by S L Matthews
Cooper felt the spear slip through his fingers as he stumbled deeper into the sea. Knee-deep in icy water, he scowled at the young beggar, cursing and taunting.
“I’m going to ask one more time,” Cooper added through clenched teeth and a narrowed gaze. “Where is my brother?”
The young beggar returned his fiery gaze, refusing to answer. “My pa. You killed ‘im!” He regripped the spear, holding it high overhead.
Cooper grimaced, clutching his throbbing shoulder. “Listen, kid. You're not leaving this beach. The only thing you can do is tell me where you…”
A hand reached from behind the young beggar, grasping the spear and wrenching it from his hands. A split second later, the splintered shaft erupted through the man's throat. His knees buckled, his shocked gaze remaining fixed on Cooper.
“Ya talk too much, Coop,” echoed a graveled, familiar voice. Jorel stood over the beggar's body, an irritated expression across his face. After a moment, however, Cooper let loose a chuckle, remembering his friend always looked that way. Half his face was scorched, however, his hair and eyebrows lost in the fiery blaze.
“You’ve never looked better, old friend,” Cooper added. Jorel replied with a grunt and a dismissive wave of his hand.
Jorel knelt before the old beggar, yanking the chain free from his neck. He pulled the winged charm into his hand and held it up for Cooper, his missing eyebrow curling into a question. Cooper crawled to his friend, studying the symbol he had so callously mocked earlier that morning. He traced the wings with his finger, then glanced back to the wooden door.
His knees buckled as he stumbled through the sand, carving a jagged line across the beach. He felt the door’s rough edges and traced the wooden lines with his wrinkled, waterlogged fingers.
“This is it, Jorel. This is Taryn’s.”
Jorel stared blankly at the door, confusion draped across his scarred face. “Taryn’s… here?” he asked, shrugging his shoulders.
Cooper sighed, nodding his direction. “Somewhere. He-well he has to be. But he's hurt.”
The pair traversed the beach, scouring the black sand and murky waters for signs of Taryn. Dozens of bodies had washed up along the shore: men and women – civilians – many of whom Cooper knew from Wyvern’s Rest. There were soldiers, pirates, and children, all strewn along the beach, clustered between the shattered remnants of ships and the city.
“He ain't here, Coop,” Jorel bellowed, echoing the thoughts Cooper was afraid to voice out loud.
Cooper waded into the water, scanning the wreckage. Hopelessness consumed him while more bodies continued to float toward the shore. Guilt plagued his thoughts, and he fought the emotion that came with it.
So much death.
“It’s all my fault,” he whispered. He turned to his pirate friend, flapping his hands in defeat.
Jorel scowled, shaking his head. “The fuck you talkin’ about, Coop?”
Cooper lifted a hand, panning from one horizon to the next. “All of this, Jor. This blood is on my hands.” His arms fell to his side, a sharp pain shooting from his wounded shoulder. While Cooper winced, Jorel shook his head in disagreement.
“These people left, Coop. They left us to die here!” He stormed toward Cooper, flashing an indignant finger to the farthest horizon. “They were dead to us the moment they stepped on that ship, just like all the others.” Jorel spit into the sea, scowling at the bodies floating nearby. “Alive, dead. Makes no difference.”
Cooper charged onto the beach, grasping Jorel’s tunic. “And what of Taryn? Is he dead to you too?”
The pair stared at one another, fire in their eyes. Jorel broke the contest first, tearing away his gaze with a subtle shake of his head. He took a few steps up the beach, kicking at the wooden fragments washed ashore.
“Ain’t my rule, Coop. It’s yours.”
Cooper’s heart sank. Jorel was right. From the first moments of trouble so long ago, they had decided to stick it out, for better or worse. Wyvern’s Rest was their home, and anyone that would give up, to leave them hanging high and dry—was dead to them.
Soaked, huddled silhouettes crawled from the sea, making their way into the heart of Wyvern’s Rest. Jorel nodded toward the masses, though Cooper knew he was just trying to make him feel better. “Maybe he followed ‘em? Up to the Wyrmling?”
Cooper recalled Taryn’s wound, doubt creeping into his heart. He turned back toward the beach and shook his head. “No, he’d never make it alone. He has to be here somewhere.” Cooper placed a hand on Jorel’s shoulder, urging him forward. “Why don’t you go check the tavern. See if Ava’s seen him.”
Cooper and Jorel started toward an old square, nestled against the beach of the inner quarter. They lifted their heads to navigate the loose boulders, and both stopped dead in their tracks.
The raised highway lay shattered, pieces of the old road crumbling into the pier. Wagon carts and gutted oxen littered the rocky embankment, mixed with the bodies of civilians, their look of terror frozen upon their faces. Clouds of dust billowed from the Outer Quarter while buildings near the shore collapsed into ruin. Chunks of the city wall had crumbled, and great towers had toppled into the sea. Large swaths of Wyvern’s Rest had been destroyed. What remained, smoldered in ruin.
Both men stared in disbelief, their mouths dropped open.
Jorel broke the silence in his customary way, “the fuck happened here?”
Cooper merely shook his head. Words that were so easy to come by were now suddenly absent. He turned back to the sea and the carnage that drifted inland.
In the distance, several soldiers stumbled out of the water, their red cloaks sagging behind them. Shiny, golden armor twinkled in the light while a tall, menacing soldier lumbered nearby. Rowan and Captain Ferael gathered themselves, along with a complement of their men, then made their way toward the old market.
Cooper sighed, his solemn mood getting worse by the moment. “Looks like a few cockroaches survived.” He nodded their direction, and Jorel turned, adding another of his colorful phrases.
Rowan’s cryptic words replayed in Cooper’s mind. There’s something far more valuable in that old inn, and we intend to claim her.
Cooper’s pulse raced, his gaze darting between the sea and the old inn. “You’ve gotta get to Ava before they do.” He tugged against Jorel’s vest, his voice turning solemn. “Get her out of there. I think Rowan and Ferael are after her.”
Jorel nodded, hopping from boulder to boulder before stopping dead in his tracks. His eyes widened as he turned to Cooper, terror draped across his face.
“Coop, uh. Yer shoulder an’ all. Maybe I’ll find your brother an’ you tell Ava.”
Cooper returned his gaze, glancing toward the second story of the old inn beyond the wall. He rolled his shoulder, grimacing through the pain. “Nah, I’m alright, Jor. I can barely feel it now.” He turned his head from Jorel, hiding the tears of pain that ran down his cheek.
Jorel’s gaze bounced between the old highway and Cooper, his grimace twisting to find a worthy excuse. In time, the breath escaped his lips, and he turned to Cooper, dropping his arms in defeat.
“The fuck am I supposed to tell her?”
Cooper laughed, stepping back onto the beach. “Doesn’t matter. Either way, she’s kickin’ your ass.”
| Chapter XIV
Murder
Ava’s pulse raced. She stepped away from the Cambrian officer, her eyes locked onto the balcony and the man who would defile it. A fire burned within, along with a question she could not answer.
“But—he’s dead?”
She had watched him die. She was certain. Ava subconsciously drifted closer to the balcony, unable to remove her fiery gaze. She replayed his death in her mind a dozen times. Each time, she was sure he would breathe no more.
As Ava stared at Viktor, however, she sensed the change within him. He didn’t look upon her with the scowl she had grown accustomed to. Any other time, he would prominently lean over the rai
ling, addressing his subjects, assuming he actually had any, of course. His eyebrows were raised, his mouth slightly agape. His eyes danced, always landing on Ava for the briefest of moments before darting to another corner of the inn. His demeanor resembled the odd merchant from Crossroads, not the brazen, self-proclaimed king she had come to despise.
Ava snarled. She gnashed her teeth and released Dari’s hand, stepping toward the balcony. Fury rose in her heart, along with the disappointment of not finishing the job the first time. A bud of hope bloomed, however, realizing she had another opportunity. She would again see the flicker of fear in his eyes, life escaping for the final time.
Her gaze narrowed as dark thoughts flooded her mind.
Viktor’s eyes widened as his gaze drifted to Ava once more. His mouth fell open, and he ducked behind a line of mercenaries, the spineless puppets of his final play. Several of his guards raced to the bottom of the stairs; even more withdrew their swords, stepping before Ava. She slapped at their weapons as she cursed to the heavens for all to hear.
“Damn you! Stop hiding, you pathetic son of a bitch!”
Mercenaries gripped their weapons and civilians gasped, appalled by Ava’s threat.
An older woman cupped her hands over her son’s ears, pulling him away from the spectacle. “Why, that is no way for a lady to…”
“I am no lady!” Ava screamed, snapping her gaze to the mother. The family embraced one another, shuffling to the corner as Ava lunged for the line of mercenaries. She clawed, she pushed, she wedged between them, determined to get to Viktor. She had a second chance—she would not fail again.
“Get down here, you coward!”
A mercenary grasped the collar of Ava’s tunic, lifting it over her head and throwing her from the stairs. While the others reformed their line, the mercenary pushed her against the oak bar, snarling in defiance.
“You do not speak that way to your king…”
Vengeance flooded Ava’s thoughts. An unquenchable fire burned within, a hunger she had to feed. Unable to control it, the fire was unleashed. She slapped the mercenary with all her might. His knees buckled and he staggered away, clutching his cheek. Still, Ava’s fire burned.
Swords were unsheathed, their bearers eying Ava with deadly intent. She backed into the bar as a shadow loomed overhead. Dain stepped beside Ava, extending a hand across her chest while he lifted his ax to the group of mercenaries.
“Careful boys, this one has claws,” he bellowed, tapping against their blades.
He gently pressed against Ava’s side, stepping in front of her. His fellow Huntsmen drew their weapons, forming a line around her.
The mercenary growled, a wicked smile growing as he rubbed his swollen cheek. “She’s nothing more than a caged animal, Huntsman. Time to put her down.”
Ava’s eyes widened. Her fire smothered. She looked to her hand, red and swollen, then to the sea of faces, all of whom stared back in shock. Vengeance consumed her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Ava’s spirit faltered as a familiar voice echoed across the tavern, urging restraint. “Please, we mustn’t fight amongst ourselves.” Amoran stepped along the bar, followed by the Lieutenant and his men. “You must gather your things and prepare to leave. We don’t have time.”
Blue-cloaked soldiers ushered civilians against the far wall as Lieutenant Celaera encouraged the mercenaries to sheathe their weapons. “There’s a larger threat here, men. We will need you when the time comes.”
Ava looked beyond the mercenaries, to the line of terrified survivors, huddled into the corner. There was a sharp contrast among them. Most were covered in gray soot, their clothes ripped and torn. Others, however, were soaked to their core. They huddled together, shivering as though the world had frozen. Some had burns to their clothes and skin. Others shook in silence, ignoring the chaos of the inn.
As she studied the soaked men and women, a pit formed in her stomach. Her recognition increased, of the joyous line of passengers and the ship that would take them far from this place. Her heart raced as she searched among them, seeing face after face of people lined up to board the Promenade.
Then, her heart sank. “Taryn!”
Ava stormed the passengers. Families recoiled while her gaze leapt to the empty docks and the void at the end of each pier. “What happened? Where’s the Promenade?” Desperation filled her voice.
Their silence persisted, most unwilling to even look her way.
“Please, you must tell me what happened!”
Anger replaced fear as their silence continued, unwavered by her pleas. Ava pursed her lips and advanced, determined to get an answer.
“It’s gone.” A voice broke the merciful silence, and Ava’s heart broke with it. “We were attacked.” Ava’s solemn gaze fell upon familiar faces: an old woman and her son. She continued to shield her son from Ava, offering more heartbreak. The mother pointed through the seaside windows, tears forming in her eyes. “The beach. That’s all that’s left.”
Ava cocked her head, desperate for answers. “Attacked?”
The mother’s gaze unfocused, and a genuine smile crept into her expression, along with a hint of laughter. “There was so much joy. We were free, or so we thought. We sang. We danced. We tossed our fears into the sea, and watched as this wretched city faded from view.” Her smile faded, and her brow furrowed. The mother’s expression turned to one of terror. “Then they came: death upon the black water. There was fire, smoke, and, well, I don’t remember much after that. The sea claimed most of us. The beach claimed the rest. Soldiers, women, children…” Her words cut off, as though choked from her very mouth.
Tears fell, and she buried her head into a taller man’s chest. He placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and tousled his son’s hair. His face was severely burned, and his expression had grown dire. The man lowered her voice and glanced to the other soaked civilians. “Pirates.”
Ava’s heart softened. Her gaze returned to the window, focused on the debris along the shore. Shadows accented the blackened sands of the beach, toppling over one another with each crashing wave. Along the horizon, as far as she could see, were lifeless bodies, tangled in a web of debris. A chill crept up her spine, and her heart grew cold.
Horror crept into Ava’s thoughts. Her pulse raced; realization had taken hold. She cupped her mouth, her thoughts drifting back to her final moment with Taryn, and her simple request to spare his life. She recalled his expression of love turn to horror at the sound of her words, and saw his spirit vanish as he understood their meaning.
She touched a finger to her lips, replaying their goodbye. She had broken his heart. Taryn boarded the Promenade and left Wyvern’s Rest—because she asked him to.
“It’s my fault,” Ava whispered, staring at the end of the bar. She crumpled to her knees, unable to contain her guilt.
“They were after something,” the father added. “A few of us stood our ground, but…” His words trailed off, and his gaze drifted back to his family.
The mother once again spoke, “A man in a white robe, and something about an amulet.”
Ava gasped. Her fingertips fell to her collar, tracing the line where the gems had laid against her chest. Her gaze shot to the roaring fireplace and the lump of onyx stones, still pulsing amidst the blaze.
“Then, the Cyrean’s showed up, and it all went to hell.” Ava raised her eyebrow, turning back to the family. Cambrian soldiers ushered them toward the back of the inn as the line advanced.
Thoughts stirred within Ava as she looked to the survivors. “Cyrean?”
The tavern doors snapped open, and all eyes turned to a pair of men standing in the doorway. A tall, red-cloaked soldier, heavily armored and gravely scowled, had one arm draped around a Cyrean officer. Golden armor, laced with crimson, glistened in the tavern, while a hint of blood trickled across his gilded chest. Rowan stood tall, supporting his wounded captain through the angled entryway, followed by more than a dozen Cyrean soldiers. They were s
oaked to the core, with many gravely injured.
Without hesitation, the father nodded to the doorway, then turned his solemn gaze to Ava, stating simply, “them.”
Ava glanced back to the fireplace, then toward the soldiers entering the tavern. Her eyebrows curled in confusion. Them?
Her gaze locked onto the soldiers. The taller one, Ava recognized, the mercenary Cooper had tangled with earlier that morning. Rowan’s demeanor had changed, however. He seemed to stand taller than she remembered, though the scowl he offered Ava—she had definitely seen that before.
Rowan grinned and pulled a small piece of parchment from his armor, brittle and torn, rolled into a tiny scroll. The air in the room fell silent, and Ava’s breath escaped her.
Thibold’s note!
She grew anxious, gasping. Ava took a few unconscious steps forward, until Rowan leaned into the wounded officer. He extended the note in Ava’s direction, mouthing the words “that’s her, Captain.”
The officer lifted his head. His blue eyes and aged scowl met Ava’s gaze, followed by an insidious smirk.
Ava’s pulse raced. She glanced around as red-cloaked soldiers quickly encompassed the tavern. She darted to the giant, stone hearth and the bench where Lazarus and Dari sat quietly. Ava grabbed Dari’s hand, pulling him from his seat. “Hurry Dari. We have to go.”
Dari offered a small wave to Lazarus as Ava tugged against his wrist, pulling him toward the shadowed, back hallway of the inn. Families parted before her, yet the red-cloaked soldiers converged, blocking the worn doors to freedom.
Rowan stepped forward, his hand extended. “And where do you think you’re going, thief?” Soldiers flanked the Cyrean officer, each eying Ava like a hungry wolf. Rowan scowled, a wicked grin stretching across his face.
Ava furrowed her brow, stepping before Rowan, determined to leave the inn one way or another. “Now you listen to me…”
A haunting voice boomed throughout the tavern.
