Page 126 of Starside

I don’t turn to look at the extent of the carnage of the forest, but I can smell it. I can imagine that the white Bone Woods are now red with gore.

My knees nearly buckle as I rise to my feet. As I lift my sword with spent arms, the pain of my shoulder nearly blinding me.

I won’t let him have it without a duel. Though, after seeing this carnage, I know more than ever that I don’t have a chance.

“Why not kill me, then?” I demand.

“I don’t need two swords on this journey,” he spits, his voice pure fury. “I’d rather someone like you has it than someone else.”

Someone like you.

So, I’m no more than a harmless mule, carrying a sword for him until he needs it.

That’s why he’s training me. Not so I can be protected … but so I have any chance of protecting this weapon.

He will betray me the first chance he gets. He will claim my sword the moment it pleases him. I knew that from the beginning, but … I thought … after so much time together …

Foolish of me to think he would feel any type of loyalty to me. The merciless warrior. The monster.

Everything I already thought about him has been confirmed.

“Demon,” I say, voice shaking.

“Worse,” he says. And that’s when he prowls toward me. He keeps getting closer, and I stumble back. He’s dripping blood. His hood and armor are soaked with it.

None of it is his.

He is the embodiment of a deadly warrior. He doesn’t stop, and neither do I, until I trip over something and land on my ass again. A head. I tripped over the fang sticking out of a lifeless head that Raker single-handedly—literally—severed with his blade while I clung to his body.

And it’s not the only one. Every single creature that hunted me in this forest is now in ribbons.

I look from the beast’s eyes, up into the darkness of Raker’s hood. He’s standing right over me, like I’m cornered prey. I swallow. The blood dripping from his hood falls on my cheek, and I flinch. He leans in close, voice hard as the steel in my shaking hands as he says, “Don’t raise your sword at me again, Aris, unless you truly want to lose it.”

With that, he turns his back on me.

Monster. I should be terrified. I should be shocked into submission; I should follow his words and orders like they are law.

But instead of trailing him through the mist, I turn toward the head. Using my non-dominant arm, I begin to saw off the beast’s fangs. They hit the ground with a thud. I reach for the vials next. Somehow, they didn’t shatter in my pockets, even after that fall.

I poke a hole in the wolf’s neck and begin to drip the little remaining blood into a vial.

“What are you doing?” Raker demands from across the clearing.

“I’m getting an antidote,” I say, remembering the book. Often things are both their poison and their cure. The beast must be immune to its own venom, which means its blood is full of the medicine I need.

I pour half the vial on the cut in my calf then shudder. The blood steams, as if it’s burning through my skin. Close to the same sensation as when it entered my leg. I squeeze my eyes closed.

Slowly, though, I start to feel my toes again. My calf.

And it fucking hurts.

The cut might not be bone-deep, but it’s long. If only I had true healing liquid … but that comes from another creature completely. It takes a few moments before I can stand or walk without wincing. My stride isn’t completely straight.

Raker waits for me to get close to him.

“Your shoulder,” he says flatly.

“I know,” I say, stumbling past him.