by Stock, L. J.
Peeking out of the material, I looked to the right and saw that the fabric was still in place, even with the sound of fighting going on. I gazed back at Penthea and gave her a reassuring smile before slipping out and heading down the small corridor. As brave as I thought I was, I still jumped at every shadow cast by the sconces spaced evenly along the walls. The air, rent with the sound of swords meeting, ran like waves, loud and quiet as though the dancing of fighters moved through a wide space.
I can do this, I chanted silently. As terrifying as it was, I still had the dagger clasped in my hand, my knuckles white from the fierce grip that had kept it with me this long. It wasn’t much, but it gave me a chance. I stopped inches from the heavy material, my heart galloping in my chest. I could hear it resonating in my ears as I fought to drag in a breath. It was too fast. If it kept going like that, I was certain I would pass out and that wasn't going to help anyone. Let alone me.
I reached forward with my empty hand and pushed the tapestry open an inch at the edge. I forced my eyes to stay focused as I looked around. There were fights going on all over the place, but, much to my dismay, there were a couple of enemy soldiers making their way through the chaos, searching. They didn't help their brothers in arms, even as they fell, and it occurred to me they were looking for something.
Namely me.
“Milady?” Penthea whispered uneasily. “They're spotters.”
Dropping the tapestry slowly, I pressed my back against the wall and turned to look at her. “I told you to stay.”
“There was someone on the stairs. I had to warn you.”
I was running out of time and we were cornered. No matter how much I wanted to just hide, it was no use. This was my only option. Staring down at my hands, I lifted the one with the dagger and spun it in my palm, offering the hilt to Penthea.
“Milady–”
“Take it. If you insist on protecting me, you need a weapon.”
“And you? What will you use?”
I lifted my hands and balled them into fists. I'd been trained to fight hand to hand. I'd even been taught to disarm, but right in that moment, I was wishing I'd been trained to use a sword. It would have come in handy.
The sound of boots on the stairs drew nearer and I knew we were out of time. I tried to formulate a plan, but by the time I turned to relay it to Penthea, she was standing at the opposite side of the wall against the small opening in the material.
“I will distract them. You run.”
I hadn't even opened my lips to protest when she slipped out from behind the tapestry and started running. I heard the shouts from the men and the clamor of their boots as they passed and slipped out into the chaos, and then I ran.
I jumped over obstacles as I moved, avoiding the clashes of fights that continued on around me. I weaved around a stain on the ground and slid to a halt the moment I turned the corridor to the Castra. My dress billowed out around me as I checked the area before spinning around and looking around the corner with panted breaths.
Penthea was still running, but the men had split up. They were circling her, dragging men from other fights with them to herd her into a tighter space. My breath stuttered and faltered as she looked over her shoulder and found me, safe, because of her. The triumphant smile on her lips was only there for a second when she finally aimed to give herself a course of escape, but it wasn’t enough. She ran straight into the second spotter.
She fought valiantly in his grip as the other man held her face and leaned in. With a mask covering his face, I couldn't make out what he was saying but the shake of her head told me they were asking for me. She said something in response and closed her eyes, knowing what was coming long before I did. When the masked man unsheathed his sword, my eyes scanned for someone that would come to her aid, but there was no one. My hand covered my mouth in desperation. It muffled the scream that stuck in my throat as he ran his sword through her body with no remorse.
Tears of defeat slid down my cheeks.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
She wasn't supposed to die.
Time stood still for a moment. The man holding her released her arms stepped away. Penthea's eyes, still with an echo of life in them, turned to me, and relief shone from them as the light slowly died and her legs gave out from under her. I retreated into the hall, unable to watch more as my sobs choked me. My tears now fell freely, and though I knew I should be moving, the overwhelming sense of loss was too much for me.
I'd caused Penthea's death. Whether by my own hand or her running into battle to protect me, I was the cause. I was the reason she was lying in the Great Hall, her glassy eyes never to see anything again.
The clatter of swords meeting rose again and I raised my hands to my ears. I didn't want to hear or see it. It was the sound that had haunted me for years before I knew who I was, and as much as I hated it was now my reality, I understood that I had to keep going. The fighting was still going and growing closer to the otherwise empty corridor I was inhabiting. It was the only thing that pushed me to my feet and gave me the strength to flee deeper into the corridor that belonged to the Regius Custos.
I took several turns before ending up in a dark, quiet corridor. I could see the windows at the end of it, the glow from the fires dancing beyond them while reflecting from more swords in the ongoing battle that had continued outside. People were fighting everywhere, but if I could get out there and head to the fountain at the front of the palace, I had a shot of getting back to the farmhouse.
My aching feet carried me with more haste as the escape loomed ahead of me. As much as I hated the thought of running, I couldn't stand to see any more death. Not tonight. I was resigned to the fact that there would be more battles – that I would, in fact, inevitably have to fight to the death when it came time, but I was ill prepared. I hadn't realized how much so until I was faced with it.
My feet backpedaled as I arrived, sliding at the windows, my palms splaying on the panes of glass as I looked out. My eyes scanned the fighters, searching for the one face I needed to see more than any other, but it was hopeless. I couldn't stick around forever to look for him. I’d promised I’d escape so that’s what I needed to do. Testing the frame of the window, I wanted to cry out in relief as it slid open silently. Stepping back to avoid detection as a fight passed by, I almost screamed as something warm circled my ankle.
“Princess.”
“Baron?” I gasped, spinning on my heel and looking down at the man hiding in the shadows of the cell. In all the chaos, I'd forgotten he'd been taken away.
“You have to release me. If they find me, they'll kill me.”
I was all about his punishment before, but now, with the ongoing fights, I knew that he needed to be set free. He was right. If they found him caged, they would kill him, and he had no way of defending himself. No matter how much of a fool he'd made of himself, he didn't deserve that.
“The key?”
“Hook. There.” He pointed at a row of hooks on the wall closest to the windows. There was a sword in a scabbard hung next to it. I ran to the walls, my palms meeting the rough stone as I came to a halt. I reached up for the keys.
“Down. Now,” the baron hissed, retreating into the shadows as I fell to the ground, pulling my knees up against myself to hide from the lingering shadow of a soldier outside the window. I was certain it was another spotter. His movements were too casual with the din of fighting going on outside, his shadow lingering with too much curiosity. He moved past the windows but paused at the one I'd opened, and I knew I was running out of time. It wouldn’t take much for him to figure it out.
Rising to my feet slowly, I hid in the shadows of the corner the light from the fire hadn’t found, one arm reaching to the sword and unsheathing it as quietly as I possibly could to remain undetected. The brush of the window moving in the frame made my heart pound in my chest and lodge itself in my throat as I watched the movements of the man through his shadow. I‘d come too far to be caught now.
I couldn’t let him capture me. As a leg appeared inside the building, I pulled the sword all the way out and backed into the corner, holding the hilt as though my life depended on it.
Oddly enough, it did.
I looked to the cell where the baron was completely concealed in the darkness. I couldn't even make out his form, and it left me feeling disconcerted, like I was alone with an enemy in the dark. I’d been running from them all night but I felt cornered. My back was literally to the wall and I had nowhere to go.
The frame of the man in black rose as his full body entered the window. He was tall and well built, and I couldn’t help but watch as his eyes moved behind the stationary mask. He didn't see me immediately. He seemed too intent on searching the cells. When his eyes flickered to the corner and away, I held my breath. I knew he'd seen me in his peripheral – the red satin of my dress shone even in the darkness – and it was confirmed as his eyes moved back to the corner I occupied.
He didn't say a word as he stalked forward, but the intent was clear in his eyes as he drew his sword from the scabbard at his waist. His cold stare held nothing but hunger for the kill, and my blood ran cold as I found my strength inside of me. I had to do this. Kill or be killed. If I was going to live, this was the only way it was going to happen.
With the swing of his sword in an arc, I raised the one I was holding, my rigid arms seemingly accepting the vibrations of impact. The weapon was heavy and cumbersome in my grip, but I wasn't going to let him win. I couldn't.
The promise to stay safe seemed to rise in my chest as I pushed against the wall, the rage and anger at seeing Penthea dying gasoline to the flames already kindling inside me. I was not going to die. I would not allow them the victory. Not today. Not ever.
I was no swordswoman, but the swing of my blade met his with as much ferocity as he'd gifted me, the sparks from the connecting metal falling and skipping over the swords as we both lifted them for another meeting. I advanced forward, a keening growl of a war cry falling from my lips as my toes curled against the stone below my bare feet. Anger and vengeance filled me, and I took a cheap shot and ran the blade over his arm.
We went back and forth for what felt like an eternity. Each swing made my arms ache with effort, and as he struck with his own, the vibrations made my arms numb. I needed to get the upper hand because I was never going to win if it went on much longer. I was weakening with every parry we entered.
I swore that if I got out of this alive, I would insist on sword training. If I was going to fight, I would learn to use the weight of the sword and how to stop my arms from losing strength so quickly. I swore I would never be vulnerable again and I wasn't going to see someone I loved cut down because I couldn't protect them.
The next swing of the swords brought us closer to the metal bars of the cells. I was so intent on what I was doing, I almost missed the baron’s hands gripping the legs of the soldier. He wasn’t expecting the sudden lack of balance and went down hard. I took my opportunity, jutting forward with every ounce of strength I possessed, my sword meeting the barrier of his chest and its natural defenses. With a scream of fury, I leaned my weight on the hilt and felt it break through skin and bone before the struggle from the soldier ceased altogether.
I pulled the blade from his chest, holding it in front of me in shaking hands as I panted for breath. He was dead. The red tainting the blade of my sword told me that much. I released the weapon and skittered back against the wall as it clattered against the stone next to the body.
I'd just killed someone.
“No time for that, Cassandra. I need you to focus and get me the key so we can get you out of here.”
Easy enough in theory – I just had to get my feet and arms to work first.
“Cassandra!”
Keys. I had to get the keys. I stumbled toward where they were hanging and lifted them from the hook before turning back to the baron who was holding out his hand.
“That's right. Get me out and we'll get you safe.”
I may not have particularly liked the guy all that much, but in that one moment, in the shadow of his assistance, my decision passed through me with the sureness of my station. I moved to the window and looked out, my chest rising and falling as I looked back at him.
“No one else will die in my place today.” I threw him the key and climbed out as quickly as I could, hearing the dress rip on a wayward screw as I took off into the battles, the baron’s voice a roar of rage and helplessness in my wake as he tried to get me to stop.
There were soldiers everywhere outside, both in black and the forest green of our armies. It seemed like a large group of the king’s soldiers had joined the fight out here, and I hoped they’d ventured inside as well. As I scanned the scene, I got my bearings and sprinted in the direction I knew the fountain to be. The grass was damp and cold between my toes as I galloped over it, but I didn't stop to think about that. I needed to get out of this dimension before I jeopardized someone else’s safety. I pushed my legs harder than I ever had before and my muscles began to scream in protest. I was closing in on the corner quickly, but before I cleared it, I saw the latros circling the fountain in the distance, almost as though they were waiting for me. I slid to a stop abruptly, losing my footing on the damp grass and landing hard on my ass as I wished there was enough dew to help me translocate.
Scrambling to my feet, I looked around. There was nowhere to go. The only source of water out here was the fountain and the enemy surrounded it. The only other option was running about five miles to the river I'd been told sat south of the palace, and with as many of these men as there were, it wasn’t a valid alternative. I would be out in the open, and no one would know where I’d gone. Every latros out there was slowly catching on to my presence as I stood like a deer caught in headlights. Their own fights began parrying around as they tried to keep their eyes on me and determine my next move. I felt surrounded. The pressure of everything going on around me was closing in, making me feel claustrophobic, forcing my hands to tremble.
The very same hands that had killed a man minutes earlier.
I balled them tightly, the bite of my nails in my palm helping me refocus as I recounted my options. Not that I had many. My eyes swept the outside of the Palace again and focused on the dancing flames. The orange and yellow swells reached to the sky above them, twisting and turning in an enchanting dance that gave them a grace that seemed almost cruel considering the destruction they were capable of. The snapping and crackling in the air sounded as it lapped at the wood burning white hot within it.
My head pounded and my brain almost pressed painfully against my skull as the thoughts swirled around. I was becoming entranced with the cavorting flames as they called to me. They were offering me the escape I needed. They were giving me what I required in order to set myself free and keep anyone else from risking their lives to protect me. As much as I’d wanted to fight, now I realized why I couldn’t.
I was a descendant of a fire nymph. I imagined the concept was the same. Think and jump. If I could translocate using the fire, I could save my life the only way I knew how. The only question now was, should I take the risk?
What other choice did I have? I was trapped. If I didn't get out of there soon, I was going to be killed or someone would be killed trying to protect me. I needed to get to the farmhouse and this was the only way I could see it working.
I picked up the skirts of the ripped dress and took a deep breath. I tried not to think of the ramifications if I was wrong. I couldn't afford to doubt at all if I expected this to work. I needed to believe I was capable of what I was about to do. I had no room for ambiguity. I let my eyes linger on the divergent beauty of the fire. It called out to me enough that a small part of myself answered, lavishing the thought of giving myself over to it. It was, after all, a part of who I was. I could do this, I decided. I just needed to be confident. I took a step back and prepared to project myself forward.
“Cass!” Damon shouted above the raging wa
r. I would have recognized his voice anywhere.
I turned to find the man I loved. He was sprinting through the fights as quickly as he could, dodging death and bloodshed. I could see his dark hair swept back as he moved and I knew he would do anything to protect me. I just couldn't watch him die as well. He needed to be able to watch out for himself, which meant he couldn't be looking out for me, too. The set of his jaw was more than enough to tell me he was planning to get to me before I moved. He was counting on my love for him to make me hesitate.
“Don't do this. You don't know what could happen!” he yelled. He knew exactly what I was about to do and gave me no choice but to push myself into motion.
I turned and took off running toward the fire, my feet hitting the ground more steadily than they had all night, while the loosened tendrils of my hair flowed behind me as though making a bid for freedom to return to the man following me. I no longer doubted I could do this. Fire. It was my heritage, my birthright, and I had no fear.
I could hear Damon calling from behind me as I sprinted toward the towering pyre, but I wouldn't stop. I pulled the dress farther up my legs as I closed in on the flames. They propelled me forward with all the strength I possessed before I leaped into the air. As I sailed through the last of the space, I felt the searing heat beneath me, the first of the flames licking at my ankles as I suddenly thought about whether or not my brother was safe.
Divine Intervention
I gasped for air as I tumbled from the fire and landed on my back, the smell of singed material filling my nostrils as a slight ache set into every muscle that covered my body. The landing obviously needed some work, that was for damn sure, but I’d made it out of there alive, which was my main objective, a win in my book.
It took me a moment to get my wits about me, but as my full consciousness began to settle in, panic took its place in my chest. I wasn't at the farmhouse where my escape was supposed to take me, and, to add insult to injury, the noise surrounding my new landing spot sounded awfully like nails on a chalkboard, which made the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
