42. Phoebe
42
PHOEBE
A s much as we were both enjoying the kissing and yes, the sex too, our situation is too precarious to continue to linger. We quickly dress, helping one another in straightening out the tangle of our clothing. He even helps me to get the binding for my breasts tight enough to do its job.
Now, we move side-by-side whenever possible. When it’s not, I fall into step behind him without complaint or concern. It feels like finally having had sex put us into a mutual understanding that manifests itself in weird little ways like this. Moving in sync, almost finishing one another’s sentences. All the little things that old romantics and poets would dribble on about, except this is real. This is life. My life.
Vapas holds up his clenched fists and I stop almost before he does it, sensing the tension in him shift and seeing him start to move his arm. He has one hand on the sword hilt but doesn’t draw it. His knees are slightly bent, his arms are loose. He’s ready.
“All I am saying is that the Al’fa should have put the first one of the monsters down. Now what? We are overrun with them.”
“You talk too much,” another voice says. “The Al’fa knows what he is doing.”
“We will see when the trials come.”
Vapas looks over his shoulder. He’s nervous. What I’ve asked him to do goes against every instinct in his warriors body, but it’s the best way to make sure no one gets hurt. I nod, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
He grunts then lowers himself to his knees, placing both his hands behind his head. I step in front of him, partly so he won’t see how nervous I am. I know this will work, but that doesn’t mean things don’t go wrong.
The voices come closer. When I estimate that they’re just around the next corner, I call out.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m Phoebe, I have an Urr’ki with me. Don’t hurt us.”
The voices stop instantly. I hear them approach but they’re much quieter now than they were. The gleaming blade of a lochaber appears around the corner before its wielder does.
The Zmaj is huge, like all of them are. His horns are thick and dangerous looking as is the glare on his face as he steps around the corner. His wings are partially open, making it look like he fully fills the cavern passage. Another dangerous sign is that his tail is curled up and over his head, ready to strike.
“Who?” he asks.
“Phoebe,” I say, holding my hands up. Heart thundering, I take another step forward, if only to keep more space between the tip of that curved blade and Vapas. “Human? I was sent by Rosalind to the Urr’ki. I’ve escaped. This is Vapas, he helped me.”
“Step to one side,” he orders, motioning with one hand.
“No, I won’t. You cannot hurt him. See, he is surrendering. He means no harm. He has a message that Rosalind needs to hear. Now. There is no time to waste.”
“The Al’fa will decide what needs to be heard,” the Zmaj spits.
His partner appears around the corner. His lochaber is also drawn but he seems much more relaxed than his partner. He walks up, raising his lochaber as he does, and places a hand on the other one’s shoulder.
“Calm,” he says. “Let her speak.”
I give him a grateful smile. Behind me, Vapas grunts, a barely suppressed growl. The first Zmaj shifts the point of his blade towards Vapas, taking a step forward, but his partner stops him by tightening his grip on his shoulder.
“He threatened us,” he says.
“No. He did not, now let the human speak,” the more rational one says.
The other Zmaj grumbles and is clearly very unhappy at being pushed aside, but he doesn’t say more. The rational Zmaj steps up to me but his gaze remains fixed on Vapas.
“Tell me,” he says.
“Rosalind sent me with some others, I need to get to her,” I say.
“Okay, but he needs to be chained and bound,” he says.
Vapas growls and I hear him rising to his feet. I turn just in time to stop him with a look. He frowns but goes back onto his knees with a nasty glare at the Zmaj.
“He is with me,” I say.
“I do not care,” the Zmaj says. “This truce with the Urr’ki is tentative enough and we just had an incident.”
“An incident?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, but he’s clearly not going to go into detail about it with me.
“I understand, but he’s a good man. Please.”
The Zmaj shifts his gaze to mine, frowning. I stare into his eyes and don’t see any hint of animosity, but I do see resolve.
“I am sorry little human, but no,” he says, his tail slapping the ground.
He reaches towards me and out of nowhere Vapas barrels past me and into him.
“Don’t touch her,” Vapas growls as he drives his shoulder into the Zmaj’s gut.
“Vapas!” I scream.
He drives the Zmaj back until they crash into the wall. The second Zmaj whirls his lochaber, bringing the blade around to ready.
Everything is frozen. Between moments, I see a dozen possible scenarios that could happen. All of them dangerous, most of them bad. If I don’t do something, Vapas is going to be hurt. Or worse.
Despite the voice in my head screaming that this is stupid, I run in between the second Zmaj and Vapas. He’s thrusting towards Vapas’ back when I intercept. The point of the blade presses hard into my belly and though I feel a trickle of blood he stops it in enough time that it doesn’t penetrate.
“Move,” the Zmaj hisses.
I grab the shaft of the lochaber, pushing back. It’s not going to stop him and I know it. All I can do right now is show my determination. And, if nothing else, it hides the way my hands are shaking in terror.
“Don’t do this,” I say.
“He attacked,” the Zmaj says.
Behind us, Vapas and the other Zmaj wrestle. I can’t see what is happening, but I hear it. The smacks of flesh hitting flesh, with no idea of who is hitting who. The Zmaj I’m facing growls and jerks the lochaber back.
I try to keep my grip on the shaft but the wood is polished and smooth, my hands slide down until they catch on the piece of metal that attaches the bottom of the curved blade to the shaft.
The metal feels so cold it almost burns. I’m acutely aware of the sharpness of that blade that with little more than a thought could end my life.
“Please,” I beg.
It’s the only thing I can do. Beg. I can’t fight him. Can’t stop him from doing whatever he wants. The similarities to Todd are not lost on me, even in this moment, but with Todd I let it happen.
Not this time. I am not who I was.
The Zmaj’s green-yellow eyes bore into mine and I meet his gaze without flinching. My stomach flips and flops. Cold sweat beads on my skin. My mouth is dry and my head is pounding. Part of me, a very big part, is absolutely certain that I’m going to die. I tighten my grip on the shaft, if nothing else it keeps my hands shaking.
“He attacked.”
The Zmaj narrows his eyes and pulls back on the shaft, trying to dislodge my grip, but clearly not wanting to stab me either. And there it is. Certainty hits like a geyser exploding inside my head. And with certainty comes power.
“He is scared and protecting me,” I say. I push the lochaber to the side and he lets me. The point of the blade no longer threatening my stomach, my breath comes easier. “Let me handle this.”
The Zmaj hesitates. I see the doubts playing across his face as clearly as the suns rise over the desert above us. It’s all the opening I need.
I let go of the lochaber and turn my back on him. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a cold chill races down my spine, but I ignore all those indicators that I’m doing something stupid.
“Vapas!” I yell before I can even sort out what the hell is happening.
The two opponents are entangled together to the point it’d be almost impossible to tell which one is which, if they weren’t starkly different colors. I have no idea which of them is ‘winning’ and I don’t care.
My shouting does nothing to stop the fighting. I yell again, but they don’t even seem to know that I’m here. The other Zmaj comes to stand next to me, his lochaber held at his side but no longer pointing at Vapas at least. Glancing in his direction he shrugs.
“Vapas, stop,” I demand, moving in to try and physically pull them apart, as if I’ll be able to do that.
I touch Vapas’ shoulder when suddenly I’m struck on the side of my head. I think it was an elbow, but I don’t know. I’m knocked back, stars spinning in my head, stumbling away from the fight.
“Phoebe!” Vapas yells. My vision is blurred, but his green shape looms close and then his arms are wrapped around and holding me. “Enough.”
Vapas is my anchor. Shapes move past and around. Sounds blur one into another. The certainty I’d felt shattered with the blow to my head. All I want right now is to cling to Vapas and never set foot outside his arms again.
As the world resolves back into solid shapes and sounds separate into words, I find myself. Vapas is barking back and forth with the two Zmaj. The three of them are playing some kind of weird blame game as to exactly whose fault it is that I was struck. I take a deep breath and then push off of Vapas.
“Stop. Please. Just. Stop.”
I punctuate each word while keeping pressure on the side of my head. My left eye is swelling, throbbing with pain.
“Dragoste, I am sorry,” Vapas says.
I hold up my free hand that isn’t busy keeping my head from falling off to stop him. I start to shake my head, but immediately realize what a terrible idea that is as I groan.
“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “No sorry. No time. Take us to Rosalind. Now.” When no one moves to my command I grit my teeth harder, “Please?”
The two Zmaj look at one another and then they are shrugging.
“Come,” the more rational one says. “Stay between us.”
He motions at the other Zmaj who moves to bring up the rear behind us and we are finally moving. Vapas stays at my side, holding my free hand, murmuring unnecessary apologies, but I am grateful for them nonetheless. They distract me from the mounting worry.
How is Rosalind going to get the Zmaj to agree to help the Urr’ki?