To Defend A Bride (Entangled with the Enduar #3)

Chapter 39

Chapter 39

RA’SA

M y soul feels more cracked than whole.

So many... so many gone forever.

Today, as I walk away from my family and into the fight, I am flanked by an army of the fallen. I will wage a rebellion bloody enough to yank the gaze of the gods from their cosmic toils and focus on our wretched souls. They will watch today, and with luck, some will heed our plight. The stones of fate may sing again, a song of triumph. Those who rise from the ashes will walk into the light as free men and women.

My face turns to the sky, where a thick pillar of smoke billows.

A bitter taste coats my tongue, and my palms grow clammy.

The rebellion has begun.

I take a deep breath, taking the chill deep into my lungs.

Our entrance to Zlosa was accompanied by smoke and the burning of the slave pens. The same sign will mark our departure.

The high of killing, the anticipation and worry of what is to come is something that is nearly too much for me.

Instinct takes me to the dead giants scattered throughout the forest.

When I arrive, I halt.

This is a wasteland.

I had watched it happen, made it happen, but walking through it felt like being thrust into ice water. It looks like some great drake had ravaged the land.

The crushed bodies of giants are grotesque. Limbs twist at odd angles, and entrails scattered across the snow. Some must've died instantly from the blast, with one of the boulders crushing skull and face at once, while others suffered under the weight of the rock.

The sun paints them all a gruesome picture, but something stirs—something small and distinctly non-giant. It calls to me from the other end of the clearing, and I follow, stepping lightly over the carnage.

Half a dozen paces take me to the middle of the area, and I look to find one of the trees and a small human leg sticking out.

I freeze, knowing instantly whom that leg belongs to.

My jaw clenches, and I let out a huff.

Abet. He killed those who went to the meeting with me and tried to kill me. He threatened my bride. A man I had worked alongside for weeks. I had been so sure that he was a man worthy of trusting.

I had been wrong. Stupidly so.

A part of me wants to keep walking, to let him lie there.

But I hear a feeble cry for help.

It agitates my soul, which answers before my mind can object. I walk forward and drop to my knees. My hands shake from the anger and frustration, and I lift the tree.

Beneath it, Abet cries out. The sound pricks at my ears.

"I can't move," he moans.

Begrudgingly, I use my tail to wrap around his non-crushed leg and pull him out. He barks in pain, and I drop the tree and turn to him. His graying hair is caked with snow and blood, and when I kneel to grab his face, he lets out a grunt. His skin is cold to the touch.

Too cold to survive for much longer.

His lips have already gone half purple, and the bottom half of his body is entirely soaked in blood.

I look down at him, and he stares up at me, not full of ire and spite... but sadness.

"I should leave you to die,” I seethe.

He stares at me, a wheezing sound coming with each breath.

"It would be the right thing to do," he responds.

I tighten my fists. "You killed men in cold blood. You tried to kill me!"

If his body weren't already so broken, I would've shaken his shoulder. Thrown him to the ground and stomped on his throat. But he continues to look up toward me, pitiful and wholly at my mercy.

All the fury and bitter words melt off of my tongue, and as I look down at him, I can only think of one single, solitary word.

"Why?"

He looks up at me and struggles to breathe. "My woman was taken by the giants a month ago. They told me that she would be questioned. They told me that if I wanted to see her alive again, then I would do as they wished."

For a second, it is just us. The breeze, the blooming morning, and two men, once friends, now enemies.

And then I think of myself. What I would do for the woman I hid in a cabin. I let the air push out of my body and swallow thickly.

I think of what the giants did to Queen Estela. How she skirted around the camp, eying the water with mistrust. I think of what they did to my sweet Melisa, how they cut her and threw her in a pit to starve. What things must they have done to this man's partner?

He leans forward and lets out a hacking cough. Blood sprays over his shirt, my pants, and the snow.

"You were a strange-looking human, but you look... right, as one of those trolls," he says a second later. "I always knew you were keeping secrets."

"I didn't think you kept secrets. I thought you were a good man when we worked together," I say.

"Good, bad, what does it matter? We all die in the end. No god is waiting to receive me in the afterlife," he labored bitterly.

"I do not relate to someone who would betray his friends,” I reply.

"The giants believe they do good by their family. I did good by my family, too. She was all I had,” he says after a minute.

I take a deep breath. "You did good by trying to ruin your people’s chance at freedom. For what? To keep her serving under the giant’s thumb?"

"To keep her living. You delude yourself into thinking that there is a life after this. We will never break free from Zlosa, troll. You should know that," he says.

I step back. “We’re already breaking free.”

"Lies. We may be free in the physical, but we will never escape the constant thoughts of what it was like to be here. What has happened to us will decide every action we take for the rest of our lives. And to go from one master to another sounds as good as cutting off my own toes. I stayed, and I kept my woman alive a little longer," he confesses. Each word is slower and slower to fall out of his mouth.

"I will die. And you all will die, too,” he adds after a moment.

His words cut deep.

“No, I won’t.”

He coughs again, and more blood sprays over his dirt-crusted shirt.

I could end his suffering right here and let the ghost of his words linger in this cursed grave.

But instead, his voice sounds in my head. You saved those men—let it be enough .

Then compassion moves me again.

"Kill me," he requests. "It would be a kindness."

I look down at him and wonder what my father would do. Would he show mercy upon those who betrayed him? Especially one who had acted out of reasons he deemed noble?

I didn't know.

"I never told them I was suspicious of you," he says a moment later. "Most bought your story, but I knew when I looked at you. You looked like a man with a purpose, not some half-breed. Not something common in this place."

For a moment, I take in the words, and then I let out a long breath.

“Where is your woman?” I ask at last.

He coughs again, and his wheezing intensifies. “She’ll be dead now.”

My mouth parts. “But I thought?—”

“I was meant to bring your head by midnight. They had her ready to hang.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “But maybe…”

“She’s dead. I can feel it,” he chokes. “And now, I wish to follow.”

I nod, then kneel before him. "I will help you.”

The only response is another cough. The man before me is broken beyond repair. Not forgiven, but understood.

For the consideration he gave me, I would grant him compassion with the cold embrace of death.

I form a blade from the ground. The stones come slowly to my palm, pulling past the snow and causing small mounds of white ice crystals to form around my legs, burrowing me in the chill. My hand wraps around the makeshift handle with ease, one that has come to me as I trained over a lifetime of stone bending, and then I plunge it into his heart. There is one last gurgle as the light leaves his eyes.

All that is left is a mangled vessel.

Pushing back to my feet, a bittersweet emotion takes over my senses. I look around at the dead bodies of giants scattered around him.

Being left out to rot among enemies would be a disgraceful end. I am unsettled. Though Abet betrayed me, leaving him out here would speak more of me than him. He acted in cruelty. I do not wish to—not like this.

So I step back and call upon my power once more. The sluggishness is concerning, but I dig and push him into a shallow grave. Once he is covered, I let out a long breath.

My eyes return to the vast sky, where Grutabela lives in the distance. I don't know if I have enough strength to hope that he goes to a place of peace, but I ask the goddess to guide him where he belongs.

My love, are you well? Melisa’s voice emerges from the depths of my mind.

Hearing her voice tugs at something fragile inside of me.

Well enough, I say back. Has anyone turned up on your doorstep?

A few women. We are making do with the space we have, but I worry.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

I worry, too.

Ra’Sa, Melisa starts.

Yes?

There are two comfort women. They didn’t come with us when we escaped last time. Daria is a comfort woman in the northern lumber yards. Alisa lives near her. Will you get them?

Yes, Ruh’flor. Take care of our little Thea and Wren. Please, be well, and remember what I told you. If you don’t hear from me in three days…

A kind hand brushes through the bond in acknowledgment, and then she leaves me. The loss of her sweet voice in my head is unwanted, but it is for the best. I must focus. A little time apart now will soon be rewarded with a life together.

Weary and tired, I walk toward the slave pens. Crossing the fence, I walk inside and find humans everywhere. A group of men are huddled in the middle, and I ask, “Report. Who knows anything about the smoke?”

A few turn back, but I’m surprised to see Felip guzzling water. He is utterly winded, probably from running.

“Rasa,” he says, standing. “El Lobo sends word. They are burning the barracks.”

“Good. Keep evacuating to ensure we can all leave."

We have few supplies and even fewer people who can be spared to help.

Still, those available nod and get to work. Men and women hurry through the structures, yelling for others to come.

Humans pour out of houses and follow the small group of men. I let them go and start preparing for the upcoming conflict.

Those who stay behind sharpen the dull tools upon rocks and boulders that I conjure. I lay out our old plan and even run exercises to show them how to defend against an enemy.

We gather and scavenge and plunder and train for hours until the sun passes the midpoint in the sky.

And then, someone arrives at the other side of the barricade.

"Blue one!" a human voice yells.

I move through the horde of men and supplies toward the wooden structure made of tables, chairs, benches, and parts of roofs.

I climb to the top to see El Lobo.

My eyes go wide.

"Friend! You live!" I call down.

"Not for long," he retorts with a chuckle.

Blood covers his face and hands, and he doesn't even try to wipe it off. He stands there, some giant warrior’s spear in hand, and looks me over, from my head to my feet.

“It looks like you’ve also fought hard, no?” he calls up.

I look behind him at the four men accompanying him. They all are equally bloody, but some are burned.

“There are a few materials for healing inside here. Come,” I reassure.

He sucks his teeth. “Thank you.”

They make quick work of climbing.

“The fires still burn, reducing what is left of those damned quarters to ash,” El Lobo begins. “Many were lost in the attack on the barracks. But many more giants are gone, thanks to your idea."

We climb back down, and I brush the snow and splinters from my pants.

When I turn, El Lobo shakes his fist to the sky. "The bastards thought they would squash us like a bug, and we went straight for their throat. May Khuohr forsake them in the afterlife for their weakness!"

I laugh at his exuberance. My own gods are a pair of powerful, righteous deities. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be cast out of our afterlife, Vidalena, for the ache would be too great to tell. To be separated from my Enduar family would be a fate worse than death.

After a moment, I change the subject and ask, “Do you need help in the city?”

“No. Even after the purges, we are still outnumbered by the giant warriors, three to one. This is not a battle that will be easily won, and we need to start mobilizing to escape.”

“Right you are,” I respond.

He walks at my side, closer to the groups of men practicing their knife skills.

“Otherwise, we will be a bunch of humans lost in the forests, waiting for the giants, wolves, and whatever creatures lurk between the trees to pick us off,” he says with a laugh.

I hum in agreement as we walk back to the pile of supplies that the humans had gathered before sending the women off with my Melisa.

“We have already sent humans to the old meeting place. They won’t be safe there for long.”

El Lobo shakes his head. “No, they won’t.”

“However, we could spare a few men, they could start the journey to the Enduar Mountains early,” I say. I observe his expression—no one save Melisa has explicitly told me they wanted to go there. Their eagerness for a human queen has caused me to assume it, but I do not wish to take anyone who does not want to go.

The men before me are silent for a long moment. El Lobo’s jaw tenses and releases several times. I take a deep breath, counting the seconds before he opens his mouth.

“That is wise. We will consider such things—but we won’t be able to get them out for a few days,” he says decidedly.

“Excellent,” I say measuredly. “Thank you for the barracks. No giants came to change guard this morning, and we spent the time gathering anything we could find. Food, tools, supplies, and the like. Some of it is piled up there, where you’ll find herbs and bandages.” I gesture to a large pile of tools.

Honestly, I don’t know how the men found so much since the tools I used in the lumber yards were always carefully monitored.

The one with the burns thanks me and rummages through for bandages to bind his wounds.

“Any new clothes?” one of the men with El Lobo asks.

I point at one of the men passing by, a few blankets in his arms.

“You!” I call. “Where are the other supplies?”

The man visibly flinches as I call to him. He nods meekly and then points to a house on the far wall. I thank him and take the rebellion leader over with me.

El Lobo is silent as he inspects everything.

I look at the pitiful piles of things stacked up—holed blankets, meager clothes, buckets, and large stretches of oiled fabric. Tent canvas, I realize.

No food, but hollowed gourds for water. My heart races. How the hell will we survive a week of walking and camping with this?

The men at my side aren’t so easily discouraged.

“This is an excellent start,” El Lobo says. Then he turns to me, graying hair looking like strands of silver in the weak light. The curve of his spine looks less noticeable, but there is still a slight limp to his step.

I meet his eyes, trying to ignore the twinge of dread in my gut. These men aren’t warriors, or hunters, or fighters. They are strong, but their bodies have been broken repeatedly, and they lack technique.

“I think we should use these slave pens as stockpiles. We’ll be heading to the other dozen pens that remain. We will liberate them, take their supplies, and bring them here.”

Unease stirs inside me.

“Each will be harder than the last. This one was easy because they did not know we were coming. The same grace won’t be extended to us twice. It will be a bloody way ahead,” I say grimly.

El Lobo and the men around him shift their weight uneasily. Then, a young one in the back speaks up.

“You are right, but the life our kind has been forced to live for over a century must stop. The simpering half-life of serving others must stop.”

My heart clenches. “I agree.”

“So we fight,” El Lobo states firmly.

I nod.

“Everything is in chaos right now. We should go to the next pen while the giants are still reeling,” I suggest.

The men behind him nod in unison.

“It will help spread the word of our cause to the other humans, too,” another man chimes in.

I agree, “Let us gather the men.”