Chapter Twenty-One
Piris
Two days later, Gem and Piris sat leaning against the rail of the ship, their legs bent. Piris hung her wrists on her knees, the only relaxed part of her body. Gem, quiet beside her, flipped a dagger in her hand, twirling it with such speed and precision, Piris watched with a mix of awe and jealousy.
“Want to learn the trick?” Gem asked, leaning over to knock shoulders with her friend.
Piris grinned and nodded. The warrior grinned back, training her eyes on her hands as she spoke. “First, you must be sure the blade has the right balance. Not balance overall, but the proper balance for your hand. See?”
The dagger, now stationary in her palm, sat centered, the hilt the only part touching her hand, the blade and handle perfect and even despite the small amount of air where the thing looked as if it floated above her hand. Gem gripped the weapon, flung the knife up solidly, and caught it again, with her grip switched. “You do this very well. Quickly and effectively. But you let go of the knife when you do. A risk you take to reposition. A necessary risk, sure, but a risk.”
Piris nodded, watching her friend move the blade to twist in and between her fingers. “With this method, you stay in contact with the dagger at all times, never losing it.” She grinned wide at Piris. “Never losing it as long as you don’t drop it, that is.”
She slowed her hands, allowing Piris to follow the movements. Gem nudged the hilt of the blade with her thumb, spinning it in her hand, so her forefinger hooked onto it, twisting it around in practiced control so it continued the spin. Gem’s middle finger then added to the movement until she used her thumb once again to stop the blade and right it in her grip. “See?”
Nodding, Piris pulled out one of her knives, already made for her grip and balance. She echoed Gem’s still-slowed movements at her side, twisting and turning her fingers independently of one another so she could flick, grip, and turn the knife with simple flicks of her fingers. Her hands were clumsy, unused to the style, but the method behind it made sense to her, enough she knew that, with much more practice, she’d be able to spin and maneuver the blade in a similar way as Gem.
“Thanks,” she said, not looking at her warrior friend as she studied her hand, her knife, and the push and pull of movement in her hand with intense focus. A knock to her shoulder told her Gem’s reply, and they continued their wait, side by side, spinning separate daggers.
They were waited for Darin to return from his volunteer scout mission. They’d reached the location where, according to her father’s information, they’d be best able to form an attack on the hiding spot of Engad Monti and his Benders. Darin, the stealth shadow assassin he was, had volunteered to go out, check the lay of the land, and come back so they could plan accordingly. They waited, Gem and Piris seated beside each other on the deck, Jarok and Cylian leaning against the opposite railing, talking in hushed tones. The sailors and guards stayed stationed and ready for when the time came.
Piris started a bit when Darin’s gray leather booths landed beside her without warning, the Fae man barely bending his knees at the impact he made when jumping back onto the boat. He looked down, a deep frown etched the lips he so often held in a firm line, and motioned for Piris and Gem to follow him. They didn’t have to follow far, as Jarok and Cylian met the rest of their group in the middle of the deck, not waiting for them to reach where they’d leaned.
“What?” Cylian asked, his fiery head tipped up as if knowing some sort of blow was coming.
“It’s a trap.”
“You’re certain?” Jarok asked.
Darin nodded once, as if he would say no more.
“How exactly is it a trap?” Cylian asked.
Darin crouched to trace a finger on the worn wood of the deck. “There is one entrance to the cave system, lined with trees in a narrow lane. The Benders have the trees and they lie in wait, in clusters, here, here, and here.”
“How many?” Gem asked, staring at the places where Darin’s finger had tread as if it had left some mark behind.
“At least four per position, with eight positions total. Thirty-two Benders in the tree line alone. I couldn’t get close enough to the cave to see what waited beyond the entrance. I assume there are many more.”
Jarok pulled his gaze from the deck to Cylian. “We need a way through without taking the lane.”
Darin raised himself up as he shook his head. “The woods are dense but dead save a few evergreens, where most of the Benders hide. It is open. We’d be clear targets long before we reached the caves if we attacked in force. Without force, however, we’d be overwhelmed before we got close enough to do damage or take a defensible position.”
Piris thought about what they had… how they could proceed. They needed to proceed because they had to end this. Here and now. For Jarok and his family. For Strella.
Then, with Strella flashing across her mind, a story from her friend sparked an idea. She knew what she could take and could guess how much Jarok and Gem could. Cylian and Darin remained a question. Looking from one to the other, she said, “Exactly how well can the two of you handle the cold?”
Four sets of quiet, nearly invisible feet hustled toward the left flank of their target. The fifth set had disappeared soon after they jumped ship, moving alone to take his position at the start of the lane. Darin would perch atop a cleared hill, picking off Benders where he could, as Piris, Jarok, Gem, and Cylian fought on the ground.
Piris remembered how Strella had got herself and Prince Ghel free of the Benders on the outskirts of the Aurora Outpost. She’d used ice and snow to conceal their sled. People were a little trickier, but with the help of water, ice, and a few strategically placed sets of white sheeting from the ship, the five Fae who’d traveled so far together were able to conceal themselves. Meant they couldn’t attack with all their forces, but there was a plan for them as well. When the fight was in progress, Cylian would send fire into the sky, signaling the sailors and guards lying in wait.
The snow and ice packed on the strips of sheet over her leathers creaked as she moved, the only sound any in her party made as they slowly came closer and closer to their goal. The element of surprise was all they had, and they needed to use it to distract, then defeat. The plan: Darin could take out several before anyone knew, then the party, hopefully positioned by the cave entrance, would pull out the other Benders in hiding so their forces could come through without fear of arrows from hidden archers.
Jarok had taken the command lead, and when he stopped, everyone fell in line behind him. He looked back, only a sliver of the golden-brown skin across his dark eyes showing. Not enough to fully see what he thought… why he’d stopped. He held up a hand, pointing toward the edge of the hill they were about to crest. Cylian understood his friend first, dropping to crawl up the hill for additional cover. Gem, then Piris followed, all four eventually lining the hill, using their sharp Fae eyes to track the movements below.
A few Benders wandered in, out, and around the cave entrance. Beyond the half dozen that could be seen, it looked as if no one else lingered there, unless they stayed positioned deeper in the cave. They trusted Darin’s assessment and knew the rest were stationed in the trees around the lane leading to and from the massive cave mouth.
Jarok’s charge would be their call to attack, the signal for Darin to begin his long-range assault. For a sliver of time, they would be exposed, open to all the Benders they could see down below as well as the thirty-two or more in hiding.
Jarok whispered, “Ready,” the sound a smidge above a breath. All nodded, and Piris felt a shiver, anticipation mixed with fear, creep up her spine and warm her cooling body and limbs. She spared a full look toward Jarok, who also looked at her. Bronze met brown, and she forced herself to swallow words. The prince’s eyes held sadness, but he quirked his eyebrow in the arrogant, insufferable way he had, and what had once annoyed Piris so much now bolstered her. Gave her strength.
A final, hard nod, then Jarok was up, running without stealth down the hill, flinging his wind before them all so it pushed through the Benders below before they knew anyone was there. The few who managed to remain standing found themselves hit in the chest with Cylian’s fire, making them topple. They reached the bottom of the small crest and stood, shoulder to shoulder, surveying the men on the ground, either pinned by wind or flailing to put their clothes out.
It would have been an easy victory if not for the mass of arrows whizzing by their heads. Jarok threw a wall of wind up around them, deflecting the arrows in midair, while the rest crouched in defense. Unfortunately, redirecting his wind allowed the Benders he’d had pinned down to spring into action. Something crashed in the trees to the right, and Piris knew without even being able to see at least one Bender was taken down by a bronze-tipped arrow with black fletching. Darin did his job well.
Cylian, rapier poised and long dagger awash in fire, raised his weapons to clash against one of the Benders bearing down on them. Three others converged on Jarok, recognizing him because his face coverings had blown away when he’d thrown his wind. Gem intercepted, sliding on her knees in front of her cousin to take out all three men with a vicious swipe of her blade across their legs. Her sword couldn’t penetrate their protective magic, but Gem was strong, and a hard hit to the knees took any Fae down. They fell back easily, but Gem didn’t stop to secure them. Instead, she spun on her knees and popped up to face the Bender who was running at them from the left, having come from some other position around the opposite side of the cave.
Piris moved to the three fallen men as Jarok moved down, plowing a swift hit of the hilt of his falchion onto one’s temple, who blinked out of consciousness quickly. Piris helped with the remaining two, keeping them secured with hard hits to their legs as Jarok went down the line, knocking each out. Death would come to many this day, but there was no need to deal it when unnecessary.
She moved close with Gem after, having agreed the two of them would fight with cold metal as Cylian and Jarok used magic and metal to push the Benders away from the cave. Once they cleared the mouth, and Darin picked off more Benders from the trees, Cylian would signal the soldiers and sailors with them, and the men would rally to fight in larger numbers.
The women fought back-to-back, slashing and turning like a unit. Like warriors on a mission. Metal clanged, blood sprayed, and despite a close call with a short sword to her forearm, Piris and Gem remained relatively unscathed as they made a swath of destruction across the open plain around the cave. Men lay moaning or lifeless in their wake.
For their part, Cylian and Jarok also cleared their way with ease, Jarok’s wind bringing with it the smell of burning hair and skin caused by Cylian’s fire. The smell was acid in her nose, but Piris knew as long as she smelled it, felt the icy winds whip her hair about, they were still fighting, so she did not divide her attention. She focused on the next man, then the next, felling Benders as she went.
A whistle sounded from somewhere deep in the trees, and a mass of feet pounded cold ground. The Benders left their posts, much to Piris’s surprise. When she noticed their convergence of men moving toward Jarok, she knew why. They’d been after the prince at Volesion Peak. No doubt their orders were to capture or kill him at any cost. She pushed through, moving her and Gem closer to the duo defending their position now, coming in to help with the new onslaught.
Darin followed the Benders down, stopping every few feet to string and fire an arrow at dizzying speed, then step into shadow and melt away again before coming back up to confront a confused Bender. He picked off Bender after Bender as they moved on the prince, but there were too many.
With the Benders in the trees now on attack in the open, Cylian threw up the fiery signal, and Piris hoped the men reached them soon. They were becoming overwhelmed quickly.
Cylian cried out, the hand he had extended up to fire a flame into the sky cradled to his chest, an arrow shot right through it. Less than a second later, Darin’s grunt, soft but somehow thundering in the battle, hit her ears, and she saw the man kneeling, an arrow in his chest.
Spinning to track her other companions, she watched Gem launch herself at a Bender barreling toward Cylian, who still wielded his rapier as blood dripped down a limp arm. The Aurora warrior jumped high in the air and landed on the back of a Bender only feet away from Cylian’s back, burying her sword deep in his neck. She wasted no time rising and running, but she cried out midstep as a short sword found its way into her gut.
Piris felt her world tilt as Gem stared down toward the bloody wound in her center as if her taking a blow was somehow unbelievable. She screamed, bolting toward her friend as the man pulled his sword away and raised it high to land a killing blow. It never came, as a shot of wind spun him around, and it grabbed him up, twisting his body until Piris heard the crack of his bones—his neck—as she skidded to stop at Gem’s side.
“Gem. Gem!” she screamed, shaking her friend’s loose body in her arms.
Gem smiled up at her, blood in her teeth, and said, “Hey there, m’lady.”
Piris wanted to cry and scream and rage all at once. She registered the clank of metal in the distance, a sure sign the other forces they had were coming to their aid. With the quick turn of events, she was uncertain it would help them. Arrows still flew, wind and metal howling, as she brushed a stray strand of brown hair from her friend’s face. She knew she needed to get up, to fight again, but to pull away then might rip her in two.
Gem’s smile faltered, her mouth in a perfect O, as she croaked out, “Pir—”
before Piris’s world exploded in a bolt of pain, then went black.
She awoke, her hands bound tight in front of her as she lay on her back, staring at the roof of a cave.
“Ah. You’re finally awake,” a rough, deep male voice said.
Piris turned her head to the sound and saw a Fae warrior with impressive muscle but not so impressive height walk toward her. She’d never met the man, but he had to be Engad Monti. Who else would leave her tied in a cave?
He moved to stand over her. The torchlight illuminating the space flickered around him, an odd halo of orange bright in the darkness. “You shouldn’t have come here, Lady Volesion.”
“Because now I have to deal with your stench?”
He boomed out a laugh. “No, lady.” Engad Monti shook his head, as if marveling at her gall. “You were home, safe, at Volesion Peak. I have no quarrel with you and yours. There was no need for you to come.”
“You have a quarrel with my king, my royals, my friends,” she spat out. “Of course I came.”
“Loyalty is an admirable trait, but it did not serve you well here.”
Piris snorted then. “What do you know of loyalty?”
He crouched down over her, head cocked in thought. “I know enough. More than enough. Certain loyalties only cause pain and heartache, which you’ll learn shortly.”
Something dark flashed in his eyes, but she didn’t care about what might drive a man like him, what dark past he might have. She had no need to consider who he was. Her only care in the moment was breaking free, getting loose. Because she knew true loyalty well. Felt it deep in her bones. She understood the loyalty of a prince, who without doubt was now scheming to trade places with her right then. The stupid, insufferable man would give the rebel exactly what he wanted, all because of loyalty and honor. And Engad Monti damn well knew it.