The Darkness Beyond the Stars

Chapter Eighteen: the poor horse

The mountains were before us, never seeming to get any closer, freezing air ripping across my face. Shame flooded through my veins. I had left them; more than that, I had led the Twisted to them. Why had I left the palace?

To warn him, my mind asserted firmly. I could hardly have done otherwise. And they would've tracked them down anyway.

I shook my head, tears leaving icy trails down my cheeks.

The wind blew away any other noises from behind me, I dared not look to see if they followed me.

I looked up at the mountains. The tallest one might have been closer. Or maybe it was my imagination. I ducked down low over Fey's neck, and prayed that he wouldn't tire. He was breathing heavier, and sweat darkened his fur.

The sun rose up, until it was directly above us. I wouldn't have noticed it, except a high whistling noise interrupted my thoughts, and Fey tripped. His front legs buckled, his chest dropped to the ground, his rump went straight up, and I was thrown out of the saddle. I flew through the air, and as I did, I looked straight up. The sun flashed in my eyes.

I hit the ground. My head struck something, and I heard a crack as pain exploded in my back, travelling up my neck. My eyes went dark.

I heard Fey scream, and I tried to stand, but I still couldn't see anything. I reached out, and felt coarse grass scratch my hands. Fey neighed again, and I turned towards the noise.

Suddenly my vision cleared. Fey lay on the ground in front of me, his eyes wide and rolling back into the sockets. One of his forelegs was twisted underneath him, the other extended, blood covering it. He kept lunging forward as if to get up. I sobbed, and reached out to him.

"Shhhh, Fey, it's all right." I crawled to him, and stroked his face. He nuzzled my hand, and I felt more tears running down my face. A long gash on his chest was gushing blood onto the ground, staining the rough grass.

His leg was broken from what I could see, with blood everywhere. I crawled closer to it, then gasped. It wasn't a bone sticking out from his shoulder. It was an arrow. I looked up, and saw a dark figure, standing about thirty feet away, a bow drawn back. As soon as I saw him, he let the arrow fly. I threw myself to the side, but he hadn't been aiming for me. The arrow struck Fey in the chest, and he screamed once more, a horrible high sound, then was silent.

"No!" I leapt up, but almost fell from the dizziness that overwhelmed me. Tears welled up in my eyes and the figure blurred, but seemed to be getting closer. I fumbled around my waist for my knives. Where were they? I had brought them, right? My fingers felt something long and hard, and I pulled on it. A gleaming blade met my eyes. I felt for the other one, and pulled it out.

"Don't try to fight me." He stood barely ten feet away. His voice through the dark cloth that covered his face was hoarse, raspy as if through some sickness. "I'll kill you quickly, unlike my brother would."

"You killed my horse." I snarled, and dropped into the best stance I could think of.

He reached to his left side, and drew a dark sword. It seemed to swallow up light. He held it lightly, almost carelessly.

I desperately tried to remember anything I had read in books on what to do when knives were against a sword. I couldn't remember a thing.

He rushed at me, swinging from above. I ducked to the side, lashing at him with my right knife. The very tip caught his side, and I heard his gasp of surprise. A line of red showed against his leather vest.

"Where did you get those? I'll keep them once you're bleeding into the dirt."

I snarled at him, backing out of range, but he followed he, circling slowly around me.