Run.
She
shook her head, pushed the thought away. No. No further. No more.
She
lay curled within a hollow tree, engulfed in the dark, endless woods. And they were
endless. The last two days and nights had proven that. Her dress, once
fine, hung torn around her, the skin beneath no longer soft or white. Her bare
feet throbbed, cried out for soothing oils. She'd half-forgotten what it was to
breathe.
Catch
your breath and run, fool girl, or it's all for nothing.
A
moment's rest. That was all. Not much to ask for. They were miles behind her,
had to be. She'd not seen the men's torches since they'd first appeared, not
heard the call of man nor Wolf ¾
She
heard it now.
It
was a horrid cry. Rage, hunger, thirst, all twisted together like the scream of
a broken horn. It came for her, thundered in her ears, in her heart, turned her
legs to jelly.
Then
to steel.
She
ran, ran faster than ever. Down the embankment, over the rocks, through the
branches that swiped at her tangled hair. She heard them all now. The men's
shouts, their crashes, the roar of the Wolves beside them. Beside her.
There
was one to her left, not ten strides away, its fangs and massive hide barely
hidden behind the trees, beneath the night. Faster.
Faster.
She
ran to the right. It didn't follow. No time to wonder why.
She
half-tumbled into a gully, crashing hard on her shoulder against a rocky slope.
She forced herself up, kept running, kept hurting. Hadn't breathed since
God-knew-when.
"Ha!"
a man laughed from above as he flew into a bladed tackle. She ducked beneath
him, left him skittering on the rocks, kept running.
Faster.
Faster. Never mind where.
Another
wall of trees massed before her. She turned her blue eyes from the jagged
branches and charged. She barely felt the scratches. She would later. If there
was a later.
Another
Wolf. This one to her right. Curving toward her. Herding her. That was clear
even now, clear as the sky that spread out ahead as she left the trees behind.
She
almost left the ground behind with them.
A
cliff. They'd brought her straight to it, and now she skidded to a halt atop
the tapering summit of a red stone wall, gazing down at the sea of trees and
the crimson sky beyond.
She
turned. Four, five men emerged from the treeline, walling her off from solid
ground. Others followed; pig-men, fat as taxmen and half as fair, armed and
adorned with their tribal leather. And the Wolves, walking upright now, nearly
tall enough for two men and broad enough for three. Unclothed, but covered in
shining fur ¾ one
of them gold, the other black ¾ they
flashed their many fangs in triumph.
As
the chase fell silent, her pursuers slowly catching their breath, she doubled
over to catch her own, slipping to one knee. Her lungs burned. Her eyes
watered, then closed. Her ears slammed like barrel-drums. Somewhere beyond the
pain and the fear, a constant roar hummed in the air. Not one of theirs; no,
she half-realized, her precipice stood above a waterfall.
It
was a pleasant sound. Almost a song, really.
The
pounding in her ears began to ease. Her lungs forgave her, or at least extended
a reprieve.
The
men allowed her no further rest. She heard a step, and opened an eye to see one
of them, uglier and taller than the others, stride out from his fellows, a half-toothless
grin on his face.
The
last of her will brought her upright. He took another step.
"Shoulda
known legs like yours'd give us a chase," he said in a lowborn slur. The
others laughed. His eyes roamed the rip across the bosom of her dress.
"Well, we've got a moment till the Star arrives." He reached for his
belt. "Why not make the best of it?"
The
fire in her lungs flowed straight to her heart. "No."
She
turned sideways and snapped up her fists. Her heart's flame swelled, shot up
her arm, and burst from her hand in a bright red flash.
The
flame seared the air as it punched the man's chest, launching him backward and
scattering the others. As he rolled and screamed, the rest leveled spears and
advanced. Slowly. She'd scared them. She'd do more than scare them.
Could
she? Was there enough flame inside her to burn them all down? The men,
the pigs, the Wolves? They parted around their burning comrade, ignored him as
he flailed at their feet. She flinched in spite of herself. Could she ever have
done such violence, channeled such power before? Even if she'd wanted to?
Whatever
she wanted, they came for her now, spears bristling together in twos and
threes. Her heart again called for the fire.
"Kill
me!" she cried. "Come and kill me, and burn for it! Burn for
your-"
"Wait."
He
spoke with no one voice, but an ever-changing choir. Beneath his hooded robes
of red and white, a mask of shadows cloaked his face. His long red glove reached
toward the sky, as if his voice carried to the stars.
His
men, and the beasts among them, retreated at once, save the one on the ground.
As that one rolled, cried out from within his fiery cloak, the Crowning Star
knelt down beside him, blew out a cool, soft breath, and bid the flames begone.
She
saw the scorched man's black skin, quivering features ¾ and she saw the gloved hand pass over them, render them
anew.
Even
miracles couldn't make him any less ugly, she thought with an out-of-turn
smile.
As
the healed man kissed the Crowning Star's glove and scampered behind the
others, the Star set foot on the precipice, robes flowing in the wind as he
faced her. Out of habit, she tried to stare through his shadows, capture a
glimpse of his face. She saw nothing but the swirling darkness.
"Your
love sends word, My Lady," said the Star's many voices. "He awaits
you."
"Lies,"
she hissed. If they hadn't killed Jarden yet, they would.
"Serpents
lie." The Star dismissed the accusation with a wave.
"Stars
burn." She flicked out her hand. Somehow, the fire came forth again ¾ quite before she'd
finished calling for it ¾ and
it lashed out blazing at his robes.
Then
died away, without so much as singing a thread.
"Strong
indeed I have made you," he said. "And stronger still you will
become. Look there." He pointed over her shoulder.
Against
her better judgment, she turned her head to the coming sunrise.
"Today's
dawn," his voices sang. As she turned back toward him, he extended an
open, gloved palm. "Take my hand, and bring tomorrow's! Banish the clouds
from the sky! You, with your love alongside ¾ you shall be as mother and father to a world of
joy!"
He
believed it; there was no question of that. Did she? Did she almost?
"And
still you doubt," said the Star's many voices, shifting into a minor key.
"As do all children born to such glorious fates."
She
backed away. Toward the edge.
"My
Lady, you cannot leave us," he said. "There is work undone ¾ and the fire is not all
that burns inside you. You know this." His fingers curled. "You feel
it even now."
It
was her stomach that burned this time. She lurched forward, choking down a
sudden burst of bile and gritting her teeth. "What did you do to me?"
"The
work of fate," he answered. "The work of…God." Somewhere in his
choir, she was sure she heard a laugh. "Will you not return, My Lady? May
I not heal you? Save you? From…well," he bowed his head, "it will be
death, I'm afraid."
The
edge was at her heels now. An updraft swirled around her, cool and calm. The
waterfall still sang.
"Death?"
She made her choice. "Why wait?"
And
she threw herself backward. Into the dawn. Into the air. Into the roar and the
spray of the water, and away from the fading night sky and its crowning star.
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