It was hard to see anything past the men and women blocking his way. Sweat stung his eyes. He could just about make out the man he’d believed to be the leader, grabbing the would-be sacrifice’s arm and pulling him away from the fight.
Despite the poison burning in his veins, Doran chuckled. He could hardly call this a fight. Nine nude people with masks glared at him as menacingly as they could manage in this bizarre situation, and only one of them had a weapon. Unless more were very well concealed, and that thought made him laugh even more. He’d definitely been in worse brawls.
He did his best to control his voice. “Step aside.”
They threw themselves at him. His sight blurred. He rolled out of their way just before their hands would have torn at his clothes. The sudden movement made the world spin.
As much as the poison allowed, he darted toward the old man and the boy. Only now did he notice that the Hjevan was bleeding a little. The cultist had cut his stomach in several places, but none of the cuts looked deep. Scattered drops of red fell to the ground and soaked the earth.
If he was in any pain, he didn’t show it.
Doran’s knife went into the man’s back before the cultist could spin around. Doran retrieved his weapon, sheathed one blade, and took the Hjevan’s hand.
“Come on,” Doran said. “We’ll get you away from this madness.”
The young man struggled, but the effort was half-hearted and Doran was stronger. He threw the Hjevan over one shoulder, staggered a little, and dashed for it. He only needed to make it to the road. Once they were safe, he could collapse.
The angry glares of nine fanatics burned into his back as he left the forest behind with their sacrifice over his shoulder. On any other day he might have worried why the worst they could do was glare. Perhaps they weren’t following because they were happy that someone’s blood was spilled, even if it was their ritual leader. Maybe they didn’t like the man and were secretly relieved he was dead. Doran didn’t care, and he didn’t have time to contemplate complex evil-cult behaviours.
All that mattered was getting far away from them before he collapsed from the poison with a half-naked, bleeding Hjevan over his shoulders.
We are capable of horrible acts to keep the people we love safe. I’ve gone to terrible lengths to shield my family from what I’ve done, and I’ll do worse before my confession is over and after I wake if it ensures their continued safety.
Chapter 5
840
They didn’t make it one step past the road before the man who thought he’d rescued 840 passed out.
840 sat next to him. What was he supposed to do now? Was this part of his trial? Was his Lord still testing his resolve?
He was restless, his feet itching to get up and walk back to the Elders. Itching, also, to walk the other way and never come back. Was this the doubt and the nerves Elder Pios had spoken of, or was it fear? He was raised to be fearless, but he’d always been told that he was a terrible liar too. He couldn’t lie now; the part of himself he’d buried and hidden was relieved to be away.
Next to him, the man wheezed. 840 didn’t know what to make of him. The way the man had walked into the clearing, so sure of himself and so confident, had woken something in 840. In the village, they weren’t allowed any connection to the outside world. Elder Pios had told him outsiders were barbaric and didn’t understand they gave themselves to a sacred cause. That had been the end of that. 840 hadn’t asked again, and he’d tried not to think about it either.
Seeing this man now reignited his curiosity.
The stranger did look shabby, and even a little barbaric. He hadn’t shaved in a while, so dark stubble was just growing into a softer beard, and a scar ran across one half of his face. He was also covered in sweat, and his wheezing was getting worse. Maybe he was dying.
A cart was coming their way. 840 didn’t know this man’s intentions, but he was sure the man had thought he was doing the right thing by taking 840 away from the village. Despite his obvious bad health, he’d taken 840 along with him.
He should return to the village.
He should repay this man’s favour.
840 wanted to lie back and gaze at the sky. He remembered now he’d done this often as a child, before they left Hjeva. His mind had wandered and he’d been able to solve the toughest problems, such as whether he should stay out a little longer or help his Ma prepare dinner.
It all seemed like a very long time ago.
In the village, there’d been no time for daydreaming. The Elders had always kept him busy. But now—
840 leaned back just a little, closed his eyes… and hit an invisible wall. He couldn’t do it. He might still make it back to the village; it wouldn’t do any good if the Elders found out.
The cart drew closer. The stranger’s breathing had slowed down; 840 could barely see the rise and fall of his chest.
He stood and waved at the driver. “Excuse me?”
The driver stopped the cart and regarded 840 and the stranger on the ground.
“Is he all right?”
“He’s, erm… I think he’s dying. Can you—” 840 swallowed. This was too much like the situation that had brought him and his parents to the village ten years ago. The cart looked the same, the driver had smiled then too, and for all 840 knew they were even on the same road. His hands were sweaty. He took a deep breath.
A strong warrior, not a weak child. Where was his strength now?
“Can you take us to the nearest village?”
The smile on the man’s face disappeared. “How do I know you’re not going to rob me the moment I jump off my seat?”
840 didn’t know what to say. The Elders had taught him endurance suffering pain, not how to hold a conversation.
“He’s wheezing. I think he has trouble breathing.”
The driver nodded to the back of his cart. “Hop on up. I’ll not have both of you jump me if this is a trick.”
840 watched from the back of the cart as the driver—an elf—knelt next to the stranger, and pulled him up. 840 hadn’t noticed before how small the elf was; he’d towered over them from atop his cart. The stranger was at least twice the elf’s weight and unconscious. 840 jumped back down and helped lift the stranger onto the cart. The elf frowned but didn’t complain.
“I’ll take you to my village, but we won’t get there before morning. You’re lucky I didn’t stay at an inn tonight.”
840’s Lord was definitely testing him. He wanted to see if 840’s strength applied outside his usual environment, too. It’d be wiser to go with the elf and the dying man. 840 looked down the road—away from the village—and wondered what was out there.
“Will he make it through the night?” the elf asked.
“I don’t know.” 840 hoped the stranger would live. There was something he needed to ask him.
Given enough time, our minds have a way of coming up with the most cruel torture methods and vengeance plans. And I have slept for a long time. My mind had little else to focus on.
Chapter 6
Naavah Ora
Naavah Ora stepped through the fog as easily as others stepped through the high plains grass, and opened her eyes on the other side. The nagging feeling from her last visit hadn’t left her. She needed to know whether it was her imagination or something darker.