by Linde, K. A.
“We don’t work for the Society,” Fordham ground out. “We tried to tell you that already.”
“Begin,” the man said, pointing at Kerrigan. “Perhaps watching her suffer will loosen your tongue.”
“She has nothing to do with this,” Fordham cried.
His gray eyes found hers, pleading with her to say something, to end this. But what could they say? They were telling the truth. She could rat out Dozan, but that wouldn’t save them. Dozan and Clare were enemies on a good day. And today was not a good day.
The next blow cracked across her jaw and then back the other way. She retreated hard within herself as pain exploded across her body. Over and over and over again.
Fordham was yelling something, but her ears were ringing. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. The man was hitting her. Using her pain to try to get Fordham to talk, but Kerrigan wasn’t here any longer. She burrowed deep within herself, losing her sense of identity and her sense of time and her sense of space. She vanished into that nothingness, where there was no pain or fear or torture. A place she hadn’t gone to since that night five years ago when she had her first vision. Just like…
* * *
Kerrigan’s green eyes glittered with excitement. For the first time ever, a human had just won the dragon tournament. Cyrene had won! Her success was a huge victory for humans and half-Fae alike, even more so for the cause.
Parades littered the streets. People chanted Cyrene’s name. They called her a saint. Kerrigan had tried to convince her friends to join her in celebration. It wasn’t every day that you got to witness history. But Darby’s parents were in town, Hadrian didn’t like crowds, and Lyam had been sent to do chores for his last indiscretion. They’d all agreed she shouldn’t go out alone, not after the Erewa bombing in the arena, but she couldn’t just sit there when the whole world was celebrating Cyrene’s victory.
She felt a certain thrill that she knew the human champion. That she had met her and spoken with her and confided in her for the month that she was here. She likely would never see her again, but still, she had met Cyrene Strohm of Doma!
Kerrigan turned down an empty alleyway, heading toward the Square. She wore her favorite white dress and a pink cloak. Bright colors to match the vibrant festivities.
Then a man stepped into the alleyway. Huge with a menacing air about him and sharply pointed ears. Full-blooded Fae.
“Hello there, pretty,” he crooned.
Her steps faltered and then stopped. “Hello,” she whispered, the fear creeping into her voice.
She took a step back, prepared to run, but when she turned, there were more of them. More Fae, not all male, but every one of them made her skin crawl to escape.
“What’s a leatha doing out here, all alone, on a night like this?” the first male addressed her.
She flinched. Leatha. What a horrid word. How dare he call her that!
“I’m just… heading to the parade. If you’ll let me pass…”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” the man said.
“Please, I don’t have any money.”
The man stepped forward, pressing his chest against hers. She was only twelve, but she knew to be afraid. Afraid of what he could do to her, afraid of how he could hurt her. She drew her magic in sharp and tight to her chest. She knew she had power, but against this many?
“We don’t want money from a leatha,” he growled, running a finger down her cheek.
The people behind him laughed and cheered and egged him on. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. She could only smell the rank breath of the man and see his dark eyes, almost black, and the abject anger in them. As if she were an affront to him for simply having been born.
“What… what do you want?” she asked, near to tears now.
“Unfortunately, we can’t suffer a leatha to live.”
Kerrigan lashed out with her magic. Flames erupted, blasting the man backward and destroying his face. He screamed, and others hastened forward to put out the flames. Kerrigan ignored them all and tried to run, run far away from them. Darby and Hadrian had been right. This was a mistake, a terrible mistake.
One of the women latched on to her wrist and yanked. A sharp pop sounded in the alleyway as her wrist dislocated. Then the woman threw her down into the dirty street. Dirt and grime and sewage covered the front of her white dress and dirtied the pretty silk cloak. Her hands were scraped raw from catching herself, and the pain from her wrist was agonizing.
“You leatha bitch!”
A boot connected with her jaw. She was flung backward, stars exploding in her vision. She reached for her powers, but suddenly, as if a whirlpool had drained inside her, her magic was sucked up and emptied. There was nothing there. Nothing at all to save her. She reached and reached, but she was being pulled under and away.
Images flashed before her eyes. The parade at the Square on fire. People wearing red masks, flooding the streets. Death. So much death. Then, a portal door within the mountain. A castle in a distant mountain range. Not of this world. A magical battle and dragons, hundreds of dragons flying to aid.
A voice spoke to her. A voice she recognized. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sound of Cyrene speaking to her.
“I have little time, Kerrigan. We are in desperate need of your help. Open the portal this one last time. We beg of you. The fate of our world may rest in your hands.”
“Cyrene, I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
Cyrene’s voice was a caress. “I know that you are or else I would not be able to speak to you now.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Do you want to know a secret?”
“Yes,” Kerrigan whispered.
“We’re all afraid. Every minute of every day. But those who master their fear, they’re the ones who go on to do great things.”
And then her voice was gone. The images were gone.
All she felt was the pain. For however many seconds she had had those images and Cyrene in her head, the Fae had converged on her. They were beating her. They were going to kill her. She was broken. Her limbs couldn’t move. She had no magic anymore. Not even a drop.
She was going to die here. Die before she could ever tell a single soul that Cyrene had spoken to her. That Cyrene’s world needed saving.
She opened her eyes, and a scream of protest escaped her. The Fae had donned masks. Red masks. They were part of the images in her head… had they been true? All she saw was the red masks beating her, kicking her, killing her. Red blood coated her white dress.
Pain overtook her body. Unconsciousness beckoned. Failure. If she left now, she would fail Cyrene, fail everyone. Still, there wasn’t anything she could do. She retreated deep, deep, deep into herself. To the dark, empty place where there was no pain, no fear, no torture. Just eternity.
And then something rocked through her…
* * *
And then something rocked through her. A wave of energy exploded from the core of her body and released outward, like a bomb detonating.
30
The Second
Kerrigan opened her eyes. Her bonds were severed. Bodies littered the ground before her. Her limbs were heavy, and her pain rushed back to her tenfold. She groaned and turned her attention to Fordham.
He was still conscious though barely. One eye was swollen shut. His shirt was torn, and there was a long cut from his left shoulder across to his right abdomen. It wasn’t deep, but it was still freshly leaking blood.
“What did you do?” he muttered. His one eye wide in shock.
She stood despite her many injuries and began to unknot his bonds. “We have to get out of here.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
It was the truth… and not the truth. She had clearly caused some kind of magical explosion despite the fact that her magic had been dampened by whatever drug Clare had given them. And… it wasn’t the first time she had done it. She had done it five years ago as
well. She tamped down that thought until she had time to process it later.
She finished with the bonds on his feet. “You need to get up. We have to flee.”
“But—”
“Now,” she commanded, hard and unyielding. “Now.”
He nodded, bottling up all his questions and turning back into the military commander he so obviously had been in his previous life. “Let’s move out.”
Kerrigan toed the man who had beaten her. He didn’t move. She swallowed, uncertain if she had killed them or knocked them out, but she didn’t stop to check. Already, Fordham was to the door, holding his ribs.
“This way,” he said and then charged down the hallway.
She followed after him, peeking her head into doorways. Everyone they passed was crumpled and unconscious. They didn’t have to fight a single soul as they fled the building.
They both halted when they exited and saw the sun rising bright on the horizon.
“The tournament,” Fordham gasped.
“Shit,” Kerrigan spat.
“We’ll have to run back to the arena.”
“Can you make it?” she asked him, gesturing to his side.
“I’ll have to,” he said with fierce determination. “Where the hell are we?”
Kerrigan assessed their surroundings and then shook her head. “I’m not sure exactly. Still north valley. They must have moved us to a more secure location. But we mountain just have to follow the mountain.”
She pointed to Draco Mountain looming in the distance. Far, far in the distance.
Fordham straightened his shoulders and took off at a jog. She could hear him wheezing as she followed after him. Broken rib. If not multiple. Under no circumstances should he be running before seeing a healer, but besides the noise, he didn’t stop or slow down at all.
Kerrigan hurt everywhere, and she still couldn’t access her magic. She’d been able to have some sort of explosion when she was kidnapped, but she couldn’t touch her magic now? That made no sense. And if she couldn’t access hers, then Fordham likely couldn’t either. He was going to have to walk into the second task without magic. Scales.
“Aren’t you glad that I made you run?” he quipped.
She glared at him. “If we make it to the tournament, remind me later to kick you.”
He laughed humorlessly and then clutched his ribs. “If I make it through this task, remind me to never go on scouting missions with you again.”
“Deal,” she said with a half-quirk of her mouth.
And then they ran and ran and ran.
The sun was high on the horizon. They had so little time to get to the tournament, and there was no way they were going to hold the entire event, waiting for Fordham.
“Almost there,” she gasped out as they moved from a run to a final full-out sprint.
She couldn’t believe they still had energy left, but there was no other choice. They could hear the master of ceremonies speaking to the crowd and the stadium chanting with pleasure at the start of the second task.
“Where—”
“This way,” she told him back in her element.
And then they were in front of the competitors’ door. She yanked it open, and she and Fordham all but fell through. The other nine competitors, three administrators, and Valia turned as one to stare at them, bloody, beaten, and out of breath.
“What in the gods’ name has happened?” Bastian asked, striding forward with part anger and part concern.
“We…” Kerrigan began at the same time Fordham said, “I…”
They looked at each other, and then shrugged.
“We fell,” Fordham informed Bastian.
Kerrigan’s eyes widened. It was the truth, and somehow, also a terrible lie.
“We went hiking, and we fell.”
Bastian looked between them as if he couldn’t fathom what was wrong with them. “We will discuss this later. For now, the tournament must go on.”
“A healer for certain, Bastian,” Mistress Sinead said with wide eyes. “I can work on him.”
“There’s no time. We’ve already delayed long enough. Fordham chose to be out all night,” Bastian said evenly. “He will have to compete as he is or not at all.”
Fordham straightened, ignoring the pain in his ribs. “I will compete.”
“Good lad,” Bastian said and then ushered him toward the rest of the competitors.
Kerrigan reached out and grabbed his hand, a tingle racing up her arm at the slightest touch.
Fordham turned around in confusion. “What?”
“The raven,” she told him. “Get the raven medallion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Trust me,” she said earnestly. “Like last time.”
He looked at her shrewdly before nodding. “All right.”
And then Sinead was tugging her away from Fordham and pushing her down into a chair. “I don’t know what you two were up to, but I need to set this nose and heal your injuries. You could have internal damage.”
“I want to watch the tournament.”
Sinead brooked no argument. She just got to work. After only a few minutes, Kerrigan was so exhausted, she thought she was going to pass out entirely.
“What is happening?” Sinead asked incredulously.
“Healing draws on a person’s energy, right?” Kerrigan muttered.
“Of course. It draws on us both.”
“I have none. I’m… spent.”
Sinead stared her down. “And what were you doing that exhausted your magic?”
Kerrigan sealed her lips and stared back at the woman. She wasn’t going to tell her a thing.
Sinead sighed. “Fine. I don’t want to use all of my energy either. It is much easier when it flows through both of us,” Sinead said with another pointed sigh. “I will finish your nose and jaw. They’re both broken. Then, you can go watch the tournament. Once you have had something to eat and drink and rested, we’ll have another session.”
The next half hour of healing was an effort in self-control. She could hear the cries for the competitors and had no idea how Fordham was doing out there, how any of them were doing. But once her jaw and nose were set, her entire body felt so much better.
She thanked Mistress Sinead and then hastened to the box to watch the rest of the event.
Kerrigan gasped when she got a glimpse of the arena for the first time. Even though she had seen images of what would come in her vision, it was nothing compared to seeing the entire arena flooded. A man-made lake now resided within the arena, and overtop was the interlocking platforms. Each of them could move on their own. The ladders and ropes to climb between them weren’t connected but dangling, so competitors had to jump to reach them and haul themselves up.
“Gods,” she whispered as she came to stand beside Valia, the Society steward.
How was Fordham supposed to climb with broken ribs?
“What happened to you?” Valia asked, knotting her blonde hair into a plait at her back.
“Something unfortunate.” She smiled at the other girl though. “Don’t worry. I got a few licks in myself.”
“You’re absurd.”
“Thank you,” Kerrigan said, returning to the task. “How does it work?”
“Each competitor has to find and put together three medallion parts and then climb to the top of the platform. The first eight competitors to finish advance to the final.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Did you not notice the platforms are moving?” Valia inquired. “And there are Society members stationed around the arena, soaking the various platforms. If someone falls into the water, they’re automatically out. No second chance.”
Kerrigan shuddered as her vision whipped through her once more. A push and Fordham falling. Gods, he’d be out of the tournament. How was she supposed to warn him of that now that he was already out there, scrambling around on those moving platforms with a broken ribs?
“Oh,”
was all Kerrigan managed.
“Yeah. Oh.”
Kerrigan watched Fordham, who somehow, despite his lack of magic and the amount of pain he surely was in, still managed to move through the platforms, hoisting himself up and finding medallion pieces. She watched him pick up a piece and look at it, and then his eyes found hers. It must not have been a raven piece because with a clench of his jaw, he put it back.
“What is he doing?” Valia asked in shock. “Why would he put the piece back?”
“Maybe it doesn’t fit?”
“Unlikely. All of the medallions were cut into three pieces.”
Kerrigan said nothing. She knew that the raven medallion was three uneven pieces. And though she had no idea why he needed them, she knew he did.
A bell sounded from the master of ceremonies’ box. Kerrigan jolted.
“What was that?”
Valia pointed to the top, and Kerrigan saw with shock that Audria had already finished. She’d climbed to the top of the platform, and she was standing victorious with a medallion clutched in her hand.
“He just put back another piece!” Valia cried. She whirled on Kerrigan. “What is he doing? If he’s not careful, he won’t finish in time.”
Kerrigan shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s doing.”
But she could see that Valia was right. It looked like two or three of the other competitors had already located all three pieces of their medallion and were hastening upward after Audria’s miraculous first-place win.
“She’ll get to enter the third task first before everyone else.”
Kerrigan worried at her lip. Had she made a mistake in telling Fordham about the raven medallion? He’d already be finished and climbing the platform to meet Audria if Kerrigan hadn’t told him about the raven. But the visions hadn’t been wrong. They were typically painful but not wrong. She had to trust them even if he was likely cursing her name.
Another bell rang out.
“Taiga,” Valia said.
