Wilde's Meadow (Darkness Falls #3) (25 page)

“Be safe,” Arland repeats, fists balled at his sides.

Cadman jogs away, sword bouncing off his legs with each long stride he takes. Tarik and Huffie follow behind, not moving quite as fast.

I pray Cadman makes it to our rendezvous point in the wheat fields before it’s too late.

I pray he doesn’t die.

“Well, you heard him, Arland … .” Flanna jabs Arland in the shoulder. “Shall we end this thing?”

Arland laughs and takes me by the hand, calming my nervous trembling. “Let’s end it so we may go on with our lives.” He glances at me and smiles. “Flanna, gather Brit and Perth and have them meet us down by the horses. Send the others to the inside edge of the Baccain Forest. Tell them to hide in the cover of the thicket and not to come out until the fires are lit between the daemons and us.”

“Got it.” She bounces off toward the cave with a lot more enthusiasm than I can even dream of having right now. “Meet you down there.”

Holding hands, Arland and I follow the path toward the horses. I run my thumb along the side of his index finger, memorizing the strength in his hands, the warmth of his touch, the excitement of his skin meeting mine. This could be the end of us, Arland and Katriona Maher, the end of Encardia. No matter what the prophecy said, things can change. We’ve already proved that, and Griandor told me I can still fail.

I close my eyes and listen to the rocks crunch under my boots. Taking in deep breaths, I try to ignore my churning stomach to smell Arland, to revel in what little life we’ve been able to live together.

Mom wanted us to marry because she knew being together is what we wanted and because of what our marriage at that exact time would mean for this world, but I’m not sure she could have ever planned for the happiness the man standing next to me has brought me. And if she did, I’ll have a lot to thank her for if I ever see her again.

“You will make it through this, Kate,” Arland says, breaking the silence with his wonderful, deep voice. “If—”

“You aren’t supposed to invade my thoughts like that.” I open my eyes and scowl at him.

He stops just short of Mirain and Bowen and turns to me. “I have not invaded your thoughts.” Arland wraps his arms around me and presses his forehead to mine. “Bad timing I guess.”

This affectionate touch so close to war, so close to the end … it’s not enough. Tears stream down my face. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about how if I ever saw my mom again, I’d have to thank her for Binding us.”

He wipes away my tears with his thumbs. “Definitely bad timing.”

“I love you, Arland. I’m not ready to give you up yet.” I can’t let him go; he can’t die … .

“Death will not change us. If I die, I die yours and will live on in your heart. In time, you will heal and move on, but we will meet again. When the gods call you home, I will be waiting for you.” He places his lips on the tip of my nose, as if he’s sealing the deal. Arland’s already made peace with his death.

He’s accepted it.

I wrap my arms around his waist and clutch him to me wildly, desperate to be as close as possible. “Please, just stay here. Maybe we can change the visions, prevent them from becoming true. You always died beside me. Please—”

Arland’s lips crash onto mine, parting my mouth as wildly as I clutched him to me. Fingers threading through my hair, he pulls me deeper into the kiss, stealing my breath away, making me want to cry out even worse than before. I refuse to allow this to be a goodbye kiss, to be the last time we have an intimate moment, to let him die. He backs away, face lingering mere inches away from mine, heat warming my skin.

“I feel anger inside you. Fight. Keep it up, but we have an audience.”

We turn toward the path at the same time and break our connection when we see Gary and Mr. Tanner standing with their mouths wide open. My stepfather looks between Arland and me, then takes a shaky step forward, arms behind his back.

“To see you this way has not been easy. You have always been strong, somehow stronger than I even thought you knew, but leading an army, being
married
, magic, war … no matter how well it suits you … I miss the girl who refused to accept her best friend had feelings for her, who stressed over grades and about where she’d work after she graduated college. I hope when all this is over—no, I pray when all this is over—you’ll find time to come home, to give that girl a chance. Maybe you’ll finish college.” Gary turns his big brown eyes toward Arland, then wipes his hand over his face. “You can bring your husband …”

Mr. Tanner purses his lips, reminding me he’s not quite forgiven me for moving on from Brad. Kate and Brad didn’t exist beyond our friendship; I hope one day Mr. Tanner sees that—I hope one day Brad will see that—and he’ll move on.

“
Husband
,” Gary mutters. “I’m beginning to fear you never truly were that girl, and this world needs you. Just visit?”

I look at Arland then back to the only father I’ve ever known, unsure of what to do.

“Go on,” Arland whispers, “I know you want to hug him.”

I run to Gary and lock my arms around his neck. “I was exactly as you remember me. Nothing more, nothing less. I will visit.”

“Eh-hem.” Mr. Tanner brings his fist in front of his lips.

“I will visit you too, Mr. Tanner.”

“And my son? How will you repair the hurt your marriage to that man”—he points at Arland with a shaky finger—”will cause? He loved you, and you just walked away from him. The two of you—”

“He will heal,” Brit says, making me jump. She trots toward us, carrying her bow and a quiver full of arrows, then stops beside Gary and Mr. Tanner. “Maybe after Kate kills him, his hopeless devotion to her will disappear?”

My heart speeds up. I’ve already failed at killing Dughbal once, but will I be able to do it? Will I be able to drive a sword through the heart of someone who looks like my best friend?

In reality, I’ll be killing him, too; my sword will go through his body.

Arland squeezes my hand. “Brit has feelings for your Brad, sir.”

“I know.” Mr. Tanner grimaces. “It’s a shame we cannot change who we love.”

“You know?” Brit and I ask together.

“It’s as obvious as his love for Kate, Brit. While his eyes were on her, your eyes were on him.” He mutters something. “Children. They never know what’s good for them.”

All the other soldiers file down the path, Tristan at the lead, passing by with blank looks. Everyone must be so afraid, so worried what will become of their life. I wish I could promise them safety.

“Are the two humans with us or you, sir?” Tristan calls.

“With you. Arm them with swords, daggers, knives—whatever they are comfortable with,” Arland says, turning his attention to my stepfather. “Battling with weapons of this kind takes practice. You do not have to go into this battle. Your being here should be enough to appease the gods.”

Gary narrows his eyes. “If the gods wanted all the worlds united, I don’t believe they intended for two middle-aged men from Earth to hide during the process. If we die, we die. And if it’s any consolation, I’d like a sword.”

Through a strange mixture of laughter and tears, I hug Gary once more, then back away. “Don’t let their blood get on you, and make sure you watch out for the hounds. They like to jump out when you least expect it. The coscarthas have really long claws—”

My stepfather shakes me and kisses my forehead. “I love you, too, Kate. You’ve made me proud.”

Nodding, I turn away and head for Mirain before I lose control of my emotions. Her coat shines in the dark night, and she stares at me. Knowing her, she understands this will be her last battle. I press my head against her neck. “It’s time, Girl.”

Arland and I mount our horses, then wait for the others. Gary and Mr. Tanner follow Tristan through the trees, and within seconds, they are out of sight, a thick veil of Darkness blanketing them.

Help us, Griandor. Please.

If the gods sent any peace, I certainly don’t feel it; my chest and breathing are heavy.

Brit and Flanna join us; Perth gives Rhoswen a brief hug, then does the same. She wipes her eyes and runs off into the woods, following Tristan and the others.

Arland rides away from the group first and turns to face us. “May this be the end of this dreaded war. Our people will be free to prosper in what was once a beautiful world. Because of us. We fight with honor and courage, and we fight for Light. We will meet Cadman, Huffie, Tarik, Humu, and Quilos in the wheat field, and there we will wait for Dughbal’s army.”

Brit and Flanna flank my sides, casting glances at each other, but I keep my gaze forward on Arland.

“Let’s ride,” he says, then Bowen gallops into the forest.

My heart squeezes.

Chapter Eighteen

We’re standing in the middle of a meadow, surrounded by shriveled, limp wheat grasses. Dotted along the hillside are hundreds of burning torches, illuminating the pale skin of Arland, Perth, Brit, Cadman, and Flanna next to me. Huffie, Tarik, and Humu linger behind us. Quilos hides in the air, waiting, stalking her prey. Shadows shift over the ground and make the brown plants appear as though they’re dancing to a hypnotic techno beat. With our backs facing the east, we wait for Dughbal and his daemons to approach through the Baccain Forest, right where we want. I tighten my sweaty grip around the hilt of my sword, preparing for battle, focusing on anything other than how dangerous this plan is.

Arland stares straight ahead, body still, breaths even, not revealing a single bit of the tension he must be feeling. Somehow Perth mimics Arland’s controlled concentration, but Flanna and Brit appear equal parts eager to get this over and filled with sheer, utter horror. My sister’s face flushes a sickly shade of white mixed with a bit of gray.

A howl rings into the everlasting Darkness, sending chills up my arms. I squeeze my sword so tightly, I fear the metal may have permanent imprints of my palms.

Brit sucks in a sharp breath, then leans over and throws up.

I reach for her—

“No,” Arland says, grabbing my wrist. “She will be fine, and we cannot risk her illness affecting us.”

“I-I … .” He’s right. Going anywhere near my sister right now could start a horrible chain reaction. I’ve done everything in my power not to throw up since we left the cave, and losing it now wouldn’t do any of us good. “I’m sorry, Brit.”

She drops to her knees and waves her hand behind her back. “I’ll—” Brit coughs, and more clear fluid flows from her mouth.

My stomach twists, cramping as if I have a serious case of the flu. I turn away before it’s too late.

“I’ll be fine,” she says, voice raspy. “It’s just nerves.”

Arland lets go of my hand, pulls an arrow from his quiver, then notches it on his bow. “They are here.”

I jerk my head in the direction of the forest and then freeze, tingles rippling through me.

Tairbs stand tall with their eyes glowing red, kicking their hoofed feet at the dirt as if ready to charge. Hounds snarl and raise their hackles, white foam bubbling on the sides of their mouths.

The last time I faced a hound, I died. This time, there are only nine of us fighting in direct combat; coming back from the dead may not be an option, just like Flanna said. Heart racing, I look at my sister hunched over. She’s weak, vulnerable, and by the sounds of her heaving, she’s not getting up any time soon.

Arland grabs my chin and forces me to look at him, his emerald eyes narrowing. “Kate, focus on what lies ahead of you, not on Brit. None of us will survive if you worry over her. You know what you must do. Do
not
forget it. Focus only on Dughbal. The rest of us will guard you.”

She’s my sister, the only sister I have, and she’s in a dangerous state. How can he expect me not to worry about her? How can
I
expect me not to worry about her?

“
Focus
.” Arland’s command is deep, angry like the growls coming from the forest.

I swallow hard and nod.

“Good.” He releases his grip on my face then resituates his weapon, ready to fire, arrowhead burning and all. “Save your energy, and fight with your sword. Do not use the magic until you have to.” Arland squints his left eye, pulls the arrow, then lets it fly through the air. The arrow’s path cuts an arc of blue fire and lands with a thud in the center of a coscartha’s gray, concave chest.

The daemon bursts into flames and drops to the earth, writhing and shrieking as he dies.

Flanna winks at her cousin and laughs. “Great shot, Arland.”

She removes an arrow from her quiver, lights it with a spark from her palm, then notches the slender wood to her bowstring. “Hound. Between the eyes.”

Her arrow zips toward the daemons on the edge of the forest, then sinks right between a hound’s eyes. He yips and howls as his body burns, rolling on the ground. A steady stream of smoke rises from him.

“My turn,” Brit croaks, slowly getting to her feet and loading her weapon. “Tairb, eleven-o’clock.”

Her shot strikes through the tairb’s heart, bringing him to his knees. Bright-red blood seeps from his wound while the creature pulls at his death sentence, but he can’t seem to get the arrow from his chest. He tumbles face first into the dirt.