6. CHAPTER SIX
Searing pain lanced through Alena’s arms.
She hissed, her eyes flying open. Her hands were once more tied around a wooden pole at her back. The sour smell of goat’s milk and dried meat assaulted her nostrils, and only a narrow shaft of sunlight slanting through the flaps illuminated the dim tent.
Taking in the surrounding crates and baskets, she recognised her prison as the storage tents on the outskirts of camp.
Were the elders trying to hide her? Was the Council even aware of her impending execution?
Demetrius had mentioned that the Council planned to meet to discuss her fate, but Elder Ignatius had clearly taken matters into his own hands. With any luck, Katell would see through the elder’s lies and take her place on the Council, as their father would have wanted.
The soft rays of light combined with the unusual silence outside gave her pause. It was still early morning. She’d slept through the night and missed the lighting of her father’s pyre.
A tightness formed in her chest. “Father…”
An image of his broad frame lying on the bed, his face ashen, flashed in her mind. At least he wasn’t suffering any longer.
“May your ancestors watch over you for all eternity,” she whispered. “May the stars grant you peace in the next life, and the Moon shine over us.”
Warm tears streamed down her face, stinging the cuts on her cheeks. Her thoughts turned to her father’s final words, his terrible secret that would die with her.
Perhaps it was better if Katell never learned the truth.
Little by little, the sun’s rays crept forward, brushing up against the tip of her toes. Her sister was with the hunters, still unaware of Alena’s fate. Once Katell found out what had happened, there was no doubt she would tear Camp Bessi to pieces. Her temper would explode, and with Scylas at her side, the elders wouldn’t stand a chance.
Despite her tears, Alena smiled. Thinking of Katell strengthened her resolve. She would show no weakness when the elders came for her, and if the Moon was on her side, and she somehow made it out alive, she would leave with Katell and grow stronger for her.
Her father’s words rang out in her ears, words that he had repeated all their lives. Protect the family, no matter what.
“I promise, Father.” The beams of light crept closer, defeating the darkness around her. “If I survive, I’ll look out for Kat. Always.”
Noises beyond the entrance interrupted her thoughts. A scuffle, a muffled shout, followed by soft, golden light flooding the tent.
“Alena?”
Alena’s heart leapt at the familiar voice. “Kat?” She blinked against the light.
Katell’s tall frame appeared. “By the Moon, Alena! What did they do to you?” Her sister knelt closer and gently prodded her bruised temple.
Alena winced. “Why are you here?”
“I heard about your punishment and rode all night from Camp Lukim to find you. When I saw the men posted outside the tent, I had a feeling you’d be in here.”
Katell cut through the ropes and pulled her into a tight hug. A flood of emotions surged through Alena—a jumble of disbelief and relief—as she breathed in her sister’s comforting scent.
She was safe.
When she raised her hands, a pained hiss escaped her. Katell’s gaze dropped to the angry, broken skin around her wrists.
“I’m fine. I…” She paused, the words suddenly stuck in her throat. How much did Katell know? “Kat… I’m so sorry. I did everything I could. But Father… Father is—”
“I know, little star. I know.” Katell brushed a warm hand against her cheek using their father’s nickname for her. Her sister’s embrace soothed her frayed nerves, and a sigh of relief escaped Alena’s lips. No matter what happened next, at least she wasn’t alone anymore.
Alena clung to her sister, savouring the moment.
“Come. We can’t stay here. We need to leave.” Katell pulled away and slipped an empty satchel across Alena’s shoulders. “Go home and gather as much food and salves as you can for the road. Once you’re done, head north beyond the goat pens. You’ll find a saddled bay stallion. Wait for me there.”
“What about you?” They both needed to leave before the elders—or worse, the hunters—found them.
Katell’s face hardened into an expression that had caused their family many troubles over the years. “I need to speak with the elders.”
Alena’s heart seized. If her sister laid a hand on anyone, they wouldn’t make it out of Camp Bessi alive. “Kat, don’t. Father forbade you from speaking to Elder Ignatius for a reason.”
“Yes, but Father is dead now.”
Alena flinched at her bluntness. “You’ll only find trouble if you go to them. Let’s just leave—”
Katell shook her head. “They almost killed you. I’m not letting them get away with it. Not anymore.” She raised a hand and balled it into a fist as if gauging her strength.
Alena frowned. “What do you mean?”
But her sister was already sidling out of the tent. “If I’m gone too long, take the horse and wait for me at our usual spot at the edge of the forest.”
Alena followed in a hurry, shielding her eyes from the sudden sunlight. The rancid smell of metalwork hit her nose, and she recoiled. The elders had kept her on the outskirts of camp where nobody would even think to search for her.
At her feet, two guards lay sprawled on the ground. “Are they—?”
“Dead? No. But they deserve death for what they did to you.” Katell’s gaze was fixed on her, taking in the extent of her injuries now that they were in broad daylight.
“Kat, really, I’m fine,” Alena repeated, ignoring the pain in her limbs.
Her sister released a sharp breath and hugged her tight. Pushing a few blood-soaked strands of hair out of Alena’s face, she kissed her forehead. “I was so scared when Elder Ubii told me what happened. I thought I’d lost you too.”
“Me too,” Alena said in a small voice.
Around them, the camp was coming to life. Men headed out to the pens to tend to their flocks, dogs barking in their wake.
Katell tensed against her. “We need to leave before the other hunters get here. Head to our tent and grab what we need. I’ll meet up with you soon—I promise. Now, go!”
A knot formed in Alena’s stomach as her sister left, her head held high and her long braid swaying down her back. If anyone could go head-to-head with the elders, it was Katell. Despite her streak of stubbornness and quick decisions that often sparked arguments, her bravery was undeniable as was her keen sense of justice.
Katell had been fearless even from an early age, shielding Alena from anyone who tried to harass her because of her auburn tresses. Yet it was a haunting event from Katell’s past—one linked to her friend, Leywani—that had forged a certain ruthlessness deep within her.
Years ago, Katell’s rejection by her intended husband, a hunter whose icy gaze resembled that of a predator, meant the man was short of a bride. Elder Ignatius had swiftly ushered Leywani and her greedy parents before him instead, and the marriage had taken place within the same day. Come morning, Leywani had been covered in bruises, and the entire camp had pretended not to see them.
In the aftermath of that terrible outcome and tormented by her own helplessness to save her friend, Katell had doubled down on her weapons training. Despite the Council’s interference and the elders insisting on finding her another suitor, she’d stood firm, proclaiming that she’d join the hunters and earn her keep by supplying food instead. Scylas had gladly accepted, and since then, none had been able to stop her.
In Alena’s mind, Katell’s nature mirrored the wild horses of the steppe: untamed and unyielding. Nonetheless, a nagging fear lingered within Alena that someday the world might quash her sister’s spirit, or that Katell would simply forge ahead without her.
Releasing a breath, Alena stumbled away, her legs unsteady from being seated for so long. Keeping her head down, she navigated through the forest of tents and skirted the camp’s centre, where the women flocked to trade goods. Their animated voices filled the air, bartering over meat and cloth and gossiping about the neighbouring camps.
Spotting her family tent, with its two distinctive wolf skins hanging on either side of the entrance, Alena slipped inside. She uttered the Freefolk’s customary greeting out of habit—a greeting her father would never answer again.
A suffocating silence greeted her instead. In the corner, the bed of furs, still covered in blood-stained linens, drew her eyes. The familiar smells of her home mixed with the metallic tang of blood. Alena clasped the satchel tight in her hands and sucked in deep breaths until the tightness in her chest relented.
She needed to focus. Katell was counting on her, and she’d not let her sister down.
Alena headed to the small wooden table where her father kept his potions and herbs and gathered everything she found. She stocked supplies, fresh clothes, and provisions in a satchel, including two waterskins she’d filled that morning.
Satisfied with her loot, Alena searched the tent she’d called home all her life one last time. Her father’s chest sat at the foot of the bed. Inside, a flash of metal glinted among the pile of scrolls. She reached in and pulled out a dagger wrapped in felt.
Unlike the one she’d offered to the healer, this triangular blade still possessed its sheen. With a hilt of ivory and bronze plates and a pommel sculpted in an intricate pattern, there was no doubt it came from the Old Lands’ blacksmiths. None of the Freefolk possessed such skill.
She added the weapon to her satchel.
First their mother’s necklace and now an ornate dagger—what else had their father been hiding from his daughters? And why?
Hauling the heavy bags, Alena hurried out and headed north. Once she reached the outer pig pens, she left the bags behind an empty tent.
Summoning her courage, she retraced her steps and headed for the elders’ pavilion tent. Katell might have ordered her to stay away, but Alena was no coward. She refused to let her sister come to harm on her behalf.
Besides, the elders had her mother’s necklace, and stars be damned, she would retrieve it—one way or another.
The camp bustled around her without a guard in sight; everyone was too focused on their goods to notice her.
Without warning, screams tore through the air.
Alena froze.
Another scream rang out, followed by panicked shouts. Up ahead, a plume of black smoke captured her attention. She took off in a sprint towards it.
The labyrinth of tents opened up before her, revealing the flames devouring the elders’ tent. Fire licked at it from all sides, and the searing heat grazed Alena’s face. Men and women scrambled to gather their goods and flee while a handful of men took turns trying to put out the blaze with heavy blankets, all in vain.
“Kat!” Alena searched for her sister’s dark, braided hair amid the chaos.
An elderly woman carrying two baskets of wool rushed past her, nearly knocking her down. The flames had reached the roof of the tent, darkening the sky with thick, black smoke.
“The elders are still inside,” one of the men shouted.
Alena’s stomach twisted. Was Katell trapped as well?
The entrance was still untouched by the flames. Without another thought, Alena dashed towards it, protecting her face with her arms.
Inside, bright flames and dark smoke mingled, stinging her eyes and throat. She squinted through the smoke, looking for any sign of life. Several elders were kneeling on the ground, coughing into their sleeves. A few were trapped behind the raised dais, which was engulfed in flames.
“Alena!” Katell’s strangled voice called through the sizzling fire. “Get out!”
Her sister lay on the ground, cradling her right arm. Her faithful crossbow was just out of reach.
“Kat!” Alena hurried towards her, sweat already sliding down her back. Up close, her sister’s arm was raw and covered in blisters, and Alena tensed. None of her healing salves could remedy such severe burns.
“Alena, no! You have to leave!” Katell’s slick brow pulled into a grimace. “Ignatius has magic. When I confronted him, Elder Yorn took my side, but he cursed me out, and fire erupted from his hands. He must be Marked.”
Alena’s mouth fell open. “Elder Ignatius? He caused all of this?”
A direct descendant of Camp Bessi’s founders, a man who upheld the Sacred Law with unwavering fervour, was Marked?
Katell gripped her arm. “You need to leave—before he comes after you, too.”
“Too late.”
They both jumped as Elder Ignatius’s tall silhouette emerged from the smoke. Fire orbited his hands, swirling around his palms and wrists without burning his skin.
A heavy feeling smothered Alena’s senses, something more than the smoke.
Was it magic?
“You saved me the trouble of searching for you, Alena,” Elder Ignatius said, steely resolve permeating his gaze.
Despite the heat, a chill ran up Alena’s spine. She shot to her feet, shielding Katell. “Why would you do this? Attacking the other elders? Trying to kill us? Why?”
“Your father always brought trouble to our peaceful camp.” Hatred seeped through his voice, louder than the roaring flames. “The day he arrived seeking help, I knew that his Megarian pride wouldn’t allow him to turn his back on the gods completely. I anticipated his daughters would surely be Marked, and behold, I was right.”
Alena stilled, the inferno and screaming becoming distant as she turned to Katell. Her sister’s eyes locked onto hers, and the haunted expression within them spoke louder than words.
The world shifted beneath Alena’s feet.
Marked? Katell was Marked?
A deafening crash jolted her back to the present. The raised dais crumbled under the flames sending the trapped elders into a panicked frenzy.
“Help them!” Alena couldn’t tear her gaze away as the blood-curdling screams echoed through the raging flames. “Please stop this madness before it’s too late.”
“It is a pity, but they have seen the secret I have kept for so many years.” Deep lines furrowed Ignatius’ brow. “They cannot live, and neither can you.”
Such unnecessary death for such a selfish purpose.
“Why? Why would you do this?” Alena’s voice erupted in a raw shout. “You’re Marked yourself. None of it makes sense!”
The elder’s eyes gleamed with a feverish intensity. “Because the gods are cruel. They mark us only for death and destruction. Magic, divine weapons, talent—no matter what they give us, it all results in war. You cannot understand because you are still a child, but I have seen it time and time again. There is no life for us mortals while the gods live. That is why our ancestors first came to these lands. They wanted to be free from the scourge of the Marked ones, free from bloodthirsty kings and sadistic immortals.”
Ignoring his companions’ dying screams, Ignatius stalked towards her. Alena shoved down her panic and stepped to the side, luring him away from Katell.
“The Freefolk have forgotten what lies beyond the Deep River.” His clipped voice dripped with contempt. “It is my duty to ensure they remain ignorant and never seek magic again. That is why the gods here are dead. And they will remain dead, no matter the cost.”
Fire erupted from his hands, travelling up his arms to his shoulders. The searing heat drove Alena backwards, and she stumbled to the rugged floor.
Ignatius loomed above her, his body a beacon of fire that burned her throat and stung her eyes.
“Please, I beg you. Katell and I will leave—you’ll never see us again!” Pleading with him was pointless, but she would try anything to save her sister.
His face twisted into a sneer. “That isn’t good enough.”
He raised his hands, ready to strike.
Metal flashed through the smoke, and a dagger plunged deep into the elder’s chest.
Alena gasped.
Elder Ignatius staggered back, his mouth open in a silent cry. Wide-eyed, he stumbled to one knee, blood pouring down his robes. In the next beat, he keeled over, the flames sputtering out in his hands.
Alena whipped around to Katell.
With one arm outstretched, her sister clung to a wooden post with the other, drawing ragged breaths. She’d thrown the dagger.
And, as always, she never missed.