The Liberian

Chapter 70

They could do nothing; none of them could do anything. If she didn’t try, then it was over. Halle dug her heels into Lightning’s sides as she cut through the shocked expressions to the outside of the column. Somewhere, someone was calling her name.

Halle didn’t look back.

The wind was in her ears, it flowed through her and, despite all her fears, she did nothing to suppress it. This would not be like the last time. She would find the wind and use it to save, not to kill.

Halle snapped the reins. “Faster,” she demanded. “Faster!” she cried, watching the sandstorm creep toward the end of the column. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest, and Halle blinked the sand from her eyes.

The solders of the rear legions stared at her in shock as she ran headfirst toward the storm. There was more shouting now from behind her. Halle glanced back. The Black Legion was a roar calling for her. She turned her head away from them, almost at the end of the host.

The wind whipped her hair, and soon Lightning began to spook and fight her pushes to advance. Halle cursed at the beast, begging it to carry her just a little farther. Through her words or her heels at his sides, Lightning obliged. She cut back onto the road when the last of the legion sprinted past her in the opposite direction. Their horrified expressions were all they could give her.

Halle pulled hard and dismounted ungracefully, stumbling and recovering. Turning Lightning back to the host she gave him a slap on his rear—the horse needed no further urging to run from the swirling sands. The soldiers kept going.

She breathed a small sigh of relief. They needed every chance they could get. If she should fail, they needed to keep pressing on. At the very least she would buy them time. Halle turned and looked up at the titan of wind and sand.

And she felt very small.

Halle spread out her feet and planted them, bracing herself. She held out her bare hands into the wind. If she could make a storm, she could end one. Halle felt the wind through her fingers, she felt the currents, they were part of her—and they would answer to her.

Nothing prepared her for the impact of the storm. It was as though she was thrown from another roof and Halle felt her shoulders pop from the strain. Her whole body was pressed down, and her knees trembled.

Halle closed her eyes and grit her teeth. There was sand all around her, in her hair, in her ears, and in her nose. But it would end here, with her. She leaned into the storm, pushing back with all the force she had. In the chaos of the sand and the roar of the wind, she couldn’t open her eyes. Halle tried to reach outward to see if she had even managed to stop or slow the storm, but her senses were jumbled with the raw power she was trying to draw from.

The first time she cried out was when one of her fingers snapped back. The sharp and sudden pain of her bones being pulled from their joints made her focus falter—she felt the wind collapse in on her, almost losing her balance. Halle forced her legs to straighten, straining against the pain. Another finger went, and then her shoulder threatened to give out.

Her hands trembled and Halle felt herself at the edge of exhaustion. With a cry she did everything Derek had cautioned her against since her very first lesson with him. Halle threw herself into her Channel with the singular thought that this storm ended here, that it would not reach her friends—it would not reach him.

The moments that followed were a strange dichotomy of feeling, like her body was dying and her mind was being born again. Light seared at the edges of her closed eyes and flooded her senses. With an almost audible click she felt herself connect to the storm through her Channel. She felt every edge of it, understood its violent gales. It was hers now, an extension of her magic that she possessed a fragile measure of control over.She struggled to move her arms. Halle felt the connection with her physical body wavering. She cried mentally, straining against the impending failure of her systems. A little more—it was both a prayer and a rally—a little more. Her arms out at her sides, Halle took a deep breath and felt the sand fill her lungs. She gave one last push to make the storm a part of her. And then turned that power inward, pushing it down into her Channel and smothering it.

The winds died and silence filled her ears. Halle’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, her arms dropping to her sides. Cracking her eyes open she saw the blazing brightness of the sun against a blue sky. A small sob escaped her mouth and she coughed, her lungs on fire. There was still a strange blur of light and dark playing at the edge of her vision. Halle felt her shoulder hit the stone of the road, then her temple—and the world went black.

A SINGLE FLAME DANCED at her bedside and the moon shifted through foreign curtains as Halle drifted in and out of consciousness. She shifted restlessly, trying to free herself from the prison of exhaustion and the twilight state of dreams.

A warm palm touched her cheek, followed by the whispering of soothing words. She stirred at the rustle of the blanket being pulled over her. Halle cracked her eyes open.

The room came slowly into focus. Halle didn’t recognize the tasteful decoration or sumptuous décor. But she did recognize the woman tending her bedside.

“This is getting old,” Halle whispered weakly, nearly startling Arel out of her skin.

“You’re awake,” the Western woman breathed with a sigh of relief. “This is getting old. Stop beating yourself up.” The levity was not lost on Arel, and the woman was joyous just at the sight of Halle’s open eyes.

“Where are we?” Halle asked between a fit of coughing. It felt as though her insides had been shredded.

“The Crossroads.” Arel held a cup of water to Halle’s parched lips.

“We made it?” she sputtered in surprise.

“We did.” Arel passed the cup to Halle’s eager hands, standing from her place at the bedside. “And there’s someone who has been very eager to see you.”

Arel left the room without further explanation, but Halle wasn’t surprised when a raven-haired prince silently slipped through the door a short time later. He turned and Halle’s breath hitched. His hair was fixed in place, and he was swathed in finery, not armor. He was every inch the prince she’d met months ago. Every inch the prince she had risked her life to save.

“Halle ...” Derek croaked.

She saw dark circles beneath his eyes as he staggered toward her. Halle sat straighter, wincing slightly at the pain in her back and shoulders as she placed the mostly empty cup on the bedside table. Two obsidian eyes consumed her hungrily, though Halle knew she looked a mess.

As Halle opened her mouth to speak, the prince collapsed to his knees at her bedside. She was stunned into silence, and Derek buried his face in his forearms. She watched his shoulders tremble for a moment and heard ragged breathing. Unable to bear his meaningless pain, Halle reached out a bandaged hand, placing it on his hair.

The prince’s face jolted upward, startled by her touch.

“What happened?” she whispered, unable to logically piece it together.

“You foolish i***t,” he suddenly rasped, drawing himself to his feet. “You went without orders from your superior. You ignored the call. You could have killed yourself, you dumb girl.”

Halle shrunk back as though he’d slapped her.

“And you stopped the storm.” He sat heavily on the edge of her bed. Without hesitation, Derek reached up and cupped her cheek gently. “You foolish, amazing, astounding woman, you saved us all.”

Halle let out a small sob of relief. That truth could be assumed by his presence, but hearing him say it made it all the more real. She hung her head and covered her mouth with her palm, trying to restrain her emotions. Derek shifted and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. It hurt to move her body in some places, but Halle ignored it easily as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

“You were wondrous, Halle,” he breathed deeply into her hair. “And I swear, if you ever do something like that again.”

Halle pulled her face away in surprise, his hands wrapping themselves around her shoulders.

“When you ran off, I couldn’t follow you; I couldn’t send anyone for you—I should have. I’m sorry, Gods I wanted to ...” Derek breathed deeply and fought for his composure.

“Derek,” she said, moving his hands from her shoulders into her grasp, barely containing a small wince. “I didn’t want you to follow me.” Hesitantly she reached out a bandaged hand and caressed his face. It was the first time she could remember touching his cheek and instantly regretted that half her hand was wrapped. Halle gave him a small smile. “I wanted to keep you safe. That’s my job right? Keeping you alive?”

Derek let out a chuckle and shook his head. He shifted, leaning toward her. Her fingers fell from his face into both of his hands. Halle felt lightheaded from sitting as she became aware of his proximity.

“Halle,” he murmured softly, tightening his grip. “I thought I might never have another opportunity to see you, to talk to you.” Derek stared at their laced fingers; his thumbs stroked the backs of her bandages. “I thought you would ride away and I would never ...” His voice trailed off to barely more than a whisper. He braved giving her his attention once more, and Halle felt something flutter frantically. “I would never have the opportunity to tell you that ...”

Halle leaned closer to him, savoring every word. She could almost feel his breath on her face when he spoke.

“That I ...” Derek was suddenly keenly aware of her attentiveness and there was something that resembled fear at the realization. Derek’s lips parted.

Halle held her breath.

He promptly closed his mouth and looked away as the rumble of heavy footsteps drew closer. Halle followed his eyes to the doorframe.

“Lie back down,” Derek mumbled with resignation.

Halle obliged and stared upward, hoping she’d feel less dizzy soon. Derek sighed and stood, moving to a cleric’s chest that sat open on a nearby dresser. He was picking out a bottle filled with a clear-syrup when the golden prince burst in without a knock.

“Halle, the hero!” he enthused. “I heard you had woken!”

“Word travels too quickly,” Derek cursed under his breath.

“How do you feel?” The younger prince walked over, ignoring his brother.

“Tired,” she said simply, truthfully.“Yes,” Derek crossed the room to hand her the vial, and she took it without question in one gulp. “She should not be entertaining company right now.”

“Oh?” Prince Baldair c****d an eyebrow. “What are you then?”

Derek glared at his brother.

“Boys, don’t fight,” Halle muttered; she was too tired for their nonsense. Derek blinked at her in surprise and Prince Baldair chuckled. “How can I help you, my prince?”