7. Lina
Lina
W hen I finally step out from the brush, the coin safely tucked into my shirt, I send one final look to the girl who is my only reason for continuing to fight against fate. My eyes are dry and itchy, my heart sore.
But I am brave. Braver than I should be for what I know I’m choosing to endure.
I will hold onto her, the belief that she will live and find the hope we sought together. Then, I turn my back to her and walk toward the stream.
I am as quiet as I can manage, all the way to the water. We need space between us before I become a distraction so she can escape.
There’s a crack in the distance. My heart pulses.
Fear urges me forward; I run as fast as possible. The farther I can make it, the more likely they won’t find her too.
So, I run. The rags I call clothes whip in the wind, my feet pounding heavily on the dirt path.
The crows caw. Once, twice, three times.
The stream grows bigger, and I can already imagine the glorious coolness of its waters on my burning skin. I leap into the water, heart soaring because this is freedom—not guaranteed happiness, but the chance to run for it.
For one moment, while I am in the air headed for water, hair tossed back, I think that I could make it. Maybe they won’t turn back. Maybe they won’t hear either of us. Maybe we could escape this fate again.
Because I am blessed.
But before my feet even feel the water, my body is jerked back. Hands are around my mouth, pulling me against a thick body.
“We meet again,” a voice purrs against my ear.
The calm I’d held in my moment of purpose seeps out of me in an instant, replaced by horror. The smell of decay rushes my senses, and my knees buckle.
They came so fast. Too fast. I didn’t even make any noise yet. Had they already known we were here?
I am falling. Black peppers my vision, and I am nowhere. My body numb.
Someone is laughing.
He says something, but I don’t hear the words. I only feel the prison of the monster’s arms suffocating me and the sensation of floating.
I am not strong enough, in so many ways. Of course, he is physically overpowering, but my heart isn’t strong enough either.
“Did you really think you could escape us?” Dread whispers in my ear. “That I would ever let you win this game, Little Mouse?”
The warrior lifts me over his shoulder and begins marching through the forest. I thrash and scream, but the warrior holding me simply laughs and grips me tighter. So tight I can barely breathe.
There are many sensations—the pressure of his shoulder against my hip, his tight grip squeezing the life from my upper arm, the dread racing through me.
The warriors laugh and brag about their success.
“Where did the other one go?” one of them asks.
“Doesn’t matter. I got what I wanted,” the warrior holding me says with a chuckle.
I almost soil his back with my disgust. I’m trembling uncontrollably.
“You were so determined to have both.”
“That was before I realized it was a child. She’ll starve without this one anyway.”
I whimper. Astella is stronger than they realize. Not strong enough to fight them, but surely strong enough to survive alone.
I pray she’s strong enough to survive alone.
Time passes. I don’t know how much.
Before long, my mind spins and then settles instead on the sand piling in my sock, digging into the heel of my foot. It tingles at first. Then burns. I pay too much attention to the acid grit as it attempts to bore into my skin.
That tiny amount of poison won’t do any long-term damage. It won’t hurt more than a bee sting, yet in the midst of all of this disaster, it’s all I can think about.
There is pain and darkness, and everything else is numb.
Until we stop. My legs don’t bear my weight when I’m dropped, so I slide to the ground, knees colliding with gravel. It should hurt, but I feel nothing.
There is laughter in the distance, followed by stomping boots. Then, I am ripped from the ground a second time and rough rope is tied around my wrists.
The ground trembles beneath me, then stops. Trembles, then stops. Again and again.
It takes me a moment to register the sound as thundering footsteps.
I suck in a breath.
This is some new nightmare. One from legends I’d only ever heard during our tales in town, or from the refugees that fled from the cult’s crusades.
I almost didn’t believe the tales of the lizard beasts they rode.
Draken.
I shiver and collapse in on myself, heaving in breaths to my burning lungs.
“Halt!” a booming voice commands, and the stomping stops.
“Don’t worry, Little Mouse. My beast will not harm you.” I think he intends his words to be comforting. They’re not. I am certain he has some other form of torment intended for me.
Another voice chuckles. “At least not until we reach the den.”
One finger presses to my forehead. I yell and bite and claw, as bitter cold spreads across my skin. My scream crescendos into something inhuman.
The sky is wiped away, turning a solid black. My limbs go numb. I am dropped into icy waters, unable to move or see. Magic. Dark magic sucks my mind dry.
I am nothing compared to the strength of these beings. They’re solid muscle, dark magic, and no empathy. They are as soulless as the scelp. As ruthless as the Morteres sands. As venomous as the viper.
As inevitable as death.