Page 41

EXCERPT OF DROP OF BLOOD

Chapter 1

Thesha

We watch him approach. A shadowy figure in the murky light. Clods of thick mud fly up from the hooves of his galloping horse. The animal is breathing hard, its flanks white with glistening sweat. Hooves thud against the loose, wet ground, nostrils flaring. The poor beast is moving fast, considering that it’s not very tall and clearly fatigued.

“They’re coming,” Ethan says, his voice low. We are a group eighteen strong. Ethan and I are at the front. A horse snorts, and another stomps its hoof. We’re all on edge, both animal and human alike.

I don’t answer him because it’s a given that they’re coming. The bloodfae are predictable. Those bastards make this trip several times a moon cycle. Always on the same days, but never from the same place. They hunt across the whole kingdom, leaving none of the settlements in peace. I hate all of the seven kinds of fae, but these are the worst. Bloodsuckers, the lot of them, and for what? Power? Pleasure? Food? Hah, they don’t need our blood to survive. Is there more to it? I don’t care either way. No human life is worth whatever they derive from our veins.

I let my eyes wander across the once grassy plains of Babel as Basil continues toward us. We are central, and the openness of the plains allows for relatively swift riding so that we can intercept them. Perfect for an ambush. Except this will be our third time taking this approach. I’m skeptical that a third will be as effective, if at all. Those damn fae are a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

Ethan shifts in his saddle, the leather creaking as he does.

I don’t look at him; my eyes are on our scout. Everyone’s attention is on him.

“Basil had better have good news.” He sounds ready for battle. From the chatter that builds behind us, I would say that he is not alone. There is a possibility that they are coming from the wrong direction. The region that was once desert is too open for an ambush. If they’re coming from there, we’ll need to abandon our efforts and try another day.

Basil is crouched low over his saddle, allowing his horse to move more freely. Poor sod’s thighs must be burning. His coat is billowing behind him. He slows a little as he nears us. His eyes are wide, and his hands are white-knuckled on the reins.

My horse nickers in greeting. She tosses her head, anticipating what is to come. I hold tightly onto the plaited leather of my reins as she prances.

“Easy, Star.” I put a hand on her generous black coat. Her mane is thick and shaggy. Our horses might be much smaller than the steeds we once rode, but they are strong and sure-footed. I could ask for no more trustworthy a companion and friend.

Ethan snorts. “I still don’t know why you named that beast Star.” He looks upward. “It’s not like we’ve seen one of them in a very long time.”

Always the pessimist about things that truly count. I can still remember what the night sky looked like. Just like I can still remember how the sun’s rays felt on my back. I ignore Ethan. He has grown tedious of late. His sheer arrogance and closed-mindedness are wearing on me.

Basil skids to a halt before us. Both he and his horse are breathing hard. So hard that he can’t speak for a few long moments.

“They’re coming,” he finally pushes out. His mouth is open wide, sucking in air.

I hand him a skin of water, feeling the urgency rise inside me. I shove down my impatience, keeping in mind how hard Basil has ridden. Sweat clings to his brow, and his pale complexion has taken on a gray hue.

“Which direction?” Ethan asks, impatience laced in his voice.

Basil sucks in a few more lungfuls of air. “East…through the Forest of Tul.” He drinks greedily from my skin for a few moments before the need for air forces him to stop. He gulps in big, heaving breaths.

I think about what he just said. That means we can ambush them if we have sufficient time. My gut churns, and bile rises in my throat.

“How close?” Ethan snaps.

Basil is about to drink from the skin again when Ethan leans forward and knocks it from his hand.

“How close?” he grits out. His eyes have narrowed.

I jump from Star and retrieve the now almost empty skin. I glare at Ethan, who takes no notice of me. Clean water is impossible to find, and making water drinkable is an arduous task.

“They will reach the end of the forest soon enough.” The whites of Basil’s eyes look huge. “Not more than an hour. You will need to leave soon if you wish to surprise them.” His chest heaves.

“I still think that this is risky,” I say. “They will be expecting us this time.” I have a gut feeling about this, but Ethan won’t hear of it. I seal the waterskin and mount my horse, tying the skin to my saddle pack.

“Nonsense,” Ethan growls. “We ambushed them at the Blackwater ponds the first time. That’s half a day’s ride east.” He points in the general direction.

I want to correct him. They’re the Whitewater ponds. Just because the water no longer runs clean doesn’t mean the name has changed. I hold my tongue.

“A few moons ago, it was at the Deadman’s Valley,” he goes on. “They will not be expecting us in the Forest of Tul.” He shakes his head. There are murmurs of agreement among the men. His brows lift. “You were at the meeting this morning; it has already been decided, Thesha. We ride now, and there is no time to argue.” He starts to turn his horse in the direction Basil just rode from.

“It’s a mistake. They will be expecting us this time. They’re not stupid. I think that we got lucky in the Deadman’s Valley. They are ready for us this time.” I give it a last-ditch attempt. I can feel it in my gut, and my instincts very rarely steer me wrong.

“Did you see more fae than normal?” Ethan asks Basil.

“Only one more, since there are two wagons this time,” Basil replies. “So, only ten of them. We can handle one extra fae.” He shrugs, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Think of how many slaves we can free, Thesha. We can’t let them take our people.”

“I hear you, but I don’t like it. What good will it do if we are captured? There will be no one left to stand against these vermin.” I shake my head, feeling my long braid against my back. Kakara’s cat, it must have come loose during the ride here. “I think it’s folly. It might be a trap.”

“It’s not a trap,” Ethan grumbles, sounding frustrated. “Are you on your moon’s blood?”

There are sniggers from all around us. I feel my cheeks heat, but it is from anger rather than embarrassment. He likes to use the fact that I am a woman against me.

“Perhaps you should go back to camp,” Ethan sneers. “The bloodfae are driven mad by the scent of fresh—”

“You can stop right there, Ethan. We are wasting time. I vote against this ambush. They will be prepared this time. Mark my words.”

“You’re wrong.” He smirks at me.

“I don’t think it’s a trap,” Jack says from behind Ethan.

“Nope, not a trap,” Basil agrees, shaking his head. “I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

“I think you’re all wrong.” I look Ethan in the eye.

“Do you want to bet?” His eyes narrow and drift down to my breasts. I’m wearing leather armor, so I know he can’t see my shape. My breasts are mashed beneath the thick hide. My skin crawls, nonetheless. He has made no secret of his wish to bed me. Ethan can try all he likes; it will never happen.

Our leader is good-looking and very charming when he wants to be, but I can tell that he has no idea how to please a woman. He’s far too selfish.

“I’m sure we could come up with a wager that would leave us both winners,” Ethan smirks over his shoulder, and some of the men openly laugh.

I snort, unable to help myself. “It would seem that your idea of winning and my idea of winning are very different indeed.”

Ethan’s face turns red with anger. Someone coughs behind us, trying to hold back a laugh.

“We ride, Thesha, and either you are with us, or you can escort Basil back to camp. Maybe you should go and work in the healer’s tent. It’s that, or I hear that Franny is looking for another cook. Maybe that’s more your speed, especially if you’ve lost your nerve for battle.” Ethan kicks his horse so sharply that the poor beast grunts before taking off at a sharp clip.

The rest of the men go after him, and Star prances beneath me, snorting and flicking her head. Thomas looks back at me over his shoulder. I catch a look of pity in his eye. Well, he can save it. I don’t need his pity.

Ethan can be such a prick. I push out a heavy sigh and touch my feet to my girl’s flanks. She leaps forward, eager to join the rest of the horses. I have a horrible feeling they are going to need my help. It looks like Ethan’s arrogance is contagious. It’s a dangerous trait, particularly dangerous when it comes to our dealings with the bloodfae. They’re the most ruthless of all of the fae species. A shiver runs through me as I put my leg more firmly on Star, urging her to go faster.

Chapter 2

Xander

I spit blood from my mouth. My tongue feels thick, and another gush of warmth fills my cheek with the taste of copper. Hades be damned, but my tongue is still bleeding from when I clamped down on it with my teeth earlier. One of my eyes is swollen tightly shut, and breathing hurts to the point where I know I broke at least one, if not two, ribs.

I look down and note that my arm has stopped bleeding. That’s something. Not much, but I’ll take it. I shift in my seat, trying to get more comfortable in the tightly packed wagon, and am rewarded with an elbow to my side. I grunt, thankful it was to my good side, although “good” is pushing it.

The wagon lurches and rocks, bumping along the forest path. It feels overgrown. I feel every jolt and bump like a knife to the chest. We’ve been on the road for several hours. It will be nightfall soon.

Nightfall.

Funny how we used to call it sunset. It can’t be called sunset anymore because there is no sun to set. We live mostly in the dark. A sad and sorry existence with four or five hours of murky light a day. No one has seen the sun in years.

Not since that day.

Of course, the various species of fae are in their impenetrable domes where they have plenty of sun. And there’s the pesky reality that the domes are only around their royal courts and surrounding lands. To make matters worse, humans can’t enter their territory unaccompanied by fae. Word has it that they’re protected by a magical barrier. At least, those are the rumors that I have heard. I’m not sure if they’re even true.

I used to farm wheat, potatoes, and carrots, and we even had an apple grove that gave us the biggest, sweetest fruit in the whole of the Nezcara Valley. Despite the taste of blood and the pain I am in, my mouth starts to water at the thought of an apple. Of all the things we took for granted. The sun, clouds, stars, the moon; such beauty. Of course, my mind wanders to Lily. My beautiful wife and our daughter, Sumara. Both lost to the death plague that hit soon after the sun left us. My heart still aches. I put a hand to my chest, the pain of my broken ribs momentarily forgotten.

It is said that the gods cursed the Sun Realm when the kings left us. Their wrath brought the plague and chased the sun. Since then, their backs have been turned from us. I believe it to be true. It certainly feels like we have been shunned by the gods.

Longing fills me. Like everyone else on this godsforsaken planet, I wish to see the sun again. To feel it on my face. I can still recall the warmth, the likes of which cannot be manufactured. Not fur and not even fire can recreate the feeling of the sun’s rays. Not that we are lucky enough to have fire very often these days because we don’t. It’s almost impossible to get the wood dry enough for proper kindling. Once or twice a week is a luxury.

The one ray of light in being captured by the fae scum is that I might actually get to eat a proper meal again. It has been said that even the slaves eat better than the frees. My mouth waters at the thought of red meat.

I can’t complain. At least I still have a thriving coop of chickens, so I still get eggs and meat. Then again, I hope I still have chickens after the raid.

My farm still yields small quantities of potatoes and kohlrabi and high quantities of cabbage. It’s tough to exist day after day on the same thing. Food is food, and with so many starving, I have never been one to take sustenance for granted.

The wagon lurches to a sudden stop that has me grunting. White-hot pain sears through my chest.

The fae are speaking among themselves. They’re too far away to make out what they are saying. One of the front riders lopes his horse to the men riding at the rear of our procession. There are eight fae on horseback and one driving each of the wagons pulling prisoners.

A teenage girl shoves her face up against the bars. Her cheeks are streaked with dirt, and her hair is greasy and lackluster. “I need to piss. Hey! Hey, mister…I need to piss real bad,” she shouts.

“Hold it,” someone whispers.

“I can’t,” she mutters. “Please!” she yells.

“Piss in your smock,” one of the women whispers.

I have to agree. It is reckless to draw attention to yourself. Instead of trying to intervene, I keep my head down. My tongue is throbbing with every beat of my heart. I don’t think I could form words even if I tried. At least my mouth has finally stopped bleeding. I would prefer it if it didn’t start up again so soon. On the plus side, my eye isn’t swollen completely shut anymore, just most of the way there. Lucky me!

“Hey, fae-sir. Fae-sir, please. I don’t want to piss my smock,” she yells, holding the bars of the cage we’ve been stuffed into like animals.

It would be better if she did piss her smock. I see one of the guards turn to the girl. His eyes narrow. “Quieten down,” he tells her in a gruff voice.

“Please,” she begs again pitifully.

Two of the fae talk to one another. Again, it isn’t loud enough to catch what they are saying.

The larger of the two fae climbs off his horse. He unhooks a bunch of keys from his belt. “Do not do anything stupid, girl.” He glares at us before turning his narrowed eyes on her. “You will need to be quick,” he says. “Hurry up and don’t try anything, or there will be consequences.”

I note that four of the fae have moved in behind the wagon, ready to pick off anyone who tries running. It would be foolish to dare go against them with these odds. Although there are twelve of us shoved inside this cage, it isn’t nearly enough to defeat ten well-armed fae. Not even close. We would be beaten some more and shoved back inside this cage to rot.

Chances are good that I’m destined for the fighting rings. It’ll be that or the mines. I’m not sure which is worse, but what I do know without a shadow of a doubt is that I’ll need my strength either way. My days are numbered, and so I must try to escape if the opportunity arises. A man needs to know when to fight and when to stand down. Right now, I need to bide my time and look for such a prospect. This is not the right time. I sigh because sometimes doing nothing is the most difficult of all the things to do.

The fae male opening the lock has overgrown hair that falls into his face. His pointy ears are visible through the curls. His eyes are a vivid green. Too vivid to be human. It’s another giveaway.

The lock clicks open.

The young girl jumps out, staggering and falling onto one knee. She jumps up and runs for a rocky outcrop.

“Stay close,” the guard tells her. “If you run, you will be sorry. If you dawdle, I will make a meal out of you as punishment.” His eyes drift to her neck, and he chuckles cruelly. He is taller than most humans, with broad shoulders. Almost all of the fae are big like him, the females of the species, too.

“I won’t dawdle,” she yells as she ducks behind the rocks. There is very little undergrowth left. It’s mostly a desolate, muddy wasteland, just like the rest of the Sun Realm. Most of the trees are long since dead, with only a handful that still have a smattering of leaves. Even those sparse leaves are more yellow than green. Everything is dying or dead. We will follow soon enough.

The fae walks back to his horse but doesn’t remount. He and one of the mounted fae start up a conversation. He leaves the gate to the cage unlocked. I make a quick assessment of the individuals in the cage. There are seven men, most of us injured. There are three women and two young girls, one of whom is pissing behind the boulders. It’s not enough. We would be cut down in an instant. I know this, and yet I burn to take action. I remind myself that to delay is sometimes the best path to follow. Still, it sticks in my craw.

Suddenly, I hear a whistling noise, followed by a thud. For a moment, everything seems normal…and then the fae on the horse starts to fall. As he tumbles, I notice that he has a feathered arrow protruding from his chest. Before he hits the ground, all hell breaks loose.