Desolate, Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy (35 page)

Tonight I must be
perfect in everything that I do. I must win. I am a survivor.

Last
until sunrise. That is your only task.
I
follow the banks of the stream for several minutes, careful not to
splash in the water as I pass. The moon rises higher above, casting
bright light upon the glistening water. Though I am grateful for the
light with which to see by, I also realize it will be easier to spot
me.

I pause to catch my
breath and survey my surroundings. I am deep within the heart of the
mountains. Spruce and pine trees block my view of the valley beyond.
Darkness is all around. I cannot spy any hint of firelight from a
village. This area was chosen for its remoteness.

The
howl of a wolf startles me and I nearly topple off the rock
outcropping that I perch upon. Its cry rises from the canyon below
and is swiftly echoed from across the valley.
There
are other hunters in these woods tonight.

I hear the snap of a
twig a split second before an arrow bursts from the edge of the
woods. I instinctively roll to the side and come up to my feet, mere
inches from the drop-off. Squinting against the moonlight, I peer
deep into the woods for any sign of my attacker, though I see and
hear none.

It
must be Rymus,
I think as I drop to a crouch. Fane taught me a smaller target is
harder to hit and this position is the best to give me leverage
should I need to dart away or leap to attack. Is he alone? How did he
find me before the others?

Rymus is slight in
stature, soft footed, and lethal with a bow. Fane warned me that I
should not underestimate this man from the north. He could have crept
along the forest floor with hardly a sound, though as I search the
forest floor, I realize the arrow did not come from ground level. I
look up and peer into the depths of the spruce trees standing before
me.

It takes me several
seconds to spot him clinging to a tree trunk nearly twenty feet in
the air. His dark clothes blend perfectly with his surroundings,
though he fails to hide the metal tip of his arrow from the
moonlight. I see a glint of metal a split second before it comes
hurtling toward me.

Without a thought, I
turn and dash into the woods, running faster than I have ever gone.
The cold winds whip my hair behind me, lashing against my cheeks. My
footsteps pound the earth in rhythm with my thumping heart. I hear a
thundering crash from behind me and know someone else has discovered
my trail.

I urge myself on as
a hulking shape appears to my right. Castor the Scot is on my tail,
his kilt flapping out behind him. This immortal is twice my size,
with arms as big as wine barrels. Beefy hands clench his favored
weapon: a rust-colored wooden staff with an anvil-like head on the
top. With one swing he could break every bone in my body.

Run
faster!
I
silently scold as I leap over a downed pine tree. My scream follows
me down into the ravine as I lose my footing. I tumble end over end,
crying out as I am bumped and jostled, finally coming to a halt at
the bottom.
Get
up! Get up!

Lurching to my feet,
I cast a wary glance over my shoulder and my heart stops. Three more
are upon me, riding the loose soil straight toward me. Lucien is in
the lead, followed by Barrett and the bear-like brute Timen, whose
broad-axe seems to be an extension of his arm.

I
cannot fight all of them at once. Think, Roseline!
I
dart a glance around me and seize on an errant idea. Five are behind
me, which means five more are still out there. It will only be a few
moments before I have all ten gathered. I must find a way to thin
them out one by one.

Fane warned me
against seeking high ground so they expect I will follow his advice.
That is why I will not.

I rush into the
shadows and flip backward into a tree. Digging my nails into the
bark, I rise swiftly to the top. The tree sways dangerously under my
weight so I shift to compensate as I get a lay of the land.

“She has gone
aloft!” a man shouts from below.

I hear their
pounding steps as they reach the leaf-strewn ground beneath me. I
have to move. The muscles in my legs flex as I leap from the tree and
scramble to grasp the next. Like a flying squirrel, I jump through
the forest from one treetop to the next. I can hear the shouts below
me as confusion reigns, unsure if they should come up after me or
stay below.

I wince as a dagger
spirals through the air, slicing through the top layer of my cheek.
As warm blood oozes along the wound, I turn to find Barrett halfway
up the tree beside me. His beady black eyes are wide with triumph. “I
am coming for you, Roseline.”

“You look a
tad unsteady, Barrett. Are you afraid of heights?” I call back
as I watch him clutch the tree with colorless fingers. I laugh as he
risks a glance down and then scowls back at me. “Let us see
just how scared you really are.”

I snatch his dagger
from the tree trunk and leap to the next tree, searching for greater
heights. I clamp the blade between my teeth, tasting my blood upon
it. My stomach churns, though I push aside my revulsion. Others have
begun to climb behind me, though they seem as unsure as Barrett. For
the first time since entering these woods, a laugh passes my lips,
low enough to be snatched away by the wind, though a chorus of snarls
below me lets me know that all heard it.

A new sensation
begins to bud within me: hope. Can I really survive this night? Can I
outsmart these hunters? Fane was reluctant to reveal that none of the
other wives had lasted until the moon was high overhead. I have and
then some.

That
tiny ounce of hope vanishes as I spot Fane atop the far ridge. His
stance is rigid, his face grim as he clutches his sword in hand. He
is staring right at me. It is impossible to tell from this distance
what he is thinking. His face is a mask, concealing his emotions.
Just
stay away from him,
I
mutter silently as I leap again.

The view from here
is spectacular. I can see the foothills that lead into the mountains,
see the rolling pastureland where animals will graze on the sweet
dewy grass at dawn. I can see plumes of smoke spiraling up into the
cloudless sky from homesteads across the land. Somewhere out there in
the dark was my home.

Is
it abandoned now? Has someone moved in to seize my father’s
lands? I am seized by a longing to see my former home, and with that
thought comes an even stronger one.
You
know those woods
.
In
those woods you would have the advantage.

“Come and get
me,” I whisper to myself as I increase my pace, broadening the
distance between Barrett and myself.

I can hear pounding
feet below and know that those remaining on the ground have not lost
my trail. How long would it take me to run home? An hour by foot?
Perhaps more. The mountains are sure to slow my pace. I cannot hope
to outrun the hunters. Their bellies are full of blood, making them
stronger and faster, though if I could wear them out…

I search about me
for somewhere I can hide. I nearly weep with relief when I spy a lake
ahead of me. If only I can make it there before the others.

Reaching behind me,
I grab my dagger from my waist and slash it across my palm. A growl
rises from below as I squeeze droplets of blood onto the branches,
squeezing my hand so it splatters onto the ground. Tearing a strip of
leather from my skirt, I bind my hand and dive for a tree ahead of
me, disappearing into the branches. The scent of my blood will only
slow them for a moment. Long enough for me to make my escape.

“Where is the
girl? Who claimed her? Rales? Theron? Can you see her?”
Lucien’s tone is cold and livid. I can hear him pacing below.
The two beefy bodyguards who manhandled me from my room earlier step
out into the moonlight and stare up into the tree, trying to catch a
glimpse of me. They look in the wrong place.

“Can you see
her?”

“No. She is
hidden.”

I inch out on my
branch and peer through the thick boughs to see Fane approaching from
the west, his blade lowered. Lucien’s mane of hair flaps wildly
as he rapidly shakes his head. “Barrett, what can you spy?”

“Nothing,”
a grunt replies from several trees behind. “I can smell her.
Who claimed the first blood?”

I press back into
the tree trunk and still my breathing. I close my eyes and rest for
the briefest of moments. My hand is throbbing, though I fight to
ignore the pain as I consider my options.

If I move, they will
instantly be on my trail. If I do not, someone will eventually climb
the tree to discover that I remain. Chittering over my shoulder makes
me nearly cry out. I clasp my hand over my mouth to still my cry as I
turn to find a squirrel emerging from its nest. I stare into its
black eyes and silently thank it for its sacrifice.

Untying my bandage,
I drag my blade across my palm, digging deeper into my flesh. I
snatch the animal with my wounded hand and smear crimson blood across
its head, back, and fluffy tail. I yank out strands of my hair and
wrap them around its tail so the wind will carry my scent.

Thank
you,
my lips silently mime as I turn and hurl the squirrel through the air
into a tree to my left.

“Stop!”
I close my eyes and press back into the tree trunk, clasping my
wounded hand to my chest, praying my ruse will work. Seconds slip
past as I hold my breath. “She is moving to the north!”

Barrett
curses as he clambers down out of the tree, taking to the ground
after the rest of the hunters. Their progress is cumbersome as they
each fight for the lead. Lucien comes out ahead as he turns and
shoves the tip of his sword straight through Rales’ throat. His
brother rounds on Lucien, who is already on the move. Theron whips
his spike mace in the air, intent on smashing in the side of Lucien’s
face, though Lucien sidesteps and slashes his glistening blade across
his abdomen. The two giants fall and lie still.

“She is
escaping and you are concerned with narrowing the competition?”
Barrett grunts as he shoves past and tries to slight Timen’s
lead.

“I never cared
for them anyway.” Lucien leaps to his feet and dashes after
Barrett. I wait until the sounds of their retreat have faded before I
emerge and leap to the ground.

The forest is still,
though I know it is not without its perils. I have yet to see Rymus
and his brother Cain. Castor from Wallachia has failed to make an
appearance as well.

I say a silent
prayer of thanks as I rise and listen. Fane taught me well. He knew
the men who would most likely volunteer for this hunt. He told me
their skills and their weaknesses. I only hope this knowledge will
help me before the night is out.

With silent
footfalls, I race toward the lake, drawn by the churning surface. It
shines brightly in the moonlight, calling me to safety. I pause at
the water’s edge and look back over my shoulder. I cannot hear
any sounds of my pursuers, though I know it will not take them long
to discover my ruse. Tying my hair into a knot at the base of my
neck, I turn to face the water and stop short.

Fane emerges from
the tree line, his sword tip plunged into the earth. “Are you
here to kill me?” I call softly.

“No.”
There is no emotion on his face, no hint of thought in his eyes.

“With whom
does your loyalty lie? With my husband or with me?”

Fane evades my
question as strongly as he avoids my direct gaze. “I know where
it is that you will go.”

I hesitate,
wondering if he truly does. “Will you tell them?”

A hint of a smile
flits across his lips as he lifts his sword and places it upon his
shoulder. “The hunt ends at dawn. Survive ‘til then and
you will live.”

He turns to leave.
“You want me to hide? You told me not to,” I call out to
him.

Fane glances back
over his shoulder. “I also instructed you not to bleed.
However, that appears to have worked out rather well for you.”

He vanishes back
into the forest without a sound. I turn to face the water and pump my
fist in triumph, then leap into the frigid depths of the lake and
head for home.

My legs ache and my
chest burns by the time I reach the other side of the lake. It is far
wider than I first thought. I drag myself up the shore, pulling
myself along with tree roots that sink deep into the water.

I roll onto my back
and breathe, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest. I am weary. I
would love nothing more than to find a place to hide, though this is
what Fane expects, and if he does, so will the others.

Determined to do the
opposite, I turn and head toward my home. Trees lash against my skin
as I sprint ahead, running full out. The moon seems to stop directly
overhead as I push myself beyond my limits. I stay clear of the road
and villages, terrified of the thought of unleashing a blood-crazed
immortal on innocents.

No. This is my
fight.

The air is cool
against my skin, though I still feel as if I am on fire. The soles of
my boots warm with friction. Sweat beads in my halter, yet still I
run. I pause only for a moment at a stream to moisten my mouth before
moving on.

Finally the moon
begins to shift once more. I can feel the change in the forest. The
scent is different. The land calls to me.

I have reached the
outer edge of the forests that surround Brasov. Fane expects me to
enter the town, to choose my home to hide within. I will not do so.
Instead, I skirt the outer walls and head back into the forest,
drawing them away from the mortals.

The terrain here is
rough, strewn with rock formations that lead to chasms high enough to
send a man to his death should he lose his footing. I know of this
place. Heard tales of how you can easily get lost. This is where I
will make my stand.