27. Owen

"Wake up, Owen. You're not safe."

Owen woke with a start after hearing a voice whisper to him in his sleep. Had it been the shadow man? If it was, he wasn't sure where his spirit was, as the darkness surrounded Owen like a thick blanket.

When something heavy thudded nearby, Owen's heart jerked. He found Colt beside him and shook him awake.

"What's wrong?" Colt groaned.

"There's something out there," Owen whispered.

They froze at the thudding clank in the distance, then crept around the tree to wake Brom and Gilda.

When the noise continued, Gilda started, "What is that?"

"Shh!" Owen felt for her hand and clasped it. It was too dark to see anything.

"Should I light the lamp?" Brom asked.

You're not safe.

"No." Owen found his bag and pulled it on. "We need to leave."

"Leave where?" Colt asked. "It's pitch black."

Brom growled. "Get on your feet and walk. Grab hold of one another."

Owen felt Gilda's hand grip his own. Colt placed his hand firmly in Owen's and they all stood to their feet. They followed behind one another, Brom leading the way through what they thought to be the trees that led back through the destroyed village.

Owen's heart pounded. His mind overflowed. The darkness was engulfing and suffocating. It reminded him of the sea caves back in Milarc, only much darker.

The thudding continued, growing louder.

"Brom, stop," Colt said. "Whatever that sound is, it's coming from this way. We have to turn back."

"There's nowhere to go," Brom snapped.

The sound of steel scraped against the ground, then chains rattled through the air, and they all broke apart.

Owen's hand released from Gilda's and he was suddenly jerked away as a rush of wind whipped near him. The ground vibrated as something struck it. Then the thudding noise began again, much like the giant's footsteps before, except much slower. Owen wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He ran behind Colt through the darkness, away from their pursuer, when the ground gave way. Owen tumbled down the side of the hill, skinning his legs on loose stones.

"Owen, where are you?" Colt called when they'd reached the bottom.

"Right here."

When their hands met, Colt grabbed hold of him and tried to pull him along, but Owen stopped.

"Brom and Gilda…" Owen said.

"We have to take a chance they're alright. Come on."

They made their way forward, slow and careful as they trudged past rocks and strewn limbs of trees they couldn't see.

Colt urged them onward at a quick pace, but Owen found it hard to keep up and stumbled to his knees. His heart felt as if it might burst from his chest as he landed with a grunt on the ground. Colt tried to pull him up but he struggled as he found himself surrounded by thick mud.

"Owen, come on," Colt strained as he tried pulling him up.

"I'm trying." Owen grabbed hold of him. "My boot's caught on something."

Owen tugged at his boot, but when he was sure it wouldn't come out, he wiggled his foot until it slipped free. His woolen sock clung to the end of his foot. When he leaped to solid ground, he moved swiftly.

After what seemed like an hour of stumbling through the darkness, they had gotten far enough away from the creature that stalked them. Taking a moment to rest, they caught their breath.

"Thank gods the sun's coming up," Colt panted.

Owen sighed, staring at Colt's grimy face in the twilight. It looked as though he had been rolling around in mud and it had dried. "We need to find Brom and Gilda."

"Let's get our bearings first."

"I can find them if I open up." But when he did, he found nothing but frazzled energies. As if someone had taken an ink quill and scribbled energies everywhere, muting their companions' vitality.

He dropped his eyes and continued on. As the light diffused through a thin fog that was forming, they were able to make out their surroundings. To their left, a high rock wall ran along into the distance. To their right, a worn path ran up a hill. Rocks and broken trees littered the way.

There was no sign of Brom or Gilda. Looking back from where they came, the hill they had slept on was now well out of sight. Owen pulled on his coat, walking unevenly with his boot gone. Luckily, there was no snow here, though the ground was wet and muddy. Pools of murky water stood still between the gnarled roots of trees, which looked as though they tried to grow toward the sun but failed, their branches bowing instead toward the ground.

They were quiet as they took in the area. Ahead were rocks of knee height that looked almost uniform, and Owen realized they were headstones poking out from the ground. Most of them were so badly weathered and grown over with weeds and brush that the names could no longer be read.

Owen eyed the brown muck of the water. Gnats and flies flew above the surface, small ripples quivering beneath their fluttering. The sight of the liquid made his dry throat thirst for something clean, and he reached for his waterskin. While some of the pools stretched out along the path, some of them stood alone.

"Does this place never end?" Colt asked, accepting the waterskin that Owen held out.

"I think this is the graveyard." Owen sat on a rock and massaged his cold foot.

"Of all the places to stumble into, it had to be this." Colt sniffed and looked at him. "You want my boot?"

Owen took the waterskin back and tucked it into his bag. "I'd rather walk barefoot. Your boot is too big."

"I know how prone you are to colds."

"I haven't had one since we left Milarc, thank you."

"Just take the shoe."

"I don't want it, Colt." Owen rubbed his arm and shivered.

Colt shrugged. "I'm giving it to you anyway."

When he bent down to undo his laces, Owen saw a green, slimy arm move out of the puddle behind him. Before he could utter a word, a bony hand gripped Colt's leg and jerked him to the ground.

Colt landed in the mud with a grunt, and Owen jumped forward to grab his arms.

A thin, scraggly looking creature shot out from the water. Slimy hair brushed against Owen's hand as Colt's foot slipped into the pond. The face of the creature looked like a rotting corpse covered in brown algae. Its eyes bulged as it grasped at Colt, yanking on him.

Colt yelled out and kicked his boot at the creature, but it gripped his other leg and pulled him toward the water. Owen let go of Colt's arms to retrieve his dagger and rammed his blade into the vile being's shoulder, producing a splash of black liquid. It wailed before releasing Colt and sinking beneath the murky depths.

Helping him to his feet, Owen grabbed Colt's arms and pulled him away from the puddle. "How about we just keep walking and not worry about shoes?"

Colt took in a ragged breath and nodded, his hands tightening on Owen's arms. "Right, sounds good. At least give me your bag to carry for a while." He sucked in a painful breath and looked at a scratch on his arm.

Owen slipped his bag off and gave it to him. He wiped his blade off with a rag, then they continued through the marshy, mud-stricken wetland until they hit the dry hills again.

After several hours of walking with one boot, Owen's foot was filthy and nearly frozen. Colt scanned the area. "We need to get you out of that muddy sock and warm your foot." He looked around before he nodded at a tree with a fallen boulder against it. "Look, there's a nook hidden here."

Owen's heart jumped up into his throat as he looked past the nook Colt was pointing at. There were bones and skulls littering the hills, older gray and rotten bones with newer ones on top. A few were still wet with blood.

Owen crouched and slid himself under the rock until his back hit the trunk of the tree. Colt followed him, grunting as he came under, and sat beside him. There was just enough space for them.

He trembled against the frigid air. "It's so cold it h-hurts."

Colt shivered, but took Owen's hands and rubbed them between his own. He brought them to his mouth and huffed warm air against his fingers. "That a little better?"

"Yes. You're so warm." Then Owen blinked as it occurred to him that he could make fire for them. But would it be too risky?

Still, he wanted to try, at least to warm them. Moving one of his hands out of Colt's grasp, he willed the burn through his veins until something purple sparked in his palm. Beside him, Colt tensed, and when the flame grew bigger, he moved away slightly.

"It won't hurt you, Colt," Owen said. "It's warm, but it's also… calm. As if I can control how it burns."

Colt eyed him before he moved his hand toward it. "It's warm." He moved his hand through the flame quickly, and when it didn't burn him, he placed his hand within it, and gasped. "That's amazing."

Owen moved so that the flame was between them, and the heat was enough to warm them both without burning, which was a strange thing in itself. "Amias said the flame had healing abilities too, but I'm not sure how to do that."

"Just give it time, you'll figure it out." Colt cupped his hands together and placed them beneath the back of Owen's hand, cradling them and making it look like they were both holding the flame. "You"re already warm."

"It's like it's heating my whole body too. I'm not even shivering anymore."

"We could have used this sooner, you know." Colt furrowed his brow.

Owen made a face. "Oh, excuse me, I was quite busy trying to figure out how to stay ahead of a Wielder and a Hunter instead."

Chuckling, Colt glanced at him, and Owen caught his eyes. In the gloomy weather, the purple flame lit his lover's face, and Owen's heart stuttered.

"You are really… handsome, Colt."

Colt gave him a crooked smile. "Thanks, my sweet. Even in this place, with dirt all over your face, no shoe on, and as toothless as you are, you're beautiful too."

"Hey." Owen punched him lightly on the arm, and Colt laughed. He always forgot he'd lost his canine tooth to Quinnby's punch until his tongue found the gap.

The sound of thudding boots and chains interrupted them, and Owen's flame disappeared as he moved his hands apart. They stilled as the sound drew nearer and pressed against the wall as far as they could go.

Looking between the rocks, Owen could make out the shape of big, heavy black boots as they thumped through piles of bones. A long, sharp double-headed axe drug behind, and chains dangled down the side of the creature's leg, revealing the pale heads of people, their skulls half exposed.

Owen looked away as sickness crawled up his throat at the sight. When he felt Colt grab his hand, he looked up to see him place a finger to his lips. Then the giant stopped, his boots throwing up bone dust as they settled, and they both stiffened as they watched and waited, holding their breaths. When the boots continued on, out of sight, they released the air from their lungs.

Their moment of relief was brief, for the sound of a loud roar rang in their ears. Then the whole top of the boulder above them flew into the air, revealing gray sky and the creature before them.

They scrambled out of their destroyed hiding place just as the giant threw his axe down into the ground. Owen clambered up a hill, losing his footing and realizing that he was trying to climb a hill strewn with bones. Colt yanked him up to the top, where they bolted across to another path.

Stealing a glance at their foe, Owen made out the tall form of a man, his torso and hands human, but his face horribly disfigured. His eyes were the murky gray of thunder clouds, and long black hair fell down his back, the ends thin and matted. This was the same giant that had chased them out of their abandoned cottage that morning, only now he was fully visible in the evening light.

The creature swung his weapon as he gained on them. Owen and Colt rolled out of the way, but the giant advanced and swung down again. Crying out, Owen rolled away from Colt and bolted toward a rock wall. The creature was on him once more, but he managed to slide in between a narrow crevice in the wall as the brute swung the axe, which clanged against the rock.

The ghastly giant slipped his arm inside the crevice. Sharp nails scraped against the side of the rock, and Owen pushed himself farther away as a finger brushed against him. Then the hand became more aggressive, and the claws tore across his shoulder. Hissing in pain, Owen pulled out his dagger and sliced across its hand.

The giant pulled away from the crevice, and Owen released a breath before angling his head to see where the beast had gone. Instead, he saw an iron fence that ran from the side of the rock toward an elaborate gate. The end of the graveyard.

When Owen caught Colt trying to lure the giant away, Owen dove from the crevice, running along the fence and yelling for Colt to run for the gate. They met moments later, but the gate was locked and their time to speculate on their escape was short. If they both tried to open the gate, the giant would be upon them.

"Use your Essence while I get the gate open," Colt said.

"Against that?" Owen yelled.

"You can do it." Colt grabbed Owen's shoulders and pinned him with his stare. "I know you can."

The determined look in his companion's eyes gave him enough incentive to summon his power. With a nod, he said, "Okay. I'll try to hold it."

As Colt turned to the gate, Owen prepared to fight. Feeling his veins burn, he pulsed his power out against the creature as it charged after them. The giant staggered backward, its axe flying from its hold. A mask of rage took over the beast's face, and it surged forward again, but Owen kept pushing against it with a mental barrier only he could produce and feel. Pursing his lips, he growled through his teeth as he blasted all his strength against it.

"Almost there!" Colt said.

The giant struggled against Owen's invisible force, inching its way along with no sign of giving up. His mouth opened as he neared, revealing sharp, vicious teeth. The giant removed a spear from the leather straps on its back and held it above his head. The beast pointed it at Owen, his eyes burning deep.

Owen's feet slid against the force he created, as if the giant itself channeled against him.

"Got it!" Colt yelled. "Come on!"

"I can't leave or it'll pummel me!"

As the giant cocked his arm to throw the spear, it jerked back. A long knife had landed in the side of its neck. It dropped the spear and reached for the handle. Looking over, Owen found Brom and Gilda making their way toward them. His lips twitched, his eyes beaming. A spark of hope filled his heart once again.

Then something whirred through the air, and then came the intense, shocking pain as a blade pierced the space where Owen"s right shoulder and chest connected.

Owen jerked, letting down his arms as he gasped, and then he drew in air through his gritted teeth from the pain of the sudden jab. His hand shook as he reached up for the knife, but he didn't touch the handle. Dark blood soaked through his shirt. As he took a step back, an electrifying sensation rippled through him in agonizing waves.

"Owen!" Colt shouted. He wedged himself between Owen and the giant, blocking any other attacks as Owen sank to his knees.

The giant smiled maliciously, his gray eyes widening with excitement as saliva dripped from his mouth. He moved forward, but Gilda came between them and sent him flying back with the sweep of her hands.

With the beast distracted, Colt and Brom grabbed Owen and fled out of the gate, each of them helping him walk as Gilda followed behind.

Black spots floated across Owen's vision, darkening the twilight sky. He shook his head as he struggled to stay on his feet. In the distance, the giant roared, but he hadn't crossed the threshold of the gate.

When they set him against a tree, Colt carefully removed Owen's bag from his shoulders and crouched beside him. "Brom, help me get this out."

"No, we don't know if it's pierced a vein!"

"It has to come out!" Colt touched the handle of the knife, but Owen cried out, banging his head against the tree.

"Leave him be!" Gilda yelled, pulling Colt away.

"Just letting you know," Owen breathed, his head spinning, "I may faint."

A new voice called out to them from afar. Owen squinted as he took in an older man and a young woman.

"Not another move!" the young woman yelled.

"He's been injured," Gilda shouted back.

Owen looked over at the fence in the distance. Behind it, the giant ran his axe along the iron gate, but he didn't come out. The doors of the gate had been shut, and rather than linger, the creature stomped back up the hill.

"We have to get away from here," Brom snapped.

"As long as the gate is closed, he won't pursue," came the man's voice. "We have a house nearby."

"Owen, stay awake for me," Colt told him as he wrapped a shirt around the knife to keep it in place.

"Trying." Owen attempted a smile.

"They're going to help us."

Owen grunted as the man pulled him up into his arms, while Colt held steady the weapon still lodged in his body. He took in the youthful face of the young woman, catching wide brown eyes and short hair, before they rushed forward. His mind feeling heavy, Owen closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he looked up at the man holding him.

His hair fell to his shoulders, and a beard etched his face. "Amias," Owen whispered. For a moment, Owen looked up to catch the silver of a full moon just rising above the horizon. He squeezed his eyes closed for only a moment, but when he looked up at the man again as a shadow drew over them, he realized they were in a tent now—no, a house.

When the darkness was met with dim orange lights, Owen gave in to his pain. It felt as if the right hand of death was marching him down to the depths of the netherworld. His mind wavered, and he blinked several times to keep himself awake. One moment, he was sitting up, the next, he was lying down, his clothes gone and his skin cold.

Then came an excruciating pain so intense, his vision blurred, and his companions' voices became muffled. He screamed, then smelled blood, and then the dark spots floated above him again, and the tears leaked from his eyes as he felt himself falling…

A woman with dark hair and eyes looked down at him, holding a vial in her hand. "Mother," he whispered, and then the pain being too much, he fainted.