Dark Wood: Legends of the Guardians (27 page)

“Ride
hard, and stay safe, my friend.” Saying no more, his wings began to spread as
he jumped from the earth. He lifted with such incredible ease it was to watch a
butterfly take flight from a delicate flower. Yet he was no butterfly.

It
wasn’t until he’d taken to the sky that she looked away, and started down to
the stables. She wasn’t surprised to see the little mound, bound in blankets,
on top a fresh mound of hay. “Veyn, don’t you ever go home?”

Though
he’d been asleep, he woke easily when she spoke his name. A soft ‘hmmm?’ sounded
from the mound of blankets. He didn’t seem eager to move. “Sita needed her feet
checked. You’ve been riding her hard. She needed tending,” he explained.
Indeed, the horse stood asleep right above the boy. A turned down lamp rest
against the wall next to a bucket of tack.

“Do
you know how to harness a horse to a cart?” she asked louder this time as she
put all her effort into pulling a very old cart out from the lean-to shelter.
Veyn sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with his fists. Hay stuck out of his hair
in tufts. It was barely past first light, so the stables were fairly dark.
“Veyn,” she prompted urgently.

He
stumbled up to his feet and forced his legs to bring his body to help her. She
hesitated to explain to him what was happening, but at last, realizing he was
one of the few friends she counted despite his youth, she told him in detail.

Together
they moved swiftly after that. Soon Sita was harnessed to the cart, and Veyn
was climbing up onto the small wooden bench. “What are you doing?” she asked,
half scolding.

“What
does it look like I’m doing?” his condescending tone showed his years. “I’m
coming with you.” Aryaunna’s brow pinched together, mouth dropping to argue.
“If you come upon someone in the woods, while driving a cart full of supplies,
how do you expect to steer Sita, guide the wagon, and fight them off? You can’t
do this alone. So come on, let’s go.” He scooted over to one side of the bench,
giving her room beside him. “Besides, have you ever driven a cart? You’d
probably lose a wheel.” He grumbled as if it were a great tax to him, though he
seemed eager to be going.

Veyn
was young, and often underestimated by his elders, but Aryaunna had never done
so before. He’d proved himself far more than once. Carefully she climbed up and
took a seat beside him. Sitting beside him, she kept her voice low now. “If
we’re stopped in the woods, then they’ve made it too far, and we’ll be too
late. I suggest you hope that doesn’t happen.”

There
was another bonus for Veyn coming with her. If he knew the way to Dia, the
easiest paths to take, then he could get the others there safely. She
instructed him to watch where they were going closely and to take note of his
surroundings, explaining he would be in charge of guiding a group back through
here safely.

It
was Aryaunna who had defeated the Dark Wood. No one else.

Veyn
clung to the cart so hard his fingertips went numb and his whole body ached
from the tension. His eyes were wide. The Dark Wood was reaching out to him,
into his mind, finding his fears and whispering them to the forefront of his
mind. “You have to fight it, Veyn. I know you can do this. It’s not real,” she
reassured him. “It’s not real.” A couple of tears stained his cheek as he
sniffled. Swallowing down the crippling fear that caused painful shudders to
ripple down his spine.

Aryaunna
pulled her sister’s cloak out from beneath Zane’s and wrapped it securely
around him. She spoke to him as they rode on, helping him combat the magic the
only way she knew how. Driving the cart gave him a task to keep focus on. The
sound of her chatter kept him grounded to the moment.

Aryaunna
stood in the back of the cart, one foot propped up on the side to balance her
as Veyn road over the uneven earth towards Dia. The trees were sparse here, but
the ground was becoming steeper. They had reached Dia’s base. Her head tilted
up to the bright sunlit sky, Aryaunna searched the skies for Reign.

“Where
am I going exactly?” Veyn asked, looking back at her.

“Keep
your eyes open. He’s had a few hours. There should be a stack of black trunks
along this ridge somewhere nearby.” Reaching out, she tapped his shoulder and
directed his attention further ahead. “There.”

Reign
circled overhead, keeping an eye on the wood, the Hollow, and the Emissary as
he flew overhead. Circling out wide, he sought out the army. His long gaze found
them swiftly. The fires were out. The tents were gone. The men were moving.
From the looks of things, they’d been accurate at the estimated size of the
army.

Reign
made an attempt at a smoother landing this time, but somehow his back talons
still managed to tear into the earth. He was more used to stone.

People
were everywhere, running this way and that throughout the village. Most had
stopped to watch him come down through the trees; hearts pumping so fast they
couldn’t discern between fear and awe.

Veyn
was nowhere to be seen. Aryaunna was heaving the massive trunks from the back
of the cart with other Drow. They didn’t bother taking them far. One by one the
trunks were set on the ground. “How many archers?” she asked without looking
away from her task.

“Good
ones? Less than we’d like. Maybe two dozen good archers, maybe. I think five of
them are good enough to shoot from horseback, including Allos. Those who know
how to shoot? I think four dozen, but I’ve not spoken to everyone yet.”

Aryaunna
paused a moment, catching her breath. Raif and Ollin seemed relieved for her to
slow down a moment. Bracing her hands on her knees, she stood bent over as she
took a moment of rest to address Nadegia. “Bows are in the long trunks, quivers
of arrows in the deepest ones behind the long trunks. Archers will take to the
trees, except Allos. I want him on horseback with me, but we’ll both have bows
so you can add me to the count.”

“I
already had,” Nadegia spares a small smile for her. “You, Allos, Ollin, Baila, and
myself are of the five.”

“I’ve
never shot from Sita.”

“Yes,
but I’m sure you can.”

“You
shoot?” Her brow lift in question.

A
slow smile spread Nadegia’s dark lips. “You could say that.” With no other
comments, she turned and walked away from the cart. Her break was over.

“You
know I could get that for you,” Reign commented from behind her as she lifted a
trunk three times as heavy as she was fully armed and almost as long. Ollin had
the other side. Aryaunna and Ollin looked up at each other in silent debate
before they put the chest down together.

Raif
and Ollin stepped back as Aryaunna stood just as she were, unbothered by
Reign’s closeness as he came around and lifted the trunk as if it were nothing
to him. Because it was nothing to him. The trunk wasn’t even a quarter the size
of his body in size or weight.

“You
know, I’d not have agreed if I didn’t need to get to the main hall.” A half
grin tugged at the corner of her mouth as she hopped down from the cart.

“Would
it kill you just to say thank you and accept that I’m stronger and better than
you pretty much all around?” They both laughed at that. Those closest went wide
eyed and stone still to hear the Dragon laugh. It was a strange thing to adjust
to. Dragons were massive beasts of war and fire, but this one was laughing.
Joking in fact.

“Anyone
ever tell you that you’re quite an ass, Reign?” It was then she realized
everyone had stopped talking, stopped everything actually, as they were all
just standing there watching the two of them.

“Oh
no. I’m fairly certain you’re the first being in history to call a Dragon an
ass, in fact.” Though it felt awkward to be the center of attention, she
couldn’t help but chuckle. Reign set the trunk down and turned for another.
“Best get moving, Aryaunna. Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

“Promise?”
she asked under her breath. Of the many things that Aryaunna was, Emissary,
leader, fighter, healer, caster, she was one thing else that she couldn’t well
control. She was a sixteen year old girl, with the weight of the world on her
shoulders. A young girl, about to lead a village of people to war, whose best
friend happened to be a Dragon.

“My
word, Ary,” he said so low that only she could hear him.

Letting
out a heavy breath, she turned away from Reign, Ollin, and Raif to head for the
main hall. Veyn was there, preparing everyone to leave. The main hall was still
being used as an infirmary.

“Ary!”
Elizabeth shouted from across the room, as she wrapped a fresh bandage around a
gaping wound in someone’s arm.

Raising
her hand to acknowledge her sister, Aryaunna swept her eyes around the room.
Three men. One of them elderly, but depending on his wounds he might be of some
use. The other two were prime age, but one had a bandage around the full length
of his left arm.

Walking
up to him first she let out another deep breath. “Malachi.” He looked up at her
with a scowl set in his brow. “Hurting much?” Shame crossed his features as he
looked away without answering. “Pain doesn’t make you weak.”

Turning
away, she walked over to a small cart, loaded with herbs and medicines. She
mixed a tonic of oils and extracts, taking it back to him. “Drink up,” she said
with the tug of a smirk at her lips. It wasn’t the most pleasant tasting.

His
whole face shuddered as he swallowed it down. Once he’d downed the tiny bowl of
liquid, she held out a shaven stick with a dab of black oil on it. The oil
tasted worse than the tonic, but was wonderful for pain. He licked the stick
clean with another sneer. “What’re you doing here, Aryaunna? Shouldn’t you be
getting ready for the fight?”

“I
am,” she assured him as she looked down at his arm. He’d caught on fire the
night of the attack. One of the men from the Church had thrown a lamp at him.
He’d blocked it, saving the rest of his body in the process of losing most of
the flesh from his arm.

She
didn’t say anything more for a while as she unwrapped his bandages carefully.
“I have to ask something of you, Malachi,” she spoke so low he could barely
hear her, but he was focused on the wall behind her to try and keep from
looking at what she was doing.

Taking
his other hand in hers, she helped him lie back. Beneath him was a sheet,
stained in oil and body fluid from others tending to his wounds. Now his gaze
was forced up to the rafters. She was methodical about treating him. He’d
inquired what she wanted twice before looking to him and meeting his gaze.

What
she had to ask would most certainly mean his death. A lump knotted inside of
her throat so large she couldn’t find the ability to speak around it. The
silence lingered between them as she poured more of the cool healing oils over
his wounds.

So
focused on the task at hand of tending to him her heartbeat began to slow. Her
breathing returned to normal. Finally, before she could think about it, she let
herself say it. “I need you to fight with us.”

The
black oil kicked in quickly. Malachi was enjoying the dazed euphoria, staring
up above him lost in thought as he thought of anything but what she was doing
to him. Her words cut through the fog of his mind straight to the core of him.

Gaze
casting to his momentarily, she looked for his reaction before looking back to
her nimble fingers wrapping a fresh bandage around the length of his arm.
“You’re strong. Able bodied. You’ve sparred with me enough for me to trust you
can handle a sword.”