Chapter 3
For a small contingent of people—thirty-three to be exact—they had a decent amount of weaponry for me to pick through. They’d turned an old service van into a wagon they could pull with a pair of heavy horses. The metal floorboards creaked under my feet, the shocks and wheels in shit shape.
Most of the guns they had, had been turned into stabbing weapons of some sort, barrels sharpened into makeshift swords.
Ammunition was a luxury that most could not afford Dakota explained, and I nodded, feeling the truth of his words.
In a world where magic and monsters existed, ammunition was used up damn fast.
I grimaced as I thought about the stress on the metal in the making of those now stabbing weapons. They wouldn’t hold up more than a fight or two, if they were lucky.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. How did I know that weapons were made a certain way if I was a baker? Maybe blacksmith, not baker?
“You okay?” Dakota asked.
“Just, trying to remember something.” Shaking it off, I took my time working my way through the room as Dakota filled me in some.
“You know that our world is a mix, now, right? Some human, sure, but when the seams started opening into the Rift, shit got real, real fast. Monsters. Things from human history that everyone thought were legends. Magic. Everything.”
“Give me some examples.” I stared at the split barrel of what had been a shotgun. The steel was rusted and not sharp at all, though someone had attempted to make it useful, filing the tip so it was not just fully dull—a rounded point. The attempt hadn’t worked.
“Well, you saw the riftwolves, there’s lots of hybrid types.
But there’s older stuff too. We heard about a hydra erupting up through a seam over in region 9 a couple years back closer to the Eastern Atlantica Ocean.
There have been stories of all sorts of beasts.
But that’s only if there are survivors. Probably a hell of a lot more than we know out there—most just don’t survive to tell the tale. ”
I did glance at him then, feeling like he was leaving something out. “And that’s it?”
He shrugged. “Magic is real. A travelling group like ours, we’d be lucky to have a witch or some other supernatural with us, helping us survive—even if there were worries about her being Riftborn.” His dark brown eyes were locked on me, as if…
“I don’t have magic.”
“But you killed a creature on your own that normally would take out four of us, to each one of them. Red said you moved…like liquid around it. You might not think you are magic, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t.”
I snorted. “If I was magic, I’d wave my fucking hand over my head and restore my damn memory.”
My hands ghosted over the weapons, all while Dakota watched from the doorway of the armory on wheels. I wasn’t finding anything that I liked. Not to sound strange, but nothing felt right.
“Keep talking to me as if I know nothing about this place, this world. I need to know so I can help us all survive.” And hopefully have something jog my memory.
There was a scuffle of leather soles on the wooden steps.
“Why aren’t you freaking out about all this?” The kid who’d taken me to the creek stuck his head through the doorway, his gangly body blocking what little light was left of the day. “If I didn’t even know who I was, I’d be losing my mind. You’re just like…cold. Icey.”
Dakota shoved the kid away. “Don’t mind Port, he—”
“It’s a fair question.” And one that had been rumbling through my mind.
But I suspected the calm in me had to do with what Dakota had said earlier.
That I had been trained somewhere along the line to fight, to control myself…
the question was by who? The why was easy: this place was fucking dangerous.
The longer I was awake, the more control I found in myself. The more settled I felt in this body that seemed foreign at first.
Monsters crawling out of the fucking ground…gods, what had I been dropped into?
I finally gave up on the weapons search. There was nothing in the armory that I could use as it looked like all the good weapons had been picked over.
And that sucked donkey balls. I shook my head. “I’ll make something work; this is all garbage—I’d be better off with the seed planters.”
Dakota didn’t argue with me, just let me pass by him. “I have something that might fit you, I won’t be able to use it for a bit." He motioned to his right arm, where two fingers were crooked even being wrapped and the obvious swelling from being introduced to the tree.
He led me through camp, and I felt the eyes of the others drift to me. Could feel the stares turn into whispers.
Riftborn.
Monster killer.
Dangerous.
Every word they spoke under their breath felt far truer than I wanted them to be.
“Here,” Dakota scooped up a weapon as we passed what I assumed was his tent, and offered it to me. The bow and arrow set were re-fitted to have a pair of throwing knives attached to the left side of the recurve, staying out of the way of loosing the arrows.
I cocked my head not taking it right away. “The weight of the knives doesn’t bother you?”
Because they should. You’d have to compensate for the added weight all on one side.
“Give it a try and see for yourself. See if you can hit that far tree.” Dakota motioned with his right hand at a tree that was close to…I squinted. Two hundred feet give or take. A recurve bow could do it, but could I?
I knew weapons, and I knew how to fight. Was calm under pressure. Could I be a mercenary? A paid killer?
My jaw and throat tightened with a flash of anger. No.
What then?
I took the recurve bow and without thinking rolled it across my fingers from one hand to the other and back again.
The knives didn’t unbalance it too badly at all—they were lighter than they had any right to be.
I touched one of the blades, and my eyebrows shot up at how cold they were despite the warmth of the day.
Ice.
Spellbound steel, stronger than anything out there, they would stay sharp against almost anything. And they were made with magic; I was sure of it.
You sure you don’t have magic? You recognize it well enough.
My lips tightened at my own treacherous thoughts. No, I didn’t have magic. I was positive and almost felt…offended that someone—even my own mind—would suggest it.
Spinning the bow around my body, feeling the weapon out I kept moving with it in something that was more of a dance, than anything else.
I snagged an arrow from the quiver Dakota held out as I stepped around him.
Still moving. A voice from somewhere in the past whispering through me.
Someone training me, pushing me to perform.
Crouch, pivot, leg sweep, upper cut with the bow.
Roll the bow so the string lays flush against the inside of your left arm.
Knock the arrow, forward diving roll to your knees.
Draw the string tight and sight your target.
Always have a target.
Breath out.
Loose.
The arrow disappeared into the foliage of the tree, resulting in a few leaves falling to the ground.
A low whistle from Dakota. “You got the pull anyway, lots can’t even do that, and it gave you good distance, that’s good. Won’t take long to get the aim right…ah, fuck.”
A slow, half assed clap, and a laugh turned us both around.
The man approaching us was likely in his thirties, and for a world of not many resources was on the thicker side.
Shoulder length reddish-brown hair, a puffy face that made me think he’d been sleeping something off while we’d been fighting the riftwolves.
His eyes narrowed on me, flicking me up and down.
This was Red’s brother then. The one nobody liked.
I could see why. Everything about him screamed lazy and arrogant, from the twist of his sneering mouth, the lines driven deep between his eyes, and the false swagger he had going on.
He tucked his thumbs inside the edge of his pants, just under his gut.
A gut that would only come from taking more than his share.
Greedy, arrogant, lazy…this was a bad combination even on a good day.
He made me want to spin the bow around and accidently shoot him through those deep lines between his eyes. But maybe that was unfair, he’d not even said anything yet.
“They told me you were some magical warrior come to save us and you can’t even hit the broadside of a tree.
Assuming you didn’t crawl out of the Rift to kill us all?
What a fucking joke. Port,” He barked the boy’s name.
“Go get that arrow, and don’t come back till you find it. We can’t be wasting our resources.”
Nope, my assessment was not unfair and I itched to take another arrow.
Port took off running. “I won’t, sir. I’ll find it.”
I stood slowly. “Mid tree, Port.”
His head bobbed but he didn’t slow.
“This is Aron,” Dakota said. “Technically our leader while Red is down.”
The others from the group slowly joined us, circling around their for-the-moment leader. No one would gainsay him if he told them I had to leave, I knew that much. With Red injured, Aron’s word would hold. No matter what Dakota might say. No matter that Red had already asked me to stay via Dakota.
“We don’t need another mouth to feed. Unless…” His eyes dragged over me like I was already bought and paid for. “I lost my bed partner a few days back. You could fill the… position. I’d be willing to feed you then if you were...willing.”
In my belly, I knew that I’d dealt with men like him before, men who thought they were a catch because they had food. Or supposed safety. The rage bubbled low and hot, like lava licking at the edges of my senses.
But I didn’t need to rage at him to put him in his place. I suspected along with lazy, greedy, and arrogant; he was also stupid. A common denominator when the first three traits were present.
I arched a brow thinking that someone needed to tell him the so-called dramatic pauses were ridiculous. “Well, A-Ron. I fully understand you’re graciously offering me the worst fuck of my life for a bit of food, but I’ll pass.”
The titters that rippled through the crowd were quickly shushed. Aron’s face darkened like the sky above us. “Then you can go out there and fucking die, you ungrateful cunt.”
No one gasped, they were used to him speaking to women like this then. That lava bubbled hotter and it took all I had to keep myself in check, to not wrap his neck with the string of the bow and twist until his head popped off.
I shrugged, unable to keep my face impassive, a smirk whispering across my lips. “Then I’ll take what I just shot with me.”
“You shot nothing!” He roared and I watched the crowd behind him cower, felt Dakota stiffen.
The crowd flinched, Dakota stiffened, but I stayed still.
Calm on the outside, ready underneath. A man like Aron hated that.
I could see it in his face—he hated that I wasn’t afraid.
That he was emotional. That I could end him in an instant.
This world was hard enough without cowards like him, using what power he had to be a dictator over his own tiny country. It would take nothing to snuff him out.
I almost took a step toward him to do just that. Almost.
A triumphant yell cut through the tension. “HOLY SHIT!” Port yelled. “I FOUND IT! I NEED HELP!”
Everyone turned and two of the men ran toward the tree Port had climbed.
“Is he okay?” Helayne directed the question at me.
“He’s fine, just found my arrow.” And what it was buried in. The body had been darker behind the leaves, just a shade—enough that I’d known it was a large bird, and I’d taken the shot without thinking. Maybe it had been the sorrowbird. One could hope.
A few gasps. The others were pointing as the men and Port dragged my kill out of the tree.
“I’ll take what is mine and leave.” I handed the bow back to Dakota. “Thank you. For everything. Best of luck with A-Ron here and getting to Underfall.”
It took the two men and Port to bring the huge bird to the group.
A bird, yes—but not like any bird I remembered.
Its chest was broad as a hog’s, feathered in dark bronze that shimmered green and blue whenever the light caught it.
A tail of plumes dragged behind, long as my arm, every quill tipped in fire-bright colors.
The head, though, was all predator—bare skin stretched over sharp ridges, a hooked beak glinting with small, uneven teeth.
Its three taloned feet dragged deep furrows into the soil as the men struggled under the weight, claws curved like sickles meant for gutting.
“A karruk! This close to camp.” Helayne clutched at her chest. “You…Mallory you saved us again.”
Had I? Or had I just saved myself from being forced out? I’d given them a reason to trust me, and I’d known it the moment I’d seen the bird in the shadows of the leaves.
I chose not to question how the fuck I’d seen something so far away.
Maybe you aren’t human?
The whispers of the group turned into cheers as they surged forward, ignoring Aron, pushing him aside. The food made them bold, and brave and I was glad I’d been able to do this for them. It did not make up for the injuries on Red and Avalyn, but it was something.
If Red’s wounds didn’t heal quickly, there was no way I would be able to stay all the way to Underfall. I’d have to kill Aron before then.
Aron stormed off, cursing and casting me some serious stink eye, but he was unable to do anything. Not yet but I had no doubt he would.
A-Ron. What a limp dick. My mouth twitched and part of me wished I’d said it out loud, but…that wasn’t me.
Was it?
Something tugged at my body, like an ache of something missing. A person I’d have shared that joke with. A husband? I spun the ring on my left finger, surer than ever that I had to find him.
Whoever he was.
Within moments the bird was being processed—feathers, guts, teeth, claws.
Dakota clapped a hand on my back. “By our own rules, and a kill of that size, you stay. You can bunk with me.”
“You going to try and make me fill any….positions?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No, I like my balls where they are, don’t need them ripped off and thrown in the seam.”
I laughed with him, the sound soft and foreign to my own ears. I’d saved these people, fed them and now what?
There was no doubt in my mind that I couldn’t stay forever. Not even if I did make it with them all the way to Underfall.
Because if those riftwolves had followed me, then then there might be other things hunting me too.
Things that maybe I wasn’t so adept at killing.