Into the Shadows by Linda K Hopkins
Chapter 7
Death. That was the only thought in Lark’s mind as the creature holding the bloody sword leaped through the air, weapon outstretched. A large, scaly hand held the massive weapon and she stared at it dully, before suddenly being shoved to the side and falling to the ground. Metal rang against metal, and she looked up to see Pip, his sword straining against the attacker’s. The attacker made a move, too fast for her to see, and Pip dropped his sword with a cry as blood began to pour from a gash in his arm.
“Pip!” Lark cried, ignoring the creature as he sank to the ground. She pulled his head against her chest and turned to look at their attacker. Cat-like eyes stared down at her coldly from a gray scaly face.
“Why?” she demanded.
“You’re Cambrian,” he said. “I need no other reassson.” There was a slow, sibilant quality to his voice, and a forked tongue flicked between a pair of fangs, white against his dark gray lips.
“You’d kill us for no other reason?”
His eyes roved over her, taking in her gaping bodice, before meeting her gaze. “I need none.” When Pip raised his head he lifted the sword again.
“Wait,” Pip gasped. “Our father is Commander Stormchaser.”
The sword hovered in the air for a moment before the creature let out a strange, hissing laugh and allowed the sword to fall to his side. “Valor’sss descendantsss right here, like lambsss to the slaughter! My mistressss will be pleased!”
“You think you can get away?” Lark asked coldly. “You’ll be hunted down and killed like the animal you are.”
“Do you know how many Cambriansss have tried to kill me? And yet here I stand, with you at the end of my sword.”
“You’re a Shadow Warrior,” Pip gasped.
He turned his yellow gaze to Pip. “Isss that what we’re called?”
“You’re not supposed to be so close to Lenora!”
“Your commander hasss no idea where we are unlessss we choose to show him. If he knew the extent of our reach, he’d be even more terrified than he currently isss.” He lifted his sword again.
“Wait!” Lark pushed Pip from her lap and rose to face the creature. “He’s just a boy. Let him go.”
“Let him go?” he hissed. “Why would I do that?”
“Because his death will be of no value to you. Mine, on the other hand, will.”
“Lark!” Pip gasped, but the creature ignored him as he cocked his head and studied her.
“You want to negotiate for the life of your brother? Why?”
“His life means something to me. And my death will mean something to you.”
“I fail to see why your death would mean anything to me.”
“I am the commander’s only daughter, so he will be more distraught by my death.” It was a lie she hoped Pip would overlook. “I am also the future queen of Valoria.”
“A queen isss worthless. If you were to be king, that might be a different matter.”
“You will be striking a blow against the future king.”
“Because he lovesss you so dearly?” he sneered. His gaze dropped to the cuffs on her wrists, and she ignored the sudden itch it caused. “And how would saving the boy benefit me?”
“He can report back to the commander and the prince what happened to me. Just think how they will feel, knowing you have struck such a close blow.”
The Shadow Warrior cocked his head for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “Very well. I accept your termsss.”
“No, Lark! You can’t do this,” Pip cried, stumbling to his feet as the creature lifted its sword.
“Not in front of him,” Lark pleaded, turning to Pip and grabbing him by the arms. “There’s no point in us both dying,” she whispered, “and I have nothing to live for. You do!”
“You have lots to live for,” he gulped.
“A useless queen, shackled to Val for the rest of my days? That’s no life, Pip. Now go, please. I’m begging you. Before he changes his mind!” She pulled herself free and stepped back. “Go!”
“No!” Pip shouted. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder. “I can’t leave you to die.”
“You must,” she said.
A scaled hand fell roughly on Pip’s shoulder and pulled him away. “Go, boy!” the creature said, and Lark felt a fleeting moment of gratitude. He pushed Pip towards the trees, causing him to stumble wildly as he stared at Lark.
“Go,” she urged, and after one more moment of hesitation, he turned and fled. The horses were long gone, and she watched as he lurched through the trees, fighting back tears as he disappeared from sight. Her arm was roughly grabbed, and the creature spun her around, then reaching for her skirt, tore off a strip of fabric. She gasped and stumbled back, but he grabbed her by the wrists and yanked them together. He stared down at the cuffs for a moment, then turned her wrists with his clawed hands and studied the invisible seam, sealed with magic. The cuffs hummed at his touch, and her eyes flew to his face. He lifted his head and flicked his forked tongue, tasting the air as he watched her, his fangs gleaming whitely.
“You’ve been well and truly claimed,” he said sardonically as he wrapped the strips of fabric around her wrists below the cuffs.
“Why don’t you just get it over and done with?” she asked bitterly.
“Not here. Your blood will taint the water.” He tightened the knot, leaving a length of the fabric strip trailing to the ground. Her cloak lay in a heap on the ground where it had fallen off Beauty as she fled; he scooped it up and threw it at her, and she caught it awkwardly. Slinging his sword into the sheath across his back, the creature took the end of makeshift rope and began walking, heading away from the water and into the forest, jerking the rope and forcing Lark to follow him. She glanced down at Elan, her chest tightening at the sight of his lifeless body. Dragging away her gaze, she lifted her eyes to her executioner. He wore a pair of trousers, and thick, heavy boots, but his torso was bare of clothing. A ridge of spikes ran from his shoulders down his arms, ending in clawed hands. His back and arms were covered in the same scaly gray skin as his face. Strange black markings twisted across his back and around to his front, but she could not make them out between the myriad of weapons that were slung around him. In addition to the broadsword across his back, he also had a bow and arrows, an axe at his side, a collection of small, metal discs, and numerous daggers in his belt.
A fallen branch along the path made Lark stumble, but the creature did not turn as he gave the rope a sharp yank, dragging her back to her feet. The bindings around her wrists chafed her skin painfully beneath the cuffs, and the cloak kept slipping, forcing her to keep bundling it around her hands. They continued walking as the sun rose higher, making the air beneath the canopy of trees hot and humid. Drips of sweat gathered on Lark’s forehead, and her lungs felt like they were going to burst from exertion. The ground was uneven, with stones and branches blocking the path, and while the Shadow Warrior negotiated them with ease, she was constantly tripping, the branches scraping her shins. Her muscles ached, and she knew that if she stopped, she would not be able to continue. Her feet were blistered; her dainty leather boots with their pretty buckles were not intended for walking through the dense undergrowth, and the train of her jacket kept snagging on twigs, pulling tight before snapping back against her legs.
Her thoughts drifted to her mother as they marched. The herbs they had gone to such great lengths to retrieve lay uselessly on the ground beside the river. And Elan’s wife, too young to be a widow, was burdened with caring for a child on her own. She hoped the commander would ensure that she was provided for, but she doubted he would. Neta would be cross with her for getting herself captured, while Val would be relieved to have his life continue uninterrupted, although he would probably be annoyed that someone – something – else had gotten the better of him. As for Pip … she pushed away the thought of him as tears welled in her eyes. He would mourn her the most.
The hours passed and still the Shadow Warrior walked, dragging her along like a piece of cattle. She wondered if he gave his captive any thought. Was he even capable of empathy and compassion? He might walk like a human and talk like a human, despite the hissing quality of his voice, but when he looked at her, his yellow-olive eyes were flat and cold, and his forked tongue flicked the air like a snake. His thin lips were a darker shader of gray than his scaly skin, which in the sunlight took on a dull bronze hue, while muscles rippled across his back, evidence of the strength that coursed through him.
The sun continued along its heavenly pathway and still they walked. Her throat was parched, and her stomach ached. Even beneath the trees she could feel the sun burning her fair skin and knew that it would be painfully sore in the morning, if she was even still alive by then. The ground was beginning to blur, and her arms were screaming from the pain of being dragged forward. She wondered dully if they could be yanked right out of her body. Why hadn’t the creature killed her yet? She eyed the weapons arrayed around his body. Perhaps she could kill him and make an escape, she thought, and smiled sardonically. She would not make it very far in the state she was in, even if she did manage to run him through.
The sun was nearing the horizon when another stone caught her foot and she tumbled to the ground; the creature yanked the rope, but she had no strength to raise herself, and she lay with her head on the ground as he turned to look at her.
“Get up!” he ordered.
“Kill me,” she mumbled.
She heard him move and opened her eyes to see his boots at her face. “Not yet,” he said, taking her by the arm and dragging her to her feet. “I have some other usesss for you first before I send you to your death.”
“You’ll have to use me here, then,” she mumbled.
“Either you walk, or I will drag you across the ground,” he said. Gathering her breath, she pulled herself from his grasp. His forked tongue flicked between his lips, and she stared at it stupidly before he turned and yanked her forward with the rope.
She turned her feet as she hobbled forward, trying to relieve some of the pain that grew relentlessly. Her legs trembled with each step she took, and a pounding had taken up residence in her head, hammering her skull with each painful step. The blade hovering before her became two, each wavering as she tried to focus on them, until it was too much effort to even hold up her head. She stared at the ground beneath her feet, a blur of brown and green. Vines twisted along the forest floor, turning into snakes as she stared at them. Her arms were straining against the ropes as she was drawn continuously forward, but the pain in her wrists had ceased to exist. She closed her eyes, but they flew open a moment later when she felt a sharp jerk; her head was so heavy, the pain so relentless that death seemed like a welcome relief from the misery she was in. The rope holding her arms slackened and she fell forward, her head hitting the ground with a painful thud before darkness closed around her once again.