Chapter 37 #2
“And what are you going to tell Alaryk when you suddenly possess a heartstone?” I asked, watching Nevin edge toward me.
“There’s one in Ny’am,” Dresnar murmured. “That’s where I’ve been, after all. Looking for it after the Elthika attack.”
“It belongs in the mountain,” I argued. “For Grymia’s own Elthika.”
“Don’t talk to me about what’s best for my home, Dakkari,” he said coolly. “I love my people. I love our Elthika. I won’t see Grymia in danger again. And if this is what it takes, to do what others are afraid of doing so that we are safe again, then I’ll do it.”
“You’re stealing Elthika eggs,” I breathed, needing to break through to him. “Giving them to a nation who wants to start a war. If he finds out, it’ll mean your death.”
“Which is why he won’t find out,” Dresnar said, expression grim.
And suddenly it hit me, as rain pelted against my skin, dripping into my eyes.
That’s why I can’t live, I realized.
He knew I was close with Alaryk. He knew I’d been forced to do this, that it wasn’t my own choice. Dresnar wanted to procure a mature heartstone for his people, the other unknown Karag perhaps wanting the same, and the Dothikkar would offer them one as payment for their service, for their crime.
But Dresnar also wanted to return home. Back to his village, back to his people.
He wouldn’t be able to do that unless I was silenced. Because if Alaryk ever came to Dothik to find me—for Samryn or for himself—I would give him the name of his rider who’d betrayed him in a heartbeat.
And it would mean Dresnar’s death.
“They’ve seen you too,” I told him in a rush, gesturing to Ryak and Nevin. “They aren’t exactly trustworthy either.”
“We have our own assurances in place,” Dresnar said, making my shoulders tighten.
Raw panic flooded my veins, adrenaline pumping through my system. Ryak took a step toward me, edging the Elthika egg satchel off his back slowly.
“Stay back,” I told him, though I heard the brittleness in my tone.
“Amaia, we’re all going home,” he told me. “Stop wasting time.”
I wasn’t a fool, even though I’d played one up until this very moment.
Ryak took another step toward me—
And I turned and ran. As fast as my feet would carry me.
“Vok,” I heard Ryak curse from behind me. “I’ll get her. Just be ready to leave.”
And then I heard his body crash through the forest brush behind me.
My heart was pumping madly, thudding in time with my swinging arms as I used them to propel me faster. Sprinting with all my might, with the last of my strength. Because if Ryak caught me, it would mean my death.
Exposed branches and sharp foliage whipped across my face, slicing into my cheek and whacking hard enough against my legs that I knew bruises would bloom there.
The remnants of the makeshift trail we’d made were still evident, but eventually I couldn’t see through the rain and I deviated, traveling into the deeper part of the woods, caked mud clinging to my boots, starting to weigh down my legs.
I had no weapon. Nothing I could use to defend myself. Except my magic, but that would only help Ryak, not hurt him.
If only Alaryk were here, came the sudden thought, aching and desperate.
My magic was rising, trailing over my tired body. I was panicked, and I couldn’t sever it. My eyes were glowing, lighting me up like a beacon for Ryak in the dark woods. And I could do nothing about it.
He was closing in. I could hear him. Quickly, I looked over my shoulder, seeing the dart of his body through the trees, his eyes pinned on me. He was hunting me down. I shuddered, whipping back around, determined to go faster—
My shoulder slammed directly into the wide trunk of a tree, toppling my balance, sending me careening into another. My face hit the rough bark. I heard a crunch—the bone of my nose—as pain exploded, the warm trickle of blood running over my lips.
I made a sound, dazed, staring up at the tree that had felled me.
Get up, I thought.
Desperately, I scrambled on the ground, my hands sinking into mud and muck as I tried to rise. I ignored the pain and the blood. I needed to get away. Could I make it all the way back to Grymia?
I didn’t think so, but I had to try.
I had just gotten off the ground, had just started to run again, when I felt him lunge for me.
I cried out when his body crashed into mine, heavy and unyielding like a boulder.
He sent me flying back to the ground, the force of the impact and his weight sucking the air from my lungs. I hacked and choked, trying to breathe again.
Ryak flipped me around, using his weight to keep me pinned as I desperately struck out, trying to dislodge him. It was strangely quiet in the woods. Just the sound of rustling clothes and flesh on flesh as I tried to get him off.
I felt the squeeze of his hand around my throat.
No.
I gripped at his hands with mine, raking my nails across the flesh, thrashing my legs to try to get him off. I was tall and strong…but for someone like Ryak, a trained warrior, cutthroat and ruthless, he barely budged.
Pinpricks sparked in my vision. I couldn’t breathe.
The pressure on my throat was crushing. I thrashed my fist out since I didn’t have the strength to pry his hands away from my neck.
My punch connected, but there was no force behind it.
I tasted blood, dripping from my broken nose.
My eyes felt tight in my skull, the air depleting, the panic rising.
But his face was lit up from my eyes, bright enough that I could see every pore, every drawn line, every scratch, and the color of his bruises. I hoped they were from Brune.
I thought of my mother, my father. Kiron. I wondered what they would tell them, what lies they would spin. I wondered if Kiron could keep them protected. Because I hadn’t been able to.
My hand grappled along the ground as my vision darkened. My lungs felt so squeezed, like shriveled, deadened things. I hated that the last thing I’d see was Ryak.
Then I felt a familiar touch against me. Warm and seeking.
I thrashed.
Alaryk.
His magic. He was close!
My hand found the curved edge of a stone, jagged on one end and perfect. Another chance. In the sky above me, I saw a flash of red. Red scales.
Samryn.
And if I was going to die, then I would rather Samryn be the last being I saw in this life.
I tried to cry out. He was right there. Alaryk had come. He was looking for me. Or looking for the eggs. But no sound came.
I gripped the rock tight, and with the last of my strength and will, I hefted my deadened and tingling arm up…and I struck Ryak on the side of his temple. As hard as I could.
His hands loosened, a rough curse sounding. I took advantage, dragging in precious, cold air through my bruised, aching throat, choking on rain drops. It felt like I’d swallowed blades. I was dizzy, the forest swirling, and I tried to crawl away, to put distance between us.
“You vokking bitch,” he roared.
My magic was flooding now. I couldn’t cry out for Alaryk, but he would feel my magic. I was certain of it.
Ryak’s hand gripped my ankle, and he tugged hard. My front thumped to the earth, my jaw snapping, and I bit my tongue, a sharp pinch, more blood.
He must’ve risen because the swift kick that he landed into my abdomen made me wheeze and hack. Before I could drag in another breath, he landed another. And another.
I caught a glimpse of him. His eyes so dark they were black. The extent of his rage was terrifying, the monster beneath capable of anything. I understood now what it was that Gethrin Osa had seen that day on the landing field. What Brune had seen.
He will kill me, I knew. And he will like it.
Alaryk’s magic was sinking in my chest. I grasped at it, a lifeline, tucking it inside me like it was something I was trying to protect. I curled into a ball as Ryak continued to kick me with all his strength. I heard bones cracking, sharp pain that made me want to stop breathing.
He turned me over with his boot. I tried to lift my arms but couldn’t. I tried to fight back, but I was so tired, my body battered.
There was blood running into his eye from his temple.
At least I drew his blood before he killed me. That brought a sense of satisfaction.
And maybe he saw that realization in my eyes when he stared down at me. Because I saw that rage deepen.
When his fist connected with my face, it was sharp and oddly dull-sounding. A thump of flesh and bone. My heart was racing in my ears, and Alaryk’s magic was bundled inside me.
And when Ryak became even more violent, I retreated inward. I pressed into Alaryk, letting the warm current soothe me as I gritted my teeth and felt some of them loosen from the brute force of Ryak’s punches.
“Vokking bitch,” Ryak hissed. “Don’t you dare look at me like that. Red-blood Market District filth!”
Hold on for me, came Alaryk’s voice, sharp and clear in my mind. And instead of being frightened, I reached for him like I was wrapping my arms around his energy, trying to guide him to me. I’m here, mariss.
I closed my eyes because it was too difficult to keep them open.
Stay with me, Amaia, came Alaryk’s command, urgent.
Another hit came. It sounded like a wet squelch. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. I wondered if that was because of Alaryk’s magic or because my body was shielding it. All I knew was that I was tired. So very tired. I wanted to sleep.
That was when I felt something I’d never felt before with Alaryk. A rushing of power, hurtling and forming into the sharpened end of a blade, like it was about to strike. The length of his strength, the sheer magnitude of it, was surprising.
Order him to stop, Alaryk told me. Use me, Amaia.
I couldn’t speak. Could only think the command, envisioning the spear of magic cutting straight through Ryak.
The sounds stopped. When I managed to open one of my swollen eyes, I saw Ryak had stopped, as though he were bound, his eyes bulging with confusion, frustration.
I could feel the brief flash of Alaryk’s relief.
Through my dim vision, I saw Samryn circle back around, having pinpointed where I was.
Nowhere to land here…and I swore I saw a figure leap off his back, the white flash of his hair illuminated by a lightning strike in the sky, the rolling roar of thunder like an Elthika’s warning.
I focused on my breath as Ryak hovered over me, trying to break past the bonds of Alaryk’s magic.
I could feel his presence, sprinting through the forest, wherever he’d landed. He’d jumped off Samryn to reach me.
I’m sorry, I thought, tears mixing with my blood. I’m so sorry, Alaryk.
Stay with me, mariss, was his only response.
He entered the clearing. I saw the glowing blue of his eyes first, his nostrils flaring when he saw me, a brief flit of shock, which steadily turned into his own form of rage, carefully coiled and ready to strike.
I wondered what he saw. I wondered what I looked like.
Alaryk, the eggs, I thought, thinking maybe I’d spoken out loud, but my tongue wasn’t working. They have them. Dresnar—
Alaryk unsheathed a long dagger from his riding vest.
A weight was lifted from my body, Alaryk plucking Ryak off like he was nothing.
All I heard was the whistle of a blade, followed by the shocked gurgle dripping from Ryak’s throat. I saw his body slump forward, Alaryk’s eyes on mine over his shoulder, his dagger deep in the Dakkari guardsman’s belly. His arm moved. Twisting. Making it hurt.
Then he shoved Ryak away. He dropped close by, limbs sprawled, eyes staring unseeing, frozen in his last expression of shock.
Dead.
Alaryk dropped onto his knees beside me in the mud as Samryn roared overhead. His hands shook when he took mine. I could feel his anger, carefully honed by his shock. A maelstrom of emotions that washed through me.
His magic rose, like a sparking of flint, and all I felt was peace. There was no pain.
I’m glad it’s you, I thought, my fingers finding his wet hand. You’re all I wanted to see.
Then I remembered nothing at all.