The Warden

Chapter 32

"I've lost too much blood," said Kyla, her words slurring.

Masis went on. Face fixed with resolve, he hefted her, tightening his hold on her wrist and squeezing her ribs, taking more weight from her feet. He grunted, before picking up the pace. Two leagues still separated them from the relative safety of the dell. At least two hours had passed since they had left the glade and Wilo's redeeming beams would not peak above the horizon for hours more.

"Good," said Kyla, a smile flickering onto her lips. "There's that fire. But wighties can move faster. They've reached the glade by now and for all your winding and creek trudging, they'll find our trail. They'll catch us."

Masis shook his head. Teeth clenched, he blinked away tears and went on, his muscles trembling.

"Masis. Stop," Kyla ordered quietly.

He trudged on. A grimace on his face, sweat pouring down it, air catching in his throat.

"Stop, Masis."

He shook his head. Kyla tried to tangle her own legs with his, but her clumsy limbs were too slow and too easily avoided. With a bark of frustration, Masis slung her over his shoulder, picking up his pace as he did so. Each step jolted into Kyla's middle, forcing her lungs to empty with sporadic bursts.

"You've berated me," gasped out Masis, every word laden with tears. "You've tortured me... You've pushed me... until I nearly broke. If anyone is going to kill you... it's going to be me."

He went on, his lifelight flashing out defiantly.

Yes, this is the person I need, conceded Kyla. This is the next Warden.

Perched on Masis' shoulder, Kyla forced her eyes up from time to time, shaking her head at the trail they left behind. A broken twig here. Disturbed soil there. Their scent strewn about on every branch or creeper. It was a trail a blind man could follow.

A gust came from behind them carrying the sharp bite of rust.

What took them so long? wondered Kyla. Maybe this runt's tactics slowed them down.

"Masis."

His pace did not falter.

"Masis."

"No." He spoke only that word between wheezing gasps.

"No?"

"Not... stopping... no matter what you say." His pace had become barely a walk, each footfall more labored than the last.

"They aren't far behind us," said Kyla, her breath recovered from the rest. "Take the venom. Leave me. They're only looking for me. Finish what we started. Take revenge or justice or whatever you want to call it for your family and just do what needs to be done."

Finally, Masis slowed. Chest heaving, he leaned Kyla against a tree, its beaded sap sticking into her hair. Manu still stood high above them, her face a dark gory mask. Trembling with each motion, Masis worked the bag at Kyla's belt open until he plucked the vial out. She nodded at his actions. Considering the ampoule, Masis eyes went from the liquid to Kyla's face and back again.

Just take it and go, Kyla ordered in her mind.

"You know," said Masis, having regained some of his breath, "the nightlings have taken everything from me. Everything from you." He stepped away from her, his legs wobbling. "They aren't taking anything else from us tonight."

He tore at the seal and the wax crumbled away.

Kyla frowned. He wouldn't!

"Domrae," said Kyla, voice small, no energy left in her body, "don't be a fool."

His vicious assault of the now accessible cork did not falter.

"Domrae!" Kyla hissed. "Don't be a Manu cursed fool! You don't have time. Masis! Stop!"

The cork came out with a pop and a vitriolic waft hit her nose.

"If they find us before you purge the venom, all Haimlant dies," threatened Kyla, to no effect. Her features hardened along with her voice. "Domrae! If you do this, Wilo so help me, I will hunt you down and kill you myself."

I'll butcher you, she shrieked in her mind, and feed your carcass to the corbies piece by piece.

But she could do nothing. Her energy spent. Gone.

Masis' seax came clear of his sheath, ringing. He fingered the vial with his little finger to keep it from spilling. He brought his left hand up, palm flat to the sky, held just beneath his chest, and gazed at Kyla.

"Never again," said Masis.

He drew the blade across his open palm without a flinch, slicing into the accepting flesh. Casting the blade down, he took the vial between his thumb and forefinger. Blood pooled in his cupped hand, some few drops, hot and sticky, fell to the ground with—to Kyla's keen ears—distinct plops, each crimson spot in the dirt metallic to the nose and hungrily absorbed by the ground.

Masis began to tilt the vial over the welling blood.

"Where light is darkness endures only by permission," he intoned, as the venom poured into the gory puddle, mixing eagerly with his body's steaming humors.

At first nothing happened, but, slowly at first and then with building speed, the level of blood in Masis' hand began to lower.

You fool, thought Kyla silently, resigned to what unfolded before her. You arrogant, bloody fool.

The wound in the palm of his hand drank up the blood, drawing it back into Masis body in a slurping rush, sealing itself closed as the last drop slid into the slice. Eyes wide, hand trembling, Masis turned his healed hand toward Kyla.

Her features were taut, mouth fixed into a pinched posture. Eyes blazing, nostrils flared, she tilted her head to stare Masis right in his eyes.

"Brace yourself," she said.

Masis squinted. A question began to form on his lips, as he took a step. Without warning, he clutched his hand with a grimace and moan before collapsing to the ground.

*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*