12. CHAPTER TWELVE
The rocky mountain path was steep, but the donkey fared better than any horse ever could.
The trail coiled through jagged rocks like a startled snake and led down into a valley of dark forests. Alena had left a food offering at each stone altar they’d passed, and now supplies were scarce. Once they reached the trees, Katell planned to hunt, whether the local deity liked it or not.
Without food, they’d never reach Achaea.
In their descent, the valley revealed a patchwork of trees knitted together with ferns and ivy. The scarce sunlight filtering through the canopy gave it a haunted look.
Alena kept gnawing at her lip, and even the donkey twitched at every sound the closer they got.
Katell’s gut warned her to stay out of the forest, so they followed a dirt track along the mountain’s fa?ade instead. When the sun began to set, they came upon a cascade that narrowed into a stream.
“Let’s stop here for the night.” Katell dumped the largest bag at her feet while Alena unloaded the donkey and led him to the water. “I’m going to follow the stream and see if I can hunt some dinner. I won’t go far. Shout if you need me.”
Alena peered at the babbling brook vanishing into the shadows of the trees. “Don’t be long.”
Katell grabbed her crossbow and took off. The air grew cooler under the canopy. Ferns and moss shrouded the forest floor, an ideal hiding spot for small prey. She veered away from the trickling water, keeping her ears open and her tread soft.
A white-tailed rabbit emerged from the underbrush. She took aim, but it hopped out of sight as quickly as it’d appeared. She followed in its general direction with light feet, and her prey reappeared again, deeper in the forest.
Crouching, Katell lifted her weapon, eyes set on her target. She wouldn’t let it escape her again. They needed the meat. Her breath quieted, poised for the shot, but a sharp cry pierced the air, and the rabbit darted into the bushes.
Katell stilled, then flattened herself to the ground. The scream had been close.
Loud shouts echoed the shriek, and she shuffled forward. Through the foliage, she could make out a few men in crude armour, swords at their belts. They stood along a muddy path ahead, guarding wooden carts.
Heart racing, she inched closer. Farther down the path, dozens of sullen-faced men and women sat slumped in a clearing, shackled and chained.
Slaves.
Her body went rigid, her lungs frozen. She struggled to regain control over her limbs and backed away, scanning the trees. There was no time to waste. She had to find Alena and flee.
Her heavy crossbow slammed into her back with every step. She pushed her legs as fast as they could carry her, the forest distorting into blurs of green and brown as she tore through it.
Only one thought ran through her mind: protect Alena.
Stumbling past the last row of trees, she glanced up, and her heart stopped.
Alena was standing at the edge of the water, dagger in hand, facing two slavers in sandy tunics and battered breastplates.
Chest heaving, Katell swung her crossbow up and aimed at the larger man. “Get away from her!”
She spoke Koine, the Achaean tongue—the most widely used language around the Great Sea, or so she’d been told.
Whether they understood her mattered little. Violence spoke a common tongue. If they approached her sister, she’d shoot them down.
“Laran’s shield, another girl!” the shorter man answered in Koine, his speech marked by a thick accent. His beady eyes roamed over her figure, and he grinned. “Must be our lucky day, Titus. Master will be pleased. Take care of the feisty one; I’ll deal with the redhead.”
Sword in hand, he lunged at Alena.
Katell’s blood boiled. She ignored the bulky slaver closing in on her and shot the shorter man. The bolt pierced his skull, and he dropped dead at Alena’s feet.
Her sister backed away, mouth gaping in a silent scream.
Titus, the larger slaver, roared and barrelled towards Katell. With no time to cock another bolt, she leapt out of the way just as his sword sliced through the air. She danced around him, avoiding the sharp blade, and berated herself for not carrying her sword. Seizing an opening, she punched his shoulder, and he yelped in pain, his sword slipping from his grasp.
For a moment, his dark gaze scrutinised her, calculating. Then he lunged again, this time at her throat. She knocked his arm away and smashed her fist into his face. His bones collapsed beneath her knuckles with a satisfying crunch, and he reeled back, falling flat on the ground.
Wasting no time, Katell rushed to Alena’s side. “Quickly!”
But five more armed slavers emerged from the forest before they could hide. Katell cursed under her breath.
“Kat!” Alena grabbed the short sword strung to the donkey and tossed it her way.
Katell caught it and turned to face the men. “Alena, run!”
Alena obeyed, yanking the donkey along behind her. Katell stepped to the side, blocking the slavers’ path towards her sister.
“Careful. She’s Gifted,” Titus croaked from the ground, blood gushing from his broken nose.
The slavers, dressed in dirty tunics and scraps of leather armour, spread out, circling her as if she were a dangerous animal. She held their gazes, squaring her shoulders. If she could beat a dozen armed stragglers, then surely she could take on five slavers.
Copper skin, ebony skin, hair as black as night or fiery red—none of the men shared the same homeland. Clearly, it was the promise of gold that had brought them together.
Katell gritted her teeth. Slavers had no honour, selling people as if they were goods. She would smash each of their skulls before they could put her in chains.
Not her, and not her sister. She would rather die.
The first man stepped forward, taunting her with his sword. The others chuckled, but the moment he glanced away, she seized her chance and plunged her sword deep into his gut.
The grin on his face dropped, and she dislodged her blade, leaving a trail of dark blood in its wake. He wheezed, blood bubbling up his throat, then crumpled to the ground.
The other four men fell silent, unease rippling across their expressions.
Katell smirked. Strong women always scared weak men.
A broad-chested man brandished his sword. “Get that whore!”
The four men attacked all at once. She did her best to avoid their blades, blocking their attacks and pivoting left and right. They were no match for her skills, but the relentless onslaught left her breathless. She cut and slashed ruthlessly and, at last, sliced one of the men’s legs down to the bone.
He dropped to his knee with a cry, but the other three didn”t so much as pause.
The broad-chested man swung at her. She caught his arm and twisted hard. He yelped, dropping his sword, and she impaled him straight through the chest. With an agonised groan, he toppled to the ground.
Finally, the two remaining slavers fell back, eyes wide.
Catching her breath, Katell whipped her blade to the side, ready to strike again. Fresh blood splattered the grass around her.
Only two more, and Alena would be safe.
She prepared to lunge again, but a distant shriek made her blood run cold.
One slaver’s face twisted into a sneer. “Looks like the others found your little friend.”
Katell took off at once, evading their reach and launching herself in Alena’s direction. Icy panic gripped her by the throat. If they had touched a single hair on Alena’s head, she would tear them limb from limb.
The trees receded into a beaten track, and the donkey’s loud bray echoed ahead. She veered towards the sound, the damp smell of moss filling her nose.
A flash of auburn caught her eye. Alena stood by the stream, struggling to keep hold of the donkey’s reins as it wailed and stomped, kicking up dirt. Three men dressed in finer clothes surrounded her, and a black hound paced between them. The panicked donkey brayed incessantly, kicking its powerful hind legs.
A low, gravelly growl reverberated in the air.
The hairs on the back of Katell’s neck stood up in warning. At first glance, the large black animal had looked like a hound, but a closer look revealed two colossal heads locked in a menacing snarl, exposing sharp fangs and bright red eyes.
Katell froze, words escaping her. Such a beast had never been seen or even mentioned among the Freefolk. Their father had warned them about monsters beyond the Deep River, but she”d never imagined anything like this.
The donkey reared, dumping the remainder of their supply bags, and charged past Alena, knocking her to the ground. It galloped off into the forest and vanished in the underbrush.
“Alena!” Katell rushed to her side.
The hound circled back to its master, the tallest of the three men. He had dark hair braided with beads and a blood-red Mark proudly displayed on his left shoulder.
The second man, tall and thin with a full beard, wore a colourful tunic and trousers in a style resembling that of the Parthian nomads, who voyaged north once a year to trade with the Freefolk.
Both men stood still by the stream, their attention locked onto Katell.
Alena got to her feet, and Katell pushed her sister behind her protectively.
“Come with us now, and you will not be harmed.” The hound’s master spoke Koine, his voice a deep rumble. “Gifted or not, you cannot win.”
Not trusting his word, Katell only raised her sword in answer.
“As you wish.”
A blond stepped forward. Muscles rippled beneath his simple tunic. His expression remained blank, but his eyes, sharp and alert, were those of a warrior. Without a word, he uncrossed his arms, and a bright light like a thousand jewels sparkling in the sun enveloped his body.
Magic.
Alena gasped.
Katell backed away on instinct.
In the next heartbeat, the light faded, revealing a bronze cuirass and helmet. The Gifted armour shimmered in the dying sunlight with a faintly pulsing glow.
In one swift motion, the blond warrior unsheathed his sword.
Steeling her nerves, Katell stepped away from Alena to meet him. She glanced at the other slavers, but neither seemed inclined to join the fight.
The hound’s master stood to one side, watching Alena with a keen interest. The Parthian’s gaze, however, was locked on Katell, and her skin crawled.
Something wasn’t right.
“Be careful, Kat.” The tremble in Alena’s voice betrayed her fear. She had reason to be; they both did. These three slavers were nothing like the men Katell had just fought. At least two of them were Gifted, and their demeanours exuded a cold confidence that unnerved her.
Still, she wouldn’t let them get past her. “Stay behind me,” she told Alena in a low voice. “Get ready to run.”
Cold sweat beaded on her back. She assumed a defensive stance, ignoring her aching muscles. The once comforting weight of her father’s short sword had become a burden.
The warrior struck fast and hard, and it took all of Katell’s strength to parry his attacks. His last strike hit her sword so hard that she collapsed to her knees with a cry.
His blade glinted through the air, aiming for her neck, but she managed to roll out of the way just in time.
She staggered to her feet, and the onslaught resumed. The slaver’s strikes came in quick succession, relentless and violent. Blood pounded in her ears, half-drowning out the clash of their swords.
Katell gritted her teeth, fighting exhaustion, but her body refused to listen. The surge of magic she”d expected, like fire in her veins, was absent.
Her strength was gone.
“Kat!” Alena screamed.
Throughout the haze of attacks, the Parthian’s gaze never wavered from Katell.
Again and again, her Gift failed her—not just her strength, either. Her cuts and bruises weren’t healing. Her magic had vanished the moment the fight had begun, and somehow the Parthian was behind it.
Katell slipped on the uneven forest terrain. Before she could recover, something hard slammed into her stomach. The world flashed white, and all-consuming pain sucked the air out of her lungs.
“Kat!”
She was only faintly aware of her own body hitting the mud. In the distance, an ashen-faced Alena thrashed against the hound master’s hold.
Katell’s blood roused, and a voice in the back of her head screamed at her to get up and fight.
But the warrior’s broad frame loomed over her, the sharp edge of his sword hovering above her neck. “You should have listened.”
His smug expression was all too familiar. It was the same look the Freefolk hunters had given her all her life.
She wheezed, a thousand insults burning through her mind. Her Koine might be rusty, but she remembered enough. “Go fuck yours—”
A blinding pain exploded on the side of her face, and the world went black.