Shield of Sparrows

“Wh-what do you mean?”

The Guardian gave me a flat look. “Cross.”

Okay, so I wasn’t great at playing dumb. And he was always five steps ahead.

I wasn’t sure how he knew that Father had ordered me to kill him, but clearly, he knew. Either because he had a spy in Roslo or he’d guessed.

If I were a better liar, I might have been able to salvage this mess. Except, as he’d pointed out, I was a shit liar.

“What did it do to you? Lyssa? Is it the reason you move the way you do?” Was it the reason his eyes changed colors? Had it altered the magic in Calandra’s very soil that gave people their starbursts at birth? Had Lyssa ripped away that connection, forging something new?

“It heightens natural abilities,” he said.

“Does it make you more, um…” How did I say this? Violent? Aggressive?

“Monstrous?” he quipped. “Yes.”

Monster versus monster. That’s why he’d been able to kill those beasts. “On the road to Treow, the night we were camped against that rock cliff. Was the grizzur you killed that night infected with Lyssa? Was that why it didn’t fear the fires?”

“Yes.”

“And the bariwolves that night?”

“Cunning enough to know they were outmatched by the grizzur. I don’t know for certain, but it might have been the same pack that attacked Ashmore.” He stared, unfocused, into the trees. “I should have tracked them down.”

The guilt he carried for Ashmore went so much deeper than I’d realized. What other lives lost did he hold on his conscience? How many others did he believe he’d failed?

“Did you know about Lyssa before you were bitten?”

He shook his head. “No. I think because I was bitten, because I…changed, we started to ask more questions.”

“We?”

“The Voster. Zavier.”

“And that was four years ago?” I didn’t expect him to answer. At any moment, his indulgence in my questions would end. But until he told me to shut up, I was going to keep trying.

“Yes. Not long after I was bitten, I got a fever. I was delirious for a week. When it finally broke, everything was normal. The rest came on over the course of a few months. A cut that should have taken days to heal was gone in hours. I could see clearer. Hear better. I had always been good in a fight. I had always been fast. Now, I’m faster. Stronger.”

“That doesn’t sound so monstrous.”

He barked a dry laugh. “These gifts, as you once called them, come with a price. Monsters aren’t the only ones who thrive on bloodlust.”

That day in Ashmore, when I’d stared at him and seen the monster inside looking back. The days when silver swirled in his irises.

“I lose a part of myself. I lose all but a shred of my control.” When he faced me, there was a warning in his eyes. “It’s not easy to break free. It’s getting harder and harder.”

There could come a time when he couldn’t stop. When the monster erased the man entirely.

And when that time came, I shouldn’t be anywhere near.

“Where do you think Lyssa came from, if not the crux?”

“No one knows.”

“Not even the Voster?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But they can feel it. Sense its wrongness. Maybe the Six felt humans were becoming too strong. That their monsters weren’t enough to keep us in check, so they cursed Calandra with Lyssa to torture us with more death and blood.”

I’d had the same thought myself.

“The High Priest believes it could be a mutation,” he said. “A sickness that has morphed over time, becoming stronger and stronger.”

“And what do you believe?”

He sighed, adjusting Evie slightly in his hold. “That our priority must be to stop it from spreading.”

By killing every beast infected.

That was Zavier’s mission.

“Why only three hunting parties? Why not more?”

“We need warriors to guard villages and towns. There are only so many men Zavier can spare. His rangers are the best, so we’ve relied upon their strengths, sacrificing numbers for skill.”

“What about the king? His army?” Or this militia I’d heard about?

He ground his teeth together so hard I heard them grate. “Not an option.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not an option.” His tone brooked no argument.

So King Ramsey was out. “Does he know about Lyssa? The king?”

“Yes.”

My eyes widened. “But he’s not helping?”

The Guardian arched an eyebrow.

That meant no.

“What about a cure?” Instead of eliminating Lyssa from Turah, cure it instead?

“The Voster have tried. There is no cure.”

“But what if—”

“There is no cure,” he repeated. “All we can do is purge Lyssa from Turah. It’s already spread to the Krisenth. It can’t go farther. We’re running out of time.”

“Time?” My forehead furrowed. “For what?”

“You’ve heard the stories of the crux. They’re deadlier than any monster in Calandra. Can you imagine how it might be if they were infected with Lyssa? Not only would the death toll be insurmountable, but they could carry it across the continent in a week.”

“Oh, gods.” My insides twisted.

It would change Calandra forever.

Maybe it already had. “How do you know it hasn’t gone past the Krisenth? To other kingdoms?”

“We don’t. Not with certainty.”

“What is the farthest place where it’s been seen?”

“Perris.”

“The coast?”

He nodded. “It’s why the captain of the Cutter commands a hunting party. It’s spread, somehow, to the marroweels.”

“How?”

“The grizzur often wade into the ocean for fish. They’re excellent swimmers. It’s likely a marroweel was too close to shore. The grizzur attacked, but the marroweel managed to swim away.” He shrugged. “But that’s just a theory. No one knows for sure.”

“If the Krisenth is infected, Lyssa could find its way to Quentis. My father should know about this. You must tell him. You must send a warning.”

The Guardian’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think he doesn’t already know?”noveldrama

“Does he?” Was this the reason he’d insisted I spy?

“Every king in Calandra knows of Lyssa. They have simply decided it is Turah’s problem to solve.”

My jaw dropped. “They don’t care?”

“The Shield of Sparrows prevents war, my queen. It does not require allegiance.”

So Turah was left to suffer. Its people to die.

Was that because they’d isolated themselves over the years? Or the reason they’d withdrawn from diplomatic affairs?

“What about your people? Do the Turans know about Lyssa?” If so, why hadn’t anyone mentioned it to me before?

“Not many know.”

“You’ve kept it a secret from your people. Why?”

His nostrils flared, my question striking a nerve. “The king decided it would cause too much panic. He doesn’t believe the infected monsters are any more vicious than a monster without Lyssa.”

“What? How can he think that? Whether he believes it or not doesn’t matter. People should know what is happening if they’re at a greater risk. After what happened in Ashmore, this can’t remain a secret.”

“It is not my decision to make. Or overrule. All I can do at the moment is try to stop it from spreading.”

“How far do you think it’s spread?” I asked.

“I believe it’s mostly in this region. On the other side of Turah, there are no signs. The hunting party on the Cutter hadn’t seen an infected marroweel in months before the one that attacked our ship. We’ve gone town to town, asking if there have been any attacks. Any monsters with blood that runs green, not red. Along the coast, the reports are few and far between. But as you move toward the mountains, there are more and more.”

So it had likely originated somewhere around here. “If it spreads across the border to Ozarth, I expect kings will change their minds.”

“By that point, it could be too late to stop,” he said.

I pushed a curl from my temple, closing my eyes as I let it all sink in. My father knew about this. And he’d done nothing. If Lyssa spread to Quentis and people died, it would be his fault. “Do the other kings know you have Lyssa? Does my father?”

“No. Very few people know the truth.”

“But you told me. Why?” Was this another test? A way of securing my silence? I couldn’t tell Father the Guardian’s secret without condemning myself at the same time.

He swallowed hard, glancing at Evie, still asleep against his chest. When he looked to me, his eyes were changing, shifting from green to hazel. He opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. He almost looked nervous.

My stomach knotted.

That was not a face about to deliver good news.

“What?” I gulped. “Tell me.”

Except before he could explain, a scream echoed in the distance. Even faint, there was no mistaking the fear in that sound.

My knives were strapped across my back. As much as I’d wanted to bring my sword, the knives were smaller, and I’d had more practice using them. Shades, I didn’t want to use them today.

The Guardian’s eyes narrowed at the trees ahead, seeing something I couldn’t. Then came the dull thud of hooves, growing louder and louder until two soldiers from the scouting party barreled through the forest.

“What is it?” he demanded, his voice hard and loud enough to rouse Evie.

She startled awake, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she straightened.

“Tarkin,” a soldier said, eyes panicked. “It attacked us ahead.”

“Fuck.” The Guardian dragged a hand over his face. “Deaths?”

“Five. Maybe more. The party broke apart. Some of us rode ahead, to Treow. We turned back to you. I can’t be sure, but I think it followed on to Treow.”

“Damn.” The Guardian urged his stallion beside mine, lifting Evie onto my saddle. He looked around, nostrils flaring. “You can’t stay out here. Not if it doubles back.”

“We can ride,” I told him.

He leveled the soldiers with a glare that drained the color from their already ashen faces. “You’ll ride with us. You’ve got the outer positions. No matter what happens, nothing gets past you to her horse. Understood?”

“Yes, Guardian.”

My arms cinched around Evie, holding her between them as I gripped the reins. “Hold tight, little star.”

She nodded, grasping the saddle’s horn with both hands.

“Stay behind me. No matter what happens,” the Guardian said, eyes dropping to the girl.

“I’ve got her,” I promised.

“I fucking hate this.” His eyes swirled, silver chasing away hazel.

He might have hated this, but staying together was our best option. It was safer by his side, even if that meant riding toward danger.

The soldiers were just boys, probably only nineteen or twenty. Too young and inexperienced to face a monster. Especially if it had Lyssa.

“To your treehouse.” He pointed ahead, and I followed his finger, marking the invisible path. Then he took off without a word, hooves thundering.

My gelding, not wanting to be left behind, only needed the slightest nudge before he chased off after the Guardian. Evie and I both jostled in the saddle as we hung on for dear life, but we managed to stay seated as we streaked past trees and bushes.

Something wet hit my hand that gripped the reins.

A tear. Evie’s tear.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s going to be okay.”

The soldiers flanked us as we approached the nearest watchtower, obeying the Guardian’s orders to stay at our sides.

I glanced up, expecting to see a warrior stationed above like I had on all of my rides and runs around Treow, but it was empty. Everyone had probably abandoned their posts to fight the tarkin.

Even over the noise of the hooves and my pounding heart, I heard the shouts and screams from the encampment.

The Guardian’s stallion reared up as he came to a quick stop beside my treehouse, the rope ladder hanging to the ground.

We stopped so fast I nearly tipped out of the saddle, barely managing to swing my leg over and jump down. Then, arms outstretched, I pulled Evie to me.

“Climb,” the Guardian ordered.

“The horse—”

“Damn it, Cross. Climb.” He wasn’t going to leave until we were safe above.

“You first, Evie.”

She hurried to the ladder, taking the rungs quickly like she’d done it a thousand times. Probably because she had. I’d only had weeks in Treow. She’d had months, possibly years.

I followed her up, glancing over my shoulder as I climbed.

The Guardian drew his sword, rolling his wrist, the blade a swoosh in the air. Impatient.

The moment my knees were on the platform, he was gone, riding toward the commons and the shouts.

The two soldiers shared a look, like they weren’t sure where to go. Then they took off after him, leaving my brown gelding alone.

A woman’s scream made the hair on my arms stand on end.

“Dess.” Evie’s voice was small and scared.

“It’ll be okay.” I hugged her, staring into the trees, wishing we weren’t so removed from the others so I could see.

Wishing we were farther away so Evie wouldn’t have to hear the screams.

“I want Papa.” Evie burrowed into my neck.

My hand ran up and down her back as a snarl came from below. It was too loud, too close, to have come from the commotion in the commons.

“Shh,” I whispered, picking her up and carrying her inside.

She didn’t stay on the bed when I set her down. She leaped over its edge and slid underneath, gray eyes peering out from the floor.

I pressed a finger to my mouth, then inched to the door, closing it behind me before I crept to the balcony’s rail.

Beneath my treehouse, walking on silent paws, was a tarkin.

My heart stopped. Moving slowly, silently, I took my knives from their sheaths, tensing as the metal scraped against the leather.

From this vantage point, I had the perfect view of the red-and-orange armor that covered its back. The scales were as large as my hand, as thick as iron. They shifted, moving in unison, as smooth as running water, as the monster prowled.

Tarkin were similar to the tigercats that roamed the lush riverlands in Ozarth. The fur of a tarkin was as red as rubies, striped with pink. The only way to kill the monster was with a blade through its gullet or heart. Those scales along its back were impenetrable. Its fangs and claws, as white as snow, could tear through a human’s flesh as if it were wet parchment.

Of all the monsters that roamed Calandra, the tarkin were the most beautiful. If a hunter managed to kill the beast and harvest its scales, they were sold on the black market for as much as fenek tusk powder. Their hides, that rich, smooth red coat, were twice as valuable as lionwick hides.

The monster below paid me no mind as it stalked past my treehouse, tail flicking as it weaved through the forest.

Was that the monster that had attacked the commons? It seemed so docile. Unperturbed. Why the hell was it still alive?

Where was the Guardian, and why hadn’t he killed this monster?

Unless there’d been more than one. Unless this attack was like the bariwolves in Ashmore, and while the other monster was keeping the Guardian busy, this creature was on the hunt, searching for easy prey.

It must not have found any. It continued on through the forest until I lost sight of it behind a tree.

My exhale felt like a gust of wind. I was turning for the door, relaxing my hold on my knives, ready to rescue Evie from beneath my bed, when I heard a voice.

“Hurry, Marco.”

My head whipped around so fast a jolt of white-hot pain shot through my neck.

A girl with flawless brown skin and spiral curls held a young boy’s hand, guiding him toward my rope ladder.

What the hell were they doing out here alone? Where was their parent?

I ran to the other side of the treehouse, searching for the tarkin, but it was gone. “Thank you, Ama.”

Moving to the ladder, I set my knives aside and dropped to my knees, waving the children up. “Hurry. Come up here.”

The girl’s face lifted, her cheeks tearstained, eyes wide as she pulled the boy with her.

They’d almost made it when I felt the breeze. The shift in air that blew our scents in the wrong direction.

The girl stepped on a stick, snapping it in two.

The noise wasn’t loud. In any other situation, I wouldn’t have paid it another mind. But that crack combined with the wind might as well have been a thunderclap.

The Guardian was going to be so, so mad at me.

Without thinking, I spun and started down the ladder, moving as fast as I could to the bottom. I reached the ground at the same time a low, throaty growl carried from the distance.

Fuck.

A sob came from the girl, but she slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling the cries that came next.

“Climb. Go.” Now I sounded like the Guardian. But she listened, moving as quickly as Evie had up the ladder.

The boy shook his head, eyes wide with fear now that the girl was halfway up.

“Come on.” I picked him up, propped him on a hip, and started up, my progress slow and awkward with a child in my arms.

We made it five rungs before the hairs on my neck stood on end. One moment, the forest was empty. The next, the tarkin bounded from the trees, teeth and fangs bared, its claws digging into the earth.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I kept climbing, checking on the girl above.

She’d made it to the balcony.

And Evie, my brave little star, had left the safety of the bedroom to help the other girl up.

“Marco!” the girl cried, hands outstretched.

The tarkin’s roar vibrated against my skin. It was running so fast it was a blur of red and orange. That massive, muscular body was honed for speed. For death.

It was going to leap for us. Rip us off this ladder and send us tumbling to the ground.

I climbed faster, shifting the boy as he began to wail and reach for the girl.

“Dess!” Evie yelled.

The tarkin leaped, claws outstretched, jaw wide.

I wrapped my arm around the rope, holding to it and the boy with every bit of my strength.

The monster slammed into the ladder, sending us spinning. Pain burst through my leg as its scales collided with my calf.

My leg slipped, and I dropped a rung, the rope skinning and burning my palm and arm. But I managed to hold on and get both feet back on the ladder.

“Look out,” Evie screamed just as the tarkin jumped again, swiping at me from the base of the ladder.

The boy wailed so loudly in my ear that I couldn’t hear anything else.

I tightened my arm around his waist and kept climbing.

Not yet, Izzac. I wasn’t ready to submit myself to the God of Death. Not yet.

But the strength in my arms and legs was beginning to wane. With my teeth gritted, I managed one more rung. Then another. Then another.

All while the tarkin clawed at the ladder, spinning and pulling it so wildly that we twirled around, forcing me to stop climbing every few moments to simply hold tight.

“Help!” Evie’s shout was loud and clear. “Help us! Please!”

I shifted the boy closer to the ladder, hoping that if I fell, he could at least stay here. “Hold on. Grab the rope.”

His entire body shook as he cried.

“Please. Hold on.”

The boy, Marco, was frozen in fear.

I tried for another rung, getting my foot onto the next spot as the ladder whirled again. Then I forced myself up, exhaling when both boots were locked on the rope.

We weren’t even halfway up yet. We weren’t going to make it to the top. But if we could just hang on, hold fast, help would come. The Guardian would save us.

“Help!” Evie kept screaming, hands cupped around her mouth.

The ladder swung sideways, so hard my stomach pitched. I braced for another shake, another spin, but it never came. The ladder began to settle and calm.

I risked a glance below.

The tarkin was backing away to make another running jump, lips curled to reveal those pristine fangs.

My heart dropped.

It had missed me before. It would not miss again.

Hell, this was going to hurt.

It took three bounding strides and flew into the air, hitting the ladder so hard its body tangled into the rope.

I heard the snap before I felt it. The left side of the ladder broke from its hook on the balcony, collapsing the rope into a single strand. Then we were falling, sliding down what remained of the ladder, my legs wrapped around it in a desperate attempt to slow us down.

It wasn’t a free fall, but it was close. The impact with the ground was so jarring that my knees buckled and I flew backward, the air stolen from my lungs as I slammed into the dirt.

My vision blurred, and for a moment, I was sure I heard Izzac’s voice. The God of Death welcoming me to hell.

Odessa.

My name had never sounded sweeter.

Except the fuzzy edges sharpened, the spots clearing from my eyes. And it all came back to me in a blink.

The boy was flopped on my chest. My body had broken his fall, but it still had to hurt. He whimpered as I pushed up on my elbow.

Beyond my ruined ladder, I met a pair of violet eyes.

The tarkin had taken a tumble after that leap, and bark from one of the trees dusted its scales. But it found its footing.

And its next kill.

My stomach bottomed out. There was nowhere to go. No escape.

So I rolled myself on top of the boy, shielding him with my body curved around his. Then I closed my eyes, hoping that by the time the monster had finished with my flesh, help would have come to save Marco.

The tarkin’s growl was all I could hear beyond the blood rushing in my ears. I held my breath, waiting. Except claws and teeth never sank into my flesh. All that came was a snarl and a kiss of wind on my hair.

Then nothing.

Peaceful nothing.

Carine, Goddess of Peace, had welcomed me to her shade.

Though I doubted Carine wore boots.

A pair, scuffed and splattered, appeared at my side. Then I was lifted up off the ground, the boy still clutched in my arms, and set on my knees. The Guardian’s hands and eyes roamed over my body, searching for injury as he knelt beside me.

“Where are you hurt?” His voice was frantic.

“I’m okay.” We were alive. I sighed, hugging the boy.

Later, I was sure my arms and legs would hurt like never before. But for now, we were alive. Thanks to the Guardian.

He took my face in his hands, dropping his forehead to mine. His thumb traced my cheek, and tingles exploded on my skin. “You’re okay.”

Was he reassuring me? Or himself?

“I’m okay.”

He leaned away, my face still in his hands. Thumb still tracing. I never wanted it to stop, but as shouts rang through the trees, he let me go.

I twisted, looking over my shoulder. And found a lifeless tarkin’s eyes staring back.

The violet color was already beginning to fade to milky white.

The Guardian sat back on his heels. “Fuck, you are reckless, woman. Does your life mean nothing to you?”

“Not when the lives of innocent children are at risk.”

He dragged a hand over his face.

We both knew he would have done the same.

“Marco.” A woman rushed over, stealing the boy from my arms and crushing him to her chest.

The girl in the treehouse cried, “Mama.”

“Thank you,” the woman sobbed. “Thank you.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the Guardian, so I offered a wobbly smile, then shifted to stand.

The Guardian rose first, his hand on my elbow as I stood on shaking legs, not sure if I wanted to cry or scream or laugh.

The tarkin lay in a ruby red heap five feet away, the Guardian’s sword lodged through its ribs. Blood seeped around the blade.

Putrid, dark green.

Except before I could move in for a closer look, a prickle crept over my skin, the sensation of spiders crawling up my arms.

I shivered and looked toward the commons.

And met the fathomless gaze of the Voster High Priest. He always seemed to pop up at the worst moments. Coming out of hiding from wherever he called home to make a shitty day even worse.

I tilted my head to the sky, closing my eyes.

I was surrounded by monsters.