Page 19 of The Oracle's Journey

I drifted off to the deepest sleep I'd had in days.

Emmelina

My feet were getting itchy again. As I watched the sickly bandits mull around camp, I saw all their thoughts in the flicker of flames across their faces. Mostly lust of some kind—sex, money, drink, food, blood. It was all there, and it was still a little much for me to handle. So many of their fire images turned to look at my brave Ozanna with desire in their eyes. They looked at Lhoris with greed and murder, though, and I also liked him very much. He and Ozanna’s fire images spent a lot of time gazing at each other with ridiculous dreamy faces, so at least that was working out.

I wondered if that was how Nicolas and I would look at each other when we finally met. I longed to tell him what had happened and where we were.

Feigning sleep, I waited for Judith to start her soft snoring before peeking out the window again. Lobikno was undoubtedly still on the roof of the coach. I squinted towards the fire, beyond where Lhoris and Ozanna slept. They were mine now, even if I didn’t understand how or why yet. So was Lobikno, whom I could see in a reflection in the campfire. His stoic gaze took in the night, but he wouldn’t see me if I didn’t want him to. I floated through the broken door frame and my bare feet came to rest softly on the grass. First, I stood over the sleeping pair by the coach. Their fire selves looked exactly as they did to my eyes. Is that what happens when one is content or was it just the quiet of their sleeping minds?

With love for them bursting from my heart, I leaned down and started to weave their hair together in a complex plait, wishing I could weave their souls together as easily. I needed them to stay together, to be together. Then I turned to wander into the woods.

There was something I had to do.

CHAPTER 9

Ozanna

Iwoke up to many things happening at once.

Lobikno bellowed from above, “Get up, you lazy fucks, it’s time to gut these traitorous cunts!” He tossed a pair of black daggers within my reach. They were almost long enough to be considered short swords.

Rhyfon and the rest of the bandits were fast approaching. I snatched up the daggers as adrenaline surged, sharpening my senses. My fingers curled around the handles and my world felt righted. That is until I tried to stand. Something yanked my head down and to the side. I glared down at Lhoris, who was halfway to his feet, reaching for his sword. He glared back at me. Our hair had tangled together and formed a tight knot. I tore through the knot with one of the borrowed blades and stood shoulder to shoulder with my captor, facing the crowd around us. The treacherous crew still had oozing wasp welts but had apparently recovered enough to backstab him.

And I was still barefoot.

Lobikno casually stepped off the carriage and landed silently. Without words, we spread out and kept the carriage at our backs. Then the remaining bandits pounced upon us.

The men had clearly decided I was going to be an easier opponent than the elves at my side, but I made short work of them. All their attacks were telegraphed to my eyes. I was more than fast enough to slip in, to slice open large arteries in their thighs and throats. I used the body of one man, still standing, about to bleed out, to shield myself from the next attacker. It was a dance I’d practiced for twenty years. Exhilaration coursed through me and a fierce grin spread across my face while I tore into them.

Unused to working in a unit, though, I got caught up in my work and lost track of where I was in relation to Lhoris, Lobikno, and the carriage. I’d moved too far out and one of the men slipped past to the broken carriage door. Eve and Judith screamed.

Without breaking his stride in holding off the other elves, Lobikno threw an axe at the coward harassing the two women. It lodged in the man’s skull up to the eye. Lobikno drew his second sword the moment the axe left his hand and turned back to the oncoming foe before him. His deft movements were partially concealed by shadow and light cast in juxtaposition to disorient his attackers. He wove in and out of darkness, moving counter of his opponents’ expectations while they seemed to walk right into his.

Lhoris, in contrast, relied solely on his physical ability, nimbly flowing in defense and brutally following through in his attacks, even through his attackers’ sad attempts at Lobikno’s style of obfuscation. Lhoris’ blade simply sliced through whatever magic they cast to disorient him. A red jewel worked into the guard flashed as it shattered their light and cut shadows to dissipating mist.

I wished I could watch more than just a second or two of their work as I stepped back into my part of the carriage defense. I used those few steps to lure the last man into thinking he’d cowed me into retreat. It didn’t take much to convince him I felt adequately threatened. I bobbed and wove through his attacks, gutted him, and dumped him on the ground. The idiot.

Then Rhyfon broke away from the embattled dark elves and tried to take me unaware. My eyes hadn’t stopped scanning for attackers, though, and his approach was not as subtle as he probably hoped. He lunged with his sword, and I deflected with the dagger in my left hand. He was not as swift as me, but he was far more precise. I flowed in my movement, preferring feints and instinct to rigidity. I parried his sword again and dodged his dagger, without getting in any strike of my own. His smile was cold, predatory when we disengaged, as if he’d taken my measure and knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep up.

I tried to summon up that energy I’d felt moments before, when I was cutting down men like the Crone’s scythe, but something had tipped my cup of confidence and scattered it in the wind. I suddenly knew I couldn’t beat him. But it made no sense—he had to have been using some kind of magic to steal my surety away and replace it with fear. I sniffed the air but couldn’t detect anything over the earthen scented storm of dark elf magic.

Lhoris pirouetted in my direction while dodging an attack. His blade darted between me and the pale elf. Rhyfon blinked and jerked his head a little, like someone had blown in his face. Lhoris’ opponent bumped into Rhyfon, but Rhyfon was quick to right himself.

But the sense of dread fell away. The cold fear lifted, and I knew I could beat him if I played it smart. I’d never get inside his reach considering how deft he was with the longer blade, so I’d just have to lure him back into mine.

We exchanged jabs a few times, with neither landing a blow, but I started dropping my left hand, as if fatigued by using the long dagger to parry. It wasn’t much of a fake since I was unused to fighting an opponent stronger than myself. His sword left stinging cuts on my left forearm as my parry on that side got sloppy.

I opened a hole in my defense and closed it back up, as though catching myself. When he finally took the bait to go for my throat, I slid to the outside under his sword arm and drove the right dagger into his heart. His own knife bit into the meat of my right arm, but I’d accepted that I’d end up being struck with the smaller blade. The prick took his last few seconds to twist the knife before he slumped to the ground. My arm throbbed and burned. I dropped the other dagger and put pressure on the wound.

I looked over at the brothers and realized there was no way I could step in to help them. I’d end up fileted. I couldn’t even tell if they’d killed any of their dance partners yet due to the summoned light and shadows.

Then something tweaked my instincts. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I heard the slow rustle of something creeping through the underbrush around camp. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of flashing eyes in the dark. I didn’t want to believe something else was out there stalking us, but I couldn’t deny the fact when a long lupine face showed itself in the firelight.

“Wolves!” I shouted as loudly as I could, hoping they’d all hear me over the sounds of clashing metal and the cries of battle.

The fighting stopped. Summoned shadow and light dissipated. The brothers had felled three of their foes.

We all turned toward the outer perimeter of the camp and saw dozens of glowing eyes staring back at us from the tree line. The firelight flickered over the gray, shaggy forms as they prowled in from the darkness, ears pinned back. They were massive. Larger than any wolf I had seen during my travels. “Dire wolves.” I whispered the realization aloud in reverence and fear.

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