Chapter 36
Roksana
Ice peppered my face as the wind scoured it from the granite cliff, causing me to squint. I couldn’t hide here forever. The approaching soldiers were still a long way off, but even the howling wind failed to deafen the clatter of armour and the sound of their marching song.
They moved with purpose, well-trained, well-armed – a cohesive unit that knew its target. The leader, a slim man sitting on the only horse, wasn’t looking around to search; he knew exactly where to go, but how?
Then I saw why. There was a man tied to the horse, a sailor, going by his clothes. He must have been a smuggler if he knew about the cave.
‘Fuck!’ I muttered, crouching behind the feeble shrubs.
With him leading them here, the men in the cavern and I were as good as dead. Thorns pricked my skin, the brambles defending themselves when my fist instinctively grabbed them tight. Could I make a barrier out of them? I looked at the withered leaves and impressive thorns.
‘No. Even if I made you grow, that smuggler knows exactly where the stairs are,’ I said to the plant, the only entity I could share my thoughts with.
Would they search the cliffs if I grew the bushes enough to hide?
It was risky, but a feasible solution. Hide, wait for them to find Jagon’s men, and run away when the fighting started.
It was a workable plan in the current circumstances…
only that meant leaving the sleeping people to be slaughtered like sheep.
They might have been thugs and smugglers, but that didn’t sit well with me.
Then there was Amala. I couldn’t let that poor girl endure my…
I shuddered. Even if she hated me, I would not allow that.
‘Oh, for fucks sake, why do I care what happens to these bastards? Why does everything have to be so complicated?’ I cursed, running back to the cavern, trying not to break my leg on the slippery steps.
‘The heart should never guide the knife… What a load of steaming pig shit. Maybe Tova can swap my heart for one of his machines, because this is bloody ridiculous.’ I was muttering angrily, my ire rising with each passing step.
By the time I entered the cavern, I was ready to fight the Tangra army myself.
Amala looked up from her bedroll, scowling as I ignored her.
Reversing the effect of my own potion was child’s play, especially since it was a sleeping draught. All I needed was a stimulant of sorts, and knowing smugglers and sailors, I figured they had kava beans nearby.
I rummaged through their supplies, creating a mess of epic proportions.
As expected, there were several small pouches packed around the more censured herbs, those used for illicit pleasures.
The smell was divine. Rich and earthy, the finest product from the southern continent where the sun lashed the ground with its relentless heat.
Gods, I would enjoy a cup… I moaned quietly.
The thought of my home with its stoves, Tova’s grumbling, and Reynard’s warm embrace rushed through my head with a wave of homesickness.
Not the time, Sana. Focus. A mental slap pulled me out of the funk.
I rushed to the cooking pit, pouring the rest of the stew onto the ground and filling it with fresh water.
My aether fuelled the fire until it was a roaring inferno, and soon, the water was boiling.
I threw all the kava I’d found and began casting.
Without the augurec manacles, strands of aether wove themselves easily.
My magic worked instinctively. I drew the sigils on my forearm, directing the flow before spreading my fingers over the cauldron.
The emerald power infused the kava, strengthening its properties.
It reacted with the stimulant, the aether working its way through the drink, creating a potent potion from a simple brew.
‘Faster, faster. Please,’ I muttered, tapping my foot on the stone floor. ‘Ziva, mother of healing. I rarely ask, but I could really do with some help right now.’
Despite working as fast as I could, my mind picturing the hammering of steel-toed boots. My time was running out. ‘Fuck it, this’ll do.’
I didn’t have time to finish the spell, scratching out the frost sigil, so fast I almost lost control.
Not that I controlled the elemental spell well at the best of times.
Still, the water stopped boiling. I dipped the ladle into the cooling drink and rushed around the closest men, pouring the contents down their throats.
For a moment, there was nothing but my rushed footsteps reverberating in the cavernous space, the pungent aroma of kava, and the sound of choking as, one by one, the men woke up from the slumber I’d induced.
‘It’s taking too long… Think, Sana.’ In a bout of inspiration, or rather remembering how I’d slipped on the wet, steep granite, I rushed towards the entrance and put my hand on the first step. My fingers pushed into the moss clinging to the corners. Then, I willed it to grow.
Whether it was desperation or the time spent cut off from my power, the emerald fire within me took on a life of its own.
My fear sent it into a frenzy. It ripped through me, sinking into the fragile moss, forcing it to grow.
The green carpet spread, covering the step, then climbed to the next, continuing past my eyeline.
I heard a muffled shout, and the stomp of disciplined soldiers halting.
‘Stop,’ I muttered, pulling my hand away. It was trembling. A large, red drop of blood landed on the green carpet, sinking into the plant like a sponge. More drops followed, and I pinched my nose, blinking to focus my vision.
The shuffle of footsteps began as someone tested the stairs’ safety.
I had no aether left, depleted by the repeated casting.
Still, when the first cry reverberated in the air, followed by a body falling into the sea, I knew it had been worth it.
The cave behind me filled with curses and the ringing of drawn swords. I’d bought us time, but was it enough?
‘Move the goods to the entrance to stop them getting in.’ Jagon took command, quickly realising our predicament after hearing several cries from the falling men.
Drowsy men followed his instructions, forming a makeshift barricade and standing behind it, swords swaying dangerously.
Smugglers weren’t soldiers, and they would struggle to halt the advancing Tangreans.
‘You’ll pay for this, Roksana.’ Jagon stood in front of me, his voice so cold it raised hairs on my neck. ‘Now get inside and do something about the bleeding.’
He was no longer looking at me. I wanted to move, but froze when the boot of the first soldier appeared from around the corner.
The Tangreans had regrouped, utilising a landing to stand in pairs.
They were unable to build a full formation, but the smirk on their leader’s face revealed his confidence.
I eyed the cliff edge. Whatever plans he had, they wouldn’t be taking me alive.
‘Kill the men, spare the woman,’ he said, gesturing to the entrance of the cavern.
Jagon grabbed my forearm, pulling me up. ‘Inside, now!’
He shoved me behind the wall just as a rain of arrows followed. The soldiers strode forward. Under the cover of their archers, they moved to the entrance of the cavern. The clash that followed was impressive in its chaotic beauty.
The trained fighters were methodical, grabbing items from the barricade to throw them to the sea below, whilst the smugglers reached over to stab at their opponents.
Several men fell to their deaths, but the pile blocking the entrance was soon gone, and the fighting started in earnest. The longer the skirmish lasted, the more aware the smugglers became.
Not just aware, but enraged. Their eyes burned with magic-induced fury as my enhanced kava worked its way through their bloodstream.
Suddenly, someone shot forth in something akin to a berserker rage.
He tore through the Tangra ranks, arms wide as he charged over the cliff’s edge, taking four armoured men with him.
Then another smuggler screamed, attacking, wreaking havoc despite the injuries the Tangreans inflicted until they brought him down. Then another followed, and another…
I’d created a berserker draught. My horror mixed with a strange sense of pride. The cloying smell of blood and the unmistakable stench of gut wound permeated the air, making me gag. Surprisingly, we were winning, even though the losses were heavy and the granite floor was slippery with blood.
The touch of the cold edge of the blade on my throat startled me.
‘You betrayed us!’ she said, her hand trembling and cutting my skin. ‘My mother died, and you still betrayed us.’
‘No. I set myself free and returned to stop you from suffering my fate.’ I breathed shallowly to prevent further injury. Amala was no killer, and I didn’t want to end up dead in some unfortunate incident.
‘Why would I believe you? I served you, cared for you, and you poisoned us.’ Sobs choked her. I used the moment to grasp her hand, yanking her forward. She fell to the strong floor, leaving the knife in my hand.
‘You expect me to sit by meekly and become a slave? Grow up, girl. Now get up; we need to move,’ I said, wiping the blood off my neck while she curled up on the floor.
‘Fuck orders! Kill the witch!’ the Tangra commander shouted. ‘She enchanted these bastards!’ The man was fighting off two smugglers, his side bloody where a cutlass had pierced him.
He knew he was dying, and the son of a bitch decided to take me with him. I gulped hard when an archer drew back his bow, aiming at me. There wasn’t anywhere in the cavern I could hide. There was nothing except a few crates.
The barricade… The gods must have given me wings because I ran towards the smuggler’s construction with all the strength I had. I wouldn’t make it. No one could outrun an arrow, and certainly not me, but I had to try.