and a small chunk of cheese. Rhada took these with thanks and began ravenously tearing into the bread.

  Stanwyck stirred, turning his head from side-to-side and moaning but his eyes remained closed. Rhada knew he would wake soon.