Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (53 page)

A rustle startled her from her contemplations.

Sacha grabbed the only sword that had made it through their flight. She spun to face the noise and her heart sank.

A dark-scaled head rose from the forest floor. Its thick, muscular body was easily as wide around as either Sacha or Erik and disappeared into the darkness of the forest behind it.

She cursed softly as she realized that the jungle noises had almost entirely ceased. The small animals around their clearing had frozen at the predator’s approach, and she had blithely carried on a conversation as if sitting by the safety of a hearth!

Firelight glittered in the giant snake’s golden eyes, and its muscular neck flared into a giant teardrop as it swayed and reared up from the forest floor to a height of at least ten feet.

Sacha gritted her teeth and assumed a defensive stance, sword high. When the viper attacked, she would do her best to defend.

A hiss erupted from the snake as it opened its mouth to display two massive, curving teeth that folded down from the pink flesh inside its head. Rows of back-slanted teeth were coated in saliva and they all glimmered in the firelight.

Sacha tensed for the strike.

An arrow whizzed by her head and struck the large reptile in the mouth. The massive head snapped back, shying away in pain. Blood rained from the wound in its throat as it reared up again. A second arrow sprouted from one of the large yellow eyes. The massive body shuddered and crashed in the underbrush while the head slammed again and again on the ground. Eventually the thrashing slowed and stopped.

Sacha lowered her weapon, amazed.

“Princess!” came a voice from behind her.

She spun for a second time, sword rising once more.

Mason stood at the edge of the firelight and lowered his bow. “Princess,” he repeated, bowing his head. “Thank Eos we’ve found you.”

It took every ounce of her will not to run up and kiss the Pelosian guardsmen. She managed to just lower her sword and stare at the man in disbelief. “Mason?!”

The guardsman was stoic as he stepped into their camp and made his way over to the dead snake. At a gesture from Mason, other shadowy figures in Pelosian uniforms slipped to the sides of the clearing and blended into the night. “We can stay here for a few hours, but then we must leave. You are being hunted.” Mason knelt beside the beast to retrieve his arrows. “What’s left of the brigands from the Keep are making their way west, along the river. They will be upon us by tomorrow.”

Hunted? Well, that was what she assumed would happen. She had hoped they would be farther ahead of their pursuers than just one day. They must not have been swept as far downriver as it had seemed. “I am glad you’re here. You can help me with Erik. He can’t move on his own.” She went to stand by the elf, sheathing the sword as she moved. “We’ll have to carry him.”

Mason inspected his arrows as he cleaned off the gore. He shook his head and tossed one into the fire but put the other back in his quiver. He looked at Erik, then at Sacha. “We must leave him and make our own way to Waterfall Citadel.”

Sacha stared open-mouthed at her savior. “What?”

“We won’t make it if we try to take him, Princess.” He placed his hand on his sword. “I can make it easier on him.”

“Mot’s fires, you will!” She snapped. “This man saved my life. I’ll not leave him behind or let you kill him to make our escape easier.” She stepped between Mason and Erik’s prone form. “By Eos, you sound just like Bale!”

The soldier bowed his head again. “Forgive me, Princess. Your safety is my only priority.”

“How did you even find us?” she demanded.

“I was ordered to follow the three men who went looking for you and make sure that you returned safely.” He lowered his hand from his sword.

Sacha relaxed as his threatening posture eased and thought on his words. Bale had never fully trusted the Basinians. It made sense that he would send Mason after them.

She settled next to Erik’s still form and touched him to assure herself that he still lived. “Do you know what happened to the other two?”

Mason made his way around the fire and sat across from them. “No. By the time I caught up at the ruined Keep, the forces residing there were already mobilizing. I had expected to find the dwarvish man and the chancellor with you.”

“The
chancellor
came with them?” she asked in surprise. “What on earth was he thinking?” The man couldn’t possibly think himself able to help in such a task... or maybe he did. She could almost hear his voice claiming his assistance would be invaluable.

“I know not, My Lady. Princess Sloane agreed to his request and that was the end of it,” the young man replied.

“By Eos, are the others okay? My sister? Cousins?” This past day it was all she could do to survive. She was ashamed to realize she hadn’t even considered asking Mason about her family’s fate until he mentioned them.

“They are well, My Princess. You needn’t worry, the escort has most likely arrived at Waterfall Citadel already.”

Relief flooded through her and she almost wept. She swallowed her tears, burying them so Mason would not see any weakness. She was his superior. Showing such emotion would not bode well for her authority, and he might decide to act on his initial intentions for Erik if she wavered. Only when she was again master of her emotions did she respond. “That is good news.”

“Yes it is,” said Mason as he staked several arrows into the ground and stood to face the darkness beyond the firelight. “You should get some sleep, My Lady. We will need to press on in a few hours. I will keep watch.”

She didn’t argue, though she had no intention of sleeping. She knew Bale, and she suspected Mason’s
offer
was what the captain would want done. She lay next to Erik but only pretended to fall asleep. If Mason moved to take the matter back into his own hands, she would be ready.

Erik opened his eyes upon hearing the rasp of steel on cured leather. He had been conscious enough to catch bits of the conversation that had transpired between the princess and her guardsman, and he had caught the look in the soldier’s eyes as Sacha berated him. He knew the Pelosian’s decision had been made, regardless of his apparent acquiescence to Sacha’s wish.

Unfortunately, Mason had been correct. Erik didn’t want to die, but he knew he would only slow their progress in his current state. From the time that sleep claimed Sacha, he had been patiently waiting.

Mason caught the glint of Erik’s steady gaze and stopped his creeping. The Pelosian straightened and walked carefully across the cleared ground to stand before him with Sacha’s sleeping form between them. He hefted his weapon almost as if he were offering it to Erik, and whispered, “You know this is the only way. She will not leave you behind if you still live.”

“Knowing doesn’t make this any easier for me,” Erik whispered back.

Mason frowned in confusion. “You agree?”

Erik closed his eyes briefly. He was going to die from his wounds, he knew that. He also knew Mason was correct. Sacha’s heart would not allow her to leave him behind. He smiled and opened his eyes. “Yes, I do.”

Mason gave a sharp nod and stepped carefully around Sacha. Erik closed his eyes as the sword rose. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye, son,” he whispered, thinking of Kinsey.

A loud rattle broke the stillness.

Erik’s eyes snapped open.

Mason stared at something in the jungle Erik couldn’t see, and from the woods, Pelosian battle calls rang out. Princess Sacha bolted upright, head turning in confusion.

Erik began to shout out a warning, but before he could say anything, pale, insectoid arms shot out from the darkness and entangled her.

Mason’s stunned surprise evaporated like morning mist. His sword swung high above his head as he bellowed his own call. He charged at the spike-covered limbs that were dragging the screaming Sacha away from the campfire. More arms, ending in large spikes, erupted from the darkness and impaled the Pelosian soldier before he could even reach the edge of the firelight. In the darkness beyond the fire, men died.

Erik had never felt so useless. He cried out, only to find himself the target of the wicked appendages as well.

He was snatched from the ground and dragged after Sacha’s struggling form. When his body crossed from the firelight into the darkness of the forest, he was spun about. Wet, sticky strings were wrapped around him as he was turned, covering his entire body. Every place the webbing touched his skin, the feeling went dead.

Eventually, all thoughts of struggle and escape disappeared into a cloud of darkness.

T
HE
time passed by like a summer storm.

The four days she had been given to search for Sacha had come and gone in the blink of an eye. The scouting mission to Riverwood had proven fruitless. She, Alexander, Rouke, and Captain Aria had scoured the wilderness near the riverside town and found an old Keep in which they believed Sacha had been held prisoner.

Their inspection of the ruin had only created more questions. A small army of men and goblins had lost their lives at the abandoned Keep. The survivors had left naught but the corpses of their dead companions. Of Sacha, there had been no sign.

Ultimately, they had been forced to abandon their search in the wilds and return to Waterfall Citadel to prepare for the wedding. Now Sloane found herself at the center of a seemingly endless progression of servants, decorators, attendants, and curious nobles as the day had drawn near.

The door to her chambers finally shut behind the latest crowd, and for a brief, blessed time, she was left alone to contemplate her reflection in a full stand mirror.

Beautiful
, she thought as she ran her long fingers delicately over the white silk of her wedding dress. Somehow, that word didn’t seem to fully convey the effect of the craftsmanship she regarded. The dress itself was amazing. Largely a work of broad, flat sections of heavy silk, the dress still managed to be unerringly tailored to delicately fit every curve of her body, and it moved with her in a graceful embrace. The train expanded behind her in a flowing teardrop that had been worked with embroidery to incorporate a wedge of roses and wildflowers, rendered in emerald green for Basinia, and crimson for Pelos. The rich, vibrant hues leapt from the fabric but were so well balanced with white space that the overall effect was one of total synergy. The wedge of color dwindled to a point as it climbed, ending just below the shining white border of the bust of the dress, which left her shoulders and upper chest bare.

The artwork of her appearance did not cease there. Her skin had been rubbed and polished until it veritably glowed with health and vibrancy. Here and there, loose strands of her rich chestnut mane had been allowed to escape from the artful curls upon her head. The delicate locks framed her jaw and ear, brushing the tops of her shoulders in lustrous whorls.

For jewelry, she wore only earrings that Alexander had presented her with just yesterday. Sapphires the exact shade of her eyes nestled in graceful sweeps of delicate white gold that called to mind the tips of the tree limbs of her new forest home.

Yet all of these beautiful things could not mask her melancholy. Her worry for her sister’s wellbeing, balanced against the life she was about to embark on, left her soul stretched and her emotions raw.