Heir of the Gods

Ch. 58: Trial by Fire

Calix grabbed Calion's arm, yanking him back down. "No," he hissed, eyes pinned to the woman singing before the Cairn.

Though his heart felt like a lump of ice in his chest, Calix forced himself to take a slow breath. His fingers went to his belt, stopping when he found the hilt of his sword and of a knife. No chain-whip. He'd forgotten it in the confusion of Calion's arrival.

He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring Calion tugging at his arm.

"Go back," he whispered.

The tugging stopped. "What?"

Calix turned to look at the soldier, making his voice flat as possible. "Go back. Find Tarquin. Tell him they're here. Bring everyone."

"Find him your bloody self," Calion hissed. He grabbed the collar of Calix's coat, jerking him sideways like Calion was going to drag him back to camp.

Calix grabbed Calion's hand where it gripped the fur of his jacket. Digging his fingers into the meaty part of Calion's palm, Calix twisted his hand back, forcing him to either let go or suffer a broken wrist. Teeth flashing in a grimace, he withdrew his hand, staring at Calix with furious eyes.

Now it was his turn to grab Calion's collar. He jerked the other man in close, speaking right into his ear. "Go. Get. Tarquin. If you don't hurry, I'll die."

With that, he shoved Calion back and  shot up from their hiding place. The singing didn't falter, even as he sprinted toward the black coil of rope waiting just on the edge of the almost-sheer face dropping down into the valley. One end led back into the trees where it was anchored around a sturdy pine. The other lay waiting for him.

His heart pounded and his hands shook as he wrapped the rope around him, just below his hips. He turned just as Calion disappeared into the dark beneath the trees. 

Please. Please let them be fast enough.

With a prayer sent to whatever god might listen, Calix leaned backward until he was perpendicular to the face of the valley wall. Then, he pushed off with his legs, rappelling down the rocks. Sparse trees that grew clinging to the rocky slope rushed up to shield him. All the while he listened to that blood-chilling song.

As soon as the cliff leveled off enough to walk on, Calix untied the rope. His boots slipped in the snow as he skidded from tree to tree, barreling toward the bottom of the valley.

It was by no means a quiet approach. Loose rocks clattered against each other, dead or weak branches snapping beneath his weight whenever he used a tree to slow his descent. But the valley floor offered no good stakeout positions, and Calix had finally ruled that once they saw one of these creatures, speed would prevail over stealth.

Honestly, Calix had never believed they'd be able to sneak up on these women. Which was why he was currently barreling through a moon-washed, midnight forest, dodging trees and leaping brush and rocks.

He skidded to the bottom of the valley, barely avoiding being dumped into the stream as his boots slipped on the icy rock. On level ground now, Calix stripped off his jacket, letting it drop to the ground. He didn't want anything getting in his way or hindering his movements.

The trees blurred, streaks of dark blue against white snow and black earth. Calix snaked along the edge of the river, the cold searing his lungs. The ground was icy and treacherous, but it was also mostly flat and more free of brush and trees.

Around him, the forest vibrated with song, the air heavy and charged like a lightning storm was brewing between the steep walls of the valley. 

The world grew brighter and the trees spat him out into the clearing that surrounded the Cairn. There, Calix stumbled, nearly dropping to his knees as the warmth and courage were sucked clean out of him. His fingers slid to the hilt of his sword, hesitating over the pommel and leather-wrapped handle.