Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) (26 page)

Then it stopped. 

She listened, every muscle ready to spring at the least little sound. She counted her breaths. 
One. Two. Three. Four…
 

There was nothing. 

At last, she closed her eyes and let her chest relax.
It’s exhaustion, working my imagination twice as hard.

Out of nowhere, a heavy silver net wrapped around her, pitching her forward so hard it knocked the air from her chest. Furiously struggling to free herself, she did the only thing she
could
do.

She screamed. 

All around her, weird human-like beings covered their large, bat-like ears, chattering unintelligibly. She fought
harder, scratching and clawing at the net like a wild animal while she snarled at them
. One of them pointed to a long bamboo stick. Another picked it up, put it to its lips, and blew. A small, needle sized dart shot out of it, burying itself in her neck. 

All her thoughts
ceased as the drug took effect
,
and the forest around her turned fuzzy as it faded into black oblivion.

***

ROWAN KNEW HE WAS
too late the moment he crested the hill, and he silently cursed himself for leaving her alone for so long.

He barely had his sword unsheathed when he was slammed onto the ground face first. White hot pain shot through his chin, and his vision blurred. Sharp bramble leaves cut at his cheeks and palms, which were now empty. 

The gangly creatures descended on him like ants. He bit at their limbs as they poked and prodded him, but his teeth did not so much as dent the sickly, slimy skin. The taste of mold caked his tongue
,
and he nearly vomited. As they squirmed on top of him,
he managed to pry an arm loose
and swi
ng out at one of the creature’s faces. 

“
Gods!
”

The blow should have broken a nose, should have broken
something
, but it was like hitting a boulder. His hand throbbed violently, each pulse reminding him of his stupidity, as they pulled his hands behind his back and stuck a grimy
,
damp cloth in his mouth. He didn’t want to think about what it was soaked in. They managed to keep him
down
, like he was lying under a mound of solid rock.

Their skin was translucent, and it looked uncomfortably delicate and thin, like it had been stretched over a skeleton with too many bones in it. They looked deceptively vulnerable. Bumps ran along the creatures’ spines, and some had spikes protruding from where he supposed their elbows and skulls were. Clothes made from animal hides were wrapped awkwardly around their un-proportional bodies, and their long, bird-like feet were black from days spent working among dust and pitch black rock. Three long, bony fingers protruded from arms that were twice as long as their
bodies
,
and they waddled on short, stubby legs, jabbering to each other in a language that consisted of short sounds and tongue clucking. 

His mind wandered as they clucked. He couldn’t overpower them; his aching hand was proof enough of that. The binds around his wrists and ankles were so tight he was beginning to lose feeling in his hands and feet, so he couldn’t wriggle free. If he could just reach his sword... where was it? 

The longer he breathed in the dust and dirt, the puffier his eyes became. They stung and burned as he searched the immediate area, but he could barely move his neck. He caught a flash of silver from the corner of his eye, and a moment later, one of the creatures –
murdels
, he thought they were called – moved into his line of vision, swinging his sword as if it were a toy. 

The creature
sort of skipped in jerky motions as it hobbled toward Lianora’s body. The murdel crooked a finger, and two others wobbled forward, running their hands together in gleeful anticipation. They grinned, their mouths stretching clear across their wide faces, and clucked to each other excitedly as they pointed at Lianora. The sword danced in the air, mere inches from her unwary face. 

Thud, thud, thud.

With every step the murdel took, Rowan felt his heart hammer harder inside his body, climbing along his throat and arms until it throbbed violently against his binds. 

It means to kill her!

He fussed with the rope around his wrists, but it was wound so tightly that the movement against the thick rope formed long blisters across his skin. The sores prickled when the sharp bristles of the
rope dug across them, and he finally
gave up.

All the while, the sword drew closer.

Beads of sweat trickled down his sunburned forehead, guided by strands of his frizzy black bangs. Fire burned under his cheeks, and his breathing became much heavier and more concentrated, like his body was starving for oxygen. His nostrils struggled to pull enough air into his lungs, but the small holes didn’t feel big enough to perform the job efficiently.

The sword-wielding murdel t
ook one last step up to Lianora
and
leveled the sword in both hands. It looked
more like a wraith as its long black fingernails trailed white paths along the grainy handle as it scraped, and scraped, and scraped.

“No,” he tried to yell, but the salty cloth in his mouth made it impossible to decipher it as anything more than a loud moan. 

Scrape, scrape, scrape.

He
kicked and twisted, trying to loosen his binds or knock the other murdels off, but it was useless. 

He didn’t dare blink as they circled around her like animals closing in on their prey. One stopped and squatted beside her on its short, stubby legs. Ever so carefully, the net slid from her body like a
sheet
of silver silk, pooling beside her snarled curls.

If she dies, who will restore Accalia? There will be a civil war as the nobility fight
s
over the crown like vultures.  
 

He jerked back and forth, grunting madly, as the murdels waited, watching for any sign of her coming to. Lianora lay still as death, the rise and fall of her belly the only indication of life. Deciding it was safe enough to continue, the leader motioned
,
and a small grunt stepped forward, reaching for the teardrop at her chest. 

Of course,
he thought, sighing heavily,
they mean to take the necklace
. Murdels lived among precious gems and minerals; it only made sense they would naturally covet anything shiny.

Accounts had it they were mountain dwellers, keeping to themselves in th
e mines and occasionally travel
ing to the sketchier markets to conduct their business. Generally peaceful, they only att
acked when they felt threatened
or to defend their territory from intruders.

He had seen the half-crazed look in Lianora’s eyes when she felt the necklace, and he knew how much it would upset her to find it gone.

And how much it will upset my father to learn I have lost it.

Yet, bound as he was, he was helpless to interfere and watched as the murdel’s bony skeleton fingers drew closer to the jewel.

No sooner had its fist closed around the crystal did it immediately release it in a yelp of pain. Stumbling away and stupidly falling to the ground, it held its hand up in the air. A few wisps of blue black smoke swirled away from what had once been fingers, now no more than crooked, blistered skin clinging to the bones underneath. On parts of its fingers, the skin had been singed away completely, polka-dotting its raw flesh with spots of white bone. A small breeze blew the scent of charred flesh back to him, and Rowan swallowed back bile, tasting its putrid stench in the back of his throat. The crystal glowed white hot, yet Lianora slept with a half-smile on her peaceful face. 

The other murdels took a few steps backward, whispering to each other, while the injured murdel writhed on the ground in agony, clutching its ruined hand. All the while
,
the crystal glowed as if warn
ing them to keep their distance
or suffer the same fate.

Slowly, one by one, they approached her, and seeing they could handle her body without burning,
they
lifted her onto a nearby cart.

His body slacked.
Thank you. Whoever’s listening, thank you. 

Then the back of his skull exploded with pain
,
and he thought no more.

Veil

LIAN MOANED SOFTLY
.

O
ne eye opened and then the other, like
she
was a babe learning to use her eyes for the first time. The blurry darkness she stared at took shape into a glowing canopy of moss and branches joined together like fingers, with small patches of starry heavens. All around them, the red and gold veined leaves of Dreaka’s Forest shone.

That's right. They had ran into the forest after –

They. Rowan.

Shaggy, dark hair tickled her cheek, and with a start she realized Rowan was lying beside her, his face completely lost to sleep. His forehead was crusted over with a brown stickiness that went into his eyes and partially across his nose. 

Her heart trembled.
No, he couldn’t be –

His nostrils flared
,
and a second later his warm breath caressed her face.

Relaxing, she
closed her eyes. 

She was l
ying on something soft, and when she turned her head, she saw pale moonlight reflected off a bolt of silk. Small, pointy objects jabbed into her tender back, poking and prodding each time the cart hobbled over a branch or hole. She tried to use her arms to push herself up, but they seemed to have been glued together. Rope scratched against her wrists, which were itchy and raw. 

With a sigh, she lay back down and stared up at the sky. 

She
smiled as she stared at the stars, feeling strangely peaceful. She was so relaxed that she didn’t notice when her mind wandered to darker thoughts until it was too late.

One by one the memories came, like bandits com
e to steal away her happiness: t
he gentle yet scorching touch of Gabriel's lips on hers, the feel of her father's corpse beneath her crumpled form, and the destruction on Ursa's face as she sent her out of the room. The memories trickled into her head, driving the light from her soul and filling it with a dark emptiness that crushed down on her chest. 

She gasped for air, suddenly unable to remember how to breathe. 

“
Sleep. Grieve
,
”
the dream voice whispered.
“
Keep your love of them close to your heart, and it will drive away the darkness.
”

A white light chased away the memories, driving them away until there was nothing but a dull ache in her mind.  

She
closed her eyes as a single tear slid down her cheek and
dreamed
of nothing.

***

FOR THE NEXT FEW
days, the creatures seemed content to let her ride in the cart while Rowan wal
ked alongside them, hands bound.
The creatures never quit looked her in the eyes. Whenever they
fed her sparse meals of rock-flavored water and salty meats she had never tasted, they never tarried for long in her presence. She s
aw the fear in their black eyes
and wondered if they reflected the color of her soul.

The shadow being had remained dormant; the familiar stomachache associated with its presence was even gone. Yet, she couldn’t help but to feel like she was turning into a monster.

She had said some terrible things to not only Rowan, but Gabriel and Ursa, the two people she cared about the most, these past few days. Now, Gabriel and Ursa were gone for good, for surely if they had somehow managed to escape the fire, the monsters had caught up with them and torn them apart.
Had they died thinking she hated them? Did they have half as much regret in their last moments of life as she did now?

She
trembled, feeling more miserable than she had ever felt in her life.
What was happening to her? She knew nothing about her birth mot
her. What if she had been crazy
and had passed on the illness to her?

Another
,
more irrational
,
theory lingere
d at the edge of those thoughts, something that had crossed her mind before.
Maybe
the teardrop
was
caus
ing her bizarre fits of rage.
She had never lost herself to her darke
r feelings before it came along, though she would
be
lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge they’d been there all along.
But the more she thought about it, the more that theory didn’t make any sense. The crystal always made her feel better, driving out the darkness.