by K. M. Shea
As Quinn was locked in her thoughts, Roy successfully stepped around her.
She tightened her grip on her short sword and swiveled, following him.
“Quinn,” Kenneth said. “This is your last chance. Stand down, or you’re no longer in Band Gallant.”
Chapter 13
A Sacrifice
For one feverish moment, Quinn hesitated. Dark thoughts stole through her mind. Her team had laughed in the face of death together; they had saved lives and spent most of their time together. Without them, she would be alone. She’d have no one. She’d be an empty husk, all because she had betrayed her band and stood against them when she had trusted them with her life hundreds of times before.
Wait… Quinn caught the hissed whisper before it could escape. Betray? Keeping them from murdering Emerys is betrayal? Not likely.
Roy had gotten to the base of the pavilion steps during her moment of indecision. A trembling elf—a female server—who bore a tray of cups filled with drinks stood frozen before him.
He raised his sword, and Quinn darted forward, sliding between them just in time to raise her sword up in a block that stopped his swing in its prime.
“So this is it?” Roy snarled. “You choose them over us—your family and your brethren?”
“No,” Quinn narrowed her eyes in concentration. “I choose doing what’s right over you!” She threw her weight into her arms, pushing Roy’s sword up over his head, then kneed him in his gut.
Roy coughed, staggered backwards several steps, and shook his head. “You’ll regret this, Midnight!”
Quinn crouched in a defensive stance. “Not likely.”
Roy howled and ran at her, hammering down on her with wild swings. The celebration continued undisturbed, the music and bright atmosphere a sharp discordance with Roy’s attacks.
Quinn alternated between blocking and dodging—her left shoulder twinged whenever she blocked. I’ll have to be careful. It’s mostly healed from the elf medicines, but I can’t re-open it, or the blood loss will ruin me.
She retreated several steps, letting Roy drive her towards the pavilion. When she backed up into it and felt the wood brace her from behind, she leaned forward, meeting Roy’s next strike in midair.
“Traitor,” Roy snarled, his face an inch from hers.
“No.” Quinn shook her head. “I’m doing what’s right. Just because it’s not what you want doesn’t make me a traitor!”
Roy pulled back and swung his blade down at her.
Quinn lunged to the side, and his sword clanged when he brought it down hard on the polished pavilion edge.
He cursed and dropped his sword, his hands curved like claws from the pain of slamming his sword into such a solid and immovable object.
“Have you cleared your head, now?” Quinn kicked his blade away and glanced up at the pavilion.
Emerys still sat on his throne, though judging by the way his fingers were digging into the arms of it, he was wide awake now. Alastryn and about six other elves lingered near him, though they were laughing and tapping their feet to the beat of the music.
That philtre must be some powerful stuff, Quinn reasoned as she returned her attention to Roy. I thought for sure they would have stepped in as soon as Roy reached the pavilion.
Shaking her head, Quinn studied Roy’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes were still overly bright, and his sneer hadn’t lessened as his breath came in heavy puffs.
When she saw his gaze flicker to something past her, Quinn whirled around. Kenneth stood directly behind her and swung his sword with a strike aimed at her open left side.
Quinn threw herself into an ungainly roll, driving her right shoulder into the ground, and popped up into a crouch. “Sir! What is wrong with you?”
Heavy footsteps stomped closer to Quinn. She twisted around—more guarded this time—and warily eyed Guy as he marched towards her.
He didn’t have any weapons on him—not even his hidden knives—from what Quinn could see. However, he carried himself stiffly with his legs wide and his arms positioned for grappling, as though he was planning to wrestle her to the ground.
What is going on? Whether or not I’m going against their decision, that shouldn’t raise this kind of rage in them!
“Quinn!” Leigh shouted.
When Quinn dared to glance away from Kenneth and Guy, she spotted her band mate standing far behind them. Leigh had stabbed her sword into the ground and was gripping the hilt as if it were an anchor. Scattered around her were Guy’s weapons. “It’s the curse!” Leigh yelled, squeezing her eyes shut. As if against her will, she took a shuffling step towards Quinn, shook her head, then wrapped one of her hands around her sword’s blade and squeezed.
Drops of blood oozed down the weapon, and Leigh snapped her eyes open. “It’s calling us to kill the Elf King and you! Run!”
Emerys! Quinn whirled around and sprinted towards Roy—who had reclaimed his sword and was again stalking towards the pavilion stairs. She swooped down and snatched up a rock that was a bit bigger than her thumbnail and threw it.
The rock hit him on the back of the head, making his chin snap forward. He whirled around and raised his sword to block Quinn when she feinted a strike to his left shoulder.
She hooked her leg around his and pulled it out from underneath him, making him fall to the ground. She tried to grab his sword from him, but he kicked, his heel catching Quinn in her stomach with enough force to make her stagger backwards.
Quinn grimaced but shook the pain off easily—usually taking one of Roy’s kicks to the gut was as fun as getting kicked by a horse, but he had barely gotten her that time. At least he’s not as strong as he usually is—maybe he’s resisting the curse? She risked a glance up at the pavilion. Emerys was now standing, and Alastryn was at his side whispering into his ear.
Quinn twirled her sword, fixing her grip on it, and stepped forward when a white-hot pain pulsed in her left shoulder. She yelped as Kenneth dug his hunting knife near the top of her shoulder—almost exactly where the goblin had stabbed her—and dragged the blade down.
She mulekicked behind her, catching him in the left knee she knew had been weakened since a troll hit him there with a staff months ago.
Kenneth backed off, and Quinn had enough time to pull the dagger from her shoulder with a pained gasp. Roy was back on his feet, but he stalked back and forth in front of her like an angry bear instead of storming the pavilion like she feared he would.
There was a scuffle on the pavilion, but she didn’t dare take her attention off her band mates as she felt the sticky warmth of blood start to drizzle down her shoulder.
I’m in trouble. I didn’t stand much of a chance at fending off all three of them, but wounded like this, I’m going to go down fast. Why aren’t the elves doing something?
“Quinn, just run!” Leigh screamed.
Quinn ignored her and threw Kenneth’s dagger in Leigh’s direction. She heard Guy stomp around behind her and slowly moved to try and cover her backside.
Roy bound forward with a roar, swinging his sword with more force than precision.
Kenneth joined him, swiping at Quinn with a dagger whenever Roy had her sword locked in a block.
Quinn jerked backwards to avoid the dagger, and Roy, stepping to countermove her, stabbed his short sword forward so it ground against her blade and bit into the side of her right arm. It hurt, but Quinn kept her face impassive as she rocked her weight to her left side and swiveled on her left foot. Roy yelped in surprise and tipped forward, getting between her and Kenneth.
“QUINN!” Emerys shouted in an anguished tone.
Quinn took another step backwards, hoping to get some space between her and her band mates, but she walked straight into Guy.
He wrapped his arms around her upper body—making her cry out when he squeezed the slice on her arm—then threw her to the ground with such force Quinn saw stars, and her stomach rolled when her wounded left shoulder landed on a fist-sized
rock.
Guy’s face was clenched in a soundless snarl, and he shook his head as Quinn tried to recover.
“QUINN!” Emerys shouted again. “Let go of me, Alastryn!”
Quinn coughed but scrambled to her feet when she saw Kenneth and Roy gather themselves up. Her body still ached from the impact, and she was starting to feel the effect of sporting two bloody wounds.
She glanced up at Emerys, surprised to see no fewer than four elves holding him back. He was on the edge of the pavilion—in the process of jabbing his elbow into one of his subject’s eyes. When he realized she was looking at him, he yelled, “You can’t beat them like this—get out of here!”
Roy roared and lunged forward, his sword extended out in front of him. Quinn kept dodging—absorbing his blows would only weaken her further. But Roy veered about so wildly, it was hard to predict his movements.
Kenneth again joined Roy, though he kept trying to maneuver around behind Quinn to her back. Quinn threw herself in a forward roll, evading Kenneth when he tried to grab her shoulder and shove a dagger between her ribs. Instead, Kenneth tripped and collided with Roy, giving Quinn enough time to ram into Guy’s torso and send him toppling.
She grabbed a fistful of sandy dirt and flung it at Kenneth when he turned around. The band leader snarled and staggered to the side, trying to clear his vision.
Roy ducked around Kenneth and stalked towards Quinn. He swung his sword horizontally, and Quinn ducked only to realize he angled his attack down. She threw herself aside barely in time. Roy had gotten so close, his sword had opened a tiny slice just above her right eyebrow.
Quinn grit her teeth as blood started to dribble from the cut and ooze down her eyelid. Her knees started to tremble from adrenaline and blood loss, and her breath was pained as she slowly backed up. What do I do? The elves aren’t stepping in…but I can’t let them attack Emerys!
Quinn quickly wiped the blood from her eye just before both Roy and Kenneth—his face smeared with dirt—descended on her. Rather than wait for the attack, she lunged into offense, throwing a dagger at Roy—who blocked it with his sword—and once again kicked Kenneth in the knee.
Kenneth shouted, but lunged forward with his dagger extended at the same time as Guy leaped into the fray with his left arm outstretched.
Quinn raised her sword and braced herself…but the attack never came.
Guy rammed his arm into Kenneth’s throat, stopping him with painful effectiveness. Kenneth took a staggering step, and Guy placed his hand on Kenneth’s chest and tackled him to the ground. “You have to end this, Quinn!” Guy shouted.
“How?” Quinn had to shut her right eye against the dribble of blood from the cut on her forehead.
“I don’t know, but it’s blasted hard to shake off!” Guy scrambled to his feet and placed his booted foot on Kenneth’s throat, pinning him to the ground.
Quinn fought a wave of darkness as her eyesight blurred and her head pounded. I’m losing too much blood…. She wiped her eyelid clean again and realized Roy was on the bottom step of the pavilion. She swallowed an oath and ran after him on shaking legs.
“QUINN!” Emerys shouted, his voice pained and raw. “Don’t be an idiot!”
Quinn ignored the order and scrambled after Roy with one thought ringing through her head: I can’t let him get to Emerys!
* * *
“Emerys, be still!” Alastryn grunted as she struggled—with five other elves—to hold him back.
“Quinn is fighting for her life down there, and you expect me to just stand and watch?” Emerys snarled. He grabbed someone’s hand and managed to gouge his thumb into a vein in their wrist, making them pull back with a shout, then finally caught Alastryn’s fingers and forcefully peeled her wrist back.
Freed from his cousin’s grasp, Emerys tried to lunge forward and swat off everyone else, but Cynbryn slugged him in the gut, making him cough and sag as he tried to get his breath back. “Did you have to hit me so hard?” He asked between coughs.
Cynbryn pursed his lips. “If I didn’t, you would have gotten free.”
“You’re right,” Emerys admitted as he straightened. He headbutted Cynbryn in the face, breaking his nose based on the satisfying crack it made. “Which is kinda the point!”
Unfortunately, Farryl—the elf the oldest Farset princess sighed over—grabbed him by the back of his robe and hauled him backwards.
Emerys snarled and grabbed the golden pendent that hung from Farryl’s neck. He brutally yanked on it, making his cousin’s neck crack.
“Emerys, stop it!” Alastryn snapped. “None of us want to see Quinn hurt, but this could be it! This might free us!”
“At what cost? Her life?” Emerys was yanked off his feet—by Cynbryn again, the skink.
“She’s the only one who can save us,” Cynbryn said through gritted teeth. “We need her to do this, Your Majesty.”
“If she knew, she would want this,” Alastryn added.
“I don’t care! The price is too steep!” Emerys grabbed Cynbryn by the ridiculous robes he insisted on wearing and managed to flip him over his shoulder and throw him straight into the elf henchmen Farryl had summoned to try and contain him.
“I never would have thought I’d ever have to wrestle our king like a wild animal,” Farryl grumbled. “You should have more self-awareness.”
“I’ll have all the self-awareness in the world if you let me go!” Emerys reached for his magic and mentally rammed face-first into the wall the curse had erected between himself and his magic.
He sagged in his cousins’ arms as he searched for Quinn. There she was, on the stairs, bleeding like a pig and resembling death warmed over as she faced off with that stupid band mate of hers. For a moment, Emerys went numb, his horror mounting with each drop of blood that glided down her face and oozed down her arm, dying her clothes crimson red. She was fighting for her life, and Emerys couldn’t save her.
He had never felt so useless in his life.
If she dies…Emerys couldn’t even picture such a thing. It was like staring into a black chasm—haunting to the deepest parts of one’s self.
“Just a little bit longer,” Alastryn panted as she snatched up Emery’s right hand.
Emerys angrily twisted his hand so Alastryn was forced to let go or break her own arm. “A little bit longer might be too late for her! QUINN!” he shouted again in a raw voice as he writhed, trying to break free.
They were right.
Quinn could break the curse and very likely was breaking the curse…but there was too much left to chance.
To break the curse, Emerys’ personal friend had to be the sacrifice and shed blood on the white throne on his behalf…but the curse never said how much! Quinn was leaking blood all over the pavilion stairs, and the curse hadn’t shattered yet.
If it required her life…he wouldn’t let that happen.
Freedom or not, it will mean nothing if Quinn is killed!
His anger rekindled, Emerys stiffened and made no move.
Anxious, Alastryn and his other self-appointed guards glanced nervously at each other.
When their eyes were off him, Emerys threw himself forward, breeching through the opening he made.
“Get him!” Alastryn shouted.
Three elves tackled him to the ground, flattening him beneath them. He tried to struggle to his feet, but one of them had a fist in his hair and yanked his head back.
No, I have to help her!
Quinn shouted in pain, and Emerys felt his heart rip. “QUINN!”
* * *
Quinn’s breath came in labored pants as she stood on the pavilion steps. Roy had his arm wrapped around her throat and ground the hilt of his weapon into her shoulder wound.
“You’re pathetic, Midnight,” Roy snarled. “You scramble after any male who shows you the smallest bit of affection.”
Though she swayed from blood loss, Quinn squirmed until she got the right leverage, then elbowed Roy in the gut.
He cu
rsed and let her go, stumbling down two stairs.
Quinn whirled around and kicked him in the chest. He caught her by the foot and tried to pull her down on top of him, but Quinn struck him in the neck with her sword’s scabbard, making him release her and fall forward. I have to make every move count—or he’ll kill me!
She was in a dangerous position, not just from the blood loss but also from her limited vision due to the cut on her forehead, which hadn’t clotted yet and kept dripping blood down her eyelid. Her body was numb—whether it was from the blood loss or adrenaline, Quinn didn’t know, but she had to conserve her energy. Because for whatever reason, it looked like the elves weren’t going to help her.
“QUINN!” Emerys shouted.
She took strength from his voice and rolled her shoulders back as Roy staggered to his feet.
He spit at her, but Quinn didn’t react—she was too injured to react.
“You say you’re doing this for some daft and honorable reason, but I know your real motive.” Roy glared at her, his upper lip curling in a sneer. “You’re jealous and angry that I’m going to marry a princess. As if I would have ever settled for you. As if you were ever good enough.”
Quinn blinked at the unexpected—and painful—emotional jab. “…You knew?” She didn’t lower her sword but warily eyed him.
Roy laughed. “Of course, I knew! The whole bloomin’ band knew you were in love with me. But you know something, Midnight? There was never a chance I would look your way.” He leaned forward, his eyes bright with the delight he took in spewing the hurtful words at her. “You aren’t at all beautiful. Your laugh is obnoxious. You have the grace and elegance of a draft horse! You’re a pitiful female!”
Quinn didn’t react and held her guard up. Chances are this is a cover for—
As if on cue, Roy struck, swinging his short sword down on Quinn with enough strength to jar her teeth, but she was ready for him.
Quick as a snake, Quinn leaped backwards, jumping to the top stair. Roy had thrown power, not direction, into his strike, and he wildly windmilled his arms as he staggered up a step, his arms spread wide.
