Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
ALLIE
T he smell of sheep clung to my nose hairs and had seared so deep inside my brain, even thinking about eating mutton again made me retch.
Despite the cold beating against the wagon’s shell, a sliver of sunlight snuck through a crack in the wood and canvas, hitting me right in the face and heating me up. With the limited space, no matter which way I moved my head, the sunlight still stung a long gash across my cheek and forehead.
It also offered a much needed view to the outside. I only had that and faith in my own abilities to guide me.
Once the sky turned dark and the stars glittered, I could use them.
Until then, all I could do was wait and fret.
The sun shone high in the air, no sign of the clouds which had gathered above the city. No human sounds followed, only the birds chirping and the branches groaning in a mighty forest. The tops of the trees I could see through the crack didn’t carry as much snow as those surrounding the city.
My stomach turned leaden. What if those fields of flowers were at the edge of the crater and I just hadn’t seen them?
I’d be closer to escaping, yes, but without knowing how to escape this scar in the ground, I had no chance of scaling the tall crater walls.
I could have ended up in a wilderness plagued by fierce, magical creatures who’d love nothing more than to feast on my Protectorate ass, bony as it was right now.
The Commander had warned me the outskirts of the crater were dangerous.
I was not, at least for now.
If my powers had returned, my quest could have been infinitely easier. I could regenerate my energy, find shelter easier, and protect myself. I would be unstoppable.
Right now, I was defenseless.
Which was bearable–if frightening–until I made it out of this crater and back to Aquila. But what would happen once I reached the Protectorate stronghold?
Silas had spun his lies from my throne. Though it pained me to my core, Aquila might be hostile to me.
Not in essence. Not in whispered prayers at night or murmurs in the streets.
I refused to believe every civilian and member of my Clan had believed Silas, a man who’d never lifted one soft finger for them.
Still, I doubted.
I’d never imagined I’d have to claw my way out of a crater and reclaim my throne. I needed to be ready for the worst.
Silas might have hired mercenaries. I’d never seen the strange man who had stood by his side in the palaver portal.
It wasn’t like he could command the Protectorate army–the crown was missing.
Another obstacle I had to face. But if I found the crown, the army would be at my command. We weren’t as fierce as the famed Blood Brotherhood warriors, but our magic was pliable. Crafty. We could turn scraps into success.
If I found the crown, my Clan would be saved.
And I wouldn’t face Silas alone.
Orion was on my side.
Orion, who’d risked his life to send me a message to get me back to Aquila.
Who’d taught me how to throw my first punch and who’d decided alongside me that hand to hand combat wasn’t my forte; I could increase my grip, but my wrists were still fragile.
Even at eighteen, Orion had been strong enough to carry my little five year-old self on his shoulders as we’d raced through Grandpa Constantine’s gardens. Now he’d support me again, helping me back home.
Home…the word stung.
Home was now devoid of my father, my cousins, and the life I knew.
Yet here I was, my hip numb from the hard wood, smelling like sheep, and running back to that exact world–and away from the Commander, who’d been the only one to actually take a stand against Silas.
For me.
For a brief moment, safety had a voice, and it had sounded like the Commander’s.
And I left him.
Without a word, without a look.
A threat like the one he gave so calmly was dangerous. Clan-war-involve-the-Clan-Council dangerous. Yet he still did it, for someone who’d only grimaced at him and brandished a broken bottle his way.
He was another problem I needed to deal with, but couldn’t right now, when not even I could understand my turmoil. If the Clan Council had decreed we had to marry, we couldn’t risk the magistrates’ wrath.
But I couldn’t think about that now. First, I would reclaim my Clan. Then I’d deal with that messy future.
Even so, I couldn’t stop the guilt eating away at me. We’d both been flung into this arranged marriage plot, but while the Commander had taken that future responsibility by standing by my side and defending me to my own family, I chose to leave him.
I clenched my jaw to keep a growl from escaping.
I wasn’t running away. Not forever.
My Clan came first.
It had to.
To protect is to endure .
The sun slipped on the sky as these thoughts whirled in my mind, along with plans of infiltrating Aquila. By the time I’d settled on penetrating the stronghold through the flood drainways on the east side of the city, a strange darkness enveloped us suddenly.
The horse neighed something awful.
“Shhh, it’s okay, girl,” the courier murmured, but even his voice sounded off. It had lost that relaxed lilt, replaced with a concerning edge. “We’ll get through it in no time.”
Get through what ?
No sooner had the question sprung in my mind that the darkness engulfed us fully.
I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my eyes.
Fear gripped me and I struggled to dig my paltry knife out, gripping it like it could protect me from whatever this was.
Dark.
Cold.
Hums .
A million different voices, none of them human, all of them terrifying, blasted through me all at once, rattling in my mind.
This wasn’t the hum of the city, which scratched my brain and cackled at how easily it could.
These hums–these bloodcurdling, haunting murmurs and pulses–demanded attention.
They clung to my thoughts.
They scratched at my body.
Unbearable.
I covered my ears, but I couldn’t stop the voices.
Crying.
Pleading.
Screeching at me.
Worthless.
Powerless.
Helpless.
WEAK.
Then they began to sound familiar, as if I was remembering, not hearing them.
The priest’s scream.
Tanthe Issa’s laughter.
My father’s last breath.
Coward.
The First Daughter is a coward, running away.
Silas was right.
My mouth opened in a soundless scream as my skin burned away, my flesh got shredded from my bones, and my skull crashed in on itself.
Then it was gone.
The voices stopped, my body no longer burned, as I was still twisted in the wagon, smelling of sheep.
“That’s it,” the courier whispered soothingly. I knew he was talking to the horse, but I let his words wash over me just the same. “You were so brave. You always are.”
How could he still talk after that onslaught of screams? Had he not heard it? Impossible.
I loosed a breath and rolled my neck as much as possible. My gaze fell on the crack in the wagon–and I froze.
It was nighttime.
Impossible.
The sun had just barely set a few seconds ago.
Unless…unless something else had happened in that darkness.
“We’re almost home, girl,” the courier muttered, sounding relieved himself.
Were we out of the crater or not?
We had to be. He said they’d get there by midnight.
Shit.
Had I lost my chance?
Only one way to find out.
Standing up was an almost impossible chore on the rickety road. My legs had fallen asleep about an hour after leaving the city and no amount of massaging and punching the muscle could relieve the crawling sensation in them.
I struggled to move. There was no way I’d be able to gingerly step between the jars now–all I could hope was that the courier couldn’t distinguish between the clunky ruckus I made and the one forced by the road.
But he noticed something was wrong–the carriage slowed.
Shit, shit, shit .
Crisp, warm air barreled against me as I yanked the leather flap away. I took a deep breath, sent a prayer, and jumped.
The ground barreled toward me as I contorted my body and rolled.
Thank the gods for Orion teaching me how to fall back when my youngling body was still flexible and malleable, because my legs were fucking useless as I tumbled onto the road.
The rocks scratched at my clavicle and cheek.
My right wrist bent at a strange angle and sent shooting pain through my entire body. Branches and leaves caught in my hair.
But as I stopped spinning right there in the middle of the road, out of breath and options, I stared up at the night sky and saw the morning star, barely peeking above the horizon.
The jagged rimmed horizon of the crater’s lip.
I laughed as the carriage creaked away and the horse flicked its tail, as if flipping me off in goodbye.
Careful not to jostle my wrist, I propped myself on my elbows. I was in a bare field, flat as my scratched palm for miles and miles. The light from the carriage flickered farther away from me. I sent a silent thank you to the man and horse who’d helped me unknowingly and wished them well.
I thanked the gods there was no other human around to witness me struggle to stand, my limbs still uncooperative and stinging. But I stood, alone in the field, with only the stars as my witness.
I looked back at the rim of the crater. The ground had been torn and molded into shreds, as if a great big hand had dug into it and ripped out the continent’s guts. The jagged cliffs on the lip were more menacing so up close, but I could spot some fissures between them.
Was that how the carriage had escaped? No, impossible.
But I saw no entry or exit, no tunnel and no platform.
Curiosity nipped at my tired mind, but I ignored the pull of the crater.
I’d risked so much to escape it, why in Lunara’s name was I drawn back to it?
Magic. Wicked magic. There was no other explanation.
Turning my back to it was more difficult than I would have imagined, but turn I did, my gaze jumping from star to star as Orion’s message ran through my mind.
Two miles away from the crater’s rim.
South-west.
Follow the morning star.
My eyes fell upon a strange rock formation jutting out between a lone cluster of trees, right in the direction I needed to go.
That had to be the place.
Staggering, I started the trek, hoping the stars weren’t trying to trick me as well. Tonight, they looked foreign. As if they weren’t just watching, but warning.
I had to hope–they had never led me astray until then. Not when I looked up at them from my Aquila balcony, asking for guidance. Not when I got lost in the woods during my first hunting trips. And not when I screamed at them after Grandpa Constantine’s death.
They had simply watched me in cold detachment, always present, never replying.
I hadn’t yet roared at the sky after my father’s passing. I still didn’t think I deserved to let my grief free–not until I found his killer.
The rim of the crater seemed to mock me as I caught glimpses of it from the corner of my eyes. It was so massive, I couldn’t ignore it.
Or maybe there was a deeper thread that kept me tethered to it.
I shook my head.
The Protectorate was waiting for me.
We’ll come for you.
In eerie silence, I kept going, over parched dirt, dry rocks, and plants that snapped underneath my boots. Curious that there were no night bugs glowing or clicking. Perhaps they were scared of the crater, too.
The Protectorate party should have seen me by now. Unless they were waiting on the other side of the rock, careful of the Blood Brotherhood scouts which surely patrolled the rim of the crater.
Step by shaky step, I neared the trees.
My pace slowed as the shadow of the trees covered me.
The night lay too still.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood.
Just as I grasped my knife tighter, a screech broke the stillness.
I turned fast, my boot hitting a pebble that ricocheted behind me.
In a blink, a net sprung from the ground, sending twigs and leaves flying through the air.
My heart seized.
That net had been meant for me.
This wasn’t a rescue mission.
This was an ambush–and I was the target.