Guardian of Calandria | ✔️

Chapter Eight

           Knees pressed into Kira's chest, cracking the ribs under their force. Hands held her arms in place, pressing them into the ground. She opened her eyes to see two men leaning over her. One man, with his knees in Kira's chest, held his hands firm around her throat. Fingers pressed into her jugular, cutting off her air passage. Golden hair, greased from dirt and blood, fell in his face. The man's stench would've made Kira want to hurl if not for the crushing pressure at her throat.

"'urry, she's awake," the man holding her arms said.

"I don't understand! She should be dead already."

Kira squirmed under the man's weight. Neither wore the helms of a guard, but both wore chainmail which rattled with their movements. Her legs kicked in desperation, but did nothing to shake the man from her. Brown eyes stared at her through his wrinkled brow. The man sneered, spit dropped onto her cheek with his sweat. Screams sounded around her. Wilders and guards fought from the corner of Kira's eyes. The Wilders didn't conceal their powers; magic flowed freely as they launched attacks at the men with swords. She couldn't see Addrick anywhere and then man's grip on her throat kept her head from turning.

"She should be dead. It's witchcraft."

Kira closed her eyes. Energy burned through her, pulling at the hairs on her arms. Though she couldn't move her arms, she could still send the magic into her palms. Her fingers curled inward, the tips itched as the energy grew stronger. She prayed to the God's Addrick was right and her magic would only hurt her intended target. If not, she knew she'd have a killer case of heartburn. Lightning bolts sprang from each finger, shooting upward before arching back down.

"By the God's! She is a witch. Her eyes are black as—" The man couldn't finish his sentence as the lightning struck his chainmail. It jumped from him to the man holding her arms. The men convulsed, foam dripped from the crooks of their mouths. Kira wasn't shocked when the eyes of the man kneeling on top of her rolled back in his head. Both bodies fell limp to the side, lightning bolts flickered along the metal of their now electrified armor. Kira gasped for air when the man's hands released from her throat. She rolled on her side and looked for Addrick. He lay curled in a ball, both eyes closed, unmoving with a spear sticking out of his leg. Pain throbbed around her ribs as Kira crawled toward him. Sheer will power kept her from keeling over under the agony screaming from her insides.

"Addrick," she said. Her voice was raspy from her crushed larynx. Her fingers brushed his cheeks. They were hesitant at first with, worrying his skin would be cold from his death. She sighed when normal body heat greeted her touch.

Her other hand rested on his chest and waited for a heartbeat to confirm the warmth of his body. While it was weak, it beat all the same. Tan skin had paled to the point it almost became white. One finger traced the freckles and red bumps on his face. She brushed over the swollen eye and gash on one cheek. Both healed under her touch, but Addrick still didn't awaken.

"Addrick, stop sleeping on the job you lazy ass."

She called upon the electricity again and sent pulsating sparks into both cheeks. Addrick's body jerked. He gasped as his back arched upward. Arms flopped against the dirt, legs kicked outward as his body twisted in place. His eyes fluttered open as the spasm ended. Kira pushed herself to a stand and wrapped her hands around the spear still lodged in his leg. He rubbed his head as Kira looked down at him. She didn't give him time to figure out what was happening, she jerked the spear from his leg. Addrick's scream sounded more like the roar of his leopard. He barred his teeth as he glared at her through animal eyes. The yellow lasted for a second before fading to normal.

"Guards—they're attacking the tribe." Kira looked around as she helped Addrick to a stand.

Men and woman, children she'd played with, they were being slaughtered without hesitation. While Emma had been her blood, these people related to Kira in ways her aunt never could. She'd found a home with them. A place where she wouldn't have to hide her abilities, yet the guards were systematically taking them from her as they took Emma. Kira's lips quivered as she balled her hands. So much death, fear, the air reeked of it. Blood stained grass glistened in the setting sunlight. The Wilders didn't deserve to die, but the guards . . . they deserved to be sent to the deepest pits of hell.