War of Shadows

The White-Marked Man

Chapter 12

By the time the sun dips over the horizon and blankets us in the darkness of the night, Red Beard and the first brute make it back to camp with arms full of sticks and dead tree branches for a very sad fire. The sparse flares of heat that waft out of the firepit does nothing to settle the chills running through me, and I have to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. The storm never rolled in. Soon, I’ll leave soon.

I didn’t consider that they would have someone stay awake throughout the night, but I’m not surprised. On the bright side, Scrawny got left on the first watch. I can easily take him on, as long as he doesn’t call for help. I just have to take him by surprise.

“I have to pee.”

He narrows his eyes and stays silent for a moment before glancing around the woods surrounding us. “No.”

“Oh! so you’re okay with me pissing on your bedroll then, I take it?” The words rush out in an angry hushed whisper, so as not to wake the two buffoons and Red Beard.

“Crouch behind this tree, and make it fast.” His thumb jerks to the tree he’s leaning against and his eyes rake our surroundings again.

“You scared of the boogeyman jumping out or something?” I tease.

“Now, or never” he snaps.

A twig cracks behind us and our heads snap to the side in unison. My eyes zero in on the endless sea of black surrounding us, desperately trying to adjust and focus. It could just be something as harmless as a squirrel, but something deep inside me stirs at whatever presence is lurking in the thicket. I don’t dare glance at Scrawny to see if he sees anything, and every muscle in my body is pulled tight and locked into place, not allowing me to draw a breath too deeply.

Fabric brushes against my shoulder and my heart leaps, nearly screaming before locking eyes with Scrawny, silently urging me to slip one of the bags over my shoulder with a finger to his lips. I glance back into the darkness, making sure nothing is sneaking up on us. Why is he giving me the bag? Are we leaving? I glance at the tents housing the snoozing buffoons and Red Beard in a silent question. Scrawny slowly shakes his head as he carefully twists himself into his own backpack. Whatever snapped in the woods hasn’t shaken him the same as it did me.

As if reading my confusion on my face, he presses the leather handle of a serrated knife into my palm and whispers so lowly that I question if he’s speaking at all “We’re leaving. Hurry, and be silent.”

I’m not asking questions. Having one person that I can take on my own is a lot more comforting than the idea of leaving alone. The idea makes me feel like a coward, but I’m not going to lie to myself. Scrawny had given me extra food and water, had been the one to cut the ties from my wrists too. Maybe he’s on my team after all. He’s extra help on escaping, but I’m not letting my guard down.

We tiptoe into the darkness, heart pounding so loudly in my ears that I’m afraid Red Beard can hear it. Every leaf that bristles into dust under my shoes and stick that breaks under my weight makes me mentally kick myself for not being quieter. I try to keep my focus on moving ahead, shoving down the absolute horror creeping from my gut. I’m almost out.

I swallow back a sigh of frustration after seeing that we haven’t made it far at all from the camp. The tents don’t rustle and the fire cackled almost soothingly but something feels off, like the quiet before the storm. I can feel it in the air hanging around us; something is watching. Waiting.

I pause, just long enough for my eyes to adjust to watch three cloaked figures slither silently into the camp. One tramples the fire, while the other two ease their way through the flaps of two tents. The sound of men screaming jolts my muscles into action all over again and my subdued tiptoeing turns into the thunderous sprint after Scrawny.

“Quick, follow me!” Scrawny’s voice is faint against the adrenaline soaring through my ears but I let him guide me as he grabs my wrist and steers us in another direction.

“What is that?” I pant in a frenzy, throwing glances behind us to be sure they aren’t in a chase.

“Just shut up and follow me. There’s a group I’m with that are going to keep you safe.”

My legs slow down, my thoughts raging.

“Who are you, and what the f**k is going on?” I want to rage. I’m not even supposed to be here, and I just want to go home.

He sighs impatiently and walks back to me with his hands splayed in front of him. “I’m taking you to your mother, I swear. The second we got wind that you’d been found out, we’ve been working on getting you safe. Now we’re on a very time-sensitive schedule and if we don’t get moving, it all gets f****d. So move.”

“No. I’m not whoever the f**k you think I am, and I’m f*****g Tired of this s**t. You’re all f*****g stupid and I’m done being dragged all over hell over a huge misunderstanding!”

Scrawny curses under his breath and tugs me behind him, and I’m too busy fighting off the emotional overflow threatening to spill over to swat him away.

“Look, I don’t particularly care what you think right now. The only way that you’re going to be alive after tonight is by doing what I say.” I nearly trip over a cluster of rocks, my vision blurred from the tears that escaped. I refuse to admit that he’s my best option, regardless of where he’s taking me. “What was your plan, huh? I saw the gears turning in your head, and how exactly did you plan on surviving out here alone. You a survivalist? No? Didn’t think so, sweets.”

I follow him, because he’s right. I won’t survive on my own and I need to stay alive until Eli finds me.

Hours pass, and our rushed footsteps have slowed to a much more comfortable pace, though not as slow as I would like it to be. I’m sure Scrawny deemed us to be on schedule with whatever time sensitivity he was so worried about. The black sky and glittering stars gave way to a soft grey, the sun teasing over the horizon but not yet breaking. My legs ache more than they ever have before, threatening to give out beneath me with every forced step I take. With heavy lids and a dry throat, I call out to Scrawny, who’s still trudging ahead as if it were a brisk morning stroll.

“We need to stop.”

“We’re close.”

“Close to what?” My words are nothing but a hoarse whine.

“There are people waiting just outside the forest edge to take us home.”

I don’t have the energy to argue with him. At this point I don’t care where home is, as long as there’s food, water, and a warm bed.

We continue our silent trek, and I catch sight of a black bird in one of the trees, silently watching as we pass. The sound of our stomping had triggered animals of all kinds to scutter away from us, but this one stayed, eerily watching us before flying ahead.

Great, the scavengers are waiting for us to kill over.

Everything had started to blur together long before we reached the edge of the forest. The canopy of the trees had thinned and revealed a pink sky above, and the brush cleared into an open prairie beside a wide gravel road.

“That’s our ride.” Scrawny’s voice startles me, and he gestures up the road. I squint against my blurring vision, but all I can make out is a small group.

I just want to go home.

“I can’t.”

I barely make out the words before the ground tilts beneath me and swallows me up into darkness and I succumb to the warm blanket, coaxing me deeper and deeper.

***********************

A warm glow brushes against my closed eyelids. A pillow cushions my head, and a soft chirping of birds sings in the near distance, carried to me on a cool gentle breeze which gently tickles my cheek in a calming sweep.

The bed dips under the weight of a body.

Fast as lightning, I rip myself out of my head and blindly swing an arm in the direction of the weight. A man grabs my wrist and pins it beside my head with a sharp intake of air. I hiss against the tears in my skin and twist my legs up and under his arm, landing a blow with my heel to his throat.

“Get OFF!” I scream, my pent up anger bubbling up to a boiling point. “Don’t you f*****g touch me.”

The man lurches off the bed, and backs up with his hands raised. “You’re awake.”

“No s**t I’m awake, you sick f**k!”

I shift in the bed and raise to stand on shaky feet, arms raised. “Take one step and I’ll f*****g kill you.” Flashes of Red Beard flutter through my head as my heart pounds in my chest and the walls close in. The air refuses to fill my burning lungs, and all of a sudden my skin feels tight, too tight. The room spins and I slide down against the bed, being sure to keep my hands in front of me.

The man crouches, keeping a comfortable distance away. “Setyrie, you’re having a panic attack. I’m not going to touch you, nobody is going to hurt you.”

I glance around the intricately furnished bedroom and lock in onto a pair of vividly hazel eyes, hooded by thick lashes with a patch of white lashes above his left eye that travels through his brow and up to his hairline. The front section of his hair is white, a stark contrast against the mane of long dark brown curls pulled to a knot in the back. He has strong, heavily tanned features of a man in his mid- twenties, and his neatly trimmed beard is speckled with stray white strands throughout. He’s beautiful.

“There you go, deep breaths,” He soothes. His soft voice doesn’t match his fiery gaze, promising pain and setting off alarm bells in my head.

“Get out. Please, just leave me alone. I didn’t do anything, I’m not her.”

He stands and I tense in response, but he moves to the door and swings it open. “My name is Caziel, and you’re in Ghehsia. I’ll send your mother in with a healer.” With that, he slams the door closed behind him, the paintings on the wall jostling against the wall.

I remain where I am, eyes fixed on the door.

I feel something unfolding within me, something full of anger and resentment, something darker than who I know myself to be. I’ve tried my best to keep everything at bay, but these past few days have picked away at the stray threads that have been holding me together. I feel the darker thoughts of my subconscious, teasing and taunting me to give into them. The skin I hide behind no longer feels like my own. The bruises, the aches, and the tears in my skin feel so foreign to me now, and I finally accept what I’ve been trying to push down since Red Beard r***d me.

Stella doesn’t exist anymore.

I don’t know who I am anymore, and I don’t know where I am or who to trust.