Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,85

looked at him; he didn’t know if they’d heard him. “Run!”

He pushed his companions ahead of him, urging them down the path toward the forest and what he hoped would be safety. As he ran, he dared a look over his shoulder and saw the wall of grass at the end of the path slam down, missing his heels by inches. Six feet of grass came down on the path from all directions, engulfing the one-eyed man’s ravaged corpse. When it rose, the body was gone.

They raced down the hewn trail but Khirro felt as though he ran in dream-time, his legs pumping but carrying him nowhere. Ahead, Shyn and Ghaul pulled away. He glanced down, thinking suck sand hidden beneath the grass slowed him, but it was the grass itself. Yellow blades reached from all sides, grasping at his arms and legs. He pulled away, but a few hung on, slowing him, and the slower he moved, the more blades that gained purchase. Panic flashed through his head as he realized exactly what had happened to their pursuer. If he didn’t free himself, the same fate awaited him.

Khirro called for help, but the howling field drowned his cries. He reached for his sword knowing Ghaul’s blade brought this upon them, so the weapon likely wouldn’t help, but what else could he do? His fingertips grazed the polished pommel before the grass wrenched his arm away.

He reached again, stretching as far as his bonds allowed, but his fingers only brushed it. Struggling and straining, Khirro stumbled on; a blade of grass finally broke giving him enough play to wrap his fingers around the grip. He drew the black blade, steel singing against leather above the grassy cacophony.

The sword didn’t reflect sunlight the way a normal sword did, instead sucking in the light, feeding upon it. The red runes scrawling along the length of the blade crawled and flowed like blood in veins below the surface of the steel. Khirro brandished the weapon above his head, readying to cut himself free, when the grass released him. He stumbled to the ground, disappearing into the rusty grass, then clamored to his feet with the coppery smell of blood in his nostrils. Ahead, Shyn and Ghaul reached the edge of the field and gestured him on as Elyea joined them, the concern on her face plain even from this distance.

Khirro looked back. The grass which had been holding him had retreated from the path. At the far end, where the one-eyed man had been, the tall grass on either side crashed together like waves colliding where opposing currents met. The line of grass surged toward him and he turned and ran, sword in hand, breath shallow and quick. At the end of the path, his companions moved aside, making room. He didn’t dare look back. If he let fear slow him, it would mean his life.

Thirty feet from safety, he felt a rush of air at his back as the wave of grass bore down on him. The sheer volume of air being moved pushed him off balance and he lunged forward, desperate to be free of the cursed field. His shoulder struck rocky earth and he rolled with the impact, coming to rest on his back, eyes closed tight, waiting to be crushed by the deadly grass.

After a moment, he opened his eyes to see blue sky above, and then Elyea’s relieved face. Her mouth pulled into a strained smile and her lips moved, asking if he was all right. He nodded as best he could then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Chapter Thirty

Shyn stepped from behind the tree, fastening the final button of his tunic. He was self-conscious about transforming and had only allowed them to see it the one time.

“Well?” Ghaul asked impatiently.

Khirro didn’t understand why, after all that had happened, he still didn’t trust Shyn. Perhaps they’d never get along.

“There’s nothing to see. The forest is too dense.”

“What use is a man who turns into a bird if he sees no more than a man who can’t?”

“Perhaps you’d like to try?”

“Enough,” Elyea snapped. “The two of you arguing like children doesn’t help us find our way.” She looked at Khirro sitting on a fallen cedar, Athryn silent beside him. He read the question on her face before words left her lips. “Think, Khirro. Which way do we go?”

The forest around them was thicker and quieter than a forest should be. No bird calls shrilled the air, no animals