Dryad-Born(32)

An uneven bit of earth and the tangle of scrub caught her foot and she went down hard again, landing in a patch of sharp brambles. The fall stole her breath and she lay gasping in the meadow grass, close to a copse of trees but still too far from it to hide. Her ear and cheek were cut on the brambles, causing sharp pain. She pressed her hand there and it came away wet with blood. It hurt, but she would not cry out and sucked in her breath to keep from sobbing. The distance to the hills was surprisingly great still, despite her run. It had seemed near on first glance. The rim of the hill slope was closer. Phae crawled, moving forward through the scrub, desperate. She gasped for air and risked a look back across the meadow.

A black smudge in the moonlight, parting the grass at a dead run.

He was following her.

A fresh spasm of dread fueled her to run again. Phae rose and sprinted, willing herself to reach the edge of trees, ignoring the pain of her ear. Perhaps she would find another oak there. Perhaps. Her stomach roiled with the jostling contents, bringing nausea to supplement the bile. Sweat streaked down her skin, but on she ran, pushing herself faster. She had to get away. She had to run to be safe.

The sound of his boots thumping on the ground behind her alerted Phae that she would not make the edge of the woods in time. The hill loomed above and then it seemed to split into two, as if next to a giant mirror of itself. Were there two hills instead of one? The false light of the moon was tricking her. The copse of trees was almost there before she realized it wasn’t a copse at all. It was a wall covered with vines and foliage. There was a gate in the middle of the wall. A stone archway rose above the tattered fragments of leaves and branches. The archway was derelict, with gaps of stone missing from it. There was an iron gate in the archway and the gate was closed.

Phae realized she had been running toward the safety of the woods only to find a barred door in her path. Defeat struck her heart like an anvil hammer. She slowed in despair, dropping to her knees in exhaustion, and fell down on her arms, gasping for breath and waiting with dread for the Kishion to reach her.

There was nothing else she could do but beg for her life.

Trying to squelch her panic, she pushed up and turned to face the Kishion. Her chest was heaving.

“I’m…sorry!” she pleaded, holding her hands in front of her wardingly. “Please! Please! Don’t kill me!”

He had slowed his run as he approached but there was a look of fury in his eyes that made her quail. His shirt was in tatters as was his cloak. Both hardly looked like garments made by men. The muscles beneath his shirt were bulging with the effort of his pursuit, but he did not look winded. Not at all.

“Please!” she begged, trying to look him in the eye. The moonlight was not enough. She knew it would not be.

The Kishion drew his blade, his mouth twisting with fury.

She was going to die. He was going to kill her.

“I warned you not to run from me,” he said in a seething voice. “There is nowhere you can run that I cannot find you. Nowhere!” The pent-up rage in his voice exploded.

Phae quailed. “I’m sorry!”

He was standing over her, dagger poised in his grip. Every part of him felt dangerous and threatening. His tattered clothes rippled in the night breeze. “I should kill you now. Do you know how easy it would be? I could stop this chase and return back alone. I kill. That is what I do. I know a hundred ways. And you, a foolish girl from Stonehollow, thought you could just run away from me.” His voice throbbed with menace.

“Please don’t,” she whispered hoarsely.

She saw the muscles in his arm tighten so hard they started to tremble. Then he crouched in front of her, the cowl shadowing his face. “Why not? You are a threat to the Arch-Rike. I could end it now. Do you understand me? I do not have to bring you back alive.”

Her heart filled with pure dread. He was trained to kill. She knelt silently, wishing for a stray bit of moonlight to expose his eyes.

Suddenly, he jerked her wrist and spun her face first to the ground, pushing her bloody cheek to the hissing grass. His knee fixed on her side, and she felt the dagger tip press against her back. His breath brushed her ear.

“I warned you once. I won’t do it again. Do not run from me. Do not stray from my side unless I bid you to. Do you understand me, girl?”

Sobbing in pain and terror, Phae nodded emphatically. She clutched her wounded ear, feeling the blood dribble through her fingers. The fear and suspense were horrible. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “I won’t leave…I won’t ever leave your side. I promise.”

When she said those words, something flickered inside her. A premonition of dread.