4. Nowhere to Hide
Nowhere to Hide
Aradia
It had been two weeks since Quinn took the bite from a skarak meant for her.
A full two weeks of dodging blatant demands to perform magic.
After making a coneflower balm for his shoulder, twice a day she was subjected to his prickling inquiries on her past. The only snippets of silence she received were when she applied the balm to his wounds.
His hiss of pain silencing his never-ending questions.
Today, he had felt well enough for a stroll and offered to walk her to work. Aradia held in her sigh at his hundredth question in the span of three streets.
“And how come your magic made its appearance now? I mean you’ve always worn the potent ring, but I was too much of a gentleman to ask if it was a knock off.
It never glowed with magic. It was so cool how you just …
whoosh … and then … bam! Obliterated the skarak!
I mean, you’re a real hero. What are you going to do now?
Are you going to the front to fight in Vidrena?
What else haven’t you told me? Any other cool things I need —”
Aradia clamped her hand over his mouth. “Please,” she groaned. “For the love of Cybelle and all the gracious gods, stop talking.”
Quinn’s mouth moved behind her hand. Muffled words drew curious gazes in their direction. Aradia smiled through clenched teeth at a young girl selling fresh pies and sugar rims on her cart across the tavern gates.
“Go home Quinn, you can talk later.”
Quinn huffed. “Fine, I’ll wait for you after work and walk you home.”
Aradia grimaced. “Lucky me.”
Quinn’s laughter floated behind her as she unlocked the door to the Lazy Lunar and stepped behind it with a sigh.
The tavern was quiet and peaceful. She moved through her familiar routine of lighting the hearth and opening the windows to the kitchen.
It would be boiling in the back while cooking and the tavern would be packed within the hour.
Passing traders, locals, and refugees from the southern realms were their primary clientele.
Several long tables were laid out where travelers would bond over good food and conversation.
Tall stools at the bars were placed for the loners who only wanted to drown their sorrows or keep to their own company.
The morning bell on the castle wall rang loud and clear, interrupting her morning solace.
Crackling coals from the hearth cast a warm glow into the kitchen.
The sweet dough she had prepped began rising on the warm racks.
The tall cabinets were lined with spices, herbs, flours, canned goods, fresh vegetables, and fruits.
Strips of venison hung above the firepit, drying out.
The smoky aroma almost overpowering the dough still rising from the bowls.
Aradia smiled to herself as she eyed the sugar twists freshly rolled in brown sugar and cinnamon. Placing them in the open oven, her mouth watered at the thought of the melting pastry. The front door opened and closed with a small click.
“Quinn, I swear if that’s you.” Aradia smiled as she rounded the kitchen door and into the dining room. “You know we don’t officially open for another forty minutes.”
Her breath hitched as she saw the stranger who had entered instead. Clad in black, the man wore a large cloak covering his face. A bow was strapped across his back. He took in the tavern slowly before his head turned to Aradia. A small voice whispered danger in the back of her mind.
“I’m sorry, we’re not open yet.” Aradia’s voice seemed light in the still tension.
The man was silent.
“If you’re hungry, I can heat up some soup for the cold day.”
“I’m not hungry,” his voice was quiet, deadly. It slithered around the room, stealing the very warmth from the firepit.
“I’ll have to ask you to come back when we’re open then,” she said.
The stranger took one heavy step forward, followed by another. His boots scraped against the clean floor and left muddy marks behind him to her annoyance. He lifted his head enough for the lantern to catch the jagged scar deforming his nose.
Aradia’s soft gasp filled the room.
Eos save me.
“I can’t do that either,” he said.
Aradia took a step back.
“What do you want? Who are you?”
He drew a jagged dagger from beneath his cloak. Black eyes lined with kohl met her gaze.
“Who sent you?” she demanded, stepping behind the bar. She grabbed the closest kitchen knife, thankful she always left them out underneath the bar ledge.
“Someone who wants you dead.”
Aradia turned with a scream as the man lunged forward and every question, every piece of her life flashed before her eyes.
The whizz of the blade sliced through the room and she stumbled out of its aim.
She gripped the knife tighter, and rolled into the kitchen, but not quickly enough. Rough hands shot through her hair, yanking her back against a wooden beam with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind her eyes.
“You won’t escape,” he said.
Tears blurred her vision as pain pulsed through her body. She twisted against the man, slashing wildly with the knife.
He nimbly maneuvered around her flailing arms.
Her knife struck true when she turned to fully see him.
He staggered backward from behind the counters and into the tables.
“Get away from me,” she screamed.
She lunged to shove the dagger into his black heart. He caught her wrist in a strong grip and twisted. She dropped the knife with a yelp of pain. Terror coated her palms, making them slick as she tried to escape.
His fist came up and cracked against her jaw. She crumpled to the floor with a moan.
“You were never meant to leave Shadowood,” he growled.
She whimpered. “Please,” she whispered. “Who sent you? Why are you doing this?”
“You are a threat.”
Aradia shook her head but stopped immediately when spots clouded her vision.
“No, I’m no threat to anyone,” she said.
She felt his eyes appraise her, sizing her up underneath his hood.
He didn’t know her, not the real her. No doubt whoever had hired him knew of her magic, and they had only given him enough information to deem her his next kill.
Judging by the man all it took was a pouch full of bronze coins.
She placed his accent from one of the southern realms, perhaps Arkan or Randale.
“Not anymore,” he chuckled darkly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“No!” A sob racked her body.
She crawled toward the bar. Her entire body ached.
Fear froze her heart as she heard his heavy boots scrape behind her ever so slowly.
These were to be her last moments and she was crawling before this monster.
Aradia slowed and took a deep breath. The knife was in arms reach, if only she could be quicker than him.
Eos, give me strength.
She reached for the weapon and almost cried in relief as her grip tightened on the knife.
She rolled to her side as his hand shot down, enclosing around her throat to yank her up.
Aradia brought the knife down with all her force, stabbing him in the forearm.
The knife tore into his leather arm band and wedged into his muscles.
A dark curse filled the air as he threw her into the kitchen doorway.
She stumbled, trying to stay afoot, looking for anything within reach to attack with.
“You witch,” he seethed.
Panic rose within her swimming head like black waves. The knife clattered to the floor. She grabbed the cast iron skillet and swung with all her might.
His hand came up, blocking his face. He cursed as he cradled his right arm.
She struck again and again, knocking him down to the ground. Hope bloomed in her chest. She might survive this. If she could only sidestep him and reach the doorway.
Wrong!
He grabbed at her ankle, pulling her back to him.
She turned with a squeal, aiming at his head to knock him out once and for all.
He caught her wrist and his weight shifted as he used her body to aid him. He sprang upward, dragging her closer at the same time. The smell of stale spirits and rotten teeth perfumed the air, making her gag.
She could hardly move her wrist and knew it would be bruised —along with the rest of her body — underneath his bone-crunching grip. It wouldn’t matter if she wasn’t alive to see the bruises the next day.
Aradia’s feet lifted off the floor. The kitchen was a blur for seconds as she was sent careening into the sink.
Her head lurched back as his hands twisted her around to face him.
She stared into his eyes. There was nothing alive within this man, there was no soul.
Her body dipped and she screamed as her head was submerged under dirty water.
Once, twice.
She kicked and pulled against him.
His body pressed against hers, holding her down — suffocating her.
She struggled to breathe. Screaming was of no use, no one was coming to save her.
The gods had turned their heads, and she would die a torturous death at the hands of this man.
Her lungs burned. Aradia pushed against the man but he held her strong underneath the water.
Perhaps now she would finally be reunited with her mother.
No! No! I will not die like this!
Bubbles escaped her lips.
Be calm, Aradia, a small voice whispered in her mind. Close your eyes.
Aradia willed her eyes shut, the corners crinkling with the effort as she struggled to breathe.
Wait, just a little longer, the voice said.
She had no idea if it was her conscious or the gods finally answering her pleas. The meaty hands around her neck eased as Aradia went limp. She dared not open her eyes. When her lungs felt as if they were to burst, and her heart slowed to a faint thump, she heard the still, small voice.
Now, it said calmly.