Chapter Thirty-Five
Andi
The night air bites my skin after I dropped my cloak in the commotion. Is it too much to ask for these arseholes to be gentlemanly and pick it up for me?
The sack over my head distorts my view. I can barely make out the shape of a man in front of me, with his lit torch through the tiny holes in the sack, the red and orange light flickers as the wind brushes against it.
“Keep moving,” a gruff voice says from behind me. His long fingernails piercing into my arm with his death grip, pushing me forward.
I trip over branches and tree roots that protrude from the ground, gracelessly stumbling along with my hands tied behind my back. I urge flames to my skin to melt the rope, but nothing happens. I can’t feel my flames.
Horror courses through me. I didn’t realise how reliant I had become on my magic these past few months. I have lived all these years with nothing but my wits. I panic at the thought of being normal again.
My mouth is parched, frayed threads from the sack sticking to my dry lips, I try pushing them out with my tongue, but this makes my lips crack more.
How long are they going to make us walk? Surely not all night?
They have to rest too, eventually. Especially with Zury guards dropping like flies.
“Start setting up camp here,” a smooth, authoritative voice shouts ahead of me. “You. Tie the prisoners to that tree.” The captor holding tightly to my arm, drags me over to the right, pulling the ropes around my wrists tighter, shoving me back into a tree. The others slump down beside me.
I wait until the crunching footsteps fade away. “Myles?” My voice trembles. “Kali, Lura?” My head snaps up at the sound of wood crashing together, voices chat as they retreat to collect more, or to find something to light the fire with, I can only guess.
Myles groans. “Are you hurt?” he winces as he shuffles against the knobby tree trunk.
“No, they didn’t hurt me. Are you okay?” I turn my head to the sound of his voice, with the fire light gone for the time being, I’m cloaked in darkness.
“Don’t worry about me, love, I’ll be fine.” He lets out a deep breath. “Lura, how far is it to the village you were leading us to?” Kali and Lura sit in silence, but I know at least one of them is here. I can feel her beside me and smell her fruity perfume. “Lura?” Myles whispers forcefully.
Lura whimpers, sniffing, “Em… I- I don’t know. I only know where I’m going when I can see the markings.” She sobs while Kali tries to comfort her.
“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. Just hold on everybody,” Myles quietens his voice. Just like Myles, to try to calm the panic.
“Kali, can you use your magic? I can’t do anything.”
“You won’t be able to. Can’t you smell it?
They’ve soaked the ropes in Poema. It’s a magic suppressant.
They crush up petals from the Poema flower, once crushed, it produces a sap that, when it touches someone’s skin, halts all magic.
Not easy to come by—whoever these people are, they knew who we were and how to stop us. ”
My stomach sinks, our captors have been careful not to say anything that will give them away, covering our heads so we can’t see them. They don’t feel like Zury guards, they always make themselves known, unable to resist absorbing the fear. They could be mercenaries looking for a payout.
Lura sobs beside Kali, whispering words in a light, airy language. Elvish, I guess. I rest my head on Myles’ shoulder, and he tenses for a second, before resting his head on mine. He must have gotten hurt and is trying not to show it.
Our captors chat beside the crackling fire, and my stomach rumbles at the smell of the roasting boar.
I close my eyes and pretend I’m home, in the cottage, surrounded by my family with delicious food spread across the table.
The fire crackles, wrapping us in a warm blanket, and everyone laughs as they fill their plates.
Elana pouts at Wyatt as he plays yet another prank on her. She loves him really.
I try to hold back my tears, I feel a knife being stabbed repeatedly in my heart, and every breath is another slice.
Footsteps walk towards us, and one man lowers his voice to another, “It’s really her?” one says. He sounds young, like his voice has not long broken. Feet shuffle around some dead leaves on the ground. “I can’t believe we caught her. He’s going to be very happy.” His cackles ebb as he walks away.
I can’t let it end here. I need to find a way out. Whoever he is, I don’t want him to be happy that they’ve caught me.
I start wriggling my hands, pulling, and stretching the rope as much as I can without crying out in pain.
Something hard and sharp taps my wrist. Myles whispers, “Try this rock.” Taking it from him, I slide it up between the rope and my wrist, sliding it back and forth.
This is going to take forever, but I feel like I am doing something rather than just sitting here, waiting to be carted off.
The racket around the fire alternates between singing and fighting, a mixture of cheering and the sound of someone being punched repeatedly. Good, distracts them enough for me to continue trying to break free.
Back and forth, it slices through my rope, and I feel it loosening ever so slightly. Excitement rushes through me. Get the rope off, remove the sack and kill these bastards.
A swoosh through the air silences the men, and the fighting between them ceases as one of them groans and thumps to the ground.
The men yell around the fire.
“Shit, get your weapons ready.”
“You two, take that side.”
“Keep them away from the prisoners.”
Shouting begins around us, along with the clanging and clashing of weapons, and arrows swirling through the air, landing on their targets.
I rub the rock faster against my wrist, slicing my skin as well, but I can’t stop.
Pushing and pulling the rock quicker, until it snaps.
I gasp as my wrists fall free, reaching to pull the sack from my head, inhaling deep breaths.
After a few gulps of fresh air, my magic thrums again beneath my skin.
Myles is right behind me. My raw wrists, where the rope was tightly bound, now have their own red bracelets to match the pink scar on my neck.
Myles pulls me back against the tree, shielding me from two men fighting before us, one of them wearing armour unlike any I have seen.
The other, no armour and his face covered by a scarf.
When they fall away from us, I reach down to Kali and Myles to Lura, pulling off their hood and trying to untie their binding, but it’s too tight.
I hunt around on the ground, looking for anything I can use to cut the ties, searching the dead body beside me, but all he has is an arrow lodged in his neck.
I yank it out and use the sharp end to cut Kali’s ties before handing it to Myles for Lura’s.
A soldier falls beside me with a masked man astride him, his weapon piercing the guard’s neck.
His dark eyes raised to me, holding my stare for a moment.
His clothes are slightly different from the other masked men.
Darker, almost black. He stabs the armoured man in the chest and moves on.
I scramble to my feet and push Kali out of the way, rushing further into the forest.
I pause, looking back over my shoulder at the masked army, each taking on more than one member of this mercenary group. Beside the fire, a masked man has a dagger dangerously close to his throat, his straining groans stab at my heart.
Why are they masked? Disguised as outlaws, rebels? Kali grabs my arm and tries to pull me away, but something in me stirs, I need to help them. They’re outnumbered three to one.
I pull my arm out of her grasp. “I have to help,” I say. “Get out of here, get somewhere safe. I won’t run anymore.”
Without waiting to hear her protests, I pull my flames to my body, lighting up the night.
Throwing a bolt of fire from my arm, it glides across the air, landing on the mercenary beside the fire.
In fright, he flails his arms, rolling on the ground trying to extinguish himself.
The outlaw scrambles to his feet, his wide eyes meeting mine.
A group of armoured men rush towards me, and I wave my hand, creating a wall of white sparkling fire. Unable to stop, they crash into it, their bodies dissolve to ash, scattering with the wind.
With the guard numbers quickly decreasing into dust, I watch the rebels fight the paid soldiers with relative ease. These are the guys who killed the guards in the mountain pass, they must be.
One masked man parries with a guard using a long, double-sided weapon.
He looks at me, his blue eyes framed with dark bruises.
He smirks, pushing the guard off him before swiping his long, sharp weapon down, relieving the soldier of his head.
The head rolls on the ground beside my feet, blood seeping into the snow-covered floor, and I shuffle my feet to move out of its way.
“Hey there, little thief.”
“Do you not have finders keepers where you’re from?” I reply. “How’s the nose?” I laugh, walking away looking for my next target.
At the other side of the camp, Myles fights a soldier. He turns his head, catching my eye, and I scream as the sword slashes through his leg while he is focused on me, and blood pulsates from his leg. A ball of fire sails from my outstretched hand, melting the man’s body into embers.
“Myles!” I hear faintly, I don’t even remember calling his name.
I rush to his side, putting pressure on his leg. Lura charges up to Myles and replaces my hand, pushing me out of her way.
“I’ve got him,” she says. I stumble backwards, my hands covered in Myles’ blood, again.
Visions of the last time my hands were covered in his blood flood back to me, the light in his eyes fading, his skin turning ashen, his lifeless body slumped against me.
I pant heavily, staring at the blood dripping from my fingers.
Kali grabs hold of my shoulders and slaps my face.
“What the…”
“I’m sorry, but you needed it. Those arseholes are winning. We can’t let that happen. They’ll take us prisoner again. If we want to escape, we need to kill them.”
Kali is right, I let myself have one last look at Myles, he is alive, he is breathing, everything is fine. Anger fills my body, rage seeps from my pores. I walk over to some armoured men fighting, uncaring about the weapons raised above my head.
I grab one mercenary by the chin, fire encasing my hand, the skin on his face bubbles under my touch, his screams feed my magic. I laugh frantically with his face melting in my hands. A rebel on the ground at my feet scuttles backwards, afraid of me. I reach out to help him up, but he bolts.
One soldier catches my attention at the far end of the glade, fighting the masked man in black attire. Knocking his dagger out of his hands, the outlaw draws another blade from his belt, but the armoured soldier swivels it towards its owner.
My feet move before I can think, grabbing the attacker’s face.
A warm sensation flows through my body, seeping out of my cells, my bones.
He turns to me, in his eyes I see my reflection, my eyes have gone black.
Entirely black, with only my red eye burning with power. Terror is imprinted on his face.
His screams fade as his body dissolves, crumbling to tiny fragments that settle amongst the snow. The powerful feeling dwindles fast, and with it my energy. I fall to the ground, languid, gasping for air, my sight blurred.
A hand outstretches in front of me, and I lift my head, looking into dark eyes that blink rapidly, trying to make sense of what he just witnessed.
He pulls me to my wobbly feet, placing his other hand at my lower back to steady me.
He stares at me, his eyes roaming over my face.
I have to force myself to look away from his intense gaze.
He keeps one hand on my back, only letting go when Kali rushes forward, throwing her arms around my neck, almost knocking me off my feet again.
The ground is engulfed in white flames, smoke fills the air, and everyone coughs and splutters. The dark-eyed rebel walks away, his husky, authoritative voice shouts a distorted order to his men, and my hearing is muffled with blood rushing to my ears.
A few of the men hobble and limp, gripping their sides or wrapping up a leg. I start walking over to Myles when I hear a voice call my name.
“Andi?”