The surface of the water rippled.
I frowned and peered at the ground. Tiny granules of dirt were shuddering. As I watched, they began to jump around, and I could feel the reverberation in my feet.
I raise my head as a pounding noise sounded in the distance. Forgetting my pail, I straightened, stomach leaping into my mouth. I scanned the horizon in a circle. In my periphery, I noticed Jotun standing several fields over and doing the same.
Now the smaller stones were joining the surrounding dirt, shaking and bouncing off the ground.
Then I saw them.
I covered my mouth with both hands as I stared past Jotun at the waves of rebels pouring over the rolling hill just by the field I’d worked that day. At the front . . .
“Arnik!” I gasped. This was it. They’d come for me!
Between me and my freedom with the rebels stood six fields, and, more importantly, the Druman Jotun was in the middle. Anger flashed across his face, and he ran toward me.
The bucket tipped back into the well, and my pulse pounded in my ears as I searched the ground for a weapon.
Several rocks were in the dirt, and I scrambled to find one I could use. My palm scraped against the sharp edge of a stone, and I tugged it free of the dirt. The rough edge came to a wicked point, and I pressed the tip into my palm until my skin broke and my blood covered the edge of the black stone. The rebels had just reached the far side of the carrot field. Jotun was far ahead of them, and fast. He covered twice the ground they did in the same time. Half Drae. He’d be able to cart me away over his shoulder before the rebels even reached me.
His eyes were blazing with a wild edge, and I knew he’d read my intention to resist. I dug my toes into the ground and got ready to throw myself to the side. The roar of the rebels, at least two hundred of them, made my heart thunder, and their courage pulsed with each beat. They were here for me. I would do this.
This was my chance. Tyr’s chance. Ty’s chance.
Jotun’s arms pumped by his sides as he drew closer. Twenty feet, ten feet . . .
His hand blurred, and my eyes widened as the leather of his whip sliced toward me. I’d forgotten about his whip. I raised a hand in front of my eyes and shouted as pain burned across my forearm a second later. I dove to the side, some part of me remembering to get out of his trajectory despite the pain.
Rolling in a cloud of dust, I gasped and opened my eyes even as I jumped to my feet. But Jotun had stopped, still ten feet away from me. I glanced down and saw the end of his whip wrapped about my forearm, the other end in the dirt.
He lunged for the loose end, and I yanked my arm back, drawing the end to me. Jotun straightened with a growl and came for me.
I wasn’t fast enough to use the whip.
The air whooshed out of me as he dropped his shoulder and bouldered into my stomach. We crashed to the ground with a force that had me seeing stars. Still clutching the rock in one hand, I wiped at my face with the other. My blood dripped onto my shift, and as Jotun drew his gloved fist back to deal a blow that would certainly finish me, his gaze took in all the blood, and he hesitated.
“That’s right, Jotun,” I slurred. “My blood kills Drae.”
The world blurred, and I remembered all the times this beast had hurt me. He’d nearly destroyed me. Every single one of my horrific memories could be linked to him. My hands shook with the need to rip his life from him. The roaring wave of pounding blood crashed in my ears, and in its wake, the steady beat calmed my heart.
Jotun’s gaze met mine, and when I smiled at him, his eyebrows pulled down in confusion for a fraction of a second before his eyes widened in horror . . .
As I drove the sharp edge of the rock deep into his side.
The effect was immediate. Jotun threw his head back and an inhuman roar escaped his lips, echoing his pain as my Phaetyn blood attacked his Drae nature. The sound was a gurgling mess, unable to be more without a voice. He writhed on the spot, caving in on himself, limbs contorted in agony.
I staggered to my feet, still clasping the rock, and ran toward the rebels. Tears coursed down my cheeks as I saw their faces—focused, hopeful, determined.
“Ryn!” Arnik yelled.
I aimed for him, my hope giving me strength to pump my legs harder than I thought possible.
“Arnik!” I was going to make it. A powerful elation burst within me like a dam had been released, and I sobbed with abandon at the sight of my salvation.
Just as a shattering roar split the air.
Cold horror ripped through me with the force of a hurricane. Terror blanketed the valley, and every living thing held its breath in a brief moment of silent dread of what was coming. From behind the rebels, the harrowing black form of the Drae rose in the distance. Some of the rebels turned to look, and their screams broke the silence. Beating his wings, Irrik covered the distance at a furious speed.
No one could outrun such power, and all the power of the Drae was sworn to the king.
“Run!” I screamed at the rebels, waving my hands, imploring them to heed my words. “Run!” I sprinted for Arnik. “Run, Arnik. He’ll kill you all!”
Whether it was my horrified screams or their own survival instincts, the rebels began to scatter in all directions as Irrik roared high above.
All except Arnik.
My chest burned for air as I sped toward him, panic propelling me faster than I’d ever moved before.
Irrik circled once, and dozens of rebels changed directions as he herded them back into the open fields. Then he lined up with the field full of rebels, a molten glow building in his exposed chest.
Dread filled me. His reptilian eyes found mine in that moment, and I screamed, “No, Irrik. Please, don’t!”
But the Drae answered only to the king.
He reared back and then threw his head forward, jaws gaping as flames shot from between his fangs. The inferno raced across the sky, blazing toward the rebels. The conflagration would swallow them all.
Arnik was in the firing line. The world blurred as I crossed the distance to him.
The heat was blistering, and a second after I’d wrapped myself around Arnik’s frame, fire licked my back. I screamed at the scorching heat, yelling words to Arnik in an indistinguishable torrent as the fire seared my open mouth. Hold on, Ryn, I begged myself.
I had to hold on.
As consciousness slipped from my grasp, I rested my head against the back of Arnik’s neck. He’d always been my friend. Would I ever see him again? Then darkness filled my vision, and I crumpled into his arms.
Hold on, a familiar voice whispered.
28
I groaned, rolling onto my back. My head was pounding. What happened?
Screams and the roar of fire echoed in my head, and flashes of the inferno burst across my eyelids. The field! My throat tightened. The rebels.
The stench of char singed my nostrils, and my throat felt raw. I rubbed the blurriness from my eyes and stared up at dark stones and pale phosphorescent light I knew all too well.