Chapter 2
two
. . .
Ever
“Did you notice that it’s five against three?”
“I did. Now let her go,” Calix presses.
“I don’t think you understand. Don’t worry. You will.” My brother turns to both my captors. “Hold her and don’t let her go under any circumstances.”
They both nod, increasing their grip on me. I feel nothing except for the pressure digging into my flesh, so I have to assume they’re Kirrian and are bound by the rules of Aslendrix’s magic—a small relief.
Calix and my brother start to circle, with Crimson and the two Warriors heading straight for me. She pulls a blade and aims for the one on my left, with his hand still smothering my face.
But her strike never reaches her target. She stops, midway in her attack, a graceful and deadly statue.
Her eyes flare wide as realisation dawns on her. She looks right at me, and I try to wrangle myself free, but their hold on me doesn’t budge.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I did warn you. But I’m willing to give you another chance. How about just you and me?” He taunts Calix and grins at the ruin he’s caused Crimson and her fellow Warriors, who are also still as statues.
In any other fight, Calix would have every advantage, but this isn’t a usual fight. He’s up against an unknown who still wields power when he is without his. That doesn’t seem to stop him.
“You have my attention.” Gone are the shrugs and his usual casual demeanour, and I think that’s the most worrying. I’ve never seen Calix so serious. His stance is still, tension radiating from every muscle, and all I can do is hope.
“If you still want Ever, you’ll have to take her from me. I’ll give you a fair fight.” My brother gestures towards me.
“I’m pretty fucking sure you don’t know the meaning of the word.” Calix doesn’t take his eyes from his opponent.
“Well, that’s your risk, not mine.”
I open my mouth and bite down on the man’s hand, which releases the hold he has over my face. “Don’t do it, Calix!” I shout, before my tongue is stilled for me.
The distraction is all Calix needs, and he charges for the man between him and me. He launches into an attack, landing a combination of punches that cause my brother to stumble back a step.
Calix doesn’t wait and follows up with a kick to my brother’s leg, a move I’ve seen him do several times, before he drops low, swiping his own leg out in an arc, connecting and knocking him off balance.
For a moment, it looks like Calix has the upper hand, until he pulls at my brother’s shirt to lift his head and go in for another punch, but my brother jabs with the heel of his hand, connecting to Calix’s jaw. The impact throws Calix back, and he looks dazed for a moment.
Now it’s my brother who stands over Calix, pulling at Calix’s top and raining down blows. Each one causes Calix’s head to swivel or jerk, as if they’re growing in strength.
I think back to my training and what it felt like to absorb power, to pull it, bit by bit. When I held Calix or Crimson, I could drain or push my power. And by the looks of Calix, he has nothing left.
The blows keep coming, his face now red and swollen, his eyes closing and unfocussed.
Guilt, as strong as the hands still holding me in place, grips me.
I look at Crimson, who’s still locked, looking at me.
But I can see the panic in her eyes as she sees my expression.
She can’t turn around, and the fight is happening behind her, so she has no idea what’s going on.
She can hear it, though. The heavy thud and smack of flesh on flesh.
The deep groan Calix emits.
I can’t yell or plead or beg to make him stop.
I watched him murder Micah. I can’t watch him kill Calix, too.
I might not be able to speak, but I can still fight with everything Calix taught me.
My legs thrash, then I pick them off the ground and force the two guards to take my dead weight.
It throws one of them off balance, and the one on my left lessens his grip.
I jab him with my elbow and free one arm completely.
I bring it back, clench my fist, and punch the guy in the face.
He moans and staggers back, but they never completely let me go, keeping a hand on me.
My racing heart continues to fight until my brother stops and takes notice.
He stands up, leaving Calix on the floor. Unmoving.
“He put up a valiant fight. I’d bet he’d be pretty powerful on any other day. You can let her go now.” He waves his hand, and the tight grip over my mouth releases as the men free me.
“You monster.” I try to run at Calix, but my brother grabs me, halting me in my tracks.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I spin and look up at him, not wanting to believe what he’s said. My eyes pool with tears, and the ache in my chest returns. My face begins to crumple in as I fight to keep the tears from falling.
He flicks his hand, and the control he had over Crimson and the others vanishes. Her blade cuts through the air before she drops forward. She’s back up and racing to Calix’s side in the next beat.
“No, oh, Goddess, no. What have you done!” She screams, the pitch sharp enough to draw blood.
“I taught him a lesson. One you’d be wise to heed. Let us go, and there will be no more violence. At least for today.”
I know Crimson isn’t going to fight for me. Not when her brother is lying on the ground bleeding out, or… “Is he alive?”
She looks back at me, her face grim with fear. She nods but keeps her hands on his chest.
“Kyra’s locked in the cell. Help her, please,” I call to her and the other Warriors, who seem less than eager to pick a fight with the man holding me. Resigned to the situation that there’s no way to get out of this without more people paying the price, I let my body relax.
Looking up at my brother, a smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I see the discolouration of the bruises forming on one side of his face.
“You might want to take something for that, Brother.” My tongue spits the moniker as I storm past him, heading in the direction we were travelling before Calix’s interruption, and I don’t look back.
Every footstep is weighted with the knowledge that Micah is dead and Calix is barely alive because of the man to my side.
He’s done this. It was his hands that guided the knife, and his fists that pounded against flesh.
My heart races—in fear or anger—it’s hard to tell which, but this is my doing.
I can’t escape the fact that he’s here because of me.
I keep quiet, just as I did on the journey to Kirrasia, waiting for Lyle to spill the secrets she’d been keeping from me. Maybe she should have opened that locked box a little wider, because she definitely didn’t mention a sibling.
There are no further interruptions on our way, and I only keep half my attention on where they are leading me.
We’ve made it past the furthest wall of The Court, the stone curving in that spiral form that I had once seen as defensive and daunting.
We continue, in its shadow, heading towards what I soon find to be water. Not the river, but the sea.
The noise mounts, loosening memories of Ten taking me to the waterfall with its racing water, each drop determined to get down the mountain the quickest. Only this is bigger, louder, like the forest has unleashed all the wind through its branches, and the sound has exploded against the rocks.
It’s rhythmic—building and easing. And as we crest a craggy outcrop of rocks, I finally see it.
The edge. The coast, with nothing but the sea and the ocean beyond.
Every ripple, every wave, every crest of white splashed against the multitude of blues and greys. I drink it in—every last drop.
It’s a wonder, and I hate that he’s the one who’s given this to me because it is breathtaking.
“Come on. We don’t have much time.” His voice snaps my attention, and he jostles me forward after the two men in front. They have picked a trail, apparently between the rocks, to scale down the cliff.
“No. I can’t go down there.” There is no path, and I don’t like the idea of testing my balance and skill on something like a cliff edge.
“You will.”
He’s got no other life to bargain with for my cooperation. Surely, Crimson would have raised the alarm by now? She let me go without a fight, but would she forsake me altogether?
A delay. That’s all I need to stay here. Because if he wants us down this edge, then there must be a boat at the bottom. There’s no other way out or off. The watch towers were meant for exactly this scenario. To stop intruders. Yet they’ve walked right in.
I look around, up and down the rocky edge that seems to be its own defence—one that’s failed. It’s then that I see another small group of men heading in our direction, my brother, seemingly unfazed.
“You know them,” I confirm, more for myself.
“I do.”
Two men in front carry large satchels brimming with bounty. A woman trails them, also with a weighted satchel. Where have they come from?
The three round to our position, and offer a half-bent bow, like the greeting of Kirrasia, I’ve started to get used to. The first man has sandy blond hair, is taller than my brother by an inch or so and older in years. He looks closer in age to Ten’s father than to us.
“Trouble?” My brother checks.
“None. Everything was arranged: access, time. They didn’t even know we were there.” He side-eyes me before pulling his attention back to my brother. “You?”
“Some. Nothing I hadn’t planned for. Get down to the boat. We’re behind schedule.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir? So, what he said in the cell was true. It is his army.
I keep my eyes to the ground as the man and the two accomplices make it past me, and down the invisible path of rocks, to the boat, at the bottom.
“Time to go, Sister. I don’t have all day.”
“And if I refuse? It looks like you are fresh out of friends to threaten me with.”
“It’s fine. I don’t need anyone else. Either you go willingly, or not. It’s your choice. But remember, I did give you a choice.”
“Some choice.”