by Anna Carven
They want me starved and weak.
Why don’t they just fucking kill me?
What does Khelion want with me?
Tied to this cursed pole, I drift in and out of consciousness. I’ve lost count of the days since we left the coast. Sometimes it feels like my hands have grown back. They tingle and ache and I swear I can move them, but then I look up and see the severed stumps.
The terrain has changed. Now our little convoy is moving up rocky terrain that quickly gives way to a steep slope.
We’ve reached the foothills. Soon they’ll be trekking up through the mountains proper.
How do they expect to haul me up through the mountains? Are they going to use ropes to pull me up?
“Your paranoia is excessive,” I mutter. “I have no hands, remember? What do you expect me to do? Kill you with my toes?”
“Shut up, demon.” A vicious backhand nearly knocks me back into oblivion.
The taste of blood fills my mouth. Icy rage courses. through me. I try to summon my power, but it’s no use. It’s as if a well inside me has gone dry.
I close my eyes. I try to go to that strange place in my dreams and find the dark figure—the who promised me power; the one I suspect is my sire, but I can’t seem to get there.
My worst nightmare has come true.
My existence is a haze of pain and suffering, and I’m completely powerless to do anything about it.
The only thing that makes this bearable is thinking about her. I close my eyes and imagine her perfect face, down to the tiniest detail.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
She takes me away from this torture.
In my imagination, I lean forward and try to kiss her, but she evaporates before my eyes.
I love you, my little forest witch.
I yearn for her more than ever, and the stronger my yearning grows, the more I want to destroy everything in my path.
It drives me mad.
Abruptly, the Ven stop and drop me to the ground with a thud. A lightning-bolt of pain hits me in the chest. I think several ribs just broke in my left side.
“Time to get up, Kaim.” The rope around my ankles is quickly untied, but they keep my wrists tightly bound to the slender pole. “Stand, pale-face.”
I get up. Someone behind me takes the pole and pushes it forward. They intend to make me stumble, but I’ve already anticipated the move, so I lurch forward and spin around, yanking the pole out of my minder’s hands.
With great force, I swing the pole back in his direction. I might be starved and weak, but I can still inflict some damage.
I’m still fast.
He tries to catch it, but I swing it over his hands and hit him in the temple. He falls to the ground, dazed.
“I told you to be careful,” Tyden barks.
Five Ven jump on top of me all at once, sending me crashing to the ground. They rain blows on my face, arms, and body as they restrain me.
How predictable.
“You just don’t learn, do you, demon?” Tyden crouches down beside me and hisses in my ear. “It’s impossible for you to escape, so why do you even bother?”
I simply laugh. Of course I wasn’t trying to escape. I was just being spiteful.
I detest these brainwashed fools.
“You’re going to walk straight up this slope. Don’t try anything stupid like that again.”
“Or what?” I taunt, knowing they can’t kill me.
“Or your fucking feet will be the next to go.”
“Then you’ll have to carry me up the mountain. I’m heavier than I look, you know.”
“Don’t tempt fate, halfling.” Tyden leans in, and his voice drops to an almost inaudible whisper. “Just do as I say. Not everything is as it seems.”
I snort derisively, even as I store away this valuable kernel of information.
What is Tyden playing at?
When are things ever straightforward, especially with the Ven?
“Let him stand,” Tyden orders his men.
My body screams in protest as I rise to my feet. I glare at the Ven, and they stare back with equal venom.
They hate me.
I am the one who escaped.
The traitor.
The one who has killed so many of them.
“Let’s go, Kaim,” Tyden says flatly, and there’s that weariness in his voice again.
“At least take off this pointless contraption and tie my hands behind my back. I won’t bolt. Look at me. You think I can get out of this?”
“Well, it is you, so anything is possible, but you have a point. It will make things easier for all of us.” Tyden nods to one of his subordinates. “Do it.”
The Ven looks up at me, his grey-green eyes burning. As he reaches me, he hesitates.
“Don’t be so tense, boy. I’m not going to bite your head off.” I grin, feeling wild as I embrace my pain; as I let it feed my anger.
The Ven—he’s young; barely more than an adolescent—glares at me but says nothing as he unties the stumps of my arms from the pole and binds them behind my back.
“We will climb until the dragon catches up with us,” Tyden snaps. “She needs some time to recover. Not another word out of any of you until we reach the first base camp. Especially you, Kaim, unless you want me to cut out your tongue.”
I snort, even though I find the notion utterly repulsive.
Not my tongue, asshole.
Otherwise, what would I use to give her the pleasure she so deeply craves?
I laugh again. To be thinking of fucking her at a time like this…
But then, I am always thinking of fucking her.
The Ven shoot me dark looks. The way they’re staring at me, you’d think I’d grown a pair of cursed horns.
They think I’m mad.
I probably am.
If madness is what it means to be completely, utterly consumed by a woman, then I will gladly be mad.
I need you, my Amali.
Somehow, I have to find my way back to her.
Somehow I have to grow my hands back.
Are you finished playing your little game yet, sire? Because I am here, waiting. I will do anything you ask of me, as long as you give me the power to destroy these infernal assassins once and for all.
Silence. The memory of his voice echoes in my mind.
It seems you need to endure a little more punishment before you come to your senses, boy.
Was this what he had in mind? Is he watching me from his dark otherworld, amused?
I grit my teeth as I walk up the rocky slope, prodded from behind by the long hilt of an assassin’s sword. This I can endure, but if his dithering somehow causes any harm to come to my mate…
Then I will never forgive him, no matter who he is. I will find a way to curse him, even I die.
Even if he is the King of the Netherworld himself.
Six
Amali
The boats are here. There are four of them, propelled by men manning long oars. They approach from all directions, encircling me as I tread water. I stare at the men from afar, watching as they come closer and closer, their shouts punctuating the gentle, soothing rush of the ocean.
I bob up and down, studying their expressions.
Their stares are hard and menacing, but not all of the men look hostile.
Some almost seem… afraid.
They’re yelling orders at each other in rapid-fire Midrian.
“There she is. Prepare the ropes!”
“I’m not bloody touching her. The bitch is cursed.”
“Don’t be such a fucking coward, Krathen. You afraid of a little Tieglander female?”
I laugh silently to myself. These big, tough Midrians are so superstitious. There is no doubt they’ll catch me, but perhaps I can stall them a little in the meantime.
Over the horizon, the outline of Enak’s ship grows smaller and smaller, turning into a triangular speck against the bright noon sun.
You’d
better not disappoint me, healer, or else I’ll come back to haunt you in your dreams.
“Remember, lads, you can’t kill her, no matter how much some of you are itching to do it. And you definitely can’t fuck her. Firstly, she’s Marked. Your dick will probably fall off if you stick it in her. Secondly, Krogen wants her alive and in one piece. Virginal and the like. If he’s brave enough to stick his finger up at the gods, then let him bloody have her.”
Even though the man’s words fill me with disgust, I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes my lips.
Too late, asshole.
Kaim has already claimed me, and when he returns, he will destroy this arrogant fool called Krogen.
Maybe I’m delusional, but I feel it deep in my bones.
As the boats draw nearer, several men stand and unravel long ropes with loops at the end. So they intend to ensnare me in those ropes?
I’m not going to make it easy for them.
I need to buy Enak more time.
I take a deep breath and submerge myself deep into the cool water, making big, powerful strokes with my arms and legs. I swim for what feels like an eternity, until my lungs are so starved of air that I feel like my chest will cave in.
You need to breathe.
I see nothing but pure blue all around me. I don’t know which way is up anymore. As panic threatens to set in, I close my eyes and surrender to the silence.
My body starts to drift upwards.
This way.
I pull hard with my arms, up and up and up until I breach the surface. Relief surges through me as daylight floods my consciousness. I suck in air greedily, then I glance around.
The boats are a little ways off. The men shout furiously. Oars slice through the water. The boats turn and head in my direction.
If the situation weren’t so serious, I might even find it hilarious.
I prepare to duck beneath the water again, but then I see it.
Scales.
A flash of green scales in the distance; serpentine and terrifying. Something long and sinuous has swum to the surface.
There it is again.
I catch a glimpse of a tubular body before it quickly disappears beneath the water’s surface.
It looks like the body of a snake, only a hundred times bigger, as thick as a tree trunk.
A fanlike projection of fins crests the waves, followed by a spiked tail.
What in the Green Goddess’s name is that?
Cold dread fills me as I remember the strange bones I saw littered across the coast.
Sweet Celise, I am not going to be taken alive by some cursed sea monster. Kaim would never forgive me.
The Midrian boats are gaining speed. I let out a frustrated sigh. This is ridiculous. Now I am going to have to allow myself to be captured, just to escape this sea monster.
I raise my hands in the air and flail dramatically. “Help!” I cry in my best palace Midrian. “I am drowning!” I cough and splutter a little for effect.
The men point at me and shout furiously. “Quickly, get her! If she dies, you’re all dead men too!”
“Help me, please!” I cry again, adopting my best damsel-in-distress tone.
The boats loom in my vision. One golden-haired Midrian stands tall at the bow. He rips his shirt off and ties a rope around his waist.
They’re nearly on top of me now…
He extends his arms above his head like an arrow and dives.
I swim toward him, and we meet somewhere in the center. Thick arms go around me, holding me in an unbreakable grip. “I’ve got her. Haul me in!”
The rope goes taut. We’re being pulled toward the boat. The Midrian grabs one of my wrists with his meaty hand and squeezes tightly, causing pain to shoot through my arm. “Got you, bitch.” His fetid breath washes over me. “Thought you could escape us, eh? You’re gonna get what you deserve, Tieg witch.”
Witch? That’s a new one.
“No,” I whisper in his ear. “You’re all going to get what you deserve.”
The man closes his eyes and lets out a blood-curdling scream. The water around us turns red. His grip on me loosens.
“My leg!” he roars. “Pull us in, bastards. The fucking thing got my leg!” He flails around wildly, his arms around me loosening as panic sets in.
The water froths and churns, and I catch another flash of those ominous scales. They’re deep green, like the Siberius River in the middle of summer.
We reach the edge of the boat. Rough hands descend around us, separating me from the Midrian, curling under my armpits, pulling me up over the side of the boat. The hard wooden edge of the boat bumps and scrapes against my back, and for a moment I’m in pure agony as they dump me onto the wooden deck.
“Got you, bitch,” a man hisses.
I blink salty water from my eyes and stare up into the hardened face of Midrian soldier. His eyes are grey ice-chips. His weathered skin is red and peeling from the harsh sun.
He’s the only one paying attention to me.
The rest of them are too busy trying to rescue their wounded comrade. I turn my head to the side and catch sight of his leg.
It’s severed at the knee.
Bile rises in my throat as a strong hand holds me down, encircling my neck, almost choking me as the Midrian leans in and brings his face so close to mine that our lips are almost touching. “You’re fucking dead, witch.”
I try to recoil, but he’s all over me, holding me down with his massive body.
In the background, men are cursing as they wad up a jacket and press it against the stump of the man’s leg, trying to stem the bleeding.
“Tie her up,” someone barks. “Told you she was a fucking witch. That water naga didn’t attack by accident. Don’t let her utter a word. She’ll curse us all.”
So they think I’m a witch, now?
They’re… afraid of me?
That knowledge gives me strength, even though the whole thing is rooted in stupid Midrian superstition.
“Too late,” I hiss, baring my teeth. “You’re all cursed now, especially your new emperor. Mark my words, Krogen will die for his stupid pride, and his death will be a thousand times worse than when I struck down Horghus. You shouldn’t have come for me, Midrian. That was a mistake.”
I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish such a thing, but it gives me some small satisfaction to put the fear of Lok into them. They think I summoned that sea monster. They think I have some sort of unnatural power.
Let me use that to my advantage.
Right now, it’s the only weapon I have.
Another Midrian reaches my captor’s side. This one has steel-grey eyes and a salt-and-pepper beard. He’s just as ugly as his friend.
“Quick, get me a loop of rope. Do the praying man tie.” The Midrian glares at me. “Bitch. Maybe you’ll shut the fuck up once you’re in pain.”
Strong, callused hands come down, restraining my wrists, my ankles. I briefly consider fighting back, but it would be pointless. These men are hardened warriors. They’re twice my size, and there are so many of them.
It’s best I conserve my strength.
So I simply smile. “You think you can hurt me? You should let me go. I’m Marked. You think the Death God is going to forgive you for this? He’s going to come for me, and when he does, your new little emperor is going to wish he never knew the meaning of the word revenge.” I don’t know how the words coming out of my mouth can sound so forceful, so certain, but one thing is for sure.
If Kaim were to learn of this, he would make sure each and every man on this boat never saw the light of day again.
He would take me away from all this.
He will take me away from all this.
That is the certainty that makes me feel strong, even though I’m completely helpless here.
In my mind, Kaim transforms into Lok, the god of death and the underworld, and the unknown that exists beyond, in the cold and the darkness.
Magic runs through
his veins. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
His magic will save me.
I have to believe it.
I have to.
I must be insane, but I don’t care.
The color drains from the Midrians’ faces. The man holding me down relaxes his grip ever so slightly.
He hesitates.
“Are you scared, Midrian?” I sneer.
He begins to nod, then catches himself halfway. It’s almost comical to watch. “S-shut the fuck up, witch. After Krogen’s done with you, you’re a dead woman.”
I am so tired of hearing about this Krogen asshole.
If he’s anything like the father, then he isn’t worth the paper his coronation notice will be printed on.
Big, rough hands wrap around my wrists. The Midrians roll me onto my side and bring my hands and arms behind my back. Then they pull my wrists down and bend my legs at the knees, twisting me into an inverted ‘C’. Coarse rope lashes my wrists together and binds my ankles. Then they attach my wrists to my ankles, trapping me in this uncomfortable position.
Bastards.
That really fucking hurts.
Midrian brutes.
They laugh as they rise to their feet, staring down at their handiwork. One of the men has an erection. It strains against the rough fabric of his trousers.
I glare up at them in anger.
Does the sight of me bound and helpless turn him on?
Cretin.
“You’re going to suffer in Lok’s eternal hells,” I hiss in Tieg, knowing full well they can’t understand me. “He’s going to kill you, you know.”
I think about Kaim. Silently, I pine for him.
A booted foot catches me in the side, sending a lance of pain through my chest.
“Shut up, Tiegling bitch.” The Midrian makes the sign of Elar—a circle with both thumbs and forefingers—as if to try and ward off my curse. “She’s trying to put a spell on us. Her mouth is the most dangerous part of her. Quickly, shut her up.”
“How?”
“Elar’s teeth, Sepimus. Do I have to figure out everything for you? You get a bit of cloth and tie it around her… tch. Look here. Give me that oil-rag from over there.”
