Breathe (The Destiny Series: Book 1) (6 page)

“Nope, no mistake,” he said cheerfully, and he continued on his way.

Dearra followed, shaking her head in confusion.
Oh, well,
she thought,
I rarely understand men, anyway. Why should today be any different?

Dearra and Daniel broke free from the woods where they exited next to the practice field. A lone runner sprinted in their direction, waving frantically as he came.

“Thank Cyrus I found you!” the runner’s voice said in breathless relief. “They’re here. No warning. None at all.”

Daniel immediately took control. “How many? Are our ships meeting them now?”

“Only two ships, but they came out of the fog. Rordan, Eldan, Serah, and Tiersa, along with their crews, were all forced to abandon their ships and make a stand here on the island. They hadn’t had enough time, and would have been easy targets where they were with their backs to the reef and nowhere to maneuver.”

Daniel nodded, taking in the new information.

“What about the children? Where’s Phillip?” Dearra demanded.

The runner had been so intent on delivering the information to Daniel, he hadn’t really looked at Dearra until this moment. As he turned to her, he was quick to notice the familiar light blazing within her eyes. Then he saw it. The Sword of Cyrus! In Dearra’s hand! It was unheard of! It was impossible! It was…perfect! For some reason, the incredible sight of little Dearra poised for battle and holding the great Sword of Cyrus seemed wholly natural. To imagine it elsewhere seemed almost absurd.

Dearra glared at the addled messenger. There would be time for shock later. Why was this dolt just standing there staring at her as if he had never seen her before? “The children!” Dearra shouted. “Where. Are. They?” she continued, enunciating each word as she spoke this time so there would be no confusion.

The runner snapped out of the daze he found himself in and responded without delay. Anyone who knew Dearra’s temper would say it was one of the smartest things he ever did. “In the caves, Dearra. It was all rather confusing, and people were running everywhere. Your father took things in hand, and we believe all of the children are safely hidden.”

“And Pip? Was he with the rest?”

“Yes, yes. You’re father sent him with the very first group out of the castle. You would have been proud of him, Dearra. He took up a position in the rear of the group to look after the little ones and make sure there were no stragglers.”

A sigh of relief whistled from between her lips, and the sword she held dipped a few inches lower, as some of the anxiety she felt drained away. Now that Pip was safe, she could do what needed to be done with less worry.

The three of them broke into a run. Dearra struggled a bit to keep pace with her shorter legs and the sword held in one hand, but she managed not to fall more than a pace or two behind.

As they headed toward the castle, Daniel continued his interrogation of the man. “Where has Hugh set up the main force? How many are with him?”

The runner’s replies came in short panting breaths. “Three dozen fight on North Beach with Lord Hugh, mostly the captains and crews from the abandoned ships. The Breken seem to be dodging and avoiding us as best they can, which has Lord Hugh concerned, since it isn’t their usual style of attack. When they do engage, the fighting is brutal, but it would appear they are in desperate need of fresh slaves on this run. They seem unwilling to damage the merchandise, so to speak.”

“Good,” Daniel said. “If they are reluctant to kill, or at least more reluctant than usual, we may suffer lighter losses. At least we can hope. Where are the rest? You said only three dozen on North Beach.”

“The rest are scattered, Daniel, fighting in groups of three and four. Most are trying to lead the smaller bands of Breken out and away from the caves.”

“Which caves were used? I thought we’d planned to use one of the Sunrise Caves?” Daniel turned to look at the runner.

“There wasn’t time,” came the reply. “Sunset Caves were used instead, since they were closer. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them. You must have nearly passed each other in the forest.”

“Likely they were being as quiet as possible. We, ourselves, were…uh, a little too distracted with our conversation to notice much.” Daniel stole a quick glance back at Dearra and saw the amused expression on her face.

Dearra’s eyes darted to the sword she held. “Yes. Distracted,” she murmured, almost too quietly to be heard.

As they raced past the castle and broke out into the open, they noticed two things simultaneously. First, Hugh was in trouble. His back was to a large stone as he fought three Breken at once. Hugh struggled to keep all of them in sight and slap away any blade that came too close, while the Breken batted at him like cats batting at a mouse, springing first in, then out again. Second, an unarmed group of Maj were being herded toward the water’s edge where several small boats waited to take them to the hulking, black ships just off shore.

“Dearra! Go! Get the others! I have your father!” Daniel yelled. He flung himself in the direction of Hugh and the Breken who were tormenting him.

Dearra ran in the opposite direction, charging toward the Maj being forced nearer and nearer the water, her rage making her heedless to any danger, but was forced to come to a skidding halt as two war horses, ridden by dark and furious giants, wheeled on her. One of the massive animals reared in the air just inches in front of her, and screamed a terrifying whinny over the sound of the waves and battle. Coming to a rest on all four hooves, it pranced and side stepped before her. She lifted her head to meet the angry glare of her enemy. The second rider had, by this time, turned his own mount back to the group he was forcing toward shore, unconcerned with the little bit of female fluff who stood in front of him.

“What have we here?” hissed the demon sitting astride his destrier. “A tiny morsel to make my trip home more enjoyable? Did you follow me here because you found yourself unable to resist the urge to join me? Is that why you came running, little mouse?”

“If you want her, then take her and be done with it,” the second rider said, sounding annoyed. “We’ve work to do.”

The first rider turned back to Dearra, laughing his cold and cruel laughter, but when his eyes met hers the sound died quickly in his throat. Her eyes flashed, the golden ring around the outside edge of them seeming to consume him in a fiery rage. Steadily, as if in slow motion, Dearra raised her sword into the air. A stray beam of sunlight found its way through the oppressive clouds to illuminate her sword. Then, in a flash too quick to follow with the eye, she brought the sword around in a sweeping arc. The rider brought his own sword around to meet her attack, but her blade whistled past, and too late, he realized her intent. The flat of Dearra’s sword slapped against the giant horse’s flank, and in a fit of panic and pain at the sudden assault, the horse reared high into the air. The crazed animal swung around, catching the other horse in the neck with a sharp hoof, and becoming entangled in the strap of the leather harness it wore.

“Now! Run!” Dearra shouted to the captives. The horses jostled and lunged blindly in their fear, and Dearra sprang away with the others as the riders struggled for control of their mounts.

The Maj, led by Hugh and Daniel, succeeded in leading the Breken further inland, away from their ships, and away from the caves. Small scuffles were fought away from the main fray, as groups of Breken broke off to attack where they saw weaknesses, only to rejoin the rest when they were done.

Hugh watched as best he could as his daughter darted between groups and helped to beat back attacks against those beginning to tire, or those whose skill could not meet that of the Breken they fought. At one point he noticed the sword she carried, and as realization dawned on him, his head snapped around, wide eyed, to meet Daniel’s gaze.

“Daniel! You did this! What is the meaning of this?” Any anger he might have felt that his daughter was in possession of the Sword of Cyrus, paled in comparison to his fear that she was fighting with a completely unknown weapon, in what had to be the most serious fight of her life thus far.

“Lord,” Daniel began, “might I suggest later would be a better time to discuss this, as we seem to be a bit busy right now?”

Struggling to control two especially vicious opponents, Hugh decided Daniel might have a point.

“I promise, Lord, just as soon as we…ah…finish up here, I will explain everything,” Daniel said sincerely.

Only mildly appeased, his worry for Dearra still digging at him, Hugh couldn’t hold back the venom from his voice as he practically spat out the words, “Damn right you will!” before turning his attention back to the fight, having been challenged by yet another foe.

Dearra was not aware, as she continued her search for anyone who might be in trouble, that her steps had led her further and further from the others. Then, suddenly, she noticed the sounds of fighting had faded, until she could only hear the distant clang as sword met sword. Her steps slowed, and she turned cautiously, senses tingling as adrenaline surged through her veins. She took one step, then another, and then, out of the underbrush, he appeared before her. It took a fraction of a second for her mind to take in the figure looming in front of her. He looked young, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, though it was hard to tell exactly, because of his height. His skin was a beautiful copper brown. His black hair was long, worn loose to below his shoulders, and cut in layers that framed his face. As with the others, a braid the thickness of her little finger hung longer than the rest of his hair, though from her angle she couldn’t see how far it went down his back. A few stray strands blew softly across his cheek and caressed his jaw. The tattoo on his face, a string of runes that started just above his left eyebrow and curved in a gentle arc out to his left temple and back in again and ending at his cheekbone, looked delicate compared to those of some of his kin. His eyes were different, too. Every Breken she had seen that day had deep black and lifeless eyes, which the stories said was the norm for that race of people.
His
eyes, however, were a stunning brown, with flecks of gold that shimmered in their depths, making them seem warm. He stood there before her, poised to strike. He was her enemy, the dread of her people, the very definition of evil, and…the most beautiful, amazing, and captivating man she had ever seen. She raised the mighty sword, and stepped as if to defend herself from impending death, and then—

Not that one, you dolt,
came the voice she’d heard in her dream, seeming to originate from the sword in her hand and from somewhere in her head, at exactly the same time.

Dearra took in what had just happened, her hands frozen and extended above her head, poised to strike.
Did the sword just speak to me? It couldn’t be!
 

Dearra realized she was standing stock still, her sword in her hand, feet from death. Why wasn’t she dead already? she wondered, as she tore her eyes from the sword and looked again at the young warrior standing across from her.

His hand, too, was poised as if to strike, but he remained frozen as she was. He stared at Dearra, his eyes taking in every inch of her, from her mud caked boots all the way up to the smudge of dirt on her nose. He seemed almost fascinated by the strands of hair whipping furiously about her face, having escaped the braid she wore.

It was incredible, but Dearra actually felt a maidenly blush creep into her cheeks as their eyes met and held before he crumpled to the ground in a heap, no longer moving. Dearra looked to the spot just behind where the young warrior had been standing, only to see Daniel with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Daniel dropped the club he had used against the strange Breken’s head, and replaced the now useless stick with his own sword.

“Didn’t see a reason to damage my blade,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “Easy pickings when you distract them for me, Dearra. Nice work!” And then he trotted off in search of more Breken to add to his total.

She watched Daniel run off, clearly enjoying himself, too stunned to speak. She looked down at her feet and felt a strange sense of pity and sadness over the loss of this particular Breken. Dearra shook her head in frustration with herself (he was a Breken, after all), and after another brief glance at the handsome, young warrior, followed after Daniel.

The tempo of the battle ebbed and flowed, first seeming to lean in favor of the Breken, and then shifting to lean in favor of the Maj, until a low note blown on a distant horn sounded from one of the Breken ships. As one, the enemy turned and took flight, the warriors of Maj following their retreat.

A sense of jubilation filled the Maj as they watched the last Breken leave their shores in haste. It was over! They had scattered and defeated the enemy! Never had they known such a one sided victory against their most hated and feared adversary. The people gathered to their lord, questioning their victory as it seemed almost too good to be true.

“Where’s Dearra? Where’s my daughter?” Hugh bellowed over the singing and celebration.

“Here, Father! I’m here.” Dearra skipped into the excited crowd of people, and threw her free arm around her father, the other hand still clutching her sword.

Hugh brought both arms around Dearra, and held her to him in a warm embrace. He lowered his head closer to her ear so that only she would hear him, and whispered, “We have much to discuss, my daughter.”

Dearra bit lightly on her bottom lip in nervous anticipation of that conversation. She nodded her assent and continued to cling to her father.

“To the caves!” Hugh said with a smile that lit his whole face. “Let us go to the rest of our people and let them know the danger has passed. There’s a feast to be prepared, and songs of victory to be sung. My own daughter may even have a story or two to tell.” Hugh grinned proudly at Dearra who blushed at the praise and the cheers of the people around her.