Chapter 2 #2
Blood streamed through the air, whirling around the ship like red streamers. Fire followed the crimson, setting the blood alight.
Fear pounded through my heart. A chthonic mage? Here?
The red-haired woman stepped forward, a cut on her palm spilling fresh blood. It dripped from her fingers and hovered in the air like threads pulled by a loom, dancing in the circle of glowing fire.
Screaming consumed the boat as those aboard tripped over themselves in their bid to escape the flames.
Pressing a hand to my eyes, I blinked away the burning pain and focused on the woman. At home in her circle of fire, she sauntered up to the idol and grabbed the Maiden’s Bloodstone, yanking a few times before it clicked and pulled loose.
Thundering bootfalls slammed across the bridges as guards rushed the chaos. They hesitated outside the wall of flames, unwilling to throw their steel-cased bodies into the fire.
The red-haired woman whipped around, throwing her arm.
A tiny opening appeared in the fiery cage, streams of crimson whirling around it as new pillars of flame erupted from the blood.
Choking on smoke, I watched the red-haired woman dash through the opening as walls of fire rose to either side of her, creating a flaming hall leading off the ship.
She was fleeing with my stone! Pushing past the crowd of panicked nobles, I chased after her.
Shouting and heavy footfalls pursued us. Leaping over a fallen dancer, the red-haired woman landed on the western bridge and dashed into the darkness.
Sprinting after her, I couldn’t help but admire her gall. What was her plan? Pound through the crowd of people and guards and hope nobody stopped her? She reached the end of the bridge and glanced over her shoulder at me.
My foot slammed into something hard, and I tumbled onto metal. Pulling myself up, I realized what I had landed on: the crumpled body of a guard.
I caught a final glimpse of the woman’s red braid before she dove into the darkness swallowing the panicked crowd in the Sundering square.
No sooner had I dragged myself to my feet than a banshee’s wailing knifed into my heart. I pressed my hands to my ears, overcome with fear and an unbearable urge to run and never look back. What in the Maiden’s grace was that? A spell? But from what kind of mage?
The crowd screamed, scrambling in chaos, climbing over one another to escape the noise. A flash of fire briefly illuminated the dark world. A clearing appeared at the edge of the lake, the red-haired woman at its center.
The owl-masked man from before leaned out from an alley, waving to the woman. She raced toward him. Gasping, I followed, shouting futilely at them. “Wait!”
The brief spot of fire vanished, dousing the square into shadow once more. My feet struck stone, informing me I’d stepped off the bridge. Feeling my way toward the alley, I felt a gap in the stone buildings surrounding the square and slipped through.
Light waited in the distance, where streetlamps still burned with flame. Tearing toward them, I rounded the bend into another street and found myself at the tip of a scythe.
Not any mere scythe, forged of steel. This was a weapon of flowing blood and searing flame.
The red-haired woman stared at me, even-tempered. “You’re no noble.” She accused.
My eyes darted to the Bloodstone clutched in her other hand.
“That’s mine,” I said stupidly.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “Is it?”
“What are you doing?” I blurted out. “You’ll never make it past Main Street, let alone the gates.”
“Mistress!” The owl-masked man ran toward us, halting when he noticed me. “It’s ready.”
“Good.” The red-haired woman lowered her weapon.
Shouting sounded behind us—knights hollering orders. With a wave of her hand, the flaming scythe vanished, and she turned away.
I glanced between the two thieves, wondering who else sought the Bloodstone this night.
As Ainwir always liked to say, sometimes unexpected trouble presented new opportunities. It would be far easier to rob a woman than a vault.
Hiking up my skirt, I followed the pair of thieves, glancing over my shoulder to see a torrent of guards in pursuit. Something whizzed overhead, and a javelin slammed into the pavement a few inches from my toes.
Yelping, I scrambled around it, spotting the red-braid whirl around another corner.
Throwing myself around the stone to take cover, I grimaced when I realized we’d reached Main Street.
A carriage waited on a wide road, doors open, and the woman flew inside, pulling them closed.
A cloaked driver slapped the reins, and the horses took off.
Shit. Trying in vain to catch them, my hand wobbled for the door handle as a javelin cut a chunk of my hair loose, lodging into the door by my head.
Shrieking, I lost my footing and nearly fell face-first into the gutters. Instead, the door flew open, and a hand grabbed my collar, hauling me inside.
Scrambling for purchase, my hands found the folds of a scarf and latched on. I tumbled forward onto a man’s chest as the carriage door slammed closed behind me.
Sage green eyes behind an owl mask regarded me. “Are you alright?” He asked calmly.
Lifting myself off him, I glanced between the occupants as the carriage bounced along the road.
The man in the horrific purple coat sat opposite the flaming-haired woman.
“Terpsichore.” The woman said flatly. “You look different from how I remember.”
The man in purple leaned forward, his low-brimmed hat falling over his mask. “Were we supposed to rescue her?”
“No.” The owl-masked man said. “But she was going to die, so I thought we’d give her a lift.”
“What do you want with the Bloodstone?” I demanded.
“You first.” The woman said.
I opened my mouth to answer, but a scream emerged instead. The sound of a horse braying in pain preceded the carriage veering wildly before it flipped onto its side. I slammed into the door as the carriage slid across the road.
This time, the owl-masked man landed on top of me.
Our bodies tangled as the carriage slammed into something else and came to a stop.
We jolted against the seats, and pain streaked through my side.
The breath left my lungs as I flailed, desperate to escape the pile of bodies.
The woman kicked the door that was now the ceiling, throwing it open before effortlessly hoisting herself up.
“Sorry!” The owl-masked man breathed, regaining his feet and helping me to mine.
A flash of purple crossed my eyes as the gaudy noble climbed out. He leaned back into the hole, offering me a hand up that I took. Sweaty palms latching onto his, I hauled myself outside and balanced on the overturned carriage.
I should have expected the sight that awaited us. A line of mounted soldiers blocked the road, and a javelin had skewered one of the carriage horse’s legs. Blood streamed from its leg as it writhed in pain.
Men on foot closed in from the other side, as civilians raced for their doors, shutting themselves away from the chaos.
Spinning, I searched for an exit. More cavalry galloped from the south, blocking a side street. The mounted soldiers fanned out, circling our wreck. A foot soldier braced between each horse, javelins held high, ready to fly should we resist.
The red-haired woman glanced back and flashed me a grin. She held up her hands, surrendering.
I’d always known this would end in catastrophe. The carriage and fire had been a surprise, but the soldiers approaching me with drawn spears were not. Defeated, I lifted my arms.
The woman’s grin never wavered as the rest of us were pulled down to the street, and our hands were forced behind our backs and shackled. Was she mad?
Maiden’s grace, I hoped we wouldn’t share a cell.