CHAPTER 66
BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN
It all happened very quickly, faster than it took her dream world to shatter. And, in essence, now her real world was on the brink of shattering as well.
Are you ready? the voice continued to sound in her head, almost too perfect to be a memory.
She was. She had been. Every detail and possibility had been discussed, every move practiced. She had been utterly prepared for what was to come.
But it was so much different, so much more intense, when it came.
Kiethara’s eyes snapped open as the connection in her head blazed. She could sense them before she saw them and she tried not to focus on the fact that the presences had a lot of magic to themselves. More then she had ever felt before in one person, except for Aaron.
Tryke was to her right, arms crossed and expression dark. His numerous piercing made her stomach crawl. Had they seemed that menacing before?
Sinsenta stood to her left. Her crystals glowed in tune to the spark of her anger, his arrogant expression the fuel to her fire. She knew that as long as his face was in her view, she would have no issue using the fire element.
Kiethara did not have to turn to know who was behind her.
She could feel him. She could feel his casual stance; feel his black cloak rippling in the breeze, flowing over his blade. She could even feel the smirk on his face.
She could really feel the wicked amount of magic he was hoarding inside him.
A flash of intuition—this was why they had been gone for so long. Not to assemble some huge army, or practice some intense strategy, but to gather as much power as they could. They most likely had Camella’s grandfather put in jail so he could be forced to make them the necessary potion. If she had focused on her connection as Aaron had instructed, she might have noticed them taking fruit from the fringes of the forest.
All this flashed in her head in an instant, the shocking clairvoyance almost as uncanny as Aaron’s had been. In the next instant, however, she remembered she had to give the signal. She had to alert the others.
Kiethara let out an ear-piercing scream that filled the forest. Birds took off from their perches.
Her shield flashed up around her as she jumped out of her hammock, spinning to face her father.
Just as she had expected, his face was alighted with a smirk. His dark eyes, though, were narrowed in a peculiar way.
“Kiethara,” he addressed. “It’s been far too long, child.”
Fear flooded her stomach as she looked into the face of Gandador. Her scars tingled ominously.
“Much,” she said, her voice hoarse.
His eyebrows shot up. “Did you miss me?”
“That’s like asking a farmer if he misses his rabid dog.”
“Why, I’m sure the farmer loved that dog before he became infected,” Gandador said, lips twitching. “Like family.”
“I suppose it depends on what type of dog it was.”
Gandador stepped forward. “The best there is.”
“Enough play,” Kiethara growled. “I’m done.”
“Well, if you would prefer to no longer prolong the inevitable, be my guest.”
“Yes, I’d rather have you die sooner.”
“The forest will burn, you will burn, and the power will be mine,” he whispered softly.
Her eyes narrowed. “It can’t happen! Magic cannot be earned by war. Destroying who and what contains it will not set it free.”
“We will see,” he promised. “Either way, you die.”
Kiethara smiled. It seemed like they had come full circle.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Kiethara noted, turning to look at Sinsenta. “Does your face hurt?”
His scarred face scowled at her, and he took a menacing step forward. “Yours is about to…”
Gandador held up his hand, and Sinsenta fell quiet. Obedient little puppy. She laughed.
“Does he roll over, too?” she asked.
A torrent of flames collided with her shield with a surprising amount of force. She jumped and the sphere flickered—for just a second she felt its intense heat. She gritted her teeth and concentrated on holding it up. It was not as if she did not have enough fear to use.
“Sinsenta,” Gandador warned. “Don’t let her taunt you.”
“Yes, Sinsenta,” she mocked. “Don’t mind me.”
“Permission to kill?” he growled.
“Denied,” Gandador chuckled. “That honor will be mine.”
As they were talking, Kiethara was calculating, trying to muster up some courage. She needed to attack now, so she could lead them to the traps she had set up. One for each of them.
Something in her, however, kept her feet locked to the ground. She wanted to keep them talking, she wanted more time. She swallowed back bile.
“How’s Navadar?” Gandador asked politely. She scowled.
“Perfect,” she said. “Perhaps when this is over I’ll go visit him.”
“Perhaps I will,” he threatened.
“Do,” she spat. “I’d like to see what he would do to you.”
Gandador looked highly amused. “The boy wouldn’t dare. He has no magic!”
“You don’t need magic to love,” she pointed out. “And if I’m gone, he’ll have love to avenge.”
“Sweet,” he said. “But childish.”
“The guardians have always been children,” Sinsenta spat.
“Oh, no,” Gandador disagreed. “Most of them have been, but she—”
Kiethara’s shield exploded.
The golden sphere erupted, interrupting Gandador’s sentence. The force of it sent Sinsenta and Tryke flying towards the trees, but Gandador flattened himself to the ground, a thick spruce coming up from the ground in front of him.
She cursed silently. How in the world did he have such reflexes?
She wasted no time in taking off to the forest behind her, towards Camella. After a few bounds she entered the air and raced between the limbs, her mind informing her that the three of them were in hot pursuit.
There was one she was more interested in—Tryke, who was to her right. She shifted her course so that he was mere feet behind her, dropping to her feet so he could easily follow her movements. She felt Camella’s presence up ahead. Only a couple more yards to the trap.
Kiethara suddenly dived to the side, landing hard on the dirt and the grass that quickly brought her to a halt.
She looked up in time to see Tryke’s head slip into the poisoned noose that Camella was dangling from the tree. He gagged as his forward momentum pulled the rope tighter, thrashing against its grip. He let out a gargled scream as the potion began to work its magic.
“No!”
The roar came from one of the two men who were raging down on her. Gandador, with his black cloak billowing, jumped over her, sword drawn. Sinsenta jumped directly on her.
He grabbed one of her arms, but with the other Kiethara hooked him in the face. She would never be held on the ground by him again.
It was not enough, though, for she only managed to turn onto her side. Spitting blood into her face, he made a grab for her other hand. She focused her energy and flames appeared at the exact same second as Sinsenta’s did.
They both screamed and pulled away from each other—Sinsenta to the side and Kiethara to the air. She was there for only a moment when something heavy smacked her into her and sent her back into the nearest tree.
It was Camella. With a gasp, Camella rolled off of her and the two girls rolled to their feet. Ears ringing, heart pounding, Kiethara tried to gather herself and take in her surroundings.
Gandador was working over Tryke. The noose had been torn and thrown to the ground, but Tryke was still turning blue. Gandador was hunched over him, and as soon as Kiethara heard the clink of a glass bottle she knew what he was doing.
“Get Sinsenta!” Kiethara barked at her friend, blasting towards the other two. At full speed, she collided with Gandador.
He grunted, and toge
ther they tumbled into the high grass. She realized quickly that it was not the best position she could have put herself into, but all the while she prayed she had been quick enough. Please, let Tryke be dying…
When their teeth-chattering motion stopped, she looked up just in time to have her hopes smashed.
Sinsenta must have told Gandador what had happened to him and Gandador must have been familiar with the potion from her mother. Perhaps another reason why it had taken him so long to return: he had cooked up remedies to her poisons. Did that mean that her other potion was useless? Would the violet poison soaked into Navadar’s arrow tips be enough, or would Gandador’s own concoctions stop the liquid venom in its tracks?
Vines suddenly grabbed her and Kiethara realized too late that she had had her attention diverted for too long. Gandador was almost to his feet, his vines almost to her neck. She was furious with herself.
Once again, however, a miracle—a mystery—occurred.
Her whole body burst into hot, burning flames. She felt their powerful waves of heat and fell into what seemed to be a dulled sensation of what the true pain should have felt like. Aaron had told her that her crystals only protected her hands, which was why, until this point, they had only come from there.
Now, they were all over her.
Needless to say, the vines disintegrated. Shock rolled through her being, but she refused to be distracted by it. Instead, she threw herself onto a gaping Gandador.
He roared in real agony as she slammed him to the ground. Her hands sought his throat…
A wave of ice cold water suddenly threw her to the side, drowning her with its volume and velocity. The flames went out as she spluttered and coughed and, before she could get the water out of her eyes, someone landed a solid blow to her gut.
Her shield flew up and she blinked, dazed. It took her a fast moment to see that Tryke had fully recovered, and that that had been his wall of water. Behind him, a large area of the forest was dead and dry.
It was a stunning ability to achieve. Kiethara had lost a parent, but she could not even accomplish that. For one wild second, she wondered what could have possibly happened to him to make him so great at using water. What sorrow was necessary to do that?
Gandador was putting out the small flames that smoldered on his cloak. Her navy blue eyes flickered to Sinsenta.
Kiethara gasped. Camella was on his back, legs wrapped around his arms while her hands covered his eyes. She gritted her teeth, releasing an arm to reach down to her dagger.
Kiethara’s shield disappeared as she dove towards them. Tryke made a move, but her tree shot up from the ground so fast that there was no way he could have avoided the missile. No one could use the earth element as she could.
Camella was thrown from Sinsenta, her one arm not strong enough to keep her hold. Kiethara unsheathed her own sword just in time to meet those of Sinsenta.
He crossed his daggers, catching her blade in their crevice. He pushed back, sending her stumbling. She regained her balance just in time to sink into a crouch and dodged another swipe of the dagger.
Kiethara lunged, swiped, rolled, and then flew. This maneuver had taken her weeks to master, but here she had it perfected. The butt of her sword cracked on Sinsenta’s skull in a sickening way.
She felt him give way underneath her and felt a swooping sense of relief. She turned and pulled Camella to her feet.
“Listen,” she told her wide-eyed friend. They only had seconds—the others were recovering. “Run to Markii as fast as you can! Go!”
Camella was very intuitive—her observant eyes saw where Kiethara’s train of thought was headed. She took off without a pause or a question.
Kiethara took off to, in another direction.
In her head, she felt her spur-of-the-moment decision had the result she had hoped for. Gandador was after her, Tryke was after Camella, and Sinsenta was still on the ground, unconscious.
She knew it would be faster to fly, but Navadar needed advanced warning. She deliberately cracked twigs with her feet and beat branches as she sprinted by, all the while praying that Gandador would not decide to fly himself. He never wasted magic like that.
She sensed Navadar up ahead. She steeled herself to turn invisible and swing up into the branches, allowing him a clear shot.
She just needed to get closer…closer…now.
Her hands disappeared before her eyes as she reached up to grab a branch. Her fingers grazed it…
Something—someone—grabbed her dress from behind her and pulled her to the ground.
She yelped, turning visible. Gandador jumped over her and kept running.
What…?
Her stomach dropped; he must have figured what lay ahead. After Camella’s presence, it was the obvious conclusion.
She leapt to her feet just in time to have a misfired arrow shoot through her wild, waist long hair. She gasped, flattening herself to the ground and rolling to the side. Kiethara eagerly pressed her back to the solid bark, welcoming the solid barrier.
And arrow struck the tree to her left. Holding her breath, she reached out quickly and yanked it out. The wooden tip was dampened still and she made sure to keep it away from her flesh as she scaled the tree and jumped into the air.
In mere seconds, she felt in her connection that she was over Gandador. Fear spiked her veins as she saw how close he was to Navadar. The wind howled fiercely.
She ducked down into the canopy. He heard her racket and his gaze flickered up just in time to see her spear-throw the arrow at him.
Kiethara could not believe her luck; she was also unable to decide if she should consider it good luck or bad. She nicked his right palm, causing him to curse violently.
Just then, Navadar jumped out of the bushes. His bow was already drawn and his quiver still held a decent amount of arrows. He closed one eye to aim.
Navadar’s bow burst into flames. Kiethara and Navadar let out a cry at the same time. He dropped his weapon with a yelp as Kiethara sent her own pillar of fire directly at her father in fury.
He jumped out of the way, cradling his injured hand, pulling from his pocket another potion bottle. She gasped in anger. She would not let this happen again.
Flames erupted inside the long, slender glass vial.
The snuffed out quickly as they consumed all of the oxygen, but they left no potion in their wake. Gandador would not have any remedy for this poison!
“You little…!” he hissed. “Learn some new tricks, I see? Aaron teach you those, eh?”
Her teeth snapped together, but otherwise she kept her emotions hidden. She could not let Gandador see the pain, could not let him know that his greatest enemy was forever gone. She could not let him see her own surprise at her new skill. He must think she had been trained with these tactics already.
Where she was getting these inexplicable talents, she knew not. What she did know was that in times of strong emotion, in times of instinctive need, her powers assisted her with what was needed. She was a guardian, after all.
The thought made her smug and she made sure to show that emotion on her face.
“This will be the last time you choose to fight a guardian,” she told him, nodding towards his hand. It was starting to swell and turn a vivid pink.
“I’ll kill you before the venom reaches my elbow!” he screamed, unsheathing his sword. Kiethara realized with a jolt she still held hers in her hand. Navadar suddenly jumped to her side, now holding the machete Camella had brought with her.
Gandador sneered at Navadar’s display, twitching his fingers. He stepped forward as to swipe at Kiethara, but in mid-step he spun on his heel and chucked the blade at Navadar.
“No!”
The cry came from her mouth, and her fingers, as though sought by magnetic force, reached for him. She watched in utter relief as a golden sphere appeared around his precious self, the blade bouncing off as though it had hit a wall.
However, that left her well open for an attack from the man who
had thrown the sword.
There was a sudden pressure on her arm. She tore her eyes away from Navadar to see Gandador’s hand closing around her flesh.
Pain.
She opened her mouth to scream, but she could not hear anything over the ringing in her ears. She felt her limbs contorting, but she could not control their movement. Her vision flickered between a dark black and a vivid white.
Only one thought crossed her mind: this should not be happening. Aaron had told her that it cost him much magic to use this move.
She could not focus as another wave of torture broke over her. This could not go on for much longer, or she would die. But what if she did? Sickening fear jolted her along with the pain.
She was suddenly smacked with what felt like a solid, moving wall. It hurt, but on the other hand, the pain ceased. It was actually a relief.
She blinked and looked around. Navadar was frozen, shocked, and the shield around him had disappeared. Gandador lay on the ground a foot to her right.
Ah…Her shield must have expanded out…from around Navadar. At least he wasn’t hurt.
Kiethara jumped to her feet.
Gandador suddenly spun on the ground, kicking her legs out from under her. She landed flat on her back, letting out a strange little huff as the wind was stolen from her.
She raised her head just enough to see something quite shocking. Navadar had shed the machete for Gandador’s own sword and he held it high as he charged at him.
Gandador sprang to his feet and a wall of flames erupted between them. Navadar jumped back in alarm as Gandador smirked.
He then turned his attention to Kiethara, who lay by his feet. Realizing she was in trouble, she kicked her leg up. He snatched it before she could strike the fork of his legs, twisting her ankle painfully. She flipped over, her other leg striking his poisoned hand.
He let out a hiss and dropped her foot. She quickly scrambled away, pulling herself up with the help of a tree.
She was then slammed into it, bark scratching angrily at her cheek. She let out a muffled cry, thrashing. Gandador grabbed her wrists and shoved her again, reinforcing his position.
From her position, she could see Navadar behind the crackling flames, which were devouring the forest like an enraged beast. Their creator was no better, however, as he breathed these menacing words into her ear:
“Should I burn him alive, child?”
Flames appeared on Navadar’s other side, surrounding him. There was hardly a foot between him and the flames. She saw him gulping for air, sweat already pouring from his forehead and neck.
“Or I could let him watch you die,” he suggested. “Which would you prefer?”
“The question is,” she gasped. “Which world would you rather destroy? Mine or his?”
“Why, both,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“No!” Navadar wickedly screamed, and Kiethara’s heart burst with panic. She strained her eyes, but it did not look like the fire had harmed him. Then she saw that his wide eyes were staring at her. The danger was not his danger. It was hers.
Gandador shifted and, in a moment of perfect clarity, she realized that he was going to kill her.
“Wait!” she cried. “Do you really want to die?”
There was a beat of stillness. Not silence, for the fire crackled obnoxiously, but she felt the movement behind her freeze. Her heart gave a painful beat, as though it knew that it would be its last.
“Now why would I want that?” he asked. A shift in his weight made her cringe into the tree.
“I didn’t think you would,” she gasped. “But you will if you keep this up. It’s been the same way since you first returned here, hasn’t it?”
More stillness. She had struck a cord.
Which made her think…
Had she really survived this entire time on mere luck and skill? Or had thee been something else to it? It was not difficult to see that Gandador had a few good opportunities to kill her already, but perhaps something else had held the fatal blow at bay. Was it fear? Reluctance?
“Tell me, which is it?” she asked aloud. “Was it fear of Aaron that had kept you all that time? Fear of him destroying you? Or was it simple reluctance to risk the end of this world for the sake of one you know not?”
The hands on her tightened.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” she asked, laughing in disbelief.
“I may hate him,” Gandador growled. “But I am no fool. Aaron Pervel was a powerful man, and remains to be a powerful spirit. Not even you could ever amass the amount of power he has.”
So Earthaphoria did not tell him everything, did not tell him the workings of a guardian’s death. Did she know herself? She had not known Aaron, so it would have had to have been a parent to explain…
But it explained Gandador’s fear. He still thought Aaron had the same amount of magic he had had all those years ago.
Use it, a voice sounded in her head suddenly. Wield your weapons.
Kiethara’s eyes widened. It was Tinya.
Stay focused, she warned.
But Kiethara was awake! She had never heard the voice while she was conscious.
It takes less power to reach you when your unconscious, but you need me.
You’ll fade, Kiethara thought in despair.
Now you worry, she grumbled. About the wrong things, too.
“Aaron…Aaron was a great guardian,” she stuttered, trying to surpress her shock at Tinya’s appearance and keep the thread of the conversation going. Her mind was spinning.
This was why she did not realize her mistake until her words were too far gone to take back.
“Was?” he asked.
Oh, no, the voice whispered.
She was suddenly whipped around, her back slamming into the bark, her cheek throbbing as it was released. She stared into deep pits that had been made darker by the menacing light of victory that now played in his pupils.
He yanked her chin up.
“Child, do you mean to tell me he’s gone?” he hissed in fierce exultation.
Her eyes pricked, but she still tried to give a convincing answer.
“No.”
“Liar,” he said. “Poor girl, suffering the loss of—”
“Father,” she interjected fiercely. “Loss of my father.”
Gandador’s eyes narrowed.
The silence was broken by a sudden battle grunt, and then Navadar collided with Gandador and sent the two men reeling.
Kiethara ducked out of the way as they came her towards her. She stepped behind Gandador and jumped on his back. Securing her grip, she ignited her entire body on fire again.
He roared and ran backwards. Her back cracked against a tree, snuffing the fire out, but leaving his cloak smoldering.
She reached down and grabbed Gandador’s poisoned hand, which was now multiple colors and spreading to his wrist. She twisted it, and he let out a painful howl.
“Navadar, run! My clearing!” Kiethara panted, working to keep her grip.
Unlike Camella, Navadar did not do exactly what she said. Infuriatingly, he paused to ask her:
“Bur what—”
“GO!” she screamed harshly. Gandador’s other hand came around and smacked her on the other side of her head.
Finally, Navadar took off through the trees. Gandador threw Kiethara off and tore after Navadar, a look of pure, undiluted evil decorating his features.
She blasted after him. For the shortest moment, she wondered why Gandador did not fly. He must be saving his power for another dose of pain…
When she was a foot away from him, she tumbled in the air and planted two bare, muddy feet on his shoulder blades. She threw her weight into it and he sank forward. As his body fell horizontally, she used him as a spring board, landing neatly on her feet right besides Navadar.
“Let’s go,” she huffed, a bit more kindly. She grabbed his hand and together they raced towards her clearing.
Camella, Markii, Tryke, and Sinsenta were alre
ady there.
And it was not going well.
Tryke and Markii were consumed in a fierce sword battle. Markii’s skill and precociousness were uncanny, almost surreal; however, Tryke was using his magic. Despite what Markii claimed, the power gave him an advantage that left Markii bruised, beaten, and singed.
Camella was even worse. Her lip was bleeding profusely and her clothes were ripped and tattered. Criss-cross scratched litteres her skin, as well as some nasty burns. Her hair was wild, teeth clenched, and Kiethara sensed she had already expelled much of her magic. Sinsenta leered at Camella as they both swung daggers at each other. His, though, were on fire.
Kiethara let go of Navadar’s hand and held her palms up. Her crystals glowed brightly, anger flared from the sight of her injured friends, and then two columns of fire burst at her enemies in a wave of heat.
The two men roared as they soared through the air. Markii and Camella’s head snapped up in unison to gaze at Kiethara with profound relief, although it was not as obvious on Markii’s features.
Kiethara grabbed Navadar and yanked him to the middle of the clearing, the other two quick to converge on them. As soon as they were together, Kiethara held her hand high and her shield appeared.
Camella braced her hands on her knees, panting. Markii flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles.
“Is everyone okay?” Kiethara asked.
“Yes,” Camella gasped.
“How unfortunate…”
Gandador had made it to the clearing. Kiethara spun on her heel to evaluate the situation. Sinsenta and Tryke were rising to their feet. They were surrounded.
Kiethara blinked, her eyes stinging as she tried to focus on the shapes around her. She ran a hand over her forehead and it came back stained crimson. When did that happen?
“Are you okay?” Camella asked. Kiethara smiled in response.
She clutched her sword and checked her vine belt. She still had her healing potion.
“Is anyone seriously injured?” she asked.
“You,” Navadar said, gently stroking her forehead.
“Anyone else?” she sighed in exasperation.
They all shook their heads. Navadar huffed indignantly.
“So Aaron is gone!” Gandador cried in elation. Kiethara flinched violently.
“Gone!” he cried again. He gestured to a nearby tree, which promptly burst into flames. Kiethara was sickened—she had never seen him so happy.
“Is he really?” Sinsenta asked.
“Oh, yes,” Gandador answered. “You can see it in the child’s eyes. I can’t even create a pain so deep in her.”
“Pain like this can only come from love,” she said evenly.
“That’s why I was planning on killing Navadar,” he pointed out.
Her teeth snapped together, her hands bursting into flames. Camella jumped.
“The tree is still burning…” Markii mumbled.
Kiethara started. Markii was right. She remembered the flames that had surrounded Navadar, and suddenly, her connection blazed. But not with a presence; it was a subtle warning, almost, of the other flames present in the forest. Closing her eyes and praying it would work, she used Gandador’s words as power to pull water from the forest, using only her connection to see the two areas of flames. Feeling rather than witnessing, she doused the conflagrations quickly.
“That boy…” Tryke mused suddenly. Kiethara blinked in surprise. She was fairly certain it was the first time he had spoken.
“Yes, he’s quite annoying. The lot of them are.”
“No, no…His clothing, his accent…it’s very familiar.”
Besides her, Markii tensed.
“I believe I pillaged his tribe not a week ago!”
Camella gasped next to her, Navadar inhaled sharply, and Kiethara’s mouth fell open in horror. Markii, however, remained unnaturally stiff.
In front of her, a horrid smirk was spreading across Gandador’s face.
“Excellent. Now you can finish the thing properly.”
“If he’s anything like the others, it should be fairly easy.”
Wham.
Kiethara’s teeth vibrated in tune to her shield—Markii had struck his sword against the inside of it. She turned to look at him, and what she saw was enough to make the golden sphere disappear.
It could not be, yet it was. Markii’s features were alight with a blazing emotion that changed his entire appearance. A moment before, he had only been intense. His gray eyes had been piercing, his eyebrows straight, and his muscles tense. A countenance that had never varied. A steel that remained as solid as it was strong.
Now, the steel had melted.
Melted by a burning, white-hot rage that lit his face. The heat seeped his eyebrows, mashing them together. It seeped to his mouth, pulling his lips into a gnarled grimace, as though the muscle were not familiar with being used.
This new Markii was magnificent as he was utterly terrifying. Before, he had simply been unadulterated power. Now his inhumane skill was made, if possible, fiercer with the new display of emotion, the new motivation that took complete control. As Kiethara beheld the miracle before her, she doubted that even Aaron had experienced anything equivalent to the chaos that was bursting from him.
As her shield disappeared, he flung himself at Tryke with a war cry. Markii had never made a boisterous sound before this.
“No, Mar—”
Her own cry was cut off by a great force slamming her from behind. She fell face first onto the dirt.
“Get off her!” Navadar cried, and the pressure on her was released. She gasped as the air rushed back into her lungs, pulling her nose and mouth from the ground.
Her head had barely risen an inch when a boot hit her clear across the skull. Stars flashed behind her eyelids, and it was pure chaos as she tried to roll away, anywhere, just to get some bearings. As soon as she had a new direction, something would smack her in the opposite direction.
There were many ways she could use her power, but fear of hitting more friend than foe kept them at bay. Her sword had been knocked from her hand and the ringing in her head made it impossible for her to focus on the presences in her connection…
And then something grabbed her arm and was dragging her across the grass.
“Come on…”Camella panted, pulling her to her feet. They locked eyes for a moment, both pairs silently conveying the same message: good luck.
Camella took off to help Navadar, who was viscously pushing Sinsenta. Kiethara did not move. She could feel her father coming at her again, and she waited…
She ducked. His thick blade whistled a foot above her head and she spun, thrusting her foot at Gandador’s shins. He stumbled, throwing out his sword arm to catch his balance. Kiethara saw her opportunity. She lunged and grabbed his wrists, working furiously to knock the sword from his grasp. His right arm came around, though, and captured her in a headlock, rattling her so hard that her teeth knocked together and she gave up her fight for his sword.
She was choking, that was for sure. She desperately tried to set herself on fire again, but as her vision blurred, she found it harder and harder to concentrate.
Lack of air was not that much different from a lack of magic. His strong arm almost had the same effect that cursed jewel had on her; it drained her heavily. But she had not experienced that for no reason, and because of it, she was well attuned at finding hidden reserves of strength.
She found no energy to find an emotion to fuel a power. She needed to do something that she was so well practiced with, so familiar with, that she did not need an emotion to use it…something that she could do—had done—in her sleep…
Her crystals glowed brightly as innumerable white roses blossomed up from the ground. Almost too beautiful for the grotesque task they were performing, they began to consume the two of them. Kiethara felt their thorns pricking her exposed skin. Gandador’s arm loosed in surprise…
Bam! She struck his elbow and he grunted in pain. She slip
ped from his paws and from the monster bush of roses, which were still blooming at an alarming rate.
“Get these accursed things off of me!” he yelled, though it was quite muffled, for the roses had stretched above his head.
Breathing heavily, she turned to Markii’s fight. His back was to her, and for that she was almost grateful. His new demeanor was unnerving—as unnerving as his steel hard countenance had been when she had first met him.
She swept up her sword and made towards the two of them.
“Argh!”
That had been her only warning, but it still had not been enough. She turned to see that Gandador had sunk to drastic measures to get free. He had set himself—and the bush of roses—on fire. They disintegrated quickly, but it left him aflame in the process.
She changed course back to the bloody and burnt mastermind, but he disappeared. Her heart froze, and then her mother’s legend rang in her head…too slowly, she spun on her heel.
He was already behind her. His arm came down in a swift motion, striking her clear across the face. She staggered back and, before she could recover, he planted his foot in her chest with all the force he could muster.
The first thing she registered, as she flew several feet in the air, was a collection of gasps that echoed throughout her clearing. It sounded odd.
Then, as she hit the ground and skidded to a stop, she registered the ripples of agony. She drew in a rattling breath. The pain coming from her ribs stabbed at her heart.
Her heart.
At that moment she became painfully aware of it. It was so loud, drowning out every other sound in the forest. Suddenly, it seemed time slowed remarkably, as if it had paced itself to the crawling beats of her heart.
Ba-Dump.
In slow motion it seemed, she raised her head, fire in her chest. The first thing she saw through the waving grass, for a sudden wind had picked up, was Gandador. He stood ten feet from her, smirking down at her with cold, amused eyes.
Ba-Dump.
She turned her head to the right. Navadar was looking over his shoulder, bloody machete half-way raised and his mouth opened in a silent exclamation. Silent, just as Sinsenta’s obvious sneering laugh. He was facing her like Gandador. Both men were very bloody.
There was one missing from that group.
Kiethara’s stomach dropped astonishingly fast, considering the disorienting procession of things.
Camella was lying on the ground, eagle-spread and bleeding from her temple. Kiethara’s breath left in a very slow, shallow whoosh. She felt no relief as she watched Camella’s chest rise slowly, for she had never seen her friend so still. It was eerie, it was unnatural, and it sparked a fire inside her.
It was not pain, although that was so ever present. It was a stabbing pang that she could tentatively call murder. Murder directed at Sinsenta’s blue and brown eyes, which gazed at her with unsuppressed glee as she raised her panic-stricken face from Camella’s stricken form.
The fight was going badly for them, and by the look of Sinsenta’s gloating confidence, it would be over soon.
Ba-Dump.
Now riddled with more things than pain, she rolled her head in the other direction, towards Markii.
He was still standing. He held his sword out in front of him, grasped firmly with two hands. Shockingly there was a brilliant, breath-taking smile on his face. His teeth were a dazzling white, a beautiful contrast to his dark hair and eyes. The smile was morphing as she watched him—into one of triumph.
Triumph, because his blade was running itself forward, dragging through the sun’s rays, and impaling itself in Tryke’s chest. Tryke’s back was to her, but she watched his head roll back in a silent scream. As slow as a falling leaf, Tryke’s sword fell into the grass and the water he had been using as an additional weapon splashed to the forest floor.
Tryke made his way down to the ground, too. Dead.
Markii threw back his head and laughed. It was the only sound that could reach her past the loud pounding of her heart. It was voluminous and passionate. He had fulfilled his duty. He had destroyed an adversary. He had protected his tribe.
Ba-Dump.
Instinct called her eyes to flicker back to Gandador. He, too, had been watching Markii. They locked eyes for a moment, staring at one another with, what felt like to her, was understanding. Their eyes only remained locked for a fraction of a second, before they both turned back to Navadar and Sinsenta.
Ba-Dump.
Sinsenta seemed to have placed a well aimed strike at Navadar, who was clutching his crimson shoulder. Then, the butt of the stained dagger rose and fell. Navadar collapsed, though not yet unconscious, unable to defend himself from the flames above. These flames were only dully burning on the daggers, for the anger needed to fuel them was overshadowed by the immense triumph that Sinsenta was now feeling. Like Markii, he seemed to have realized that he had won.
Ba-Dump.
Pain—horrible rushing, suffocating, stabbing, inflaming, freezing agony—exploded inside her chest. It was worse than before; not only did her ribs burn more fiercely than they had seconds after the blow, but now her heart was laden with the image before her.
She realized she was screaming with her hands clawing at the dirt in front of her. She could not hear her scream, she could not get up fast enough, but she could warn someone to help. Someone who had already defeated his foe.
Her eyes met Gandador’s once more.
Ba-Dump.
They both glanced at Markii, at his laughing face. He was laughing at Tryke’s body, which was bleeding onto the freshly bent grass. Markii was not being observant. He did not see that Navadar needed help. He was not seeing enough.
Gandador smirked.
Ba-Dump.
A flick of the wrist and his blade was soaring through the air. As though it were some magnificent eagle, it ripped through the air towards its target, its prey. It went slow enough that Kiethara could follow it with her eyes.
Ba-Dump.
It impaled itself right into Markii’s chest. His laugh was cut off with a strangled gurgle, blood spurting from his mouth. The red seemed so bright against Markii’s dull grays, greens, and blacks. His eyes were no longer narrowed in what had been his usual intensity, but they were wide with shock. His muscles, for the first time, relaxed.
In death, he became weak. In emotion, he had made himself vulnerable. Markii had kept his feelings, his opinions, everything to himself. Hidden from foe and friend, to protect himself. To guard himself in the most efficient way and, to an extent, his tribe. He had been right to, for their freedom had cost him his life. One glorious moment of seeing a true Markii, and then he was on his knees.
BA-DUMP!
She exploded. She burst.
Sound, speed, smell…It came back to her as though a wall between she and it had been shattered. Everything that had transpired before had taken place in about a minute, but that one moment had been filled with so much it had been cut out of the normal pace of things.
For some reason, her pain seemed to double. She realized now that the reason she could not have moved was due to simple shock from the breaking of ribs. Nonetheless, she rose to her feet now with no hesitation. An ear-splitting stentorian scream bubbled to her lips and she let it out with piercing volume. She roared in her anguish and anger. The sight of her friends littered around her, dead and dying, made her see red. Her crystals were blinding as she felt emotion course through her veins at a level she had never experienced before. There was a bone-deep sorrow she felt in Markii’s death. There was an unhindered fear pounding to the rhythm of her heart, her subconscious telling her she would die. Rage banged in her ears and sent a blood-lust through her, towards the man before her. Towards Sinsenta, who had paused in his attack to look up at her. There was even joy inside her—joy when she saw his eyes widen in panic at the sight of her.
With all of this emotion came a massive amount of power. She could not stop herself from drinking it in from the forest around
her. Her crystals were two suns on her wrists and the eyes in her sockets glowed just as bright. She was alien and uncontrollable. The magic took control of her, swelling inside her, so much that she felt her feet slowly lift off the ground as she rose upwards.
It was all just too much. Her arms spread outwards and her chest arched forward. She threw back her head and burst.
In an instant, she had been devastatingly torn apart.
Beautifully broken.
It thrummed out in waves. It was pure magic, not transformed into anything or manipulated by anyone. Her emotion had turned her into an outlet for the wild power, and it did not hesitate to pour forth in magnificent volume.
Kiethara could not stop it. It was endless, for the magic was endless. Only Aaron’s constricting arms had ever reined this in. But Aaron was not here; she had disobeyed him. She had let herself get overwhelmed.
She was lost to a magical bust.
Hours, minutes, days, seconds, moments…Time meant nothing. All she knew was that it felt so good to let it run free from her. Such a relief, like letting out a breath she had been holding in for some time. A breath, however, that would never run dry.
Finally, though, a small part of her sanity was able to grab a hold of her. A small part of her humanity. It was talking to her, too.
Calm down! it whispered.
She could not. She could not find any control. She could not do anything. All she saw was white.
Listen to me, it snapped. Your emotions need to be reigned in. Navadar is still alive. Go save him.
Navadar…that rang a bell. Her vision flickered, the light dimming, yet the magic fought against any form of restraint.
You control it, the voice reminded her.
That was right. She was a guardian.
Go on now, it said. Reign it in.
She did not know how.
Find a reason.
Reason. Everything happened for a reason.
It relented, and she grabbed hold of her sanity. She found her sight, found her control over the wicked power. She breathed in deep gasping breaths as her crystals simmered down. She fell with a thump to the forest floor.
She lay there for a moment, gasping, more pain coursing through her than she had ever experienced before.
Well done, the faintest voice in her head murmured. You are…guardian…
The voice abruptly cut off as a presence in her head vanished. She had not realized it was there until it was gone. It felt wrong, as though she were missing some essential part of herself. It felt hollow, sad.
Taking in air through her gritted teeth, she dragged herself to her feet. Her watery eyes took in Camella’s still form, lying right next to Sinsenta. Surprisingly, Kiethara felt no shock in seeing him dead. Camella’s chest rose shallowly.
Navadar was alive, too. He was fighting to get to his feet, for he seemed to be in as much pain as she was. His eyes made contact with hers.
She looked away, towards Gandador. He was still alive, and he, too, was making his way to his feet.
No. Not again.
Dragging herself forward by only sheer will, she bent to pick up her sword. She had no magic left in her. No strength but to do this.
She limped towards him. He grunted in pain, shaking. His sword was still in Markii, out of his reach. She smirked down at the pale, pitiful creature that was all that remained of Gandador.
He looked up at her as though he wanted to say something. All that he managed to do, though, was pull his features into a crippled grimace. He knew, just as she did, that she had won.
So this was what victory felt like, she thought dully. This was what it truly meant to be a guardian.
With that, Kiethara raised her sword back slightly. Her hands shook.
And then she plunged it into his heart.
He grunted, his hands flying to grab her wrists. He squeezed her bracelets, as though he wanted to yank the sword out of him. But before he could, the menacing eyes turned colder than they had ever been before. She had finally defeated Gandador. She had finally avenged her mother.
Kiethara pulled her sword from him and stepped back. She threw her head back in triumph, smiling up at the sun, at Aaron, before she collapsed.
For she had been beautifully broken.