31: Hollow

A diurnal symphony played through the trees surrounding the road as if it were a distant dream. For a split second that mellow peace pushed into my heart, and then reality came on the thunderous crash of hooves and the faint rumble of stones beneath my feet.

I ran.

I did not dare look behind, but the view forward was no less disturbing.

Lord Yerik had sprung to his feet in a ripple of distorted skin. Across his shoulder stretched the peeling grin of an anaconda: four rows of upper fangs and wide, skeletal jaws. Small scales bulged against the walnut-toned skin of his back. He stayed a shifting creature for half a second, and then the demon shredded through the papery skin. The brush he'd been sitting beside disappeared beneath the crushing weight of a drab, freakishly large serpent. I couldn't judge the length as I ran toward its coiling muscles, but its girth seemed near my height. One of the girl's had been struck across the face by the powerful tail. She lay collapsed against the other, bleeding from a cut down the side of her face.

"Get up!" I shrieked at them, reaching for my knife, running harder, trying to avoid the serpentine curves that whipped across the road as it slithered forward to meet Akta.

Lord Yerik's head rose hissing as I drew near. One bleak, calculating eye swung my way. Wretched jaws split apart as if to swallow me whole when his head lowered into the glossy brown scales. The pallid tongue flicked overhead as he tightened his writhing bands into a dense, solid striking unit. To that twisting, winding creation, the tiny human woman running straight at him was no more threatening than a fly.

For half a heartbeat the impending collision of hooves slowed. The ground continued to rumble, cut by a sinister, rocky grind as Yerik's underbelly positioned itself for launch. I'd gotten past the length of his tail when bits of earth exploded against my back. I tumbled onto the ground, glimpsed a flash of fangs sinking through a wall of thorned vines that had risen up from the road like a living wall. And then, somehow, beneath a swinging tail and debris, I found my feet. I hauled both women up beside me, grabbed their arms and cut the rope from their hands and waists.

"Run!" I panted. The younger girl, whose skin had split across her forehead, wiped the blood from her eyebrows and took off into the forest. Her shabby dress vanished into the undergrowth as the earth rattled. The other woman, a brown-haired lady with eyes wider than dinner plates, clung desperately to my hand as I sheathed the knife. I pushed her away. "Run!" I said again. Flashes of gold and brown and crimson tumbled just behind the heaved earth and creeping vines.

This woman stayed rooted in place, her eyes staring straight through me, staring straight through the monstrous beasts that crashed and tumbled with guttural, inhuman howls. Panic weighed down my bones just looking at her. I didn't know what to do with her. She was going to die if she stayed. She had to run.Why wouldn't she run?

She dug her nails into my arm and shook her head. I started to pull her along with me, yanking her past the flattened bushes and colorful berries that streaked her legs and feet. Maybe if I could hide her somewhere, get her safe, Akta would spare her in the hunt for me.

First chance I got, I pulled her into the tangled depth of an upturned tree. Dirt and fine tendrils of smaller plats and roots shook upon us as I pushed her as far into the tiny space as possible. "Stay here," I said, pulling away. "You'll be safe."

But she wouldn't let go of my arm, tried dragging me in with her. She had to let go. She didn't understand that Akta only wanted me. There was no time to—

A screech blistered the air. The woman's vice grip tightened.

I pulled the knife from its sheath. All speed and no apology, the blade bit into the girl's forearm. Screaming, she fell back against the roots. Before she could snatch me in her bleeding hands I scrambled over the roots, onto the forest floor and broke into a sprint, looking back only to see if she'd followed me.

She had- for a short distance. A thrashed lily in a verdant sea, the woman sat on her knees, clutching her bleeding arm, big eyes filled with tears. And I knew in that moment that I was looking at a ghost, that there was nothing I could do that would save her.

In the sunlit flashes of gaps between trunks, two tremendous shadows, one a serpent and the other an enormous, half-human stag, grappled in the throes of survival. My legs were on fire by the time I heard the great collapse; the thumping sound that marked what I knew, but couldn't see. Lord Yerik's demise. A lower, shrill scream sounded in its wake. Trying not to think about the poor girl's fate, I took every easy path forward and scored the odd trunk here and there, reminding myself that I could not hide away, I could not obey instinct and try and save myself.

I had to let him find me, I had to let him catch me. There were three goals I had to meet, as much as my body screamed at me to do anything else.

Akta had to get tired out as much as possible. I had to give my dad as much time as possible to summon him. And I had to stay alive long enough to see it through.

Above all else, I had to make this forest flight seem real. As the trees behind me began to tremble, I rushed into a thin creek, where I thought that the animate vines would have more difficulty taking root. It was here that I waited for the stag, hands on my knees, out of breath and too exhausted to do more than stagger downstream a few soggy yards.

The birds sang. Insects buzzed through the morning air, hovering along the glittering waters. Again that summer bliss tried to take hold of my heart, but it was short lived.

Great, huffing snorts filled the air. I turned as the last of the branches snapped against the lowered head of a charging stag. As he was in his human clothes, Akta made a rather marvelously gorgeous monster. Golden and resplendent in hide, he was a true lord of this dark forest, composed of fine lines and narrow features that only warmed in the dawning light. I would've called him a centaur, but his height was far too staggering, the tines of his antlers too impressive, the shape of his hoofed limbs too fine to draw many comparisons to the sturdy equine children of Ixion and Nephele. Moving up his torso, he carried on that golden fur, until it rose into a mane of thick blonde hair. His facial features had softened through the transformation: a more flattened nose, expressive green eyes and delicate lips all framed by a pair of big, drooping ears.

If he had been any kinder, if he had had the presence of mind to act decently toward me, I daresay I would've cozied up to him over the grumpy, snarling Prince. Such sweet faces weren't meant to house evil. But a leopard couldn't change his spots; neither could Akta change his attitude to win me over; and the vicious, seething personality was on full display as water trickled around his hooves.

Thick antlers carried the leaf litter and shredded plants of a wild run. A tine above his brow was broken. Colorful beads, feathers, and strung bones clinked across his antlers as he pried scrapings of bark and leaves loose with a young, vibrant grin.

But it was the blood that tainted the innocence of his image. Thick rivulets dried in his pale fur, sprayed his chest and throat in fifty shades of red. And it was blood that dotted the spaces below his eyes and painted a thick stripe down his snout and into his throat. He continued to pull debris from his heavy antlers, and then he pulled a clump of something down and unfolded it: a bloody dress, slick with the fresh scent of copper.

He balled the fabric and tossed it at my feet with a flat smile. He wore a knife belted around his waist, but this he did not draw as his approaching shadow mingled with the edge of mine. Instead, he scraped his hoof through the water and lowered his head to charge.

I stood my ground as he barreled towards me, throwing myself aside at the last second to feel the rush of air as the golden form swept past. My feet slipped. My body slapped against the muddy waterway. Akta spun with the elegant grace of his lesser kindred, brassy hooves flying as he kicked and stamped at me until I had no choice but to leave the water and crawl into the grass beside the stream. He stopped then, and chanting in a language my ears could not fathom, lifted one hand into the air.

Rusted, thorny vines grew a hundred sunny days in a matter of seconds, creeping around my waist, around my ankles around my wrists, pulling them together. Blackened thorns needled my wrists and calves, bit into my stomach with squeezing pressure. Sunlight disappeared as the demon approached to collect his prey, using his own knife to free me from the earth and carry me against his spattered chest.

We were alone as he galloped away through the forest, bounding effortlessly into the depths, back toward the distant, hidden mountains and their ominous ruler. The castle, the freedom of open dirt, was miles away as he rushed on. Every breath I took made the thorns pinch and wriggle deeper through my flesh and I couldn't help but think that Akta had run too fast, too far, for anyone to help me now.

He stopped at last in the hollows of a burned stretch of forest. Fire had incinerated the mellow colors of the forest floor; trees stood empty,  robbed of bark and decaying. Only here and there existed any traces of life, new sprouts and reedy saplings that Akta's hooves stamped upon whenever he was close enough to trample them. The elevation shifted downward into the valley between two hills. As my head bumped against his chest I could make out a ring of hewn stumps that surrounded a flat onyx stone unlike any I'd seen before. The closer we got, the less I wanted to see. Beyond the stumps and the charred rock rose the largest oak I had seen in the forest thus far—but it wasn't leaves that kept the wind alive among its branches—no, it was dresses. Recent additions I could tell distinguish based on color and blood, but there were older ones, too, falling to pieces at the mercy of time and the elements.

Akta made his way along the stumps and laid me flat on the stone. The thorns in my back had pushed so deep my breath came in shuddering gasps. Sensing this, or perhaps because he had something worse in mind, the demon cut through the thorns at my waist and unwound them one vicious tug at a time. He left the binds around my hands and ankles. With the sun free to heat the stone, it was easy to spot the thick buildup of blood on the surface.

"This is where Kiyomi fell," Akta announced. I sat slumped on the edge and allowed myself the freedom of deeper breaths. The great stag moved along the stumps, stopping at each one to cut a mark into the desiccated rings. "She was alone. I had heard you were not."

"You interrupted our ambush," I lied, trying to pull apart my wrists for freedom. There was no space to be found between the binding thorns and tough leather bracers they pierced.

Emerald eyes flashed to mine briefly. His ears perked against yellowed bone jewelry. "And where are they now?"

I shrugged. "Not where they should be. They knew I was their key to getting in the castle. If I had to guess, they're deciding whether to run or surrender. Whatever the case may be, after what they've just seen, they don't want any part of you."

"But I want parts of them," he said, voice smooth as silk. Six more stumps to mark. Every drop of blood I lost seemed to make room for dread to seep in.

I turned my head to watch him etch another surface. "Don't suppose you've run into our mutual friend?"

Akta snorted. "He can't save you now." No matter what I tried, he worked silently and with industrious intent in the methodical way he finished marking each stump. I didn't try and escape; there wasn't anywhere for me to go but into the low saplings; since they were only a few feet tall at the most, there'd be no trouble for a woodland hellbeast to spot me, let alone have a need to, seeing as I couldn't free myself from the vines. Chiro was right about needing someone.

My eyes scanned the cauterized slopes on either side for any signs of an overgrown cat. Something that big you'd see coming, unless it was from the far side of the dress-draped tree, the only blindspot in the area. The fact that I couldn't see him or Dakota creeping in had me disheartened in a way I had expected, but still couldn't come to terms with.

In a ripple of golden muscle Akta returned. The demon took his knife and made quick work of my bondage. He left me to peel the mess away, watching through those dark, scrutinizing eyes. Freeing me was the most terrifying thing he'd done so far. He knew I couldn't run. He knew my struggles were futile. So did I.

Wincing, I ripped the thorns out and laid my palms flat on the warm rock as they healed, trying to ignore crusted blood against the pads of my fingers. I tilted my chin to the sunlight; of all the ways to go, I'd never really thought of witches and priests and dead rites taking place in the early morning. Night had always seemed a better time, but here we were, and if I were being honest, I was just as terrified. The only difference between then and now was that I could see all the tiny details: old skulls sheltering new grasses, the crust of lives lost where I sat, the volume of ghastly white gowns left to disintegrate. It took all my resolve to keep my voice at an unbroken octave.

"I'm never seeing the inside of the palace again, am I?"

Akta lifted the knife. The tip measured my pulse as he instructed me to take off the bracers, then the leather protecting my chest, the tunic, and the bra underneath until I sat there half-naked on the tarry rock, a pile of clothes resting at his hooves. The blade retreated. It was replaced almost immediately by his huge hand on my bare shoulders, a hand that was quick to wander further down.

All the air in my lungs froze.

"So cold," he said faintly. A far-off look filled the stag's eyes. He shook his head and took a hollow quill from the jewelry on his antlers and set it in his teeth. "We'll get that blood flowing. You'll feel plenty warm soon." In a smooth motion he flipped me onto my stomach, held me down through heavy pressure against my shoulders. I turned my head to one side, trying to see what was happening. Akta broke one of the sharp tines from his antler points, blacker and more razor-edged than any stag's had a right to be. His other palm pressed my face hard against the stone. His fingers curled in my hair, pushing the dirty locks into my vision until there was nothing for me to see but vague glimpses of swaying alabaster branches.

And then feeling overrode every other sense. Akta's torso pushed against my legs. His breath warmed my neck. He stayed still for several seconds, his weight on me, his hand teasing my hair, his breath on my throat a menacing promise.

Then came the faint tickle of a thin, narrow tip running down my exposed back and toward my hips: almost unpleasant but not quite there. And then that movement began anew, up near the base of my neck, running down, down, down, but this time that first touch was a puncture. He dug that sharpened tine from my neck to my hips, in one smooth, unending motion that brought tears to my eyes. My skin felt cold, tingly, and then suddenly flush with heat as he peeled skin away from the incision. My sides shivered. Wetness raced down my sides and pooled against my breasts and belly.

A deeper, worse pain butterflied all the rest. Something narrow and fine jabbed into my lower spine. Akta lowered his face, licked the exposed muscle and bone. My legs twitched and kicked of their own accord, set on fire as he played inside me. My nails scraped against the rock. I shouted, swore, tried to push away but could not. The pain overwhelmed my struggles. Everything I tried ended as soon as it began.

Snorting a fine mist of blood, Akta lifted away for a few quivering seconds, just long enough to brush the hair from my eyes and show me the quill before he shoved it in. The demon fished around my spine with that hollowed needle, and started, I thought through torrid pain, and started to drink.

There was no Ajax. There was no Chiro or Dakota.

But beneath my clenched fingertips the sun illuminated a hoary frost.