The King's Cursed Bride

Attacked by Reapers

            

Something screeched, no more than a foot or two away, and the horse staggered before releasing a high-pitched whinny, almost a scream.

She opened her eyes and saw... nothing. It was just as dark as when she'd closed them. Had she gone blind? She drew in a deep breath—and regretted it as cold air stormed her lungs and stripped her throat dry.

More shrieks pierced the dark. Something tangled in her hair, and she jerked away. What had touched her? Branches? Outstretched fingers?

The horse's pace suddenly slowed. "Off, Carissa. Get off the horse." Elon's voice held an urgency she'd never heard before.

She slid to the ground and stumbled in the dark. The sound of the horse hooves faded. Had Elon ridden on without her? "E–Elon?" Her voice trembled uncontrollably.

There was a scrape, then a hiss, and firelight lit the forest.

Elon held up a tiny firesteel stick, and Carissa squinted against the glare. Her anxiety fled, leaving her nearly numb with relief. Elon was still with her, and if Elon was with her, she'd be alright.

Elon glanced around, and Carissa followed his gaze. The trees around them were bare and black, twisted almost beyond recognition. The ground was a packed slab of dirt, little tufts of brown grass shooting from its surface. The darkness seemed like a thick fog, stifling the light so it only reached ten feet away. Beyond that, there was only a black void.

Something flickered in the distance—two pinpoints of light—then it vanished. A chill shuddered through her, goose bumps scuttling across her skin.

And then Elon blew on the firesteel stick, and the light disappeared.

Her breath caught, and she lurched forward, her hands reaching towards where she'd seen Elon last.

Warm calloused hands caught her upper arms, and his lips touched her ear. "The light makes us a target. Stay close." He released her and pressed thin sticks into her hand. Firesteel sticks. He grabbed her other hand and began walking.

Elon wove back and forth, dodging invisible obstacles. In the distance, something shrieked, the sound indistinct enough that it could've been their horse or something else, something like they'd heard earlier.

And then Elon stopped. "Here. Light the firesteel, Carissa."

She took one of the sticks and struck it against the rough edge of another. The firesteel flared to life. The landscape was similarly barren to the previous area, with twisting black trees that towered above them, their branches tangling together like a web. To her left, the face of a rock rose sharply upwards. She tipped her head back, but the light didn't reveal where the rock ended.

Elon nodded towards the ground. "You can drop the firesteel. It'll stay lit. We'll stay here until they come, and we can use the rock to cover our backs. If I'm engaged and you need protection, make sure you press yourself against the rock so they can't surround you. Hold them off until I come for you. Understood?"

Carissa nodded. Her hands were beginning to shake again, making the light sway and shadows bob. She dropped the firesteel as Elon had asked. He thought they'd be surrounded? How many Reapers was he expecting?

"You have your dagger?"

She unsheathed it in answer.

"Good."

Elon withdrew his sword and planted its tip in the ground. He stood there, holding the hilt of his sword, his gaze searching the darkness.

Carissa rubbed at the goose bumps on her arm, tried to soften her breathing in the silence. She feared the beat of her heart echoed in the forest so loudly it'd reveal their location.

Elon tensed, then changed his stance, his sword now at the ready in front of him.

Carissa did the same, but with her dagger. How she wished she had a sword. "When will they—"

"Five seconds."

Five? They were really so close? She glanced around, but the forest was as dark and silent as before. Where could they—

An ear-splitting scream from her right nearly made her drop her dagger. She only had time to turn her head before a Reaper launched itself from the darkness. It collided against her, and they both tumbled to the ground.

Something squished, a wet tearing sound.

It stared down at her, its jaw hanging open in a silent scream. Its skin was pale, a shade too gray to be the color of snow. And its eyes—enveloped in black except for a ring of red indicating its iris.

She stared down at where the Reaper had impaled itself on her dagger. Black liquid slithered down her hand. Was the Reaper bleeding? Black blood? Why hadn't it dissipated like Akasha?

Another Reaper screamed from somewhere in the forest, a sound of enraged agony.

Elon lifted the Reaper's body from her and tossed it to the side. "Up, Carissa." He clasped her black blood-slickened hand and hauled her to her feet.

And that was when the real battle began.

Three reapers stepped into the ring of light, the red rings of their black eyes fixed upon her and Elon. Black cloaks flowed from their tall forms and pooled at their feet, the edges slightly tattered.

One offered her a fanged smile before drawing a long sword from the depths of its cloak. No, not a sword. A Scythe.

She'd never battled a Reaper with a Scythe before.

"Hold your ground."

She stopped at Elon's admonition, not even realizing she'd been stepping back.

The Reaper's grin widened, and it began heading towards her, while the other two broke away and approached Elon. "Yes, Carissa, hold your ground."

Given their terrible screams, she'd expected their voices to be equally frightening—perhaps with a deep rumble that shook the earth or a slight serpentine hiss that elongated their words. But he sounded completely human. It was the voice of a man, one she might meet on the streets of Hasita.

The Reaper twisted his wrist, and the Scythe swung back and forth, in a horizontal figure eight. "You're not frightened, are you?"

She clenched her dagger more tightly, so he couldn't see how its tip wavered.

"What a brave girl, you are." The Scythe slashed through the air, and pain burst across her cheek.

She lifted her hand to her face, and her fingertips came away glossed in red. Fiery tendrils dug into her cheek, as if seeking the part her skin and make the gash wider.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" The Reaper's smile almost seemed sympathetic. "That's what happens when you're cut with Esmerian steel. You should have known better, Carissa." He lunged forward, his movements so quick it took a moment for her to realize what had happened.

She stepped backward, her head knocking against the rock face.

"Sometimes being brave is a good thing." The Reaper lifted his Scythe and sliced towards her.

She held her dagger up, but the force of the blow knocked it away.

The Reaper watched the dagger skid across the ground, and his gaze floated back to her. "But sometimes it'll get you killed." He lifted his Scythe above his head.

Just as he was bringing it down, Elon stepped in front of her.