Hazel
541 Words
Hazel
My change of direction took me back out of the forest, into the Grey Men’s path. I veered again, finding shelter in a knot of scrub pine on the edge of the great sandy clearing, much too close to the cave I’d escaped from for comfort. I dropped down behind a boulder to catch my breath.
I did not know where to go, where to run. The Grey Men were everywhere. They’d followed me since I escaped from the cave where their master—the Corpse King, a sorcerer with enough power to make these awful creatures his servants—slept in a spelled state.
The Corpse King had drained my friend, Sari, of all her blood. If I hadn’t escaped, I was going to be next.
A hissing noise told me the Grey Men were nearing my hiding place. I crouched, trembling. I had a stick in my hand—a piece of a witch’s staff that had magically come to my aid, but no weapons. My life at the abbey, working at the looms with the other orphans and tending the garden, tanned my limbs and strengthened them, but had not prepared me to defend my life.
I gripped the carven wood tighter, ready for the final struggle. The Grey Men wouldn’t drag me back to the Corpse King without a fight.
At least the headache the creatures cursed me with was gone. It had vanished the instant I laid eyes on the giant warrior leading the group of men in the woods. His brow had creased when he saw me, his whole body straining to run after me, even as he raised a hand to make his men stay back. Whatever made my feet want to run to him and hide in the shelter of his arms, I know he felt it too.
Beyond the boulder, a hissing noise heralded the Grey Men’s approach. They were searching for me, combing the sandy area and would soon come upon my hiding place.
A shadow fell across me as I rose to run. I whirled to face the threat.
The blond warrior loomed over me. My heart stopped as I looked up, craning my neck as far as it would go. Large as an oak, his taut muscle stretched his leather jerkin and breeches. He still held his great axe and shield, yet his footfalls were as light and silent as a predator’s.
He stalked closer and I let out a squeak.
“What are you doing here, little rabbit?” His eyes pierced me, hot and golden.
I backed away, edging around the boulder. At this moment, the warrior was more of a threat than the Grey Men.
He laid down his weapon, hand outstretched as he approached. “Easy, easy,” he almost purred. The sound soothed the tension from my spine. “We must go from this place, lass. You are not safe.”
His large hand, rough and scarred, reached for me. Another step and he’d have me in his grasp.
I panicked, staggering back. “No.”
“Stop,” he snapped and my knees almost buckled at the command. He had some sort of power over me—I wanted to do exactly as he said. But I was done taking orders from men.
He lunged for me and I darted out of reach—right into the cold, dead hands of the Grey Men.
- Writer
