The Wicked Ones

Chapter 1. The Storm

Around her was nothing but bodies.

Patch crouched behind a heap of torn canvas and wood that had once been a tent. She kept her eyes desperately shut; if she opened them and beheld the carnage...she didn't know what she would do. It could end up being the one thing that might nudge her too far over the tipping point.

Never had she been part of anything like this. She didn't know what to do. Notch's soldiers wouldn't bother with her because they couldn't see her. Seto was the only one who posed any threat, even though for some reason, he wasn't able to snap the tether. She was safe.

The same couldn't be said for the rest of them. Soldiers stalked the battlefield, searching for rebel survivors. Each time one was found amidst the wreckage of the camp, they were killed on the spot. Patch had moved far away from where the group of Notch's soldiers had fanned out. She didn't want to hear any more.

She didn't want this. She wasn't supposed to be here - wasn't supposed to be seeing this. None of this was supposed to happen. In an attempt to keep herself grounded, she silently kept track of the seconds that passed by. Each one seemed like eternity when she was all alone.

Each second was like a prayer, hoping over and over that Equinox would speak to her or summon her away from this awful place and - and the battlefield practically thrummed with death; the thick, uncomfortable feeling of all the lives ended here was making Patch feel sick, and her head was spinning, and-

She couldn't help but open her eyes when she heard a familiar voice shouting, nearly hoarse from such overwhelming grief and rage that Patch almost didn't recognize him.

Shadow stood with two others, each with their weapons drawn. He held a sword in one hand, and his other clutched his side, fingers tight against the cloth over the stitched wound that had torn open during the fighting.

His helmet had been dented by some heavy force. Shadow had straightened it as best he could, because it was the only armor he possessed that was designed to protect his head, but the mark remained. The other two must have been trying to get him away from the fight, knowing that he would throw himself into it without thought. One of them, Patch realized, was Salia.

He should have ran, Patch thought to herself. He should have learned. All the warriors he'd led here, firm in the belief that he would finally overthrow Notch once and for all, were dead. He had no army at his back this time. What would it take to make the former Ender Prince understand that, this time, he couldn't win?

The noise drew the attention of Notch's soldiers, who recognized him as the leader of the rebellion. Patch watched them advance.

They were the only three rebels standing, and they were all injured and tired. Shadow seemed fueled solely by the desire to avenge his soldiers. He positioned himself to protect Salia and the other rebel that was with him, and met the enemy head on.

Patch didn't even need to watch to know what was going to happen. It all happened within a matter of seconds. Salia was stabbed; she went down, blood pouring from the wound in her abdomen, still scrabbling for her sword, determined to help the other two right down to the moment when her movements stilled.

The unfamiliar rebel threw himself at the soldiers that closed in around them. When Salia didn't get up, he tried to keep the enemies away from her and lift her upright. That was his final mistake; a powerful strike from a spear slid right between his ribs. He stumbled back into Shadow, trying to find something to hold onto as his legs gave out beneath him. He fell to his knees, then a sword struck the back of his neck, as though the spear lodged in him wasn't enough.

Shadow roared - an inhuman, shattered sound - as the second rebel collapsed, but Notch's soldiers kept him occupied and blocked his way to them.

Patch understood now, how he'd survived against King Notch by himself for so long. Shadow refused to go down - refused to be beaten and stabbed and sliced into submission again. He held his own against the growing tide of Notch's men long enough that Patch actually dared to let herself wonder if he might somehow win.