“You would shame Baldair’s memory?” Jax exclaimed. No one moved. “Daniel, he gave you an order. He asked you to protect the woman you are threatening to kill, to protect her until your dying breath.”
“Stop . . .” Daniel whispered.
“No! You swore an oath to the guard. As long as your heart beats, you are to honor it,” Jax pressed. The knife at her throat quivered, and Vhalla ignored the pain. “Brother.” The world turned on Jax’s singular word. “Let her go.”
Suddenly, the knife was gone, and his grip went slack. For all of Jax’s words, he clearly didn’t completely trust his brother-in-arms in his present state; he closed the gap between them, grabbing for Vhalla and spinning her half behind him.
Now freed, she could assess the man everyone else had seen all along. The man she was thankful she hadn’t killed. Daniel was haggard. His armor was crusted with blood, and yellow bandages were wrapped around his forearm where a gauntlet was missing. His hair was slick with sweat and grime. The makings of a proper beard crossed his chin.
None of this scared Vhalla. A body could be washed, injuries tended to. It was Daniel’s eyes that broke something in her. There was something deeply wrong down to his very soul, something that no potion or salve could cure.
“Daniel, it’s me.” She finally lowered her hood, studying his expression for some trace of the man whom she had marched with and learned from.
“I-I cut you,” he stammered.
Vhalla raised a hand to her neck. “So you did. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.”
“I was supposed to protect you.” He swayed. “And then, I watched you die.”
“I’m fine.” Vhalla took a step forward. Jax shot her a warning look, and Vhalla replied with a glare. The Western man didn’t stop her, but he stayed near her shoulder as she crossed the gap to Daniel. The man was like a stylelized painting, from far away he may be passible for a man, but the moment she was up close she could see every frayed brushstroke and wavering line. Vhalla boldly took his hands, and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the touch. “See, I’m fine. You, however, are not. Come inside and sit. Get out of the cold.”
Za volunteered that she and Sehra keep watch, casting a leery eye toward Daniel. Even after the Northerners left, it was cramped with the six of them in the small structure. Daniel was jumpy with the proximity to people, his eyes darting wildly.
“Elecia, will you please look at his wounds?” Vhalla asked.
The Western woman looked to Jax and Aldrik, who both gave nods of silent approval. She radiated uncertainty but did her duty as a cleric. Daniel jerked away violently the second Elecia’s hands landed on his forearm.
“No!” He scrambled away. “Don’t-don’t touch me.”
“Daniel, we can’t heal you if—”
“I killed them!” He lunged forward, grabbing Vhalla’s upper arms to the point of bruising. “Don’t fix me, I’m broken.” Daniel shook her, and Vhalla hissed at the pain it caused in her right shoulder.
“Brother, stop.” Jax intervened. “You’re hurting her again.”
Daniel stared in utter horror, then nearly threw Vhalla aside and scrambled away. She stared, heartbroken, as the man brought his knees to his chest, clutching his head.
“I killed, they died, they died, they died, and I killed them, it was—”
Vhalla wrapped her arms around his rocking shoulders. This time he tensed but didn’t lash out at the touch. “Stop,” she breathed. “Let Elecia check you.”
Daniel whimpered and squirmed, but as long as Vhalla held him to her, he let Elecia perform what ministrations she could. It was awkward having to work around Vhalla’s arms, but Elecia had more tact than to point this out.
When Elecia finished, Vhalla loosened her grip and asked, “Why are you here?”
“I-I ran.” Daniel choked on his words, letting out a pained, strangled noise.
“What happened?” Jax pried.
Daniel held his temples and stared at nothing. He cried, rivulets streaking through the blood and grime on his cheeks.
“Daniel—”
“No! No!”
“Soldier.” Aldrik forcefully stepped into the conversation with a single sharp word. Daniel froze. “This is an order from your Emperor: report.”
Vhalla wanted to scold him for taking such a tone, but Aldrik had seen and heard something she hadn’t. The command snapped something back into place, and Daniel’s breathing slowed, his eyes regaining some sanity.
“It-it was only him. He walked right in, and no one even thought of stopping him until the first group of guards died.” No one needed to ask who “he” was. “It should’ve been easy, there was only one man. But every time one fell, he took their eye and turned it into one of those rocks—those crystals.”
Vhalla’s mostly empty stomach churned at the memory of the guard who had walked into the village closest to Fritz’s home.
“They rose. They fought for him. They were dead but kept walking until that awful, awful blue-green light faded.” Daniel turned to her, almost pleading. “What could we have done?”
“My father?” Aldrik asked, but by the look on Daniel’s face, Vhalla wished he hadn’t.
“His death was only the beginning.” Daniel turned to Jax. “It’s just us now, brother.”
“What happened to the guard?” A dark severity overcame Jax’s words.
“Raylynn tried to keep Baldair’s body from him. To keep him from disgracing it as he did. You know how those two were. Never anything, always something. She died defending him.” Daniel hiccupped. “The Supreme King shattered both Erion’s legs, stripped, and saddled him, then sent him back to the West. There’s no way he made it in this cold.”
“And Craig?” Jax asked after a long pause.
“Craig and me . . .” He was suddenly talking too fast, the words avalanching out. “Erion told us to bend knee. That we couldn’t help anyone if we died, too. Erion was better suited as a message to the West but—Victor kept us for his monsters.”
“Monsters?” Vhalla whispered.
“Those who displeased him went into the rooms. They were exposed to the taint . . . At first they were fine, but then, their screams, their flesh. It changed, they changed. By the Mother, their screams—their screams as they ripped open skin to make rooms for talons and wings and horns and scales and—”
He was crying again.
“Enough, that’s enough,” Vhalla tried to soothe.
“Don’t touch me!” The man seemed to be on reset. Alternating between disbelief, violence, and soul crushing sadness. “I killed them. The feedings began. Blood, they need to develop a taste for blood, he said. They need fresh meat, he said.
“Craig and I, it was us. We knew it would be one of us next. Craig told me, he gave me this chance. He offered himself to that monster knowing I would be the one to feed him to it—knowing it would give me the chance to run. He screamed for me as they ate him. He screamed for me as I ran.”
Vhalla sat in numb horror. Struggling to find words in the wake of everything Daniel was pouring forth and splaying at their feet.
“If he finds me, I will be food. Or he will turn me into a monster.” Daniel looked to Jax. “Don’t give me to them. Don’t give me to his revels for his blood guard, drunk on gore and control. Don’t let his court of sorcerers have me.”
“Brother, you’re fine now,” Jax lied.
Nothing about Daniel was fine. Nothing about their situation or the world was fine.
“We will take you home,” Vhalla vowed. “We’re going East now.”
This was her fault. She had helped Victor and unleashed this force. Beyond that, if she had kept Daniel closer and had been a better friend to him, maybe he would have been with them before now. Maybe Jax would have thought to get him before charging into that dark night for the Crystal Caverns. She had made so many mistakes. How many people she loved would pay for them?