Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Like a potato…like a hollowed-out husk… The irony didn’t escape her as she felt Catalysta snap off a rib.
Something else was put in its place, taking up space in her torso.
It was firm, like bone, but much like her finger, she knew it was wrong.
Not mine. Not of my body. Unfortunately for her, she already cried all her tears last night.
Her eyes were dry as the Wastes and burned all the same.
She choked on the screams she wanted to give out.
“My blessed one,” her goddess kissed her sweaty temple. “Run.”
Time started again. Avelina collapsed to her knees, gulping down air at the same time she sobbed, “Trap! Its…a…trap!”
She couldn’t stop them, even if her goddess hadn’t ripped out a rib.
The first howl of pain came from Bones as he stepped down into a boat and the whole thing ignited.
Flames burst out of the water and devoured everything.
Avelina couldn’t draw in enough air. All the oxygen in her lungs was knocked out of her torso.
“Run!”
Her voice wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the shrieks from Callum’s crew.
The ten or so of them that couldn’t get off the docks fast enough, went up in flames.
Like a dragon opened its maw directly beneath them, the fires didn’t stop until the trees above shook out buckets of water.
She fumbled to her feet, lightheaded and winded.
One hand to her side, that didn’t even have the decency to bleed, the other flinging about in the air.
She saw the other crew emerge through the flames. They carved through the dancing red with blades drawn and Callum’s men were forced to scramble. Her legs found the ability to move around the same time Grahm caught her by the elbow.
Fire licked at her back as the other crew chased them from the swamp.
Pain was icicles, stabbing into every muscle in her torso while exhaustion was an inferno, melting her calves and thighs.
She raced, half-carried, at Grahm’s side through the trees for ages.
The reason crossing the lake made more sense, was the path from the dock to the Grasslands was shorter.
Traversing around the lake added several hours to the journey.
However, it seemed all she needed was sheer and utter panic to cut that time in half.
They made it out of the swamp and into the Grasslands by noon.
Callum’s crew spilled out into the tall grass and took refuge behind large boulders.
All except Grahm and Avelina. They bound out of the murky tree-line, and he threw her to the ground.
Her scream of pain was cut short as he pounced over her. The first time she’d ever been punched in the face, and it was a Drakonis with a grudge. She scratched him across the face, world spinning. Grahm slammed her hands into the ground over her head and snarled in her face. “What’d you do!”
“Get off me!” She bucked, kicking behind him.
Magic built up behind her hands but she couldn’t rend herself free as Grahm sat on her.
He was a boulder pressing into her crying ribs with his legs.
He squeezed. The pain made her cry out. Kicking her legs more, her voice grew more shrill, panicked, “Get off me!”
“Why was Murderin’ Mary’s throat cutters lying in wait for us? Huh? How’d you know about the lake?!”
She screamed in frustration, bucking again. Her eyes burned with all the tears she wanted to form but couldn’t. “I didn’t!”
“You knew!” he roared.
“Grahm!” Rat bellowed. The man holding her hostage used a hand to cover her mouth.
He hunkered over her as someone else emerged from the swamp.
Avelina went still. Her breathing, ragged, brushed over the tops of his knuckles and lifted some of his scales slightly.
She turned her attention from the massive bastard to where two hulking figures lurched out from the swamp.
They crunched down the grass with hesitant steps, searching the tall grass around them.
Shadows darted between the tall blades. People without hair, eyes milky white, their skin a dead green and sickly gray, she knew the stench of undead. They carried massive cutlasses. Clack. Clack. Clack. Their teeth chattered as the necromantic assassins waded through the grass.
Grahm glared down at her, lifting his hands off hers. He put a finger to his mouth to silence her before he crept off. The grass was so thick and luscious that it made the perfect cover. Avelina lay there, trying to get her racing heart in check.
Thump-Thump. Her head snapped to the side as the undead killers dropped into the grass.
The following snap reminded her of the rib she’d lost. There was a moment where she wondered what new talent she gained.
If her finger bone was in exchange for darkness that slowly drove people mad…
what was her rib worth? Only Grahm crawled back to her quietly, flinging dead body parts off his snout.
“Move, we’re going to the tavern,” he snarled to her. Grahm moved a hand, as if to touch her and she pointed a jagged, black-clawed finger in his direction. His eyes widened to saucers in his face.
“Touch me again,” she spat, “and I’ll make you wish I’d killed you.”
Grahm didn’t say another word. She imagined he was going to imply she’d answer for the attack on the lake at the tavern.
It didn’t matter. While she wasn’t behind it, she knew why it happened.
Callum. He was the one who put the Paladins on the hunt.
After framing Daggertooth Dan, the Paladins would have started to search the swamp for others.
It was open season on Callum’s crew.
What was he thinking?