Chapter 5
Five
Lory
As quickly as the noise had appeared, it ended. The blade Enya had set to Lory’s throat was close enough to draw blood as the woman demanded once more, “Who is it?”
Lory didn’t dare shake her head. She’d found herself in similar positions on the streets of Dunai, but those had been thugs, street rats like her, not trained fighters.
One look at the three of them, now that they had assumed defensive stances and the way the tip of Enya’s knife kept steady, her hand unshaken, spoke volumes about the fighting experience they must have had.
She’d need to wait for the right moment to disarm the woman—or simply talk her way out of it, but once a seed of distrust was sown, there was no easy way of going back, was there?
Lory’s blood pounded through her veins, but her head remained clear.
If there was someone in this cave than other than the Flames and the leonthor, maybe they could show her how to get out of that enchanted perimeter that kept sending her back to the cave.
Maybe, whoever it was would be her salvation.
The thought hadn’t fully formed when General Ycken appeared in the tunnel-mouth, his sun-bleached hair shimmering in the combination of sun-and-fire light, a blood-dripping sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, and behind him…
“Khayrivven.” His name came out in a whisper, her knees almost going weak, the steel at her throat the only thing keeping her from closing the fifteen-foot gap between them.
Khayrivven’s face remained impassive as he stepped to Ycken’s side, his saber half-lifted in front of him, but his eyes… Oh, his eyes were a storm of silver fire as they locked on hers.
“Thornling Vednis, I see you’ve made some new friends,” he drawled with the air of the uncaring captain he’d perfected, but Lory didn’t fail to notice the slight tremor in his free hand as he tucked it behind his back, flicking his gaze across the space in obvious assessment, while Ycken had already taken a step forward, closer to Hadrick, who had conjured a shortsword out of nowhere.
“One step closer and she dies.” Lory didn’t doubt Enya would slit her throat. If the Flame-born had truly been hiding this long up here in this cave, she’d defend her sanctuary with all she had.
Ycken blatantly ignored her, speaking directly to Lory as he lifted his dagger to a sideways angle Lory knew would allow him to effectively throw it.
“Oh, I don’t care one bit if she dies,” he spat, taking the fateful step that would be Lory’s death, but instead of driving the blade into Lory’s neck, Enya pulled her back a few steps, bringing more distance between them and the general.
“I knew we couldn’t trust her,” Hadrick hissed, gesturing at Ycken rather than at Lory. “She led them straight to us.”
Between the moment of true panic and the relief of watching Khayrivven saunter to the side of the cave in a casual arc, alive and breathing, it occurred to her that this might have been the worst situation she’d ever been thrown into.
Enya, Hadrick, and Olive hadn’t cast her out despite their suspicions.
They had offered her food and relied on the leonthor’s judgement.
This must look to them as if Lory had indeed led the general and the Veiled Hand here; the instinct to cover the remains of the torn blue square stitched to the shoulder of her uniform was a painful reminder of the life she’d chosen and the sacrifices it had already demanded.
“I’m more interested in this little hideout you’ve built up here.
” Ycken gestured around him with his sword, the danger still angled.
“Ingenious. Vanishing between the Brestolyan armies and the rebels locking down the mountains… Nobody would ever expect the fire spitters to gather their forces up here. Tell me”—he turned around, exposing his back as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and least of all the three armed Flame-born ready to draw blood—“how many more of you are there? Is it worth alerting King Ulder, or will we be able to make quick work of you the way we’ve done of your friends back in the tunnels? ”
“We’re not saying anything,” Enya spat over Lory’s shoulder in Ycken’s general direction, the grip on Lory’s shoulder turning unbearably tight and surprisingly hot, as if a bunch of embers had been layered between them.
This could end badly in so many ways, and Lory couldn’t even begin to wonder which outcome would be the worst.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of what’s going on in your little prison, but if you do hold any relevant powers, now would be a perfect moment to demonstrate,” Lory thought at the leonthor, who had made himself successfully scarce.
Maybe if she managed to conjure her fire magic, she might be able to free herself and form a wall of flame to separate the two sides. No one needed to get hurt.
“Whom we should attack, the Flame thinks?” The leonthor’s grumble reverberated in Lory’s head, and a part of her wanted to cry out in frustration as he verbalized what she already knew.
“No one.” He couldn’t attack. The Flames seemed to be under his protection, or he would have long killed them all, and that would only leave two other options: Ycken and Khayrivven.
And if the beast did that, odds were that one or both of them would not survive the attack.
Khayrivven and the general had just slaughtered their way into the cave, if what Ycken said could be believed.
The leonthor would never let them live—and neither would the Flames.
“Perhaps not now,” Ycken purred, “but King Ulder has a special dungeon for the likes of you.” His gaze cut to Lory as if to say, ‘you included’, and by the wall, Khayrivven lowered his center of gravity an inch, ready to attack.
“Last chance.” Ycken gestured at Lory, gazing over her shoulder right at Enya, whose grip tightened hard enough to break bones.
Lory bit back a grunt of pain, but apart from her eyes wandering to Khayrivven’s, she remained still.
Unmovable steel was waiting for her, no hint of mercy in those gray irises she’d seen melt and ignite and burn, making a shiver run through her body.
He’d capture them. The resolve was clearly there.
He’d do it for Elina, or he’d long taken the chance to get rid of Ycken, grab Lory, and run.
It was what she told herself as she searched her mind for anything that would get them out alive.
No matter the knife at her throat, she couldn’t allow for the three Flame-born to fall into Ulder’s hands.
“Last chance,” Ycken repeated, and this time, Lory bit her tongue hard.
These people might have become her allies had they not been interrupted before trust was established.
Despite their common ground when it came to their hatred for Ulder and the wrongness of what was happening to the Flame-born, if she spoke a word to save them, she would lose her life, and so would Khayrivven.
Vouching for her was truly the stupidest thing he could have done.
She couldn’t prevent this fight, but she could help herself and perhaps save them in the process.
With a sway of her legs, Lory leaned back into Enya, rolling her eyes as if the dizziness of exhaustion was about to take her, and it was enough.
Enough to make Khayrivven take a tentative step in her direction before she closed her eyes, enough to make the blade draw blood on the side of her neck, the cut eliciting a hiss from her.
But she didn’t fight Enya’s loosening grip, the woman letting her slide down her front, deeming the threat the two men posed more important.
“I’ve always known she was weak,” Ycken’s drawl carried across the cave as Lory’s shoulder, and then her temple hit the stone floor.
Despite the pain at the impact, she didn’t flinch, keeping her eyes well shut, and a familiar caress touched the edges of her mind a moment before Khayrivven spoke to the three Flame-born.
“Do you prefer the easy way, or should I give you a head start?” His voice was violence wrapped in silk, a quality that didn’t fail to instill fear in her, even now that she knew it was a mask.
“I’d rather die than rot in Ulder’s dungeon,” Hadrick roared, his words accompanied by the thunder of his boots across the ground as he charged past Lory’s head, and Lory fought not to flinch.
As long as she pretended to be out cold, no one would see her as a threat, which would give her the perfect opportunity to turn the odds in favor of the three Flames, when what she should have been doing was to fight at Ycken’s side to prove her loyalty.
Steel found steel somewhere close, and a flash of orange light, followed by a wave of heat, made her roll back and to her knees, instinctively reaching to her hip for a dagger once more.
Khayrivven was locked in combat with Hadrick, his saber a blur of silver, but so was the middle-aged man’s knife. He parried with impossible speed, his impeccable footwork and balance unexpected.
Ycken was locked in combat with Olive, who stood her ground well enough—and Enya.
Where was the woman?
Lory had barely glanced up when Enya’s fist met the side of her head.
Pain exploded in Lory’s skull, a multifold of when she’d hit her head on the ground not a minute ago, and had Enya chosen this moment to end her, Lory couldn’t have done a thing about it. But the Guardians had mercy on her this time.
“Traitor,” the woman spat and stepped over Lory’s slumping form, charging to Hadrick’s aid instead, and Lory fought the blackness pulling on the edge of her vision.
Not now, not now, not now. She needed to stay alert.
“Sides the Flame must choose,” the leonthor spoke into her mind, and a shudder raked through Lory’s body in response to the icy tone the creature had assumed. “Her people she fights for, or the enemy. Not on both sides she can stand. Not hide from the choice she can.”