Blood and Bone

Chapter 3:

Kael growled, baring his teeth and coming between Aria and the mouth of the cave.

"Stay behind me."

"I can fight," whispered Aria, with hands grasping the edge of the stone wall, breathing tremulously. "I must not fight."

"You can hardly walk," Kael retorted, not unkindly. His tone was changed to a deeper, more anxious tone. "They do not intend to be merciful. It is necessary to survive."

A growl again came through the trees, now louder. The next voice was a sharp, sweet voice, like poison sweetened with sugar — Talia.

"Well, Kael, come along. As you may be aware of how this would end. Give her up."

Kael never said a word. His silence was made of iron. Then he pulled out a second cutlass out of the scabbard at his back, and the blade flashed in the firelight with silent menace.

The noise of Aria’s heartbeat was so loud that it could not be heard. She was conscious of her wolf walking around in her, frightened but awake  awake as never before.

Boots were crushing leaves that were frost-bitten outside. Figures slinked in the woods, round and round and around. Lucien’s warriors. Aria knew their growls. She had fetched and carried them, kneeled before them, and cleaned their armor of blood.

And now they wanted her blood.

"Kael," she whispered again. "I will assist you."

He turned, only a little. His countenance was as a stone, yet his voice grew mild.

"And when you die, it is all a waste of choice on the part of the Moon."

And the cave burst into sound.

Talia jumped, a blaze of silver hair and gleaming nails, her wolf shape halfway out. Kael intercepted her in the air, his blade hitting the line of her swing. They rolled in a tangle on the surface of the cave — legs and arms and snarling and sparks of steel.

Another warrior rushed through the cave mouth, and Aria ducked. She turned over with a cry of pain in her ribs. Her hand fell on a rocky stone. Her brain failed to think, but she picked it up and swung around as the warrior leaped. The rock touched his jaw. He staggered.

Aria did not wait. She ran.

Into the elements, into the howling trees, and Kael was a whirlwind, a whirling blade  and blood flung like paint on the snow.

Talia hissed in the dimness.

"You will be sorry you cannot die in that cave, Omega."

Aria did not listen anymore. Something within her had burst loose  or had been jolted to its senses.

One of the soldiers extended his hand to her arm. She bit him. He shrieked and shrank. She used against him his moment of weakness by kicking him. She kicked him on the knee, and he went sprawling onto a tree.

She never had fought before. Not like this. Not with fire in her veins.

Now Kael was keeping three of them off, but he was bleeding at the arm. Talia was winging around him like a vulture with her eyes fixed on Aria.

"Do you believe that he will be able to defend you all the time?" Talia spat. "You are a mistake. A scar. A shame."

The vision pounded red in Aria. The words were disastrous  too disastrous. She remembered Lucien, his smile, the expression on his face, the expression of disgust.

She had had enough of being the laughingstock.

She came forward.

"The Moon selected me."

Talia laughed.

"You? The poor little crumb-suck of a mutt with mud under her nails? The Moon does not err  but Lucien sets it right."

Aria flinched. Doubt once more came back.

Then the voice of Kael came in.

"You don’t want her to win, Aria."

Her name  did he not speak with scorn, with mockery?

It was a belief.

A spark burned in her.

Then... her back was burning. She groaned and fell on her knees, and the pain ran through her back. Wind and fire and lightning were one in bone. She screamed, and her hands raked the snow.

"What is this?" Talia spoke in low tones and then fell silent.

Light burst out of the shoulder blades of Aria. There was a white and silver wound around her back, a very ancient one and an animated one.

The Rune of the Moon Goddess.

Kael stood still in the middle of the struggle. The warriors also stopped.

"It cannot be..." one of them whispered.

So Talia backed away, her anger chopped by terror.

"She is... she is marked."

The breath of Aria came in short, crazy gasps. She did not feel pain anymore, but her skin was burning. Only clarity. Only strength.

She arose gradually. The mark was still glowing. The forest was quiet.

Kael looked at her as though he was looking at her for the first time.

"You are coming to life."

She whispered, "I do not know what is going on with me."

"Your wolf... your blood... it is coming out."

Then the earth shook.

There was a howl  and yet not of the warriors, not of Kael, and not of her.

It was something more primitive. Something deeper.

A Moon calls itself.

The wolves that were around them started trembling.

Talia drew back.

"We were mistaken. She is not merely a cursed Omega..."

Aria started, with open eyes, at her. She answered slowly,

"I am the Moon-Blessed."

Then more loudly:

"Thou hadst denied the will of the Moon."

Talia started to flee, and Kael interposed between her and the blade.

"Not now."

Then came mayhem again.

Kael sprang ahead. Aria moved as well, and her hands were directed by her instinct.

They fought together; they were no longer prey, but something that was emerging.

The troops of Lucien miscarried. The luminosity of Aria’s mark caused them to hesitate. Their steps were crept with fear.

One after the other, they started to flee.

The last of them fell on Kael’s blade.

The snow was blood-red, steam was coming off bodies lying under moonlight.

Then, silence.

There was another crackle of fire in the cave behind them. Aria was in the snow, stained with blood, gasping, trembling  but not dead.

Changed.

Kael came slowly and cautiously.

"It has got something old in you," he answered. "Even I do not know what it all means."

Aria nodded in a daze.

And just then, hooves were heard.

She turned.

In the distance, through the darkness of night, was coming a procession of horses, banners, and the unmistakable atmosphere of royalty.

In the centre of it all sat Lucien Nightfall, mounted on a black horse.

His eyes met with hers.

And they were not disgusted, the first time.

They were terror-stricken.