stared at him intently. "Let’s get him out of here!"
The bandages on his arm stretched from a swelling underneath. "Aaaaah!" Handers screamed. The stitches popped, hard bulging muscles ripped through the white cloth, ripping the bandages to shreds. The cord around his wrist snapped.
In one swift movement Handers grabbed the man on his back with his massive black hand and threw him across the room.
He pulled himself to his feet, huffing.
The man he had just thrown was already up with his sword drawn. He charged, "Hrrrrrraaah!" He was across the room in an instant, bringing his sword down on Handers in a blur of motion.
As a reflex, Handers shot his black arm up to block the blade. The impact made a sickening wet slap. Then the blade was still in his clenched palm. He'd caught a striking blade in his bare hand! Without injury!
His rage was bubbling over, spread across his body uncontrollably. He gave into it, focusing all his anger on the sword in his hand. He flexed, twisting his wrist against the tip of the sword, curling it over on itself.
His anger shifted to the man who was still holding on to the sword. His raised his swollen arm and lifted the solider up into the air then turned to the side and whipped him back and forth against the floor and wall, flipping him around like he was on the end of a string.
The other soldier crawled out the doorway as fast as he could with his one good leg. The soldier's fear shocked him. He was afraid of him!
Handers dropped the sword and the man holding it and ran out the door stepping over the crawling soldier.
His arm. The power of it was frightening. He'd never hurt anyone like that before. It was upsetting. It was upsetting that it felt good. That seemed a bit monstrous. And he was no monster.
He ran out into the courtyard. The light still glimmered brightly up on the mountain side. He still had time.
Chapter
TEN
Moslin pushed Emret's chair over the dead fern leaves and pine needles of the forest floor. The underbrush, like the larger trees above them, had twisted itself to point in a specific direction. The lower bushes and ferns had even leaned to the side to form a path for his chair.
As they moved forward, the forest shifted ahead of them into its new shape, cutting into the silence with an eerie hiss of fluttering leaves and a deep, guttural moan of the thicker trunks and branches. The unnerving sound reverberated behind them as the forest they’d passed returned to its previous form.
Moslin studied the unnaturally bent branches and leaves around her, touching a trunk with her finger tips as she passed by. "This is extraordinary," She muttered to herself.
Emret smiled. It was better than extraordinary. It was everything he had hoped for. It was an offering of life. It was proof of the power that would heal him. It was truly going to happen! He thought.
The chair stopped abruptly. Emret turned back to her. She was staring through the trees down the mountain. "What?" He asked.
"Shhh." she whispered. "Look!" She pointed in the direction that she was looking. Emret saw movement passing behind the trees. He leaned over his chair and strained to see clearer.
It looked like Petra. Petra soldiers. Lots of them. He tried counting as they passed through a break in the trees but gave up after the first dozen. "What are they doing up here?" He asked.
"I don't know." She said.
SNAP! A branch cracked in the forest above them. They both wheeled around towards the sound.
A half dozen Botann Militia men dropped down silently from the trees landing in a half circle in front of them. Moslin spun the chair around only to find another group behind them. She tried darting between them into the clear trees. But it was too late. The militia was too close. Before she'd gotten the chair past the first tree, they'd already moved in to cut her off.
She circled around the chair trying to keep herself in between them and the boy. "What do you want?"
The Captain of the small band of men, the same that had been watching them earlier stepped forward. "Come with us, please. His holiness has requested your presence."
"We were just there!" Moslin protested.
The Captain pointed towards the forest back in the direction of the Shishkameen. "Please. Time is of the essence."
"Oh is it? And why's that?" She demanded.
He looked back at his men.