Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (24 page)

Another bandit pops out of a bush near Yaz.

Two more bandits go for Agna and Preta.

Preta snatches a bow and fires and misses.

Deet yells as his blade meets a bandit’s iron, “Run, Preta, hide!”

A hand grasps Preta’s shirt and it rips. She trips and falls to the wet, cool ground, landing on all fours and her knees sink into the mud.

The bandit cradles Preta’s waist with one arm and he jerks her up, resting her on his hip. “Now, now, now, not so fast, little girl. Just where do you think you’re heading off to? We just got here, and the party is just starting.”

“Let go of me, let go!” Preta says, squirming in his arms.

A bandit straddles Agna on the ground.

Agna slaps the man’s scruffy, dirty face. “Stop it!”

The bandit punches Agna in the jaw, and she goes limp.

Preta kicks and screams.

“I’m gonna have fun with you, little girl,” the bandit says, his pitted face twists with perversion.

“No! Let me go.”

The bandit’s grip goes limp, dead, and he drops Preta. She lands on her knees as he falls face-first to the ground.

Preta presses off the mud, scrambles to her feet, and yanks the knife out from the bandit’s fur-covered back. She lunges onto the man straddling Agna and thrusts the knife deep into his side.

“You’ll pay for that,” the bandit says, springing off Agna with the knife stuck in his shoulder blade.

Crouched in a fighting stance with fists up, Preta faces him, her arms and head shaking with fear and anger, an aqua-blue light ripples over her black pupils.

The bandit’s mouth curls into a sinister grin, exposing a single gold tooth next to black neighbors. He raises his dagger and steps toward Preta.

Agna grips the bandit’s ankle and pulls his leg.

“
Ha
, so you want more?” the bandit says, looking down on Agna and then he backhands her in the head.

Agna groans and falls limp onto her side.

Preta reaches forward. “No!”

“Enough games, little girl, now it’s time to play my game.” The bandit’s nostrils flare, and he taps his dagger tip on his cheek full of pimples and sporadic clumps of thin, stringy whiskers.

Preta scurries back and trips over a dead man, and she falls onto her butt.

The bandit continues forward like a slithering snake, stalking Preta down.

Preta crawls away, and the bandit snatches her foot.

The man’s eyes bulge with excitement, and spittle projects out his mouth and sprays Preta in her eyes. “Not so fa—”

Bang
—

Preta flinches from the loud gunshot.

The bandit falls to his knees. His head twitches in fits—blood gurgles in his throat.

Preta kicks him in the chest, knocking him over.

The man collapses to the ground, thick blood seeps out the corner of his mouth. With a faint breath, he goes still.

Deet helps Preta to her feet. “Are you all right?”

Preta shivers and wipes the man’s essence from her eyes and off her face.
Gross
. She nods. “I think I’m okay. Oh no, Agna.”

Deet and Preta run to Agna lying unconscious on her back, her eye bruised and her lip puffy.

Preta rests her hand on Agna’s forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

Deet places his hand on Preta’s shoulder, trying to comfort her.

“You’re dead,” Yaz says in a menacing growl from the other side of the clearing.

“Watch after Agna for a minute,” Deet says, pointing to Preta, then he rushes over to Yaz.

Yaz props a scrawny, tattered clothed man against a tree, and he presses the point of his knife against the bandit’s throat.

Agna blinks as she regains consciousness. “Help me up.”

Preta lifts Agna to her feet, and they move to Deet and Yaz.

The gaunt bandit with yellow skin—squirms. His shaky, bloodshot eyes look like a reptile, and he stutters, “I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry. It wasn’t m-my idea. It w-was theirs,” and he points at his dead comrades.

Yaz punches the bandit’s mouth, knocking the fur cap off the top of his head. “Sure it was, scum. I guess you wouldn’t have your way with my sister?”

“No, no, of c-course not. I would never—they’re the animals, n-not me.”

“You run with wolves, you’re a wolf,” Deet says. “Kill him.”

“Wait, wait, y-you are lost, yes? I know the way out, I can help you, I can.”

“Hold,” Deet says to stop Yaz as he raises his hand. “Tell us the way out.”

“No, no, I can’t t-tell you, I have to show you, you n-need me.”

Yaz spits on the man’s chest. “We don’t need the likes of you, you slimy rat.” He cocks his arm back, ready to strike.

“
Hold
,” Deet says, grabbing Yaz’s shoulder. Deet pokes the bandit’s chest with his finger. “You try to escape or lead us astray, and I’ll castrate you, gouge out your eyes, and shove them all down your skinny throat, do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes, I understand, I understand. Y-you won’t be sorry. I’ll lead you out, p-promise I will.”

“Yaz, bind his hands.”

Yaz scowls and swipes the hilt of his dagger across the man’s cheek.

The bandit’s cheek rips open, and his head drops to his chest. Blood and rotten teeth tumble out of his mouth. The man crumples, grabbing his knees. A long stream of slimy blood and saliva, a hue of yellow with red streaks dangle to the ground.

Yaz secures the bandit with the rope the leshy bound him with.

Deet eyes Agna. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll survive. He didn’t…” She shakes her head. “Besides, that’s no man. Though I appreciate you killing that scum for me.”

“Thank Preta, she helped.”

Agna sighs and extends her hand toward Preta then gives her a motherly smile. “So much to endure so young, such a brave girl.”

Preta gives Agna a kind smile in return and hugs her.

“You did good, Sister,” Deet says, and he rifles through a bandit’s fur coat, searching for anything valuable.

After a few minutes, they gather in a circle in the center of the clearing.

“
Seriously
? Only three stinking coppers amongst the seven of you?” Deet says.

The tethered bandit spits to the ground. “What d-did you expect, you were being robbed by r-royalty?”

Yaz shakes his fist at the bandit. “Shut up, or you’ll lose the rest of your mouth.”

Deet points toward the forest. “Gather everything and let’s go. West is this way, and east is that way. Lead the way, scum, we head west.”

“
West
?” the bandit says, fear tremors in his voice. “Why w-west? The town and road are east, t-the Rivers are west.”

“I gave you our bearing.” Deet scowls at the bandit. “Unless of course you don’t know the way.”

“B-but you know what I heard lives on those rivers?”

“No, and I don’t care.”

“If we g-go east, we can take the road s-south and then west and northwest, much s-safer I think, yes?”

“No! I said we go west, through the Rivers.”

“B-but—”

Yaz gives the bandit a humiliating slap across the cheek. “He’s stalling, Brother, he doesn’t know the way, or he’s a coward, let me kill him.”

“B-but, please.”

Deet flicks his hand as if discarding garbage. “Fine, kill him.”

“N-no, wait.”

Yaz raises his spike and without hesitating stabs the bandit in his shoulder.

The bandit screams in pain and fear.

Deet and Preta watch Yaz draw back for another blow.

“Attack my family, did you?” Yaz says. “I’m gonna poke you with a hundred little holes with my spike.”

Agna steps forward and grabs Deet’s arm. “Stop your brother.”

“Why?”

Yaz thrusts again, penetrating the bandit’s other shoulder. He recoils for another strike.

Agna lunges forward, grabbing Yaz’s arm. “Yaz, stop, stop!”

Yaz rips out of her grasp. “Get off me, witch!”

“Agna, let him go,” Deet says.

“No, stop for a minute, please, just listen to me.”

The bandit shakes his head in a panic. “Yes, yes, l-listen to the w-woman, stop, stop!”

“Shut up!” Yaz says. “I’m gonna make beads out of your eyes, you craven slim-eating stuttering scum of a snake, you killed my sister.”

“No, no, I didn’t, I never t-touched your s-sister—she’s standing r-right there alive and well.”

“You killed her. I’m gonna rip every limb from your body.”

Agna grips Deet’s arm and pulls him harder. “Stop him, let me explain.”

“Fine.” Deet nudges Yaz away from the bandit.

Yaz waves his arms in a crazed rage. “Let me go! Kill him, he killed Sister, I want him dead, I want to kill him, let go of me dammit, he killed Nala!”

Deet pulls Yaz’s forehead to his. “Calm yourself, come back to us. He didn’t kill Nala.”

Yaz’s glazed over eyes dance back and forth with blood lust. Blood streaks down his face. His dirty blond hair stained wet with sticky crimson.

Deet cups Yaz’s cheeks with both his hands. “Brother, it’s all right, he didn’t kill Sister.”

Entranced, Yaz’s lips slowly curl down into a frown. His head droops and falls into Deet’s chest, and he cries. “Nala…”

“I know, I know,” Deet says, embracing his brother tight. “It’ll be all right, come back to us now.”

Yaz slowly pushes away, taking a deep breath. He sniffs. “I’m fine, sorry for the blubbery.” He yanks the bandit’s ropes, jerking the man forward.

“Why shouldn’t we kill him?” Deet says, turning toward Agna.

Agna glares at the bandit. “He needs to serve justice for what he did. Bring him along. Maybe he’ll be useful if we get lost. And if he’s not useful, Yaz can still do whatever he was going to do to him anyway.”

Deet scowls not liking the plan, but he concedes. “All right, for now, witch.” He nods toward Yaz. “Bring the scum and let’s go.”

A NEW FRIEND

“Preta, grab the rope for Yaz,” Deet says.

Preta yanks the bandit forward.

Yaz limps behind her, leaning on a stick.

Agna is in front of Preta, and Deet is ahead making a path through the dense forest.

The weather changes. The air cools further, and the pines transition to tall trees with wide floppy leaves. The ground black from the aeons of decomposing vegetation, ferns and moss of every shade of green, from juniper to sage to emerald to mint to chartreuse cover the dank forest floor. A heavy dampness lingers, and the surroundings darken from the thick canopy.

Preta’s skin crawls from the moisture and it gives her goose bumps. Exhaling, her breath is visible, forming a misty cloud in front of her face. Clear water drips from her nose and settles in the notch above her lip.

Preta hikes for hours, counting in her head. She tries to take her mind off her sore legs and the chill growing deep in her bones, seeping in from her wet clothes. Her stomach growls and cramps, adding to her discomfort. She peeks back at Yaz struggling with his leg.

Yaz grimaces with every step and looks as if he’ll fall over at any moment.

Preta tugs the strap on Agna’s pack. “Agna—it’s Yaz.”

Agna ignores her, lost in her own misery.

Preta tugs Agna harder, forcing her to stop.

Agna sees Yaz struggling. “Deet, your brother’s not well.”

Deet stops hacking through the forest and peers back.

Agna taps Deet on his shoulder. “Your brother needs to stop and rest.”

Wobbly and pale faced, Yaz leans against a tree and stares at the ground, his boots obscured by a pair of ferns.

“We stop here for the night,” Deet says. “Preta, tie up the scum, and see after Yaz. I’ll scout ahead for a few minutes and circle our camp to make sure it’s safe. Agna, gather firewood and dig a fire pit.”

Yaz drops his gear and places his hand on the tree bark. Yaz holds the foot of his bad leg a few inches off the ground and mumbles cuss words.

Preta sets her pack next to her brother’s. “Yaz, how are you feeling?”

“Not good, Sis.”

“Sit and let me see your leg.”

Yaz slides down the tree and props his back up against the bark. He shuts his eyes and unties his pants then lifts his butt off the soggy ground.

Preta pulls his pants off to inspect the wound on his thigh. She removes the bandage. A pungent cheese aroma emanates off Yaz’s leg. His thigh swollen and red, the gash seeps yellow pus. A crusty black border circles the edges.

Preta presses the back of her hand on Yaz’s forehead to check his temperature.

Yaz’s head sways; sweat pools on his hairline. “I don’t feel well.”

“I know you don’t, Yaz. Rest, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Deet returns from his reconnaissance, and Preta meets him out of earshot of their brother.

“Dee, Yaz isn’t well. He’s got a fever, and the leg’s infected.”

Deet gestures toward Agna. “Help the witch gather wood and start a fire. I’ll build a shelter, and then we’ll see to Yaz. And Preta, lots of firewood, we may be here for a while.”

Preta spends the next thirty minutes gathering sticks and logs.

Deet places the finishing touches on a lean-to shelter, and Preta builds the fire large enough so it doesn’t need any more tending.

Deet crouches down next to the flames, warming his hands for a minute, then he sighs. “Let’s see to your brother.”

Yaz lies on his side, asleep and mumbling.

Deet inspects the wound and shakes his head in disappointment. “There goes our day head start.”

“What do you mean?” Agna says, leaning in for a closer look.

“He isn’t moving for at least a day or two, and that’s if he gets better.”

“But Bielston, we have to get there and get off the island.”

“And we will,” Deet says. “When my brother is better. Till then, get comfortable, we’re not leaving. You can prepare the oats and leave the rest to me.”

“
Humph
,” Agna says, turning away and pouting.

“How do we make him better?” Preta says to Deet.

“For starters, get your copper cup and boil some water. Dip two clean pieces of cloth into the boiling water and remove them. Then place the cloth on the wound and clean it.” He turns to Agna. “Instead of pouting over there, you can help us. Along with the oats, prepare some vitis tea for Yaz—I have some in the front pocket of my pack in the medical kit.”

By the fire, Preta prepares the sterile cloth.