Chapter 6
six
Only a day ago, I was awaiting my brother’s coronation, and today I witnessed his brutal demise on the doorstep of my own, where death was knocking.
Fate was funny like that. Destiny was unknown under Ovatar while branching to the more pleasant yet still inevitable end. That was what the prayer book and my father drilled into me time and time again. Praise Ovatar, and obey him, and you would be saved.
Where was my savior now that blades were at my throat?
Their blinding armor burned a hole into my eyes, making my last sight painful—until the serpent’s tail whipped.
The powerful mass of muscle wiped two guards off their feet and threw them into a clattering pile of startled groans.
The beast raised its head, staring me down with beady silver irises.
When it opened its maw, revealing the unending razor-sharp teeth, I took off before it could swallow me.
“Praise be Ovatar,” I whispered as I ducked through the short-lived opening. The back of my hand burned, like someone had pressed a poker into it, but I ignored the angry rune and ran through the vicious battle.
I retreated. My father needed to die, but he wouldn’t die today.
His brutal impetus burned into my mind with those sickening sapphire tendrils. He’d nearly killed me. The only thing that could stand a chance against him was one of the monstrous dragons—but I had no dragon.
So I ran.
I needed to escape the kingdom.
As I left the ring of death, a sigil spread beneath my feet, and I hopped away just in time. Warmth from the glowing violet light grabbed at my ankles, exploding behind me and singeing my skirts.
The guards whose limbs remained trailed after me, hot on my heels. Though my lack of armor gave me a slight edge, it was a meager advantage. They matched every footstep, shadowing my retreat.
I snaked through the roaring dragons, my ears ringing as if they were about to burst. But I couldn’t miss a step or slow.
The only place I could hope to outrun them was as terrifying as the beasts who invaded our city.
Outside the wall.
The only place to flee to would be the gate in the Underquarter. It was sealed tightly at all times, and I’d never so much as gazed out of it, or the lush forest that lay beyond it.
Please, Ovatar, let the gates be open in the Underquarter.
A mess of dragons and riders filled the long stairwell. I had to duck and dodge swinging swords, clashing metal, and indiscriminate magic. When I swung beneath the overhang, the runes spread across the wall, crumbling a section just before me.
Before the final stone rolled to a stop, I clambered forward, dodging the rubble and praying it slowed the guards.
I didn’t dare look, I hardly dared to breathe as I shuddered forward, embracing the battle haze as it filled my veins for the final sprint.
I was halfway down when I had to slide beneath a swinging blade—quick enough that it only took a lock of hair.
A show of silver and decay surrounded me, stark against the golden armor of our guards and the swords that came down upon them.
Their riders seemed unfazed, their platinum plate blinding as I tore by.
Weaving through the disorderly battle, my feet caught on the stone steps as I fled downward, and nearly fell into the Underquarter.
I caught myself at the last second as I bounded down the final step.
I half expected Hrothgir to be waiting by the towering shanties, but he wasn’t.
Instead of the swaying towers, they were now piles of rotting boards, with the dragon stomping further through the thin alley, knocking down every home.
Every dirty face filed into the Gelded Eye, one of the few remaining structures, but I didn’t dare dart in with them. I kept moving until I saw the back of the square, where Hrothgir had whipped me. The memories flooded but the sight of the gates hit me like a thousand shattered bricks.
They were tightly closed.
My heart picked up speed, slamming against my ribs as I lingered. The metallic sound of angry boots cambered down the streets, striking against the backdrop of screams and slaughter. They were gaining. Time was running out.
Run.
I bolted ahead with nowhere to go, inching ever closer to the giant beast and his trail of destruction. The guards grew louder, with their raucous threats now audible.
“Take her head!”
I jumped forward, a few strides from the serpent.
Please, Ovatar. Have mercy.
The dragon’s tail whipped, crumbling the stone with such brutal force that it sent debris pelting my cheeks. I winced at the sting, but didn’t slow, heading toward the broken barrier. Someone had heard my prayer.
A swarm of rag-clad peasants flooded outward to escape the city, and I joined them, hoping to get lost in the sea.
But once I left the safety of the walls, a second fear overtook me, overshadowing the threat of death.
There wasn’t any greenery, only craggy rock dotted with barren trees and scrub.
Bulbous, reaching roots clawed their way through the sandstone, cracking the desolate ground. It was a cold, pale, lifeless place.
The scent of death hung heavy in the air, hanging on the dry breeze.
I hesitated. I shouldn’t have, but I did as tried to take in my surroundings and grapple with the truth.
Outside the wall was meant to be the Eltide forest, a long stretch of dangerous green, filled with banshees and ghouls. What I should have fled into was thick wood and treacherous climbing ivy with the breeze punctuated by haunted screams.
So where were the trees? Where was the thick forest and waiting ghosts—there was meant to be more than the dragons besieging Ilyatria. Where were they?
I’d waited for far too long. The guards had caught up, and were now flooding from the crevice in the wall. The fleeing peasants had scattered like rats, leaving me a lone, visible target.
I tore ahead. The guards clacking matched every footfall.
The battle haze pushed me further. They were gaining, but I couldn’t lose. I couldn’t die. Not now.
The land beneath me descended, bowing to a low hill that hastened my pace. I took full advantage and bounded downward, letting myself hang in the air as long as possible.
The bone-colored trees grew sparser until the landscape was nothing but desolate cliffs and rough gravel.
Before me, a deep gash cut into the earth, a jagged gorge bending either way into the horizon.
In the middle sat a marbled ivory bridge—a beacon of hope.
It was a minuscule victory in an ocean of terror and uncertainty.
I slid to a halt before it. A rushing river ran at the bottom, along with broken remnants of the bridge. The front was intact, with its marbled pillars and pearled arch, but only a few feet of walkway remained.
Shit. I’m going to die.
The guards barreled toward me, closing in.
I inched closer to the edge while my feet sprayed rocks below.
It was deep, but it couldn’t have been more than half the castle’s height.
Once, a servant boy had fallen slightly further—from a window.
It was a bloody mess, and he had broken nearly every bone in his body… but he didn’t die.
Time was running out, and I had to decide: a certain death, or a likely one.
I moved away from the edge, just enough to take a running start, and bolted toward the gorge. When my feet left the ground, I inhaled the wind that whipped around me. Regret hit me as I began to sink like a stone.
My mind emptied, save for one thought: it’s colder here than it should be in the summer.
The water hit me like a wall, slamming against every bone in my body. I swore it must have shattered them. The pain was beyond anguish, but the ice lanced through me, stealing my agony and warmth.
The river consumed me. I fought desperately against the current that kept trying to pull me under.
It rolled me listlessly as I gasped for air, battling the freezing wind.
As quick as I shot up, the river would drag me under again.
It tugged me to the depths of the dark water, and I’d have to force my body to resurface.
Each time my lungs burned so badly, I thought I might never breathe again.
But as the cold sank into my bones, my fighting lost its edge.
I dipped further beneath the surface. My stretches of oxygen became rarer with every agonizing second.
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was fight.
It didn’t matter that it was a losing battle, or that my chest ached and I thought I’d never see the light again. Because I needed air.
When my lungs burned and my muscles tensed and screamed, the river relented.
It whipped me against a large stone jutting above the surface.
My fingers bit into its slippery surface, digging for any handhold as I wrapped myself around its length.
When I inhaled, freezing droplets came with the air.
I coughed and spewed as the waters parted around me and kept tugging me forward.
I fought bitterly to hold on. To keep the river from dragging me to my death.
My grip weakened against the slippery, moss-covered rock.
In my delirium, I met the eyes of a darkened, blurry figure on the shore.
He held out a hand—no, a stick. Some branch that reached toward me.
All the while, cold delved into my veins, the numbness now lightning that zagged through my fingers.
“Help,” I think I said. Anything that slipped from between my lips was mumbled garble.
The branch inched closer, its shoots dark against the violent river. I reached out with a tired hand, but my lifeline was just out of arm’s reach. Maybe a few fingertips away. If I were to grab it, I’d have to release the only thing keeping me alive.
I didn’t think or pray. I shoved myself away from the slick boulder with my little remaining strength. But the river was too quick. I slipped, my fingers only grazing the wood.