Chapter 93

The soldier got closer and closer to our tree, his eyes scanning the forest as he searched for us. Behind him, I could hear the sounds of battle growing more dim. The occasional crackle of lightning was still there, but the sounds of men screaming had grown faint. Then there was only the thud of the soldier's boots as he stood just beyond our hollow.

Bending down, he scooped up a handful of dirt and threw it inside. I had enough time to close my eyes and mouth so that the spray of dust just hit me in the face. Etta wasn’t as lucky, making a choking sound from behind me which Muffled Aura couldn’t hide.

“Found you,” the soldier growled with a smirk.

I dropped my Cloak of Shadows and stood quickly, moving out of the tree hollow and facing the grown man hunting us. While I was almost eight, the soldier was almost twice my height and probably weighed four times as much. I didn’t have a hope in hell of taking him. Even as that thought skittered across my mind, I reached for my hatchet.

The soldier shook his head ruefully, “Won’t help kid but you’ve got balls for trying. Lord Bartley said no witnesses though. Just not your lucky day.”

The soldier pointed his axe at Etta where she huddled in the darkness and growled, “Don’t move.”

Then, he was raising his short sword and walking towards me. I backed up, getting ready to turn and sprint, even if I knew it was a fool's errand. One Quick Step was all it would take to catch me, but maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have that Skill.

Just as I was about to try and run, the soldier was brought to a halt. He looked behind him and I followed his gaze.

Standing by a tree, leaves and dirt marring her visage, was Grandma Lucille.

Behind her, Kaylee stumbled out of the darkness.

“Get Etta,” Lucille whispered as the threads of her clothes slithered like snakes through the air, wrapping themselves around the soldier's arms, legs and throat.

The man grunted, trying to free himself as Kaylee ran over to grab Etta, who started crying, holding out her arms to be picked up. With Etta hanging onto her, Kaylee turned to Lucille.

“Come on, Mum!” she called, preparing to run.

“Go!” Lucille hissed as more and more threads tried to keep the struggling soldier bound. A battle that I thought she was losing as the soldier slowly turned to face her.

Lucille’s eyes flicked to mine and in her gaze I saw what she wanted. We couldn’t outrun the soldier. I charged as I activated Muffled Aura, my footsteps silent.

The soldier’s hatchet came up slowly from his hip where it was bound, the blade aimed toward Lucille. I sensed the buzz of aether from the man. Kaylee screamed something in the background. Then the hatchet shot forward like it had been launched out of a cannon. I didn’t see where it landed, my focus riveted to the man in front of me.

The soldier, still bound in threads, started to turn back towards me. I activated Controlled Grip. The strike reverberated up my arm as my hatchet embedded itself in the side of his head. He toppled to the ground like a fallen tree, axe still buried in him. Notifications pinged in the corner of my vision — I ignored them.

Charging across the clearing, I was still slower than Kaylee and Etta.

Lucille lay against a tree, blood frothing on her lips and the hatchet sticking out of her chest. Kaylee was crying while Etta tried to pull Lucille back to her feet.

“Grandma!” she wailed, tugging on her hand.

“It’s okay,” Lucille whispered reassuringly. “It’s okay. You’re safe, my little storm cloud.”

“Mum,” Kaylee cried as she wrapped her arms tightly around Etta even as my best friend tried to fight free of her — as though if she could just pull Lucille to her feet, then everything would be okay.

“None of that now,” Lucille mumbled as more blood spilled down her chest. “I have no regrets, my sweet girl. I got to see you with the man you love, and spend all these years with my beautiful little Etta. It’s time for me now. I’ll go see your father on the other side and tell him all the wonderful things that I got to do with you. I love you both. Now go…go…”

“I love you, Mum,” Kaylee whispered as she dragged Etta away.

“No! Grandma! Grandma!” Etta continued to wail.

I hadn’t moved yet and finally Lucille’s eyes drifted to me as Kaylee fled into the dark with my best friend.

“You’re a good boy, Bastian. Thank you for looking after my little Etta,” Lucille murmured as her head started to droop.

Without thinking, I whispered something back. “May you find peace in the Ocean of Souls.”

The Quiet Weaver of the Mountains died with a smile upon her lips.

As she passed, I felt… sadness. No flicker of sparks like when I had killed the goblin. I just felt empty. In that dark emptiness, a fire started to wake.

When Nazim stumbled into the clearing half a minute later, he found me wrenching my hatchet out of the soldier’s skull with a look in my eye that screamed bloody murder.

Whatever he saw in my gaze, he said nothing. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me along with his stumbling gait as I tried to pull myself free of his grasp and go kill the people who had murdered Lucille.

I was so single mindedly focused on my goal that I didn’t even notice Baron Joss, Gramps, and a number of soldiers appearing around us.

Coming out of my anger-fueled haze, my eyes darted about as Gramps grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Gramps asked, not waiting for an answer as he pulled me into a tight hug.

“We need to keep moving, Factor,” Joss warned, a breastplate strapped over his fine dark blue coat and his sword unsheathed.

“Take him back to the outpost,” Gramps said to Nazim, but I could already see Joss shaking his head.

“Bring him. The wolfkin can look after him. No one is going anywhere till I get to the bottom of this mess.”

Gramps looked furious, his lips curling into a thin line. I thought he might attack the Baron for a moment, but Nazim picked me up, the fight having left me.

“I will protect him,” Nazim promised. Gramps must have seen something in his gaze as he gave a tight nod that spoke of anger still simmering beneath the surface.

The formation continued to move quickly through the forest, and I realised that Kaylee was on the other side, carrying Etta in her arms. My friend was sobbing quietly into her mother’s shoulder, the sound mostly hidden by the scuff of boots.

Joss paused for a moment when he found the scene of Lucille’s death, one of his soldiers checking over the corpse of the man I had killed. Then we were moving again. When we found the foxkin in two pieces, I experienced a moment of surprise. The Baron didn’t feel the same way, a curse crossing his lips. A quick order and one of the soldiers was dragging along the two halves of the foxkin behind us as though Joss was worried it would vanish if we didn’t keep our eyes on it.

We stumbled across two more dead soldiers before we reached what had once been Etta’s home. The building was only partially standing, a mound of earth having crashed through the front door while the back half of the building was lit up, the flames casting shadows across the rest of the hidden grove.

More dead soldiers littered the ground along with Bartley’s body. The hand that had possessed the silver rings was gone, along with the entire arm as though a guillotine had sliced it off. His eyes stared sightlessly at the sky, blood pooling around him — the tang of iron mixing with the smell of ozone.

George lay nearby, his left arm burned with lines like the branches of a tree all the way from hand to his shoulder. In his hand he still held his sword. Only half of the blade remained, the rest shattered or somewhere amongst the debris.

Kaylee tried to run toward him but was blocked by two of the Baron’s soldiers. That didn’t stop Etta as she screamed.

“Daddy!”

As though her words were a call to wake the dead, George coughed. Blood sprayed across the ground as my mentor rolled onto his side and coughed a second time. He looked dazed to me as he climbed slowly to his feet. None of Joss’s soldiers moved to help as the Baron looked over the scene before them.

“I need to know what the bloody hells is going on here,” Joss growled out, the man seeming to lose his cool for the first time I had ever witnessed. I didn’t miss how his eyes had flicked to the corpse of the foxkin.

“They’re… they were here for me,” George muttered out tiredly, hand still wrapped around the hilt of his broken sword.

“Why?” Joss demanded.

“I’m…” George paused, glancing at his daughter and wife where they were being held by Joss’s soldiers.

Any fight left in the man seemed to go out of him. “I’m George Arman.”

Joss nodded slowly, eyes going over the fallen soldiers and noble. This time he didn’t glance at the foxkin.

“They were here for you,” Joss said, stating the obvious.

“And my daughter,” George agreed, licking his bloodstained lips.

“Because she’s an Arman,” Joss growled in understanding as he started pacing. He glanced at Kaylee and Etta, then back to George. “What should I do with you then?”

“Let us go,” George muttered. “After tonight, you’ll never see us again.”

“And when House Arman sends more spies to ferret out what happened?” Joss countered.

“Tell them the truth… that I killed the men they sent for us and fled west in the middle of the night.”

Joss nodded slowly. “I can’t give you anything to help you flee.”

“Their horses are nearby,” Nazim offered helpfully.

“Well, since I was too late to witness the battle, I certainly couldn’t have stopped you from taking their horses,” Joss agreed before nodding to his soldiers to let Kaylee go.

George almost fell when his wife crashed into him, but then he was whispering to her and she seemed to deflate. Fresh tears fell down faces as Joss turned to face his men.

“Gather the bodies to be burnt,” Joss ordered, his hand pointing to Bartley’s body. “Gather anything on him, including his weapon. We’ll need proof he died here when House Arman comes asking. Shame we were too late to stop the one who killed them, wasn’t it?”

“Aye, a shame, my Lord,” one of the soldiers agreed as they set to work, the others agreeing with similar words or simple acknowledgements.

I didn’t know whether the truth would get out — but that was Joss’s problem, not mine. George separated from his wife for long enough to grab a small chest from the burning house. As he stepped outside, he gave me a pointed look then his eyes flicked to a patch of earth near where Bartley had fallen. Then the moment was over, and we were following them north into the darkness.

We found the horses, just like Nazim had said. There were nine of them tied to the trees, packs still attached to them. George moved among them expertly, wincing as he tied a couple together before helping his wife into the saddle of one. Seeing the horses already prepared made me realise that House Arman had intended to grab Etta, and perhaps George, before fleeing immediately.

George climbed into his own saddle, tying the reins of the two spare horses to his own. Gramps stepped forward, lifting Etta up and helping place her in front of George. She raised her eyes to look at me, and in them, I saw nothing but sadness. A small wave was all she gave me before George looked down at us. It was time to say our farewells.