A ravens plight, p.44
A Raven's Plight, page 44
He jolted upright, wincing at the soreness in his back and arm. Healing pods had been known to repair even fatal wounds if used soon enough, but there were some things only the body could do. Mending tissue and closing wounds was one thing, but it still took time for the body to finish the process. In a few days, his arm and shoulder would be back to normal. Only, he didn’t have a few days.
Wearing nothing but thin shorts, Damion kicked his feet out of bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands. You did the right thing. You have no way of knowing if that’s his arrow or not. He reached out and picked up the broken shaft, running his fingers along the splintered wood, and brushing the bloodied feathers. If it wasn’t Gaige’s arrow, then whose was it? If it were someone else's, then what had happened behind the coverage of the bushes? Was it possible that Ayla really had been planning to join him, and something more sinister happened? I can’t undo what has already been done.
At the foot of his bed lay a freshly laundered red tunic with shining gold trim and matching pants, along with a new utility belt and boots. Why did they even bother bringing me back here for recovery? Would it not have been faster to rehabilitate him in the medbay? Then again, it could be they were preparing for potential casualties. Damion rubbed his face as he sighed, when a knock suddenly came at the door.
He peered up warily and said, “Come in.”
The door slid open and Eldereth entered. He wore a long blue robe with silver trim, the royal insignia emblazoned across the cloak hanging from his shoulders. It was official royal regalia, usually what was worn in court. Giska liked things to look formal. Apparently, the upcoming encounter was no exception, even if the doctor was going to be stationed in the medbay.
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” Damion asked, setting the arrow back down.
“I’ve come to help you dress,” he replied matter of factly.
Damion wasn’t sure how to react as Eldereth helped him to his feet and began to inspect the bright pink tissue on his arm where the wolf bite had been. “The arrow wound should feel better in a matter of hours,” he said, “but that wolf bite was quite a messy wound. It will trouble you for a few days more. The micro-bots were able to mend the torn tissue, but regenerating missing tissue is a bit more complex, and will require a little more time. How does it feel?”
Damion slowly moved his arm around, the skin pinching uncomfortably as it stretched. “It functions,” he replied, “And that’s all that matters.”
“Very well, let’s get you ready.” Eldereth reached for the pants, but Damion caught his wrist.
“Why are you here, Doctor? There are dozens of attendants Giska could have sent to assist me. What is someone of your caliber doing wasting his time with me?”
Eldereth set him with a firm gaze, easily prying his wrist loose as he grabbed for the pants. He handed them to Damion, and said, “Get dressed.” His tone left no room for argument. The younger man pulled on the crimson fabric, his fingers stiff as he buttoned the waistband, before reluctantly lifting his arm as Eldereth helped ease the tunic over the injury.
“The chain of command is in flux right now,” the doctor said, helping with the other sleeve, before attending to the golden buttons. “If things go well, you are in a particularly unique position for promotion. There are those on board this ship who’d like to see you fail.” He raised a brow as he adjusted the tassels hanging across Damion’s shoulders. “Due to your injuries, you’re in a position of vulnerability. By assisting you myself, I can guarantee no accidents happen.”
“Of everyone on board, I would think you’d be the most pleased by an accident,” Damion pointed out. After all, his description of Ayla had set the tone for Giska’s retribution, and it was not a good one. A traitor to the crown, relentless in her deceptions, liable to rebel at all costs and a danger to anyone who made the mistake of trusting her. He glanced at the arrow on the nightstand, his doubt a blazing fire of turmoil. Despite everything that had happened, he could still feel an insubstantial pull to be near her. He stuffed the feeling down, knowing that nothing could condemn him faster.
It was Damion’s testimony that had been so damning, after all. Eldereth’s royal duty was to protect the heir, and Damion had put the doctor in a compromising position. How was he to remain with Giska while simultaneously protecting Ayla, who Giska was sure to punish? I’m deserving of whatever is coming for me, Damion thought bitterly as his stomach twisted.
Eldereth handed him his belt, his old eyes never hardening. How had so many lifetimes not left him bitter? “I’ve seen many things over the years,” he said softly, picking up the arrow off the nightstand and inspecting it. “I know if someone is lying, and I know if they’re holding something back. Certainly, some people are better than others at concealing their true feelings, but you…” he set the arrow back down and folded his arms, his blue eyes suddenly piercing. “You’ve surprised me.”
Damion stood stiffly as his heart thundered in his chest while sweat sprung up along the curve of his spine. Yes, he had secrets. Dangerous secrets. “I’m the youngest crew member ever to have stood a chance at becoming a part of Giska’s council,” he countered hastily, forcing an arrogant tone. “You should expect no less.”
Eldereth regarded him with narrowed eyes before giving a single nod. “Very well, I’ll give you that. I think at some point it would be prudent to discuss how certain surprises may impact you later on. For now, we’re expected at the gate in twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes!” Damion blurted out, shocked at how little time there was. He fumbled for his boots, sitting down and working at the clasps as his mind raced. He wasn’t ready. Too many of his words had been based on a potentially faulty assumption. What was coming… It will destroy her.
The doctor didn’t say much as he strode beside him through the ship’s hallways. Eyes followed them as they passed, and Damion got the distinct feeling that many were displeased by his return. He couldn’t blame them. The person he had been might have been implacable, always striving to achieve a higher goal, but he’d been far from gregarious. But that was simply the way of Giska’s crew: you had to fight for position. You need to be the same man as before, he chided himself, forcing an arrogant smirk across his face. No one could suspect what he had become.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Maybe Jenkins meant it as an offering of peace by inviting her father and the others up, but Ayla felt bittersweet at the sight of them. Jacob and Gaige had been beaten to a bloody pulp, weak with fatigue as they collapsed on the deer-hide couch, while her father and Richard both raced to embrace her. Belle glided up behind them, her eyes guarded as she glanced at Ayla before settling beside Gaige. All three of her friends knew what had to happen next. In fact, everyone knew what was coming. Ayla hated saying goodbye a second time.
“Dad,” she said, pushing herself from his arms and looking from his face to Richard’s. “There’s so much I want to tell you… so many things I want to say, but there just isn’t time.”
“Ayla…” her father began before his words trailed off. She could see the struggle happening behind his green eyes. From the moment she’d woken up on Anash’s ship up until her encounter with the wolves, Ayla had wanted nothing more than to hear his encouragement. He was who she went to when she was feeling aimless. She’d never felt more lost than her plight through the forest. But after the wolves, Ayla realized something that scared her more than anything.
They were all lost.
Her father didn’t have the answers to this problem, and neither did Richard. If they could, they would ghost her away to the forest for safekeeping, not because it was right, but because they loved her. And their love blinds them. It had blinded her, too.
“I can’t stay any longer,” she stated boldly, not allowing room for any argument. “We’ve already wasted enough time.” She made to move around the men when her father grasped her arm.
“Ayla,” he paused, his eyes filled with tears. “I love you, and you will always be my baby girl. Your mother would be proud.”
Her eyes began to mist over as she gave him one last powerful hug. “I love you too, Dad.” As she pulled away, her focus was drawn to the kitchen window, where patches of twilight sky shone down through the trees. Only, it wasn’t twilight. From the south, the dull sound of groaning metal and shifting debris joined the light.
“No time!” She rushed past them to the hatch, looking back as she urged them, “Leave this place.” But before she jumped, her gaze locked with Jacob’s, and she felt the heavy ring on her chest like a weight. The perfect future they’d dreamt of would always remain just a dream.
“What are you waiting for, kid, get out of here,” Jenkins barked. “Go save the damned world!” She was to go alone. An escort would have delayed her and drawn unnecessary attention from the refugees.
The fresh rush of adrenaline helped Ayla absorb the landing as her feet hit the ground, only pausing a moment before pushing off toward the ruins. Her bearings were immediately confused as she exited the cove beneath the treehouse. The trail that would have led to the city was gone, replaced by a myriad of haphazard campsites, and make-shift shelters. Campfires flickered everywhere with no clear way through. The air was a pungent mix of stew and stagnant waste, sadness colliding with Ayla’s urgency. She wasn’t leaving her home: it was already gone.
Instead of entering the maze of campsites, Ayla pushed to the perimeter and began running. Though it was darker with more underbrush, there were fewer people to circle around and scarcely anyone took notice of her. Or at least she thought.
Ayla had barely made it a quarter mile when something struck her from the darkness. Pain like fire spiked through her right thigh and she missed a step, sending her sprawling to the forest floor. She grasped her leg to her torso and cried out, as much in frustration as in pain, grasping at the arrow that had hit her from behind. “Why!” She screamed, thinking of the countless lives that would perish for such stupidity. She snapped the shaft’s end off, but the rest of the arrow was lodged too deeply inside.
“Why indeed,” came a dangerously soft voice as a petite figure emerged from the shadows. Chloe approached, kneeling beside her, but not too close. “Why did countless people have to lose their lives? Why did an entire city have to be destroyed? What was it all for?” She pulled another arrow from her quiver, spinning it playfully between her fingers. “It’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately.”
“You,” Ayla hissed as vehement hate surged through her. This was the girl who had tried to kill Damion. She was responsible for everything. If not for her, the refugees would be safe. “Let me go. Without me, countless people will die.”
“Countless people will die regardless,” she replied, her voice dead of emotion. Chloe’s fists tightened around the bow. “I’m not like those other idiots. I know what’s coming Ayla. The bad guys get what they want, and kill us all anyway. I’m not entertaining the pathetic notion of hope everyone else seems so stuck on. If we can’t win, then nobody wins.” She held up the arrow, her expression haunting in the glow. “A shame I couldn’t attach these obsidian tips sooner, otherwise your little friend wouldn’t have gotten away. I can’t say the same for you.”
“You don’t understand what’s at play here,” Ayla growled, preparing to defend herself. “I can still save Airhee!”
“You can’t save anyone!” She crouched slightly, her muscles poised. “I’d ask you to say ‘hi’ to my sister and brother for me, but you’re not going where they went.” The smaller woman lunged, holding the arrow like a dagger in her hand.
No. Ayla thought coldly, anger rising over her urgency. I refuse to let it end like this. Ayla pushed herself back to her feet, swiveling on her injured leg as Chloe’s arrows sliced through empty air. The petite woman redoubled her efforts, turning round with surprising agility, and charging again. Too stiff for another dodge, Ayla squared her feet, and braced, catching the other girl’s wrist just before the arrow tip touched her sternum, but not before both went sprawling to the ground.
Chloe swung her other arm forward, using both hands to press the curve of her bow toward Ayla’s neck. Her breathing was frenzied as she bared her teeth, her eyes blinded by madness. “Your kind just… don’t know when to… die!” she said raggedly.
“My k-kind,” Ayla struggled against the onslaught, the woman surprisingly strong for her size. The fact was, Ayla was nearing the end of her strength. She’d pressed too hard for too long and encountered too many obstacles. Adrenaline could only carry someone so far before it ran out… but anger, that was an entirely different creature. She tightened her fists around her enemy’s bow. My kind… Ayla had spent her entire life amongst the human world. It was very likely that she and Chloe had attended the same schools, were taught by the same teachers, and maybe even shared a lunch period at some point. Humans were her people. Anash had hated her for her human half, criticizing it as weak and inferior, but Ayla wore it as a badge of honor. She had returned to save humanity.
For a moment the struggle paused, Ayla holding the bow firmly as she looked deep into the eyes of her offender and whispered, “Enough.” She torqued the bow to the side, following through with an elbow to Chloe’s head, sending the other girl sprawling. Without pausing, she rolled to her feet, grabbing the fallen arrow, and holding the point to her enemy’s throat. A tense moment passed where she waited for a counterattack, but the smaller woman remained still.
A startled cry drew her attention, and Ayla realized that while fighting, chaos had enshrouded the camp. Too much time had already been wasted by an unneeded confrontation. “I’ll let them take care of you,” Ayla murmured as she stood, envisioning Chloe waking up to an army of Umanei. She didn’t deserve a merciful death after the destruction she’d caused.
Ayla followed the movement of refugees, straining her ears as they motioned anxiously toward the north.
“A fire,” someone shouted. “Coming this way! We’ve been hemmed in!”
Ayla peered northward, spotting an unnaturally bright orange glow. How… It happened so fast. She scanned the length of the glow, encircling the camp like a giant net. The trap had been sprung. She glanced back at the still form on the ground. Burning to death was a fitting end for her as well.
“Make for the pond!” Ayla shouted through the madness. “You can swim for it!”
The tangle of people seemed to respond to her words, heading westward toward salvation. She stumbled through the mass of bodies, the darkness her greatest ally as it concealed the color of her hair and skin. Did these people know what their enemy looked like? Did they know what was coming for them in the night?
Her pace was frustratingly slow as she tried to navigate the camp with a severe limp. Which direction was the city? There was so much noise and firelight that she couldn’t find the path. For all she knew, she was going in circles.
An arm caught her from the crowd, and Ayla spun, ready to fight. Gaige stood facing her, his face grim in the shadows. “We’re trapped, Ayla.”
“The pond, go to the pond,” she urged.
He shook his head. “It’s been cut off. They’ve set it alight, somehow. We’ve tried all the exits, but they’re herding us.”
“I have to get to them,” she said in frustration.
Her cousin glanced down at her leg, realizing the injury. “Chloe…” he whispered.
“I took care of her,” she replied. “I need to get to the ruins, Gaige. Which way do I go?”
He clasped her arm and began to walk with her, guiding her through the maze of panic. Ayla realized then that he was too weary to carry her. He didn’t have much left to give. I have to get ahead of this… Thankfully, the edge of the ruins was just a short walk away.
Gaige released her as the heaping mass came into view, the blazing wall of flame directing them to one narrow opening. The sight was something to behold.
A veritable mountain of torn-up metal, pipes, glass, and chords climbed hundreds of feet into the air. Definition was lost in the darkness, but it was hardly needed to comprehend the devastation. Ayla felt a crushing weight as she took in the scene, but even the strength of her emotions was stifled by what lay in the center of it all.
A tunnel.
There, through the middle of it all, glass and metal had been melted into gleaming smooth walls to form a passageway. The path to destruction. Damion said that Giska liked to do things with a flourish, and this was no exception. Everyone would be forced through the bottle nose, their fate waiting to greet them on the other side.
“Gaige,” Ayla whispered, her voice trembling as more people arrived behind him. “Where are the others? Tell me… tell me they made it out.”
He slowly shook his head, his eyes glued to the tunnel. “They hemmed us in too soon. Jacob and Belle went to search the other side of camp, but… I don’t think…” His composure began to fracture. He was afraid.
Ayla took his hand and squeezed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, but it could not be changed now. The time for fear was gone. “We must be strong, now.”
Gaige abruptly wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing her forehead. “I love you, cousin. No matter what happens, I will see you on the other side.”
On the other side.
Heat still emanated from the freshly hewn tunnel, the gentle slope arching down to meet the ground at the base of the ruins. It was wide enough for three people to walk beside one another, and tall enough that even Damion could have stood upright. A generous path, if not for the many individuals who would be forced through it all at once. How many were there? Hundreds, at least. Ayla glanced back at the forest, the crowd behind her increasing as the fiery net began to close inward. How much power had it taken to orchestrate this alone? The amount of heat that it would have taken to melt a tunnel through the debris was staggering, making the controlled inferno seem a mere trifle. In a head-on battle, humans were just fodder for the fire.
