To Love a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,51
she brought her hand around to inspect the object.
The small, wooden dart was no longer than her pointer finger, carved of pale wood that was stained dark at the tip. Small, downy feathers were attached at the other end like fletching, and they were also stained—these a rusty red brown.
The color of long-dried blood.
Leyloni knew exactly what she was looking at, but she did not understand how it was possible. After days of rain, how had they found her trail?
She spun toward camp and yelled, “Arysteon, run!”
The nearby underbrush shook in several places. Leyloni stepped back, eyes wide and heart racing, as figures from her nightmares emerged from the greenery and stepped down onto the riverbank.
She counted four, all female, all equipped for the hunt—or for war. Two wore masks fashioned from human skulls, another a helm made from an antlered stag skull. Their leathers and furs were worn and dingy, adorned with braids of human hair and sun-bleached bones—knuckles, ribs, broken jaws, teeth. What she could see of their faces were smeared with black paint.
Did any of those bones belong to Leyloni’s sisters? Her father? Was any of that leather made from human flesh?
With spears and clubs in hand, the Bone Wraiths advanced on Leyloni.
Unarmed and outnumbered, Leyloni knew she was doomed, knew the fear in her heart was warranted. She could not win this fight alone. But she could do as her father had done and give Arysteon time to escape with Serek.
Anger, hotter and brighter than the flames that had consumed her village, roared to life in her chest, cocooning her heart and eliminating the chill of her fear. These Bone Wraiths had taken everyone from her. They would take no one else.
“Our sisters have already surrounded your camp,” said the Bone Wraith with the deer skull. “Your males will strengthen our bloodline, and your flesh will sustain us. You cannot stop us, little lamb.”
Leyloni gritted her teeth against the tingling that was spreading across her back and the lightheadedness accompanying it. “Your blood will feed this river before any of that will come to pass.”
Deer Skull stared at Leyloni unwaveringly, her eyes as cold, gray, and hard as any of the river stones underfoot. She and her companions were within a few paces now—too far for Leyloni to close the distance before they could lift their spears and clubs in defense—and seemed in no hurry to draw closer.
They were content to let their poisoned dart do the work, the cowards.
Leyloni refused to let them claim so easy a victory.
She took a step forward and gave in to her growing unsteadiness, allowing her legs to buckle. She fell hard onto hands and knees, scraping her skin and jolting her whole body, but the pain was distant—due as much to her fury as the poison’s effects.
Mother Eurynome, please see Serek and Arysteon to safety.
The Bone Wraiths snickered.
Leyloni watched through her tangled curls as two of the Bone Wraiths—the ones with human skull masks—approached her, the smooth river stones shifting under their boots. She thrust aside conscious thought, focusing all her willpower on her rage and grief—on her love. Her limbs trembled with fresh strength, which fought back that tingling sensation. She knew that strength would not last long.
“Another weak little lamb,” said one of the two Bone Wraiths as she neared. “Hopefully her meat is tender.”
One of the approaching women stopped directly in front of Leyloni, and the other positioned herself on Leyloni’s left.
A shrill, undulating whistle echoed from deeper within the forest, the sound somehow human and inhuman at once.
“Our sisters are having trouble catching their quarry,” said Deer Skull. “Ready the lamb to travel.”
Leyloni closed her fingers around a fist-sized stone, growled through her teeth, and slammed the stone down on the foot of the woman before her. It struck with a dull thump—and a crunch that Leyloni felt more than heard.
The wounded Wraith cried out in pain and startlement, staggering backward a step.
Leyloni was already shoving her torso upright, lashing out with her free hand to catch the shaft of the injured Bone Wraith’s spear. She tugged on the weapon with all her might, twisting it toward the woman on her left.
Already thrown off balance, the hobbled Bone Wraith was unable to offer much resistance. The head of her spear struck her companion’s thigh, punching through the hide skirt and burying itself deep in the flesh beneath. The stabbed woman screamed in anguish.
Leyloni screamed, too, but hers was filled with fury and grief. She would