Page 85 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

A low branch strikes my cheek, leaving fiery trails of broken skin. The dark forest dances around me, threatening to swallow me whole. The path ahead narrows, but my horse leaps over the fallen log and dodges jagged rocks. I lean forward, clenching my legs against the saddle. The ground beneath us trembles, as if the very earth is urging us forward. Fear gnaws at the edges of my mind, but I push it aside. There’s no time for doubt.

The sound of the pursuing voices grows louder, closer, closing in on me.

One more turn and a ravine is right in front of me, a landslide leaving a gaping mouth of darkness. I ram my heels into the horse’s side, slapping the reins against its shoulder. Its muscles tense beneath me, but without hesitation, we soar through the air, suspended for a brief, exhilarating moment. With my hands fisted in a thick white mane, my heart stops beating. The world around me blurs. We land on the other side, and I topple forward, falling onto its neck. The ground draws closer. My arms buckle beneath me, but I push myself upright.

Every fibre of my being is focussed on one thing: find Odhran.

Red eyes glow in the shadows from between the boulders.

“I’m sorry,” I tell my ride before kicking it into a sprint, urging it down the overgrown path as my stomach tightens into an unforgivable knot. Those eyes follow us, and then another appears.

FORTY-ONE

BRYNDIS ASHGLO

When faerie blood is ingested, humans heal at the same rate as faeries. Applied topically, healing is almost instant. Faerie blood does not darken.

The Legends of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper

Beasts as big as cattle leap into the path behind me, three of them baring their teeth. Their howls are loud and bring bile to the back of my tongue. I’m going to die. I ‘m going to die. I’m going to die.

“Keep going!” Aed roars. “Faster!”

They’re so close I can smell them. The air is thick with their putrid death-like stench. Branches sway in the trees around me, distorted and twisted, as though something lurks within their cover, reaching out to grab me. My horse’s breaths are strained, a faint whistle escaping its lungs. No one can run forever.

The mountains loom ahead, towering over the trees. The trail becomes narrower, guiding me deeper into the forest. Darkness engulfs everything, obscuring my vision. The thick canopy obstructs light from entering. Sharp teeth snap at my heels, and my horse’s muscles twitch with fear.

I whip the reins, urging him forward. Branch’s lash at me, drawing blood. The hounds’ growls echo in my ears, a symphony of impending doom. I lean low, my body pressed against the horse’s sweaty neck, desperate to minimise our profile and avoid the branches I struggle to see. The forest’s grip tightens, the trees closing in. Dead branches snap beneath us as we weave through the thicket, dragging burning lines across my bare legs.

The hounds’ claws tear into the earth, their breath hot and rancid.

A beam of moonlight penetrates the dense canopy, illuminating the outskirts of the forest to reveal a small meadow. “Head for the clearing!” Aed commands.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious!” Snapping at him keeps me grounded. Keeps me from giving up. The open expanse stretches before me, a sanctuary of temporary respite. We surge forward when my horse neighs, making a sound like a pig being slaughtered. One I’ve never heard from an equine. A sound I’ll never forget.

Claws sink into its quarter. Crimson floods its coat of white. We stumble to the ground, and I roll onto my shoulder as the ground shudders beneath us with a deafening thud. Pain radiates from the back of my head, making the world turn white and then black, but only for a moment as adrenaline forces me into action. I unsheathe my gifted iron blade with my right hand. The world spins around me, coming into focus as a beast with burning red eyes leaps for me. I don’t know what these creatures are called, but if nightmares had a face, it would have theirs.

I dodge its attack, my iron blade slicing through the air. Its jaws snap shut inches from my face. I counter, driving the blade into its side. Luck. Pure luck.

Hot blood sprays across my face and down my neck as another beast circles me. I stumble to my feet, parrying its attacks with swift, yet unpractised movements.

Make your anger your strength, Aed once told me. I use his advice, shifting my grip on the blade. I wait for it to move first, praying my plan will work. It leaps forward, and I jab, putting all of my strength behind the simple action. I strike at the right moment, lodging my dagger into the side of the beast’s head. It falls partially on top of me, lifeless and limp. Its saliva burns my skin, causing blisters to rise instantly. A scream rasps up my throat as I fight to free myself, my body protesting in agony. I’m not ready for this. Three weeks of training isn’t enough. I free my blade from the beast’s skull with a forceful pull. The sound of bone crunching and soft tissue tearing is enough to make my insides turn. Stumbling sideways, I tighten my grip on the hilt. There’s no giving up. No turning back.

Blood gushes from the creature’s wound, mixing with the dirt and grass beneath my feet. The stench of it fills the air, assaulting my senses. My muscles ache, screaming for relief, but I ignore the pain. The weight of the blade in my hand is my only comfort.

Staggering forward, I lose my balance, falling ungracefully onto my knees. The clang of weapons and roaring voices sound from the other side of the trees. I need to keep going. I need to help him.

I stumble toward my horse, the bow and quiver lying on the ground a few feet from its body.

“Odhran?” I call across our bond, reaching for him once more, but there’s only the feel of his anguish reverberating through our connection. “It’s a trap!” There’s no reply.

I lock eyes with the hound’s lifeless gaze. Its mouth is fixed into a snarl displaying long sharp teeth, too long to be normal. Its ears form sharp, point-like thorns, matching the spiny protrusions along its back between its coarse green fur. It’s terrifying, but I don’t look away. I’m not a born warrior, but at this moment, I know I’m not helpless. I will not falter.

Mounds of black and green litter the battlefield before me, fur and bodies of fallen soldiers laying side by side. Black armour and copper clash in battle.

“Hold the line!” Odhran’s voice thunders through the valley. My heart aches as though it’s being squeezed in the palm of an unrelenting fist. He’s bleeding. Behind him are wounded men being tessered away, evacuated to safety.

My hands shake as I reach for an arrow behind my back. I can do this. I notch the arrow, drawing back the bowstring with trembling fingers. Sweat drips down my forehead, mixing with dirt and blood.