Shattered Souls (Guardians of the Maiden Book 3)

Von left Hallow’s Next behind him with a weight over his head. He had to lie. No, he chose to lie. Because telling Dyna the truth would do nothing but hurt her, and he knew it would remind them both of what she had told him before.

Killing seems all you’re good for.

At this point, it was nothing short of the truth.

When he was a mile down the road, Elon surfaced from the shadows of the trees, silent as a ghost. Their horses were with him. Von patted Coal’s gray neck and mounted without a word. Clicking his tongue, they cantered onward.

Dyna was alive, but his relief tangled with worry. Tarn thought she was dead, and it had to stay that way.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“The others?” he asked when Novo, Len, and Bouvier had yet to join them.

“I sent them ahead to scout for any concerns, Commander,” Elon said.

Like the Azure knights.

“They will meet in us in Tanner’s Cove.”

That was a few days from Beryl Coast. They were close. As long as it went smoothly, Von estimated he would return to Yavi within two weeks. But there was always something around the corner.

Once they crossed the bridge over the Hermon river, Von tugged on his reins and lead them off the main road into the woodlands. They rode through the day into the evening in silence. Elon didn’t care for conversation, which Von was thankful for consumed as he was by his thoughts.

The more miles put between him and Yavi the more he missed her. The way she had looked at him with such disgust and disappointment plagued him every time he closed his eyes. Leaving on his mission may be what they needed to give her some time away from him, but all he wanted was to go back and fall on his knees at her feet.

The low sun streamed in at their backs, stretching their shadows across the ground. A gust of wind tugged at his hair, carrying the scent of pine and coming frost. It would be another cold night.

“Commander!” Elon shouted. He flicked out his sword and blocked a whirling blade coming for Von’s back.

They turned at the neigh of horses, and he cursed to see a group of men riding for them through the woods. Their navy blue coats flared behind them like sails, and the bottom halves of their faces were obscured with black masks.

The Skelling Mercenaries had found him.

“Go!” Von barked.

They kicked their heels and galloped as fast as they could. The last time Von faced two of them, he barely escaped. The odds against thirty were far less survivable. They raced out of the woodland into a wide clearing. The beat of hooves racing after them quickly caught up.

Elon hissed a word in elvish. Blue magic flared out but it only bounced off golden shields that flickered around each man. They must have charms against magic.

Damn.

“Don’t waste your magic,” Von shouted. They raced across the clearing and soon a looming forest appeared ahead. The twisted trees were dense, and dark.

They could lose them in there.

“Those are the Black Woods!” Elon warned him.

“I know! Don’t stop. That’s an order!”

The men raced after them, shouting calls to each other. More knives came, and arrows too. They ducked, and Elon cast out a shield. The forest grew nearer. But right when they reached the tree line, Coal reared with a wild neigh. His horse had never done it before, so Von wasn’t prepared to hold on. The reins slipped from his hands and he fell to the ground. He rolled away from stamping hooves before he was trampled. Elon fought to control his horse too, but it refused to go forward. He leaped off and both horses rode away, leaving them behind.

Cursing his wretched luck, Von ran into the forest. He was plunged in immediate cold shadow and he felt an eerie dread crawl over him, but the threat at their backs wasn’t any better. They ran and kept running until they found a dry, shallow gulley. Leaping in, they dove under the roots of a rotting tree. Shouting voices slipped through the shrubbery, the squelch of boots in mud following.

“Spread out! They can’t have gone far.”

Von recognized that commanding voice. Waiting for them to pass, he risked peering above the lip of the gulley and looked through the thorny bushes. Two mercenaries stood nearby, the one with blond hair and the other with dark brown curls falling over an eye patch. Klyde and Eagon. They were layered with weapons and each bore a white emblem spread across the back of their coats. A bird’s skull pointed downward, piercing a thin, upside down crescent.

A shout of alarm came from further ahead, and the mercenaries dashed for the sound. A massive ogre came tearing from the bushes. It was green and thorny, about fifteen feet tall. And a mercenary hung from in its jaws. Its dull teeth bit down, and blood gushed out of the screaming man. The sight of it drew out memories that left Von immobile.

The captured mercenary shoved his blade into the creatures’ eyes and it dropped him.

“Bring it down,” Klyde barked. “Formation: high cross.”

Grappling hooks shot from the harnesses of three mercenaries, piercing the trees. The iron cables yanked the men into the air toward the ogre. Two whizzed past each other in the path of an X and they detached the creature’s thick arms with a swipe of their blades. The third mercenary zoomed up and severed the head clean off. They landed in a crouch as the beast toppled backward, falling dead.

It was over in three, perfectly calculated moves. Von had never seen such a thing, let alone the harness contraptions they used. Klyde and Eagon had observed it with mild interest as if this was an everyday occurrence.

A mercenary with a crop of messy orange curls ran over to the wounded man and yanked out a roll of bandages from his utility belt.

“Olyver,” Klyde called to him.

“Deep lacerations to the torso and hip, Captain,” the mercenary replied in a thick brogue accent, pressing on the wounds. “Aye, and his leg is broken, too. We need to take Sigrid to the nearest healer before the wounds fester.”

“Tanzanite Keep is the best option,” Eagon said, the sound muffled from his black mask.

Klyde cursed.

“Hallow’s Nest is unlikely to have an Herb Master, Captain. He may survive the journey home, but do you want to risk it?”

Where was home? Their northern accent was clearly from Old Tanzanite Keep, but they didn’t seem to live there.

“You know I won’t,” Klyde said. “Cam, Alasdair—accompany Olyver and Sigrid to the city, then make your way back to Skelling. The rest will stay and smoke out the spies. I know they’re here.”

Von ducked down further.

The named mercenaries quickly had the wounded man on a horse and they left the Black Woods. The others waited for their next command. A distant, frightening screech came from within the trees.

Eagon let out a heavy sigh. “Gale will finish me if these woods don’t first. We shouldn’t have come here.”

Klyde chuckled. “There is no glory in cowardice, mate. Besides, what is an ogre or two?”

“Sometimes I wonder if you struck your head too many times. Do you fear anything at all?”

“Aye, I fear passing through the Gates alone. Which is why you’re here.”

Eagon sighed. “If we stay here any longer, we’ll die.”

“Then we die with glory.”

It was the hissing Von heard first, before the horrid acrid smell. Branches snapped and the bushes rattled as two hulking serpentine beasts came slithering through the dark forest.

Basilisks.

They surrounded the mercenaries.

Klyde grinned sheepishly at Eagon’s glare. “All right, I know we’re in a bind, but never fear. I have a grand plan.” He reached for the crossed swords at his back, each pommel adorned with a polished blue skull. “There is a wee chance we might die, but if we live to tell the tale, it will be the best one yet. You’re with me, aye?”

“No, not aye.”

“Good. Glad to hear you’ve got my back, mate.”

“I said not aye,” Eagon grumbled, but he armed himself and they ran to meet the creatures.

The smallest Basilisk lunged for them first. They jumped out of the way in opposite directions, dodging the fangs by inches. It spun for the other mercenaries. Rolling to his feet, Klyde shot a grappling hook above him. It launched him into the air. He landed on the creature and shoved his blades into its skull. It screeched, flailing to throw him off. Klyde jammed them in further and twisted. That sent them crashing as it dropped.

Von jerked when he saw the larger one descending on him.

“Captain!” Eagon threw a knife.

It sliced through the Basilisk’s eye, earning Klyde a split second to duck before it caught him.

He sheathed his swords and kept running. “Give me a line!”

Eagon whipped out two throwing stars from his coat made of red metal. He tossed them at the trees ahead of Klyde and they landed on two trunks ten feet in the air, equally spaced apart. They glowed red and a bright line formed between them, releasing a crackle of magic in the air.

Klyde sprinted for it with the Basilisk on his tail. It rapidly slithered after him, opening its wide jaws. Von stopped breathing because he knew the man was dead now.

He ran through the trees with the glowing line above him and shot another hook into the canopy. It yanked him into the air, in the path of those teeth. The Basilisk lunged for him—hurtling right through the line. It slit clean through its neck, spraying out blood and sinew like rain. The head slid off the frozen creature and both collapsed to the ground with a wet thud.

Klyde landed in a crouch. “I wasn’t sure if that would work.”

Von was still in shock it did. Elon stood quietly beside him, also watching.

“Ready to leave?” Eagon asked, flicking something slimy off his shoulder.

“Go ahead without me.”

“Klyde.”

He walked away.

“Mate.”

“No,” Klyde snarled, all humor gone from his face. He removed his mask, revealing the thick scruff on his jaw. “Von is here. I have him cornered, Eagon.”

“He went through the Black Woods. No one makes it out alive, and we certainly won’t if we continue. If you tell the men to march on, we will follow you, Captain.” He lowered his mask, his one eye on him. “I’m asking you not to get me killed for your vendetta.”

Von had wronged many people in his life, but he didn’t know what he had done to this man. Not once did he remember crossing swords with Klyde before their first meeting. And yet…there was something about his face that was familiar. The only thing he did fully recognize was the dual blade technique he fought with.

Klyde roughly rubbed his face. “Then we’ll go around.”

“That will add days to our travel. We have to go back. If we delay anymore, we risk being barred from home until spring. You know I can’t do that.”

Klyde stared into the woods, his fists clenching.

“Von isn’t Tarn, mate,” Eagon said. “I know what this means to you. He will answer for his deeds when the time comes, but that day is not today.”

Von slunk back down in his hiding spot, staring at the dry creek bed. Who was he to Tarn?

Eagon’s counsel seemed to have worked because the men started to clear out of the Black Woods. Dirt shifted overhead and Von stilled at the sound of boots pausing by where he hid.

Klyde’s voice dropped low, as if he was speaking only for him. “I will hunt you like an animal. There is no sanctuary in which you can hide from me.”

The pure loathing in that oath rose the hair on Von’s neck. He hid there with Elon for the rest of the night, wondering what he could have done to earn the hatred of a man he had never met.