Chapter 12 Calypso
Chapter twelve
Calypso
Her bone-deep exhaustion was the only reason she hadn’t immediately rushed into the field once Vidorak left. Having her power bound for days and forced to travel without healing had worn her down.
Seeing Gemma dragged onto the platform like so many other witches made her shake with rage. It didn’t matter if she expanded every bit of energy left—she would free Gemma.
After several uneventful minutes, Calypso clenched her jaw and moved to step forward, because clearly the orc had failed her.
A rumble vibrated the ground. The sounds of horses grew louder, and she saw the beasts dash forward, scattering the crowd. She begrudgingly admitted this was an effective distraction.
Humans ran in every direction, and no one stopped twice to look at her as she pushed her way through the crowd, heading straight for the platform. An elbow slammed into her side, and she snarled at the offender, but they had already disappeared in the mayhem.
She refocused on Gemma and continued weaving her way through the onslaught. Watching his trial break down into chaos, the magistrate scrambled back and yelled at the guard, “Take them away!”
The guard dragged the witches down the platform, and they disappeared from Calypso’s sight. Irritation spread through her as more people blocked her path.
“Enough of this!” Flames flickered at her palms.
She lashed out, burning the people in her way until they learned to clear the path. Unhindered, she began to close the distance toward where Gemma had disappeared.
An oncoming blur in the corner of her eye made her halt. Suddenly, Vidorak came flying through and landed in the field with a heavy thud. The ground shook with a force greater than what the horses had caused.
An enraged cyclops emerged from the woods, his single cobalt eye darting around the crowd.
Their kind were near-extinct and lived in seclusion in the eastern districts, so she had only seen them in books.
The cyclops was as tall as two adult men stacked on one another, and his legs were as thick as her waist.
“This orc was trying to steal the horses! I saw him!” The yell came from a stout man with a thick mustache, who walked around the cyclops with an arrogant step.
Sharp clanking of metal sounded, and she spotted the chains around the cyclops’s ankle binding him to a post further back.
Even extremely strong creatures were at risk of capture when their numbers declined.
There were rumors of humans drugging and enslaving magical beings to host illegal exhibitions.
“Cyclops, teach that orc a lesson,” the man commanded. When the cyclops didn’t move right away, he took out a short whip and aimed at his legs. “Now!”
Disgust curled in Calypso’s stomach at the action. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stay to help. The orc would have to handle this problem himself.
Her attention returned to hunting down Gemma. Calypso might never see her again if she lost her now.
It was easier to traverse the crowd as most had stopped panicking and fixated on the new entertainment.
With the gathering now behind her, Calypso slipped between the trees, catching glimpses of the group ahead. The men hurriedly led the witches, tugging them forward by a rope tied around their waists. Through the barrier of the trees, she spotted a covered wagon hitched to a pair of horses.
“Seems you got lucky today, girls.” The guard opened the back flap of the wagon. “In you go.”
Near the wagon, the magistrate fumed. “What in the devil is an orc doing all the way here? I hope the cyclops crushes him.”
“Sorry for your trial, Collum. Are we headed back to the jails?” the guard inquired as the women boarded the wagon.
The last woman struggled, flinging herself back, but the guard slammed a wooden club into her stomach. She collapsed, and he heaved her into the wagon with no regard.
“No, I don’t have time to set up again next week.” The magistrate stomped in frustration. “There was that buyer who approached me. Maybe he is still interested in purchasing.”
The guard closed the flap on the wagon and faced the magistrate. “And if he’s not interested?”
“Then we tie them to rocks and drown them in the river.”
Calypso had heard enough.
Fire swirled up her arms like a pair of snakes, sparking and hissing in the dark. She stepped forward, branches snapping below her feet, but she no longer aimed to hide her presence.
“Who is—”
Before the guard could finish his sentence, her flames shot out and wrapped around his neck. The scream died in his throat as she shoved her fire down his gaping mouth. Burning from the inside out was a quick and gruesome death.
Self-preservation overtook the magistrate’s shock, and he dashed around the wagon toward the driver’s bench. He wasted no time in spurring the horses into action.
She rushed after him, her hand extended, letting the flames flicker near the periphery of the horses. She didn’t hurt the animals but steered them in the direction she wanted them to go.
All attempts by the magistrate to change course were futile as the threat of the fire won, and the horses circled back around. Calypso steadied herself as the horses galloped in her direction. Just as they passed, she reached up, and pulled herself onto the bench next to the magistrate.
He let go of the reins and scrambled backward, eyes large as he took her in. She looked like a wrathful demon with her tangled hair, glowing eyes, and skin smudged with dirt from days of rough travel.
His hand closed around the club next to him, and he swung forward. Her arm shot up, absorbing the hit with a numbing shock. She wanted to send her fire down the club, but that would be a reckless move that could catch the wagon on fire.
The magistrate reared back and went to hit her with the club again. This time she caught the stick in her hand and wrenched it from his grasp. She tossed it aside, leaving him weaponless.
Survival instincts took over, and the magistrate leaped on top of her, using his size to overpower her. His hands closed around her neck and squeezed until her breathing ceased.
Through spotted vision, she reached up and dug her fingers into his eyes. Flames hungrily swirled from her fingers, bursting the organs and filling the sockets with charred remains. For a moment, Calypso heard nothing. Not the dead man’s screams nor the creaking of the wagon.
Sensation rushed back in a flood, as well as the awareness that they were still galloping at full speed. She heaved the dead body off her and reached to grasp the reins. With her remaining strength, she pulled back, slowing the horses to a stop.
She bowed over and coughed as air filled her spasming lungs. After a moment to steady herself, she went to the magistrate’s body and searched through his robes for something sharp.
Knife in hand, she jumped off the driver’s bench and hobbled to the back of the wagon. When she lifted the back flap, three sets of frightened eyes stared back at her.
“Calypso?” Gemma’s voice broke the silence.
Wordlessly, Calypso entered the wagon and immediately went to cut the rope around Gemma. The second she was free, Gemma wrapped her arms around her. Calypso froze, unsure of how she felt about this affectionate show of appreciation. The emotions were too much to handle.
“I have to free the others,” Calypso muttered before stepping away from the embrace.
She cut the rope binding the other women, having difficulty looking them in the eyes when she knew what was to come. She gave them freedom, but it was a freedom she doubted would last long. Without developed power or connections, they would find themselves in a precarious position again.
Having finished, she left the wagon and walked away with Gemma close behind.
“How did you find me?” Gemma asked.
“Coincidence. I’ve spent the last several days dealing with an annoyance. How were you discovered?”
Gemma scowled. “Checks have increased with the prince’s travel to Solar City.”
This stopped Calypso in her tracks. “Why has he left the capital?”
“I’m not sure. I was trying to get more information when someone hit me, and I lost consciousness. When I came to, my glamor was gone, and I was in jail for witchcraft.”
This was unsettling news. The prince had not left the capital since the death of his parents. Davinger was up to something. She would have plenty of time to mull it over on the way back to the estate.
As they moved through the woods, they passed near the clearing. From a distance, Calypso could see commotion still brewing.
“What are you doing? We need to get as far away as possible.” Gemma tried to grab her, but Calypso was already walking in that direction.
It wasn’t hard to spot the orc and cyclops as they loomed larger than the rest of the human crowd. They barreled against one another like a pair of giants. The cyclops grabbed Vidorak around the waist and slammed him onto the ground, shaking the earth even from a distance.
The orc moved impossibly fast for someone with blood dripping into their eyes. He kicked the cyclops’s chest, sending him tumbling backward before jumping on him and pummeling his face.
She should leave. She owed him nothing. The longer she stayed here, the greater the risk to her and Gemma. Leaving would be smart and logical.
However, Calypso had long abandoned doing things the sensible way. Her unpredictable emotions were in control, and now they pulled her toward the violence in the pit.
“Give me a minute,” she replied to Gemma.
She stepped toward the ring of onlookers, allowing the fire within her to claw itself out.
Despite her body’s wounded state, there was a wave of ecstasy whenever bloodlust took over.
Normally the violence sated her for some time, but having her magic taken had done something to her.
She’d gotten a taste of death and was eager to feel it at her hands once more.
It didn’t matter who got caught up in it.
These people were here to watch the murder of witches; they all deserved what was coming to them.
Fire erupted from her and grasped the slave owner’s ankles, pulling him to the ground. His scream was bloodcurdling, and the crowd turned their heads his way.
Without pause, she sauntered over to his writhing form, then crouched down to grab his hair at the roots and forced him to look at her.
“Since you like to put chains on others, why don’t I put a pair on you? Mine are freshly forged and come a little hot.”
The man’s face reddened with indignation, and then he screamed, “Stop her!”
A crew of hired muscle came running forth, ready to protect their employer. Calypso stepped over the slaver, eager for the challenge.
The men rushed at her, aiming to overwhelm her even as she threw brutal attacks their way. One landed several blows to her head before she blinded him. Another pulled her arm back so hard her shoulder dislocated. But that didn’t stop her from searing his hands.
Even as blood dripped down her face, she laughed from the exhilaration of the fight. Calypso swung a fist at the man in front of her and was surprised when it went through him like air. Scanning the surrounding men, she realized the victims of her past had decided to come play as well.
“This will be interesting,” she muttered to herself and slashed out with her fire, not knowing whether she was fighting real people or hallucinations.
“What are you doing?” bellowed a voice behind her. She turned to see a muscular green form stampeding toward her. The haze cleared, and she recognized Vidorak, bloodied and bruised. “Get out of here!”
She smiled before answering. “I saw your struggle and decided to help. What can I say? I’m a giver.”
Before he could comment, she sidestepped past him and unleashed the flames straight at the cyclops. More specifically, the chain at his shackles. She heated it until the metal turned almost white.
The cyclops rampaged toward them until a loud snap stopped him in his tracks.
The chain shattered at the connection point, freeing him.
There was a tense moment as the cyclops studied the new development.
Then he scanned the arena, cobalt eye landing on the man who had kept him chained.
The cyclops changed direction, and Calypso returned her attention to the other fighters, leaving the being to his revenge.
The hired muscle split between fighting Vidorak, Calypso, and now, the loose cyclops. Even with their numbers, their efforts became too scattered. It would be over soon.
Someone threw a knife at her, but Calypso easily moved aside, allowing it to pass her without a scratch. A mocking laugh escaped her. This was too easy.
She stepped forward, but a gasp behind her drew her attention. She looked over her shoulder to find Gemma bowed over, the hilt of the blade sticking out of her chest and blood dripping down her body.
Then everything went black.