The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)

As our troops wait for the order to attack, I keep my eyes firmly on DaiSzek.

I think he is sleeping at first until his large head rises, cinnamon eyes half-open, and he looks right at me. Those RottWeilen senses are superior to our enemy. He knows we’re here. He knows we’ve come for him.

Niles and Ruth seem to notice it, too, releasing small gasps.

“We’re coming for you, buddy,” I whisper. “Just hold on.”

He doesn’t look harmed. And for that, I should be grateful. But instead, I’m terrified—if there’s even a chance Niles and I don’t succeed in freeing him. We could lose. And DaiSzek will be shipped away.

Anytime you need me out there, just hold my hand. I remember Ruth’s words before we left; remember that I’m not alone. I have to believe we can do this.

My hand slips into Ruth’s, squeezing gently.

“You can do this,” she whispers.

I look over at Niles, who has lost all color in his face, looking just as terrified as I feel.

“Do you have the dagger?” I ask him.

He nods without looking at me. “Warrose gave me one of his.” With one hand, he waves it at us.

Good. We can do this. We will do this.

But my body doesn’t agree. I’m shivering with nerves, every joint, bone, and muscle burning in anxiety. My skin tingles from the furious pumps of adrenaline coasting through me.

The world stills moments before it happens. Disturbing silence on our end. Casual conversations and fire roaring on theirs.

The two halves of our unit move in synchrony, charging from the left and right sides of the Vexamen Breed’s camp.

Chaos erupts.

The element of surprise works in our favor. Their soldiers stumble as they realize they’re being surrounded, tripping over their equipment to race to their weapons. The salty air is filled with the bizarre sounds of screaming men, clanking metal, and arrows whizzing through the air.

Our men attack with swords of all sizes, and a secondary group hangs back to fire their crossbows at the scrambling breed of deadly warriors.

But the unorganized surprise doesn’t last long. They begin forming into fighting lineups with shields, double-bladed swords, and whips that are ignited with fire.

And the collision happens like a natural disaster. An avalanche cascading down a mountain, wiping out every tree and animal in sight. Dessin and Aurick lead each side, and although Aurick isn’t half the warrior and assassin Dessin is, he’s obviously deadly.

Taking an exploding leap over a cluster of falling men, Aurick swings his sword into a man’s rib cage, crunching into his side until blood sprays over the sand. He’s quick and well-trained, carefully avoiding their deadly attacks.

Dessin is a marvel to behold. He fights in a fury. A feral dance around their weapons. And it’s more effort than I’ve ever seen him display. He uses his fear of DaiSzek being taken as a weapon, harnessing his aggression and letting it erupt over anyone standing too close. His movements are inhumanly fast, chopping off limbs like their joints are made of butter.

And Warrose is only a few steps behind him, swinging his whip to behead three Vexamen soldiers at one time.

Ruth is squeezing my hand to the point of searing pain.

Suddenly, we see two men running our way, holding a baby in each arm as they lock eyes with Ruth. She perks up, standing with her arms out as they hand her their babies. She stumbles a few feet back, setting them in the grass one at a time, trickling yellow liquid from the satchel over their blankets.

Niles nudges me, jerking his head to the fighting. Every soldier is occupied. This is it. This is our moment to end it all.

I look at him one last time, nodding my head. “Let’s go.”

We stand at the same time, taking in a deep breath before we take off in a sprint. My nerve endings are on fire with paralyzing fear. Our pace turns sluggish as we try to run quickly in the sand. Each step sinks. And we’re out of breath before we’re halfway to the bucket, to DaiSzek, who is now standing waiting for us to arrive.

I know he understands what’s happening. He sees the battle. He sees us sneaking to reach him. The legend knows what he has to do once we set him free.

My calves burn, and my chest clenches as we get closer to the bucket. Waves rush to greet the tops of our boots, a fine mist blowing in our faces. Beads of sweat line my forehead, dripping between my breasts.

I’ve never been so scared to fail in my entire life.

I fall to my knees as I swipe up the metal bucket, racing into the water to scoop up as much as I can carry. Niles holds out his dagger, watching my back while I dig my heels into the wet sand to reach the wall of fire around DaiSzek.

Scarlett, don’t let me fail. I pray silently. Help me save him.

I note that all I have to do is extinguish two towers of flaming wooden stakes, side by side. Once the fire is out, Niles can slip between them without getting burned and reach the lock to DaiSzek’s cage.

The battle around us sounds ugly and guttural, blades splitting through organs, men yelping as they lose their limbs. But as I’m about to toss the bucket of water, Niles makes a nervous sound, gasping.

I look away from the flames to see a Vexamen soldier charging us. Dressed in all black, he winds back his arm, ready to chop Niles in half.

I almost scream.

But something wraps around the soldier’s neck. A thin metal chain. And his head slides clean off, thumping in the wet sand. The body continues to stand for a moment, taking two stumbling steps forward as if it hasn’t realized it’s lost its head yet. But as it finally drops to its knees, we see Warrose yank his bladed whip back, nodding at us to keep going.

I sigh in relief, turning back to the burning stakes, chucking the bucket of water as hard as I can. I thrust every ounce of strength and adrenaline into my lunge. The airborne water soars toward the source of heat, splashing over it with a loud sizzle.

It hisses before it’s replaced with more fire.

My jaw drops and so does my stomach. I look back at Niles, who witnessed it too.

“Shit!” I whisper-yell. No. No. No.

“They must have soaked the wood in oil,” Niles says with certain doom.

“What the hell do we do?” I jog back to the ocean waves, swiping my bucket through the water once more. I can do this. I have to do this. My muscles burn as I toss the water at the stakes again. Nothing.

Niles falls through the sand to help me, scooping handfuls of water and throwing them pathetically at the flames. It’s a lost cause, but we don’t give up. We heave, pant, and curse as the fire seems to grow angrier. Niles even resorts to kicking the wooden stake, melting the bottom of his boot in the process.

We turn our heads at the terrifying sound of babies screaming. A man holding two babies in his arms is cut down, a sickle slicing down between the cradled babies, right into his chest. We hear the bones crunch in his breastplate. Our soldier drops to his knees, still holding the babies, as a Vexamen assailant tugs the sickle out roughly, watching the blood spray over his arm.

But right before our soldier falls with the babies in his arms, Dessin swings his sword through the Vexamen man’s neck, batting his head off his shoulder and through the air with little effort. I lose my breath as Dessin dives forward, grabbing the babies in his arms before they can hit the sand and get buried under the dead body.

I should help him, take the babies out of his hands, so he can keep fighting.

“Dessin!” I scream, attempting to run to him.

He turns to me, blood splattered over his beautiful face, drenching his clothes from the many lives he’s taken. And he looks at me with a question in his eyes.

But time collapses. The world implodes. And his stunning dark-mahogany eyes go wide before they look down at the blade ripping through his chest.

I choke on air.

A soldier from behind Dessin thrusts his sickle through Dessin’s back, impaling him, puncturing the space in the center of his chest, just barely missing the babies he’s holding. The sound is deafening. A wet rip that echoes through my heart.

“Skylenna!” Niles shouts from behind me. “We have to get him out!”

But I’m sprinting mindlessly, watching the soldier yank the bloody sickle from Dessin’s back. The blade disappearing back to where it came from. And Dessin never lets go of my gaze, not even after he falls to his knees, still holding on to the crying babies.

“NOOOOO!” My voice blasts through the camp, loud enough to shatter windows and stretch across the open sea. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

Warrose is faster than I am, bolting with an extended arm as he uses his whip to tear down the soldier that stabbed Dessin.

As I close the distance, I dive through the sand to reach him, devastating sounds of despair peeling from my raw throat.

“Take them,” he tells me, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. He passes the babies to me, coughing up more dark-crimson liquid.

My mouth drops open as I gawk down at the screaming babies and back to his gushing chest. Footsteps thump behind me, and just as I think Dessin is about to collapse, he thrusts his sword to my right, grazing my hip and cracking into bone behind me. I spin around to see a soldier stumble back until he’s on the ground, bleeding out onto the sand.

“Dessin,” I mutter, shock blazing like a wildfire through my soul. How did this—how could this happen?

And that’s when I hear a man’s retching howls louder than I’ve ever experienced. Nothing in the asylum could ever compare to this.

I spin around to see Niles, throwing himself between the stakes, fire shredding his skin in a wicked storm around him. His clothes light up, and he fumbles in agony toward DaiSzek’s cage. With a hard jab, he works the brass lock, letting out a bone-shattering scream. The flames devour his arms and leg. DaiSzek jerks around in his cage, waiting to be set free, waiting for his apocalypse.

And the screaming doesn’t stop. Not as Niles throws the lock to the sand, not as DaiSzek plows through the opening door, and not even while Niles rolls to extinguish the fire in the wet sand.

DaiSzek, like a murderous giant, jumps over the burning stakes, landing in the sand, rumbling the earth around us.

And above the clashing weapons of the grunting men, he releases the roar of a fire-breathing dragon. The horn of death. The call of a god. His gallop to the enemy is quick, long strides to devour their body parts like his own personal feast.

Something tears my focus away, gripping my hands that are supporting the babies.

I look up to see Ruth kneeling between Dessin and me. “Give them to me,” she rasps, eyes filled with tears drizzling down her cheeks. “I’ve got them, Skylenna.”

I swallow, nodding my head as she takes the babies away. Somewhere safe.

Destruction ripples around me as I look back at Dessin, who is struggling to keep himself up. Face drained of his tan complexion, and blood running over his lips and down his chin. He gulps, eyes still fixated on me.

“Skylenna,” he chokes.

And suddenly, DaiSzek’s stampede is drowned out. The slaughter is muted. I hold my hands out to him, remembering how I tore them away when Kane tried to apologize to me.

“I’m here,” I gasp, letting him fall into my arms.

Oh my god. I grunt as I cushion his full weight, watching more blood spill from the wound in his chest. His head rests in my lap as he struggles to breathe. All I can do is reach my hands to the spurting blood and cover the open hole with trembling pressure.

But I realize my lap is wet too. The puncture in his back pours over my legs. And I can’t stop it from happening. I can’t contain it.

“What do I do?” I shriek at anyone who will listen. “Dessin, what should I do?!”

Warrose kneels beside his brother, reaching for Dessin’s hand.

“Can we fix this?” he asks, voice heavy and strained.

Dessin just stares at him, making harsh gurgling sounds.

Warrose nods with a clenched jaw and misty eyes. “I see.”

What? “No!” I press down on his chest harder. “Someone help us!” I bellow.

From what I can tell, the fighting has stopped. DaiSzek did exactly what Dessin said he would do. He killed them all.

Aurick is standing over us now, inspecting the situation with alarm tightening his expression. “Where is he hurt?”

“He w-was stabbed th-through the chest!” My hands tremble violently over Dessin, wincing at the blood pooling up to my wrists.

Aurick’s jaw drops, and he takes a step back.

“What’re you doing?!” I pant, a lump forming in my throat to the point of pain. “Help him! Save him!”

But Aurick’s throat bobs, and his eyes won’t connect with mine.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Save him, you bastard! You owe him that much.” My voice is as small and helpless as a child’s cry.

Warrose puts a hand on my shoulder. “He doesn’t have much time left, Sky—”

I jerk him away, gawking like I’ve never seen him before. “This is your brother, isn’t it? Why is no one helping him!”

“Baby—” Dessin tries to speak, but his lungs are filling. He coughs, wet and sloshing with blood.

“Tell me what to do,” I say frantically. “Just tell me what to do.”

Dessin groans loudly, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. Unable to breathe. Unable to speak.

No.

Ruth is suddenly at Aurick’s side, hand over her mouth, fighting to hold in her sobs.

“He’s suffering,” she says through a garbled cry. “I think you need to say goodbye.”

I look down at Dessin, who is slowly suffocating, drowning, fighting a losing battle to breathe. And it hits me. It knocks the air from my lungs. He’s—dying. He’s trying to live with a broken body. And no one can help us.

“Dessin—” I whimper, reaching for his hand. “Oh my god.” I begin to cry.

He thrashes in my lap, unable to go easy, still trying to gasp for oxygen.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I tell him, locking my fingers with his. “I know you’ve fought your whole life. You were raised a warrior. And that’s all you’ve known.”

Tears flood my eyes, raining down my cheeks like a storm of agony.

“But—I realize asking you to keep fighting would be selfish.” A sob rattles through my body. And even though everyone’s eyes are on me. It’s just the two of us. And every alter I have grown to love too. “And I can’t be selfish because I love you.”

I’m in love with you.

Dessin looks up at me with pleading eyes as more blood spills over his chin.

“So, if you’ve fought all you can… then, I want you to let go. Okay?” My sobs become erratic hiccups. “Go home. Wait for me there until it’s my turn, okay? You can go home now. You can be with Sophia and Arthur.”

I’m fighting to hold myself together, but I know he can make it. I know he just needs a push. He needs to know how much I love him. I lean down, kissing him on the forehead.

“I’ll love you until hell freezes over,” I croak. “Go see the stars.”

Dessin blinks, body silencing, tremors slowing to a stop.

And he doesn’t blink again.