Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 21

My head hung in defeat as I trudged next to Borga. He guided me to the large chieftain's hut and shoved me inside. Galen and Remi were already there, sitting on the ground, surrounded by four guards wielding spears and clubs. Galen's mouth tightened when he saw me, and Remi looked horrified. I mouthed "I'm sorry" to them, my heart heavy with failure.

The hut was double the size of the others. A large bed dominated the far side of the room, piled with plush pillows and soft hides. A large table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by six empty chairs. Torches flickered along the walls, casting ominous shadows everywhere.

"I usually find that when you throw a girl into the mix, answers tend to be forthcoming," Borga said, an awful smirk smudged across his face. "Last chance to talk. Anyone?" He glanced at our downcast eyes and his smirk transformed into a cat-like smile. "Very well."

He hauled Remi to his feet as easily as if he were lifting a child.

"Wait!" I blurted, causing Remi to snap his frantic eyes to mine. He shook his head rapidly, pleading for me to stay silent.

"Well, that didn't take long." Borga shoved Remi back down and fixed his black stare on me.

I glanced behind him. Both Remi and Galen were vigorously shaking their heads. Keep Foresthome safe, their eyes begged.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked Borga, summoning a little bravery by lifting my chin. "Aren't you gifted too?"

"Gifted." He spat the word. "You try growing up an Aberration, kicked around, repulsed wherever you go, and see how 'gifted' you feel. The Krat fear me now, and once I eradicate the land of Aberrations, they'll respect me."

"But . . . you'll still be one," I said, and immediately regretted it.

He lunged toward me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to fling me against a wall. Instead, his face stopped a breath away from mine, and I recoiled from it.

"I'll be the Aberration. The one that everyone respects." His eyes glittered with hatred, but I saw something else. Pain hidden in their dark depths. Immeasurable pain that never went away, never rested, that drove a person to do unspeakable things because unspeakable things had been done to them.

"What did they do to you?" I whispered.

Something flickered in his eyes and his large Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. A heartbeat later a wall slammed down and the flicker was gone. He straightened and said in a voice devoid of emotion, "Tell me about the Forestfolk."

"They wouldn't hate you. They wouldn't hurt you. They'd accept you, with open arms." I instilled as much sincerity into my voice as I could, hoping to get through to the wounded, pain-driven man I had glimpsed.

He laughed without mirth. "If I wanted fairy tales, I'd fetch an old woman. Tell me where they are."

I clamped my mouth shut and set my jaw.

His eyes narrowed, and he slowly engulfed one side of my face with one hand. "Tell me." His voice was low and menacing.

I swallowed my fear and forced myself to meet his penetrating gaze. His grip tightened against my face, and I felt a strange tugging sensation from his hand, as if he were attempting to pull my essence through it.

His gift. His death touch was to steal life. Was he . . . like me?

I gritted against it, my eyes unwavering. He would not take from me what I did not want to give. I granted life to whom I chose. That was my gift.

A look of bewilderment passed across his features, then his face contorted into fierce concentration, and he gripped even harder. His fingers pressed into the bones of my cheek, demanding my acquiescence. But my floodgates were shuttered, an iron wall against his onslaught, and he staggered back slightly, glaring at me with astounded eyes.

Then his hand closed around my throat and squeezed. "Tell me where to find the Forestfolk!"

When I didn't answer, his grip constricted and terror cascaded through me.

It wasn't about getting answers anymore.

He was going to kill me.

My hands beat and pulled furiously at his arm, but I might as well have been struggling against a tree. I fumbled for the sharp stick strapped against my thigh and pulled it out.

With a mighty heave, I jammed it into his throat.

His eyes went wide with shock as he reeled backwards, gurgling and sputtering. Blood gushed down his chest. He reached for the nearest guard, who stood dumbly as Borga snaked an arm around his neck and pulled him against his chest. He yanked the stick out of his throat, tossed it aside, and then gripped the guard's bare arm.

The man's face registered alarm before he started to struggle. The other three guards simply gaped in horror as the man's face drained of color. His bucking became weaker and breaths erratic as Borga siphoned the life out of him. When the man finally slumped into a lifeless heap on the floor, the bleeding had stopped, and the gaping hole in Borga's neck closed.

The other guards' horror became my own when he spun around to face me, black eyes filled with contempt. I cursed myself for staring with horrible fascination like another dumb guard. Why hadn't I done something while Borga stole the man's life to heal himself?

My eyes flicked to the bloody stick that lay on the floor by his feet, and he kicked it away. There was no more smirk on his face, no more amusement from toying with his prey. His face snarled with murderous rage, and it was all directed right at me.

Before I could react, both of his hands clamped around my neck, and I felt for sure he might snap it at any moment. "I may not be able to absorb your life, but I can still take it!"

He pushed me against a wall, squeezing at my throat until all I could do was make choking sounds and gasp for air. My feet kicked frantically in the air as he lifted me up, sliding my back against the wall. My hands clawed at his arms until my vision began to dim.

From the corner of my eye I saw Remi leap to his feet, only to be beaten down by two guards. Galen punched one of the guards in the groin, but another one clubbed him in the head.

Galen and Remi were trying to fight for me, and they were going to die right along with me.

I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached and squeezed my eyes shut. I stilled my clawing hands and wrapped them tightly around his wrists. I would not let this beastly man kill me. I gave my life to whom I chose. I got to choose.

The world closed around me, then it expanded like a flower in bloom. From within an abyss, I gradually forced air into my lungs, inhaling the slowest and deepest of breaths. In through my nose, hands gripping more tightly, lungs gradually filling. I felt my soul reach out, connecting itself to the life around me, merging its energy with my own, restoring me.

My eyes burst open, causing Borga to flinch at my intensity. I glared down at him, no longer afraid. His expression changed, faltered slightly, confused that I wasn't dying. His hands were still at my throat, determined to crush me. My nails dug into his skin, and with determination of my own, I began pulling at his vitality.

His eyes widened with bewilderment as I reversed my floodgates, willing his life force away from him. My feet touched the floor again and I held on fast, eyes boring into this hateful man who had so little regard for life. His gift, so similar to my own, used for so much evil.

A red haze enveloped my brain as I seethed with hatred. My body absorbed his roiling energy, and I watched as his mouth gaped open and fear clouded his eyes. Now he would know what his victims felt. He dropped to his knees and finally released my throat from his grip, but still I would not let go. I would not let this monster claim another victim on a whim. I would not let him raze Foresthome. I would not let him kill one more Gifted. Rage burned through me as I thought about the innocents of the Zurbo tribe, slaughtered and left to rot.

"Please," he whispered as his hands trembled in my grip, eyes more dead than alive.

But all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears as fury claimed my senses. I watched with appalling satisfaction as his eyes turned glassy and his final breath left his body. His head lolled to one side, then his entire body slumped to the ground. His arms slid out of my grasp, and I stared at my empty hands.

Whoa. If that doesn't deserve a vote, I don't know what does.