Page 22 of Fear the Flames
Who was that? Only Finnian’s aim is that good.
I turn in place, giving a slow, disbelieving shake of my head. My eyes blink rapidly, but the vision is real. There, on top of his horse, sits Cayden Veles, looking every inch the feared Commander of Vareveth that the world knows him to be. Empty bow hanging in the air, his hand still drawn back from the arrow he fired.The arrow he fired for me.His eyes meet mine from across the battlefield, blazing in anger. He shouts orders to his soldiers while charging forward. Swinging his sword and never taking his eyes off me. Spinning on my heels, I rush toward the edge of the pond. Finnian fires arrows while the vextree continues to drag him toward the water.
“Elowen, stop!” Cayden shouts behind me, but I keep pushing forward. There are too many people between us for him to catch up, and there’s no way I’d let someone stand between Finnian and me.
“No!” I scream when the monster shoves Finnian under the surface. My fingers twist around the hilt of my knife while I push myself to move faster. A growl rattles in my chest when I make it to the edge of the pond, kick off the rocks along the shore, and sail through the air. The vextree notices me too late. I jam my knife into its throat, dragging it down as I slide toward the water. Thick black blood pours out of the deep slit, burning my hands, but I keep going. Bringing my sword forward, I jam it into its belly, twisting and turning. I use my sword to hold myself up while I stab my knife over and over again. Arrows fly into the monster’s head and eyes now that I’m halfway down its body. The vextree flails its slimy body, but it hurt Finnian, which can only be remedied with death.
With one final mountain-shaking cry, the monster collapses into the water. I take my blades out and push off the front of the monster, falling into the murky water below. I angle my fall so that I’m closer to the shore. My boots fill with water as soon as the pond closes over me, but I kick off the slimy pond floor and walk along the bottom until I breach the shore, sword and knife still in my burning hands.
The battle is on the cusp of finishing. Bodies litter the forest floor, but the thing I zone in on is pale fingers clawing their way through the thick mud. Finnian is propelling himself forward with his head tilted to the side. I drop my weapons and sprint toward him.
No. No. No. No.
“Finnian!” I flip him onto his back; his eyes are glossy and zone in and out as he fights to stay awake. I shove my hands under his arms and begin dragging him away from the edge of the pond. “Don’t you dare shut your fucking eyes!” I shriek; the panic in my voice is evident. Fucking gods, my hands slip from his underarms. His soaked clothes make him heavier than usual. I lunge for him again, but an arm wraps around my waist, hauling me away from him. Another feralgrowl rumbles from inside of me, and I thrash against the hold. My captor groans when I elbow them hard enough that they can feel it through their leathers and armor.
“He’s with me,” Cayden says while coming into view, tucking his hands into Finnian’s armpits and moving him further up the shore with ease. I cease the punch I was about to deliver to his groin, and this time, the man lets me out of his hold.
“I’ll be right back.” Without giving Cayden or the man the chance to protest, I sprint toward my horse and grab the satchel from my saddle bag. I feel Cayden’s eyes on me, but I don’t look anywhere other than my mud-covered best friend. My knees sink into the mud next to Finnian. A poison spike juts out from his shin; the skin around the spike bubbles and blisters as the poison seeps into him. I swallow the bile that shoots up my throat and cut off his pants below his knee.
“What do you need us to do?” Cayden asks.
“Hold him down,” I plead with my eyes while reaching into my satchel, pulling out a tonic to stop the poison and a fresh roll of bandages.
“Ryder take his shoulders; I’ll take his ankles,” Cayden commands. I briefly remember him mentioning the name Ryder before, but my mind is too focused on Finnian to look up or recall the moment fully. Both take their positions while I set my supplies aside, taking Finnian’s face in my hands.
“Ellie,” he weakly groans the childhood nickname he gave me; his blue eyes have a thick film over them, and I know he’s fighting against the poison.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m right here. I’m going to take care of you, Finny.” I blink back my tears, now isn’t the time to lose it. I place the leather strap of the satchel between his teeth, “Bite down whenever you need to.”
Facing the wound again, I pull the spike from his leg. He thrashes against the hold Cayden and Ryder have on him, but they keep him pinned to the ground with their combined strength. Placing my hands on the wound, I squeeze the poison from the hole left behind by the spike. Vextree poison clumps together under your skin and moves toward your heart, which is why it’s important to squeeze it out before it has the chance to slip away from the surface and mobilize.
After squeezing a substantial amount from his leg, I sprinkle a few droplets of the tonic on his wound. Cayden tightens his hold so I can apply it more accurately. My lips press together to suppress the whimper that threatens to escape when Finnian’s pained screams meet my ears. He bites down on the leather, but it does little to muffle the proof of his pain. My eyes sneak a glance at his face, and I instantly wish they didn’t. A sob breaks free while I watch his head helplessly thrash side to side, teeth bared around the leather, while tears leave trails on his mud-splattered cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“Look at me,” Cayden states beside me, but I can’t. I can’t take my eyes off Finnian. I’ve bandaged Finnian countless times, but he’s never gotten this hurt. He’s never had to be pinned down. I’ve never made him wail in pain. “Elowen, look at me,” Cayden demands. My eyes involuntarily follow his command. I have a feeling that’s the voice he uses to command his soldiers. It’s steady, confident, and full of assertiveness. Our faces are inches apart once again. I note the color of his eyes, taking in the rims of brown that surround his pupils and bleed into a sea of moss green. “This isn’t your fault, and you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re saving him. Now, keep going, and he can sleep off the pain when we get back to the ruins. He’s going to be fine.”
My eyes stare into his, letting his confidence wash over me and steady me. My hand reaches behind me to grab the bandages. “Okay,” I nod, still in a trance. “Okay,” I say more definitively while unraveling the bandages and wrapping Finnian’s wound. The tonic is working; he’s already dozing off. His body needs rest in order to recover fully. Once the bandage is tied off, I place my hands flat against the mud. The cool texture feels good on my burned skin. My hands are covered in Finnian’s blood, so I can’t assess the damage yet, not that it makes a difference. The only thing I’m focusing on is taking in several measured breaths to still my nerves.
“Thank you,” I finally manage to say, lifting my head and meeting Cayden’s stare. Has he been looking at me this entire time? I swallow through my tight throat and face the person that was holding Finnian’s shoulders. “Thank you both for doing that. I wouldn’t have been able to hold him down.”
“Elowen, may I present my First General, Ryder Neredras.” I remember Cayden mentioning him; his sister is head of intelligence. My eyes scan over his features; obsidian eyes, black tight coiling curls cut close to his head, prominent cheekbones, and a nose that widens toward the bottom. By the gods, is everyone in Vareveth good-looking? Is that a stipulation before you can gain entry?
Ryder stretches a dark umber hand toward me and lets it hover in the air between us. I reach for it but pause before I make contact with his skin, jerking back. “I’ll take that handshake after I wash my hands,” I say with a small smile.
His full lips tilt upward, “Deal.”
“Also, I apologize for elbowing you in the stomach and for almost punching you…in your… you know,” I finish, feeling incredibly awkward. I would probably rub the back of my neck or fiddle with my necklace if my hands weren’t filthy.
He breaks into a full smile, and my lips mimic his. He raises his hand in an attempt to stifle a laugh, which he miserably fails at. “I can appreciate a good punch.”
“You never apologized for punching me,” Cayden remarks, a smirk making its way to his lips again. “In multiple places, on multiple occasions.”
“That’s because you deserved them.” I smile sweetly at him, and Ryder’s laughter increases.
“Oh yes, she’s exactly how you described,” Ryder comments. I don’t miss the daggers Cayden shoots in Ryder’s direction. The general raises his hands in surrender while getting to his feet.
Eager to change the subject to stop the burning in my cheeks that rivals my hands, “Why were you riding so close to here?” I ask.
