Battle Ground, Indiana
Claire's appearance on the porch went unnoticed. The fight between Cyrus and the Vodar was intense. The logical place to target his enemies was from the top of the porch stairs. Trying not to draw attention, she crept into position.
The Vodar's movements were well coordinated. Relentless. Their advantage, six to one, meant constant vigilance on Cyrus's part. Both of his hands were occupied wielding his Sverak, blocking and parrying every blow they dealt. He kicked and lunged, dancing back and forth. She watched, open mouthed, before collecting her wits. His skill was nothing short of incredible, but how long could he possibly keep up?
She placed the butt of the shotgun against her shoulder. Resting her cheek against it and positioning it along her line of sight, she squinted at the black figure furthest from Cyrus. If she missed, if she hit Cyrus....
No, she couldn't think like that. Planting her feet, she braced herself for the kick back. Three, two, one—
The shot rang out, silencing everything. The world around her slowed to a stop, except for the wraith she had hit. It stumbled backwards. As if hitting fast-forward, everything sped up again. Cyrus moved first, taking advantage of her distraction. He swept his blade around and removed the heads from his two nearest opponents. She hardly had time to watch.
The black figure she'd hit square in the chest regained its composure. It came for her, streaking across the grass.
"Shit!" She glanced around.
Fear flooded her system. She fired again, this time aiming for its head. The bullet made contact. The wraith exploded in a puff of smoke, disappearing. Her jaw dropped.
"Claire! No! Get out of here!" Cyrus fought with two others. She ignored him. The third remaining Vodar began gliding towards her, its short sword raised.
Her breathing came in gasps. She flung away her emptied shotgun and grabbed the revolver from her back pocket. Her hands trembled. She held it out in front of her and took aim. Not a moment too soon. She fired. Several blasts rang out, one after the next, mixing with the sound of clashing metal swords. Each bullet struck true.
Like magic, the Vodar exploded in a puff of smoke and disappeared. Their heads! That was the trick. She had to hit them in the head.
Cyrus did not have the luxury of a gun. He wrestled with the remaining two wraiths. Their movements were a blur. She tried to get a clear shot. It was impossible. Not without running the risk of shooting Cyrus.
She edged closer in hopes of distracting them. If she could separate them, she could get a clean shot. As she moved, she kept the revolver aimed in front of her. She was ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
"No—Claire!" Cyrus yelled.
One of the two wraiths spotted her. It backed away from Cyrus, moving quickly towards her. She didn't hesitate. Two shots rang out as she fired at the demon's face. It exploded into thin air.
She stared at the place it had disappeared—not quite believing.
Cyrus screamed. The sound echoed in her ears. Her breath caught in her chest. "Cyrus!"
The final Vodar wraith stood over him, its sword lodged too deep in his abdomen. Cyrus was on his knees, his face stricken, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
She took aim and sent a single bullet at the back of the Vodar's hooded head. She kept firing even as the revolver clicked empty. The demon disappeared in a puff, leaving wisps of smoke in its wake.
She stood, gasping for air.
"Claire," Cyrus cried out. Her head snapped to him. She dropped the revolver and rushed over, falling to her knees. Taking his face in her hands.
"Cyrus." She ran her fingers through his hair, caressing his head to comfort him. His Sverak lay on the ground beside him. Both of his hands were wrapped around the hilt of the Vodar's sword. It was all that remained of the terrifying creatures—each of their swords had disappeared with them, except the one lodged in Cyrus's abdomen. Cyrus attempted to remove it, gasping with effort as he pulled and pulled. It didn't budge.
"The..." he gulped. "The poison blade." He was too weak to remove it. "The poison—I can feel it. Get it out. Get it out of me!"
Panic replaced her adrenaline. Her body trembled and her hands shook. She met his wide eyes. "Tell me what to do?"
He looked at her like she was the only person left in the world he could count on. His steadfast gaze strangled her heart. There was no one else. She was all he had left.
"Get it out," he gasped.
She nodded. Fortifying her nerves, she placed her hands gently over his, wrapping her fingers around the grip of the sword. She pulled. The blade came free and dropped to the ground, releasing a hissing black smoke. It laid in the grass like a filthy enemy.
Cyrus coughed and sputtered before falling forward. She caught him, rolling him over onto his back. Each gasp he took was a precious gift of extended life—life that was quickly melting away.
Tears began seeping from her eyes.
"It's going to be okay," she whispered. "Everything is going to be okay." She peeled back his blood-soaked T-shirt and flinched. The incision, though narrow, was deep. This wasn't something she could fix.
Blood rushed past her ears, turning into a roar of fear. She ripped off her own shirt, leaving behind her camisole. Bundling up the fabric, she pressed it over the wound. "It hurts," Cyrus hissed. "Make it stop! Please!" More tears seeped from the corners of his eyes.
"I know." She stroked his hair. "I know it hurts. But—but only for a little bit. I'm going to make it stop. I promise. I'm going get you fixed up and feeling better. Just—just like last time, remember?" Her voice shook. She choked on half the words.
The realization hit her hard in the gut, making her sick to her stomach. He would never survive this wound. Not now. But she couldn't give up—wouldn't. She refused. She had to try and save him. Every second was precious. The shirt she used was already drenched in blood. She needed to get to her dad's supplies quickly.
"Can you hold on for just a minute?" she murmured gently. "I will be right back." She tried to rush away, but he grabbed ahold her hand.
"Please—please do not leave me." His begging came in between his staggered breaths.
"But I've got to! It's the only—it's the only way I can take away the pain."
He opened his mouth to speak, but a fit of coughing left him shuddering.
"I will only be a moment. I promise!" She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
"Please—no. Not alone!"
"Cyrus, you'll die!" she squeaked. Didn't he understand?
"Claire! Claire listen—listen to me!" He coughed again, violently. Blood.
"Cyrus..." she whimpered. Her stomach lurched into her throat. She could barely see him, her eyes were so blurred with tears. He wouldn't let her leave—he wouldn't let her save him. Out of everything, that hurt the most.
"Please, Cyrus," she pleaded. "This isn't how it's supposed to be. Please..."
"Listen—listen to me, Claire." He struggled to speak. "I have little time. You must—you must deliver the Stones. Take them to King Talon."
"I..." She shook her head. "I can't!"
"You can!"
"But I don't—"
"You must do this—" He coughed again. "Do this for me."
She wanted to scream at him. Anger and sadness battled each other, beating against her insides. Why was he asking her to do this? It was bad enough she was forced to watch him die. She wanted nothing to do with the horrid Dragon Stones. They were the cause of all this horror. She hated them more than she hated anything.
"Please, Claire!"
Overwhelmed, she collapsed and began to sob. Her body heaved and shook. She draped herself over his chest, wrapping her free arm about him, clinging to him as if holding on would keep him from slipping away.
"Cyrus?! Cyrus!" Voices screamed in her mind, mirroring her own pitiful cries. For a moment, even her sobbing stopped. She listened, motionless from the shock of it.
"Cyrus!" they called again. "Cyrus!"
She sat up and looked down at him, wiping tears away with her bloody hands. "Do you...? Did you hear that?"
Cyrus's eyes went unfocused, staring up at the sky. He blinked, muttering to himself.
"Cyrus?"
"Claire, there is something—" He let out a long groan, tightening his hold on her hand. "Listen to me now. Do you...the names I gave you...the betrayers...the Nasks. Do you remember?"
"I..." She was too upset to think clearly.
"Their names, Claire...the king...you must tell him. Tell him everything...tell no one else. You must keep your mission secret. Consider everyone a suspect. His Nasks...everywhere."
"Cyrus! Cyrus!" The same strange voices echoed in her mind. She tried to ignore the absurdity of it. The shock of his death was breaking her apart.
"Claire, promise me."
"I don't think...I can't," she cried. "I don't have the courage for it!"
"Courage?" A faint smile appeared on his face, even now. "You were so brave today...so brave. I have never witnessed such courage..." His approval made her sob harder. "You are my last hope, Claire." His voice was fading. Even now it was barely a whisper. "Please...I must let go...I must."
"Let go? No! Cyrus, you can't!"
"I cannot hold the poison any longer. It is...it is agony. Let me go!"
All she could do was shake her head violently.
"The names—do you remember the names?"
"No! Cyrus, I don't..."
"Repeat...so I know you will remember. Do you understand?"
She tried to speak but she merely croaked. He struggled to speak, saying both of the names, one after another. She obediently repeated them twice to make sure they would be remembered.
"Good." Cyrus exhaled, shutting his eyes. "Say them every day. Say them when you wake in the...in the morning...and before you sleep...Do not forget them!"
"I—I won't."
"Good. Now make...make your promise...the Unbreakable Promise...so I can die in peace."
"The—the what?"
Another fit of coughing took him. Blood splattered up during his fit. It leaked from the corners of his mouth. The poisonous blackness was quickly seeking to consume his face.
"It will be easy," he panted. "You need only repeat after me..."
Again she panicked. "No, Cyrus. Please..."
"You owe me one favor...remember? I call upon that favor now. Will you go back on your word so easily?"
"Damn it," she muttered. She'd forgotten her wager. Never in a million years would she have expected this. It was unfair. "I...I will be true to my word," she said, hating herself for it.
"Cyrus! Hold on brother. Hold on! We are coming for you."
Her forehead crinkled. "Cyrus, didn't you...I swear I heard—"
"You must repeat after me, Claire. Make the Unbreakable Promise."
"Okay," she squeaked, scared of whatever this Unbreakable Promise was. Cyrus shifted his body a little, but not without releasing an anguished cry through clenched teeth. He squeezed her hand so hard, she thought her bones might break.
Suddenly distracted, Cyrus began muttering and looking at the sky. His eyes were milking over. This was the end. She had seen it happen when her grandfather died. The way Cyrus's breath rattled, like death, she could hardly bear it. The death rattle, they called it, when a person was close.
"No," he muttered. "No. Please! I cannot go with you...I have things...things I must do...my time cannot...I must stay."
She stared at him, eyes wide. "What—Cyrus what is it?"
"Daudagher is here. He is here...ready to take me...but I cannot go with him. Not like my...My work is not done. Hurry. We must hurry!" He turned his white eyes upon her, energized by the crucial moment. "Claire? Claire, where are you?"
"I'm here. I'm here." She lifted his hand and placed it against her cheek.
He sighed. "Good...good. Repeat after me. Do you understand?"
"I—I understand." She could not refuse him any longer. She owed him a favor.
"Now repeat. I, Claire..."
"I, Claire." She echoed his words.
"Will transport the Stones...and...and the information I carry...directly to the king. I will not speak...not speak of it to a single soul...until my burden is safely delivered. I will not discuss anything that might jeopardize my mission. I will do everything...everything in my power to keep the Stones safe. This promise I make...the Unbreakable Promise...with the power vested within my soul. I will not...I will not rest for all the days of my life...up to my last...until it is fulfilled." He said this with great effort, breathing hard, gasping often, and wheezing.
She repeated his words, sentence by sentence. The moment she said the last word she felt a tingle—like a thread of energy—leave her body. Was it magic? Was she bound to her new fate?
"Thank the gods..." he gasped at last, laying his head back down, turning his unseeing gaze upwards.
"Cyrus..." She moved her face close to his as she continued to stroke his hair.
"It was not supposed to be...to be like this," he cried. "I wish...I wish there was another way..." He took a deep shaky breath. "It must be done."
"Cyrus?! He is dying, Reyr! Reyr, he is dying! Cyrus! Cyrus! Hold on! We are coming!"
She tried to ignore the shouting in her mind.
"Claire?" Cyrus whispered, unable to see her. "How...how many did you kill? Three? Four?"
"Four," she said.
"I thought I was saving you, but it is you who saved me."
"Cyrus..." She swallowed back a sob.
"I must...go now. I must pass from this body. Help me...Claire, help me to end it." He lifted his hand, reaching for her face. He groped blindly, so she grabbed it and laid it upon her cheek. "One more favor...I must ask one more favor..."
"Anything." Tears rolled down her face like rivers of pain, trying to carve new paths through her skin.
"One kiss...please...give me but one."
She blinked, speechless at first. "All—all right."
His eyes closed.
"Just a little longer, Cyrus. Please!" She ignored the voice again, battering against her consciousness. Instead she bent her head down, touching her lips against Cyrus's. The world around her began to slow. With heightened senses, she was aware of the soft warmth of his skin and the tingles upon hers. She felt the slow exhale from his nose tickle hers. It was almost magical, the deep feelings that resonated within her, like the humming strings of an instrument.
The bombarding shouts heightened in her mind. "Cyrus! Do not leave us!" And another, a different voice screaming, "Nooo!" More cries followed. The change in their tones, from cries of reassurance to cries of anguish, startled her.
She opened her eyes and pulled away from Cyrus. Her gaze traced his familiar face. It was still, motionless, empty. Cyrus was...dead.
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