Chapter 43 #2
Harfor lunges forward, almost too fast for the eye to track.
Roiven skillfully blocks the knight’s first strike, but Harfor’s burning-blue sword doesn’t slow for a moment, sliding off Roiven’s blade and twisting to come in from the other side.
Roiven ducks. Harfor’s blade draws back, the blade so bright it leaves a trail in my vision.
I’ve spent so many hours training with Harfor, a whole lifetime, that I can practically see her moves before she makes them.
I scream a warning too late. Harfor punches forward.
The sword rams through Roiven’s stomach and comes out the other side, and for a moment time seems to pause.
I stare in shock as Harfor places a boot on Roiven’s chest and kicks the witch back.
Roiven turns to look at me as he collapses to his knees, and then onto the ground.
The storm dies abruptly, the howling force vanishing to the ocean’s normal sea winds. The rain thins away.
The overwhelming pain vanishes abruptly as Roiven shuts our bond, refusing to let me carry it with him.
Survive, beautiful, a voice says in my head.
It isn’t the kraken speaking. It’s Roiven, the words laced with pain and sweetness.
I thought he wasn’t supposed to be able to do that.
I can’t answer. No, no, no, is the only thing running through my head.
And Harfor turns away from Roiven to face me, bloody sword dangling in her hand. For a moment she stares at my face as I stare back in horror. Harfor’s lips twist into a grimace visible through the narrow opening of his helmet.
“Won’t you die already,” she rasps. “Filth.”
“No,” I whisper. My left hand fumbles at the sword hilt. “The witches aren’t evil. We were lied to—”
Harfor shouts and runs at me, blade humming blue again. With a curse I dance back and raise my sword. Harfor’s got two years of steady training on me now, a full suit of armor, her dominant hand.
But I don’t have a choice. Because Roiven is bleeding out on the deck of the ship.
I have to get him to Aria, if Aria is even still alive somewhere.
And that means getting through Harfor and getting us off this ship.
Hafgúa is still dragging Sava away through the water; they haven’t reached the nearest shore yet.
She’s heavy, even for an ancient as big as he is.
I can’t count on rescue coming anytime in the next few minutes.
Her blade slashes down and I barely block it. The blow reverberates through my whole body. My legs tremble.
“The War-Father lied,” I say. “They aren’t the reasons these lands are dead. Please, just listen—”
She comes in again. Years of practice has me reaching for magic. And instead of the Hellion, this time I find my kraken. Fire blisters down my sword’s blade and roars toward Harfor. She retreats quickly as blue light forms a shield around her.
“How did I not see it?” she rasps. The look in her eyes is pure hatred. “Your lies, your unnatural powers…”
“Witches aren’t evil. The Empire is.”
“You disgust me,” she says. The moment my fire falters, her shield vanishes.
I know how she feels. I was that way too.
And I hate her for the way Roiven is lying unmoving on the deck of the ship, but Harfor was by my side for my whole life.
Even if she tried to kill me, I don’t want her dead.
I want her to realize, like I did, that the Empire is wrong.
Because if I woke up from it, surely she can too. I know she isn’t a bad person.
Harfor charges. I get up my blade just in time to block but she’s too fast, striking again. I stumble back and fall, tripping over my own feet. As she closes in I throw a wall of fire at her, the only thing I can do to defend myself.
“Please, just listen,” I beg. I need her to hear me.
I’m coming back, little knight, the Kraken whispers in my mind. He’s found a place to leave Sava.
Blue light and red flame mix, and fade, and Harfor stands over me. There’s nothing but hatred in her eyes as she slowly draws her sword back, ready to run me through.
“Die, bitch,” Harfor says.
There’s no getting through to her. She won’t hear me. I can’t disarm her, not with my left arm. In a battle of swords, she’ll win.
And the only thing fire can do is burn.
Tears run down my face as I lift my blade and summon my fire again.
The Kraken is a deep, endless well of power.
Flames roar up to swallow Harfor. I push more power into them, trying to cut through her shield before she can drain the remaining Enchanted.
But the blue light glows brighter and brighter around her, shielding her from the heat.
Her shield is only as powerful as the lives she’s draining, and she’s already used up a number of them firing on the dragons and fighting Roiven.
I stumble up to my feet, sword outstretched in a shaking hand, and I burn, and burn, and burn, until the blue shield dies away beneath the white-gold heat of my fire.
Her armor melts beneath the heat, and the ship wavers in front of my eyes. It’s so hot my tears dry before they can even fall. When Harfor collapses I sever my connection to the power, but the deck is burning anyways.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper through my tight jaw. I don’t know if I’m talking to the Enchanted below deck that Harfor drained to fight me, or if I’m talking to Harfor herself. She’s gone now, and she died hating me and everything about who I am, and nothing will ever change that.
The flames lick rapidly across the deck. The sword Roiven made me looks the same as ever, its blade the usual rippled gray instead of red-hot; it channeled the power without being melted by it. I shove it back into its scabbard.
“Roiven?” I call. The wall of fire keeps growing, separating me from him. I can see his body through it. But he hasn’t moved, and he doesn’t answer. “Hafgúa?”
Nearly there.
Nearly there has to be good enough. This ship is going down. I brace myself for the heat of the fire, dig my feet into the deck, and run straight through the flames to reach Roiven.