Eden's Creatures (11 page)

“Why would they?”

“I don’t know. To make more Fallen?”

“They do not think with logic. They only bite if they are attacked first. Like a cornered animal.”

“How did this all start?”

“With Zakiel,” she said with a growl.

He remembered that name from yesterday.

“He doomed us all by being the first to succumb to the serpent’s charms. His deliberate walk into the pit centuries ago is the only reason we have Fallen to begin with. Every warrior dreams of killing him.”

“He’s still alive?” Cal asked in disbelief.

“Yes. Unless we kill them, the Fallen do not die. They suffer day after day, unable to escape their torment for the Wonder. But, according to legend, Zakiel is different.”

A chill of foreboding danced along Cal’s spine. The trees suddenly seemed to inch closer. The overhead sky turned darker. “How so?”

“The few who have seen him and lived to tell the tale claim he is at least seven feet tall,” she answered, oblivious to the effect her words were having on him. “And, unlike the others, he seems to have developed a thirst for Faedin blood.”

Stassi knelt in the middle of the trail and let loose an arrow.

Cal crouched, preparing to see another Fallen drop out of the sky, but Stassi simply ran off into the woods and returned carrying a dead rabbit.

“Nice!” Cal said, impressed. His mouth watered at the prospect of filling his stomach despite the horror lying just a few feet away. It had been a very long time since he had eaten.

Stassi led them away from the body farther along on the trail. Finding a spot she liked, she knelt, pulled a knife from a small pouch on her skirt and began to skin the rabbit, her fingers moving with deft precision. While she cut the meat from the bones, Cal looked around for a good spot to start a fire.

“Here,” Stassi said, handing him a slice of rabbit thigh with bloodied fingers. “Eat.”

He flinched back from her. “Eat? Aren’t you going to cook it first?”

“Cook?”

“Over a fire!”

“Why ruin the taste?” She tore a piece of flesh from one of the rabbit’s legs and started to chew, a line of blood dripping down her chin.

“Er… no thanks,” he said, gulping back his revulsion.

She licked her lips and pointed to a tree. “There are apples over there if you prefer fruit.”

“I’ll collect some on my way.”

“On your way? Where are you going?”

“There’s a clothes maker in the village, isn’t there? One who specializes in leather?”

“Yes, the clothier is there. His name is Eduard and you will recognize his shop easily by the goods outside.”

“Perfect. See you soon.”

She looked at him curiously. “Do not be late. The second trial starts soon.”

“I won’t. I’ll meet you at the arena,” he said and hurried off before she could ask any more questions.

S
tassi paced at the edge of the lake, wondering what could be keeping Cal. Abram, Leeah and the warriors had already arrived and were giving her probing looks that said they were wondering the same.

What could Cal possibly want with Eduard the clothier?

“He’s not one of us!” an angry voice declared, drawing her attention to Gilad and Bannon standing together before the archway to the arena.

That idiot!
Stassi growled and made her way over with several other warriors to listen in on their loud conversation.

“If one of the Fallen figure out what he is, what then?” Gilad questioned.

“The Fallen don’t figure out much of anything,” the bearded Bannon pointed out.

“But why should we take the risk?”

“Julius made the decision to accept him, Gilad. Leave it be. It is done.”

“Then we challenge him! The chieftain’s thinking is clouded because of Stassi’s involvement in all of this. The human is too dangerous and must be dealt with. I’ll kill him myself!”

Bannon draped a thick arm around Gilad. “Maybe you need to rest, my friend. You may not be recovered fully from your injury yesterday.”

“I’m fine,” Gilad spat, jerking out of Bannon’s grip.

“Is there a problem, Gilad?” Stassi demanded, livid that he would not let this go. She had made her mind up. Why couldn’t he just accept it?

He spun to face her. “No, but it appears you have one. Still no wings, Perstassia? What’s wrong? Have you picked a defective human? I can show him how it is done if he needs instruction.”

Bannon and several of the warriors hooted, their wings bristling with tension. Half of them were hoping the conflict would resolve itself without bloodshed, and the other half were hoping it wouldn’t.

“He needs nothing from you, and you should have no concern over my wings, Gilad.”

“Oh, but I do. A warrior without wings is of no use to the Faedin.”

Hushed murmurs rippled among the gathered crowd and a hole suddenly opened up.

Cal stepped through the gap.

“Don’t worry. Stassi will have her wings.”

Gilad bared his fangs. “Ah,
Rupa
has arrived.”

“She will have her wings,” Cal repeated. “And so will I.”

“That remains to be seen, son of Adam.” A dangerous silence descended as Cal and Gilad glared at each other. Pride welled in Stassi that her mate stood his ground and did not run. Although Cal had grown, Gilad still stood at least a head taller. Stassi could see in Gilad’s eyes that he, too, had recognized the change. To her surprise and relief, he turned away first. “See you in the arena,
Rupa
.”

“What’s the trial?” Cal asked his retreating figure.

Gilad winked over his shoulder. “Hand-to-hand combat.” The Faedin took two long running strides and leapt upward, his wings outstretched to take him airborne. Bannon and the other warriors followed behind.

“You did well, Cal,” Stassi told him proudly.

Abram patted his shoulder. “Do you have a death wish, brother?”

“No, I was just—”

“Being human,” Leeah offered with a smile.

The warriors flew in perfect formation over the center of the arena and loud clapping rang out.

“People are in there?” Cal asked, sounding anxious.

She nodded. “Many villagers come out to watch this trial.”

“So what should I expect?”

“Exactly what Gilad said,” she answered and started toward the arena. “This trial was created to test our fighting abilities.”

“And the rules?” Cal asked, keeping pace beside her.

“Four novices against four warriors. No weapons. Put your opponent on the ground.”

Cal looked at her aghast. “How can we possibly win against experienced warriors?”

“We’re not meant to. It’s just a test,” Abram replied and then glanced at Stassi. “Does he always ask all these questions?”

“Always.” Cal came to a stop and she turned to him. “What now?”

This time he was wearing a roguish grin. “If I have to go into that arena, I’m going in to win. And here’s how we’re going to do it.”

Thunderous applause greeted the novices as they walked down the tiered steps, almost robbing Cal of his balance. It was only through supreme effort that he continued to put one foot in front of the other.

Faedin of all ages crowded onto the stone benches, their wings folded tightly along their backs. It all felt so surreal in this moment. A scene from a different time — a harder time. The noise. The eager faces. The promise of violence that hung heavy in the air. The part of his brain responsible for self-preservation screamed at him to turn and run.

And then Stassi was there beside him, squeezing his arm. He latched on to her reassurance like a drowning man.

Running was no longer an option.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and look around. Julius and Caliphy sat in the center of the rows in two large seats befitting the chieftain and his mate.

“Be brave, Cal!”

Cal turned to the shouted words. Little Rebeka stood waving to him from the stands. He smiled and waved back at her awkwardly.

“You have an admirer,” Stassi whispered as they stepped down onto the dirt field.

Cal brushed the comment away with a wave in the air. “Remember,” he said to the novices as they approached the center. “Bannon first. He’s the largest. The others will be momentarily distracted enough that we can put the other part of our plan in place.”

“You sure about this, Cal?” Stassi asked with a glance at the four warriors waiting for them.

“Not really, but it’s our only choice.”

The crowd quieted as the novices stopped before their opponents, a fifty-yard space separating them. Cal wasn’t surprised to see Gilad line up across from him. Bannon, he noted, stood on the far left.

Julius rose to his feet and began to make some sort of speech regarding the rules, but Cal couldn’t hear through the blood pounding in his ears. He ran through the plan in his head.
It’s either fight back or die.
Well, maybe not die. He didn’t think the Faedin would actually kill him, but he would bet his last dollar that Gilad hoped to hurt him pretty bad.

When the chieftain finally sat back down, Cal clenched his muscles, ready to run.

Someone shouted the signal to go and everyone on the field started to move at the same time. Like possessed wraiths, the warriors rushed forward at lightning speed.

“Now!” Cal shouted.

Instead of going straight, all four novices peeled off to the left — straight for Bannon. Abram and Leeah shot into the air, their magnificent wings flapping furiously to thrust them over the field in a burst of white. In a coordinated effort, the lethal pair swooped in at Bannon and the towering giant disappeared beneath a barrage of beating feathers. The warrior shrieked in fury as he tried to free himself, but Abram and Leeah were relentless, and Bannon’s muscled chest soon blossomed with bloody welts from the sharp talons of his attackers.

Yes! That’s it.

Just when Cal thought they had him, Bannon reached up, grabbed Leeah by the ankle and slammed her down to the earth, where she lay in an unmoving heap.

But then, Stassi was there, diving through the air at Bannon, her long silver hair flying out behind her.

As strong as the Faedin was, her surprise strike caught him off balance and she managed to lift him off his feet and send him crashing to the ground flat on his back.

That’s it, Stassi! Three against three.

The crowd went wild, hooting and hollering. It was obvious that they had never seen novices working together in the trials before.

Gilad and the two remaining warriors, momentarily stunned, had skidded to a stop to watch in disbelief, just as Cal had thought they might. He snuck up behind one and tapped him on the shoulder. When the warrior spun around, Cal rammed a fist into his mouth, making him stumble sideways. A kick to the ribs made sure he didn’t recover his balance and the Faedin sat back hard into the dirt.

The spectators roared their approval.

Three against two.

Cal left the other warrior to Stassi and Abram and turned toward Gilad.

His nemesis’s eyes were narrowed to a dangerous squint and he started toward Cal in an aggressive jog.

Great plan, Taylor.

Cal swallowed. This was the riskiest part of the plan, of course, but in truth, he had hoped the others would have been able to intervene before he ever got to this point. That hope was long gone now, and he did something he had never done before in his life. He started to run — toward a fight.

I have to win this. I have to prove to Stassi and the Faedin that I belong here. Because if not here, where?
All the shame he felt at the hands of others fueled his anger. His hesitant steps grew purposeful.

He dimly registered Stassi’s shriek of defeat behind him and realized she was out of the contest, but he didn’t let it stop him.

Two against two.

He had nowhere else to run, nowhere to hide. If he did nothing, it would brand him a coward to a race of people who valued bravery above all else.

Another wave of shouts rang out from the stands and out of the corner of his eye, Cal saw Abram and his opponent hit the ground at the same time in a plume of dust. Both out.