by Jada Fisher
“You! Girl!”
“It’s a witch!”
That was her cue. Ukrah rushed forward, trying to call on that energy in her that she hadn’t in so long.
Strange, in every other situation, she’d never had to really think about it. If anything, she’d had to fight its pull. But as she barreled forward, whatever it was that popped and sizzled within her didn’t pop or sizzle. It just kinda…sloshed.
Realizing there wasn’t going to be any sort of burst of magic as she collided with the man swinging a sword at her, Ukrah tipped herself so that she could slide under him, coming to a stop behind him and ramming her heel into the base of his spine. That sent him stumbling back, and she jumped up to her feet, pulling her shortsword from its sheath.
Just in time too, because there was a crossbow aimed straight at her. She used her blade to knock it aside, kicking for the man’s groin, only for something to be flung across the fight to slam him into a tree.
Oh… It was a whole other man. That had to be Cassinda’s doing.
A cry sounded from the edge of battle, not one of aggression or fight, but one of alarm. Whipping around, Ukrah saw that two of the men had found the gully and were reaching down to where she had tucked Crispin and Voirdr.
No.
That absence of rage within her, the subtle sloshing of that darkness, suddenly spiked into unerring fury. How dare these men touch what was hers!
Snarling, she stepped forward, grabbing one of the men and whipping him back into the fray.
Of course, she wasn’t strong enough to haul a fully-grown man who was nearly a foot taller than her off his feet. But that didn’t seem to matter, because one moment, he was there, and the next, he collided with her as a cloud of dust. Coughing and sputtering, she stumbled back in the dark ash, wishing that she had a hold on the virulent energy pouring out of her.
“What kind of witch are you?” the remaining man snarled, lunging toward her, his sword slashing this way and that.
The glint of it in the scant moonlight reminded her of something, of how another blade like it had looked as it pierced through her belly, impaling her through and through. It made her stomach drop and fear rush through her. She had survived that, but she never wanted to go through something like that again.
Barely bringing her sword up in time, steel hit steel and the weapon was knocked clear out of her hands. She let out a curse, trying to call on the power within her.
But it seemed distracted, unwieldy. Like she couldn’t get a good grip on it. It slipped and broke around her, almost as if it was upset with her, wanting to stick to the corners of her mind.
She wasn’t going to have a mind much longer if it didn’t get on board and save her.
Reaching behind her for the staff she’d haphazardly shoved into the strap-harness on her back, her fingers closed around the smooth wood. It wasn’t a sword, but it was time to see if all of Ale’a’s training and honing would pay off.
The sword cut right down toward her head, like the man was trying to cleave her in two, and she brought her staff up in two hands to block him. The blade bit into the hardened, polished wood, but Ukrah used that opportunity to bring her knee up between the man’s legs.
It was fighting dirty, but both Ale’a and Eist had told her that there was no fighting dirty when fighting for one’s life. Every opportunity was equal and needed to be taken advantage of, especially when one was younger, smaller, weaker or less experienced.
The man stumbled back, so she whirled her staff around to crack his head. He stumbled back again, reeling, and she finished him off by slamming the butt of her staff into his middle. He let out a pained huff then collapsed, picking himself up to his elbows before sinking right back down where she wanted him.
She whirled, intending to charge back into battle, but something slammed into her and the next thing she knew, it was her who was slammed into the ground.
Her vision spun, her body thrashing of its own accord. It took almost an entire breath for it to clear, and she realized that there was a man atop her, a long dagger in his hands.
His hand went to her throat, squeezing and pinning her there. She called on the magic within her, bubbling and black and powerful, but it didn’t cooperate.
What are you doing?! Tayir demanded. Best him!
Ukrah wanted to tell him that she couldn’t, that she was certainly trying and nothing was happening. Normally, she had to shove the magic down, to fight it from taking over her. But after so long without it, it seemed like it was mad at her. Fighting, pulling away.
Are you— You can’t die like this! We have too much to do still! You still have the other vessels to find!
Ukrah managed to bring one of her hands up to slug the man, landing on the side of his jaw. He reeled back, cursing, but managed to keep his hold and squeeze tighter.
She could feel her body starting to crave air. He didn’t have the best grip on her, but it was enough to leave her lacking. She wanted to buck up under him, to throw him off, but he was just so heavy, and the magic in her wasn’t doing anything.
There was a thunk, and the hold on her neck was gone and the man was folding over.
“Ukrah, come on! What’s going on with you?”
She was pulled to her feet, stumbling slightly, and it took her yet another moment to realize that it was Crispin looking at her, one of his hands gripping her and the other holding a heavy-looking rock.
She didn’t have an answer, her tongue heavy in her mouth, her breath rasping in and out. But she did see a crossbow behind Crispin, aimed right toward them, gleaming in the night. She wanted to cry out, to warn him, but it was already firing.
No.
That feeling boiled up inside of her, bright and hot, slamming out behind him like a wall. They couldn’t hurt him. They couldn’t touch her family.
The bolt hit…nothing. Shattering into jagged little pieces as it slammed into the barrier she had thrown out. She didn’t know if anyone could see it—she technically couldn’t see it—but she knew it was there, swirling in her vision and at the back of her head, flaring bright at the thought that anyone would try to hurt one of her charges.
The man yelled something, beginning to notch another bolt, and two of the men beside him came charging forward, yelling with weapons drawn. Ah, so they probably didn’t see the barrier.
Crispin yelped and jumped to the side, but Ukrah stood firm, staring them down. They hit the wall almost at the same time, one right after the other, and burst into ash right before her eyes.
That feeling began to grow hotter, rushing through her and filling her up as if it was a punishment for pushing it down for so long. She took a step toward the crossbow and the man holding it, unsure of what she would do but knowing that whatever happened to him, he absolutely deserved it.
He would be punished. He would burn. Just like those villagers who had tried to hurt her, who had hurt so many other people who couldn’t help that they were born with the seeds of their new world within them. Just like those men who had tried to take Crispin back to that fief that had treated him so poorly.
She was going to bring justice to all of them. Unrelenting, unbiased justice.
The errant had been in control of the world for too long, the natural balance had been pushed and used and corrupted. She was the rebirth, the herald of what should be, and she would strike all of those who continued to pervert it.
She was ready to attack the man, ready to leap forward and let whatever his punishment was happen, when more plants burst from the ground. Just like that time during Dille’s failed assassination, he was dragged down into the earth, thorny vines biting into his flesh.
Ukrah blinked, that bubbling, raging hotness within her petering out to nothing, making her feel hollow and more than a bit nauseous.
“You were taking too long,” Cassinda said, stepping out from the trees, her face alight with malicious glee. She didn’t sound like herself still. So full of anger and hate and pride. “I’d almos
t think you were enjoying this. Shame the fight’s over.”
“Over?”
Cassinda nodded, gesturing to the battlefield, where only a few stray bodies remained. Not a single man was on his feet, ready to fight or run.
If Ukrah hadn’t already witnessed so much death, she might have been afraid or ashamed of the scene in front of her, but then there was a cry from above, pulling her attention upward.
“The dragons are still fighting,” Crispin said, voice tight.
Cassinda wavered for a moment, blinking several times, and when she spoke again, she only sounded weary. “I… I don’t think I can do anything about that.” She looked around and heaved out a breath. “I haven’t… That was the most people I’ve ever…”
“It’s alright,” Ukrah said, her stomach twisting. She didn’t quite understand what sort of strange magic the girl wielded, but she understood what it was like to come back to oneself and realize just how much carnage had been wrought while in a fugue. “I think I can help them.”
Looking up, she pulled on that sliding energy again. This time, she didn’t want it to fight, or hurt, or do anything particularly impressive. She just wanted flashy. Something that might intimidate whatever was going on above the canopy. She could only see occasional blasts of fire, or the shadow of a wing or tail cutting off the starlight. Maybe… Maybe if she made a scene big enough, they would know that their compatriots were dead and flee to wherever they came from.
The magic within her slid around her fingers again, seemingly uninterested in her call. But when she heard the pained cry of a dragon above, when she thought of returning to Eist and telling her that somehow, they had gotten her soulmate killed, that was enough to have the ancient whatever inside of her bubbling up.
Energy shot up and out of her, piercing through the trees and going into the sky. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it as it burst in a ripple of light and heat. She had to close her eyes despite the fact that she couldn’t see it at all, ducking down as if dodging a plume of fire herself. Cassinda let out a curse and slid to the ground, while Crispin just looked upwards in awe.
Ukrah wasn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t for a massive dragon form to come crashing down through the trees, colliding with the earth just a bit away from them. The impact of it sent her off her feet, slamming into the ground and driving her breath from her body.
She didn’t have much time to regain it, however, because a cracking sound filled the air, and then a tree was falling right toward her.
She let out a yelp and rolled to the side, not stopping until a branch slammed right into her ribs and shoulders, leaves raining down all around her.
Pain exploded just behind her eyes, making her thoughts scatter for a moment. She sat there, but then a tail slammed down just a few feet away from her head, sending dirt and pebbles and grit flying into the air.
She threw her arms up, trying to block her face, but that didn’t stop a rock from pelting her pretty good in the side of her head. She needed to get up. She wasn’t sure if it was Fior, or Ethella or the enemy, but it didn’t matter if she got hit with one of their errant limbs while they were thrashing about.
“Ukrah! Give me your hand!”
Wiggling, Ukrah looked through the thicket of branches she had suddenly been enveloped by and saw what had to be Crispin’s hand. It took a bit more work, but she was able to grip it, and he helped pull her from the debris.
When she scrambled out, her head was spinning, and her stomach was twisting, and she didn’t understand why she felt so…so…mortal.
There was another dragon-ish shriek, and the creature flailing managed to get its footing under it, shooting into the air and taking off. Fior, who apparently was the antagonist in that particular fight, stayed on the ground, looking around as if trying to locate all of them.
It was only a couple of moments later that Ethella descended through the trees, Athar on her back looking more than a little worn. When he landed, he slid from the back of his girl, patting her side lovingly.
“Everything okay down here?” he asked, looking over the scene.
And what a scene it was. The foliage was suddenly three times denser and several trees were uprooted or overturned. Vines covered almost everything, and there were five or so dead bodies littered around.
“Voirdr!” Ukrah exclaimed, realizing there was someone very important missing. “Where’s Voirdr?!”
“It’s okay. I tucked him away when they were trying to pull me out,” Crispin said, leading over her to the gully. “There was a bit of a badger hole.” They reached it, and he flopped down onto his belly. “Hey, little guy. Mama’s here. Come out, okay?”
There was a wary chirp, but Ukrah heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the telltale glint of red and then those beautiful eyes staring up at her.
“Oh, there you are, my little guy!” she heaved, leaning down to haul him up. Her body protested, her head throbbing a bit, and it was only then that she remembered that of all the men who had tried to attack her, it was the tree that had really managed to damage her the most.
There was an irony in there that she would normally laugh at, if her head wasn’t being so mean.
She hugged her not-so-little-guy to herself, wobbling slightly, when she heard Athar call to them.
“You lot start a fire. We all need to t-t-talk.”
“What are you going to do?” Cassinda asked.
“I’ll get our aid kits and tend to the dragons, then pack up. It’s not safe to camp here the rest of th-th-the night.”
Ukrah nodded vaguely, prepared to haul Voirdr around while she gathered firewood, but Crispin’s hand was insistent on her arm. “Come on, you sit down while we set things up. I’m gonna take care of you.”
“Take care— I’m fine.”
“Sure you are, but this isn’t negotiable.”
Ukrah was stubborn, but she knew when there wasn’t space for argument, so she just nodded and let him sit her down on one of the fallen trees. Voirdr was wuffling and chirping anxiously, sniffing her over like he was worried about what had happened. And he probably was. It was the first bit of violence that he’d ever really been in, and he’d basically gotten shoved into a hole.
The first of many, unfortunately. Especially if she wasn’t able to get her magic in check.
3
Different Kinds of Strength
“To think that there was a whole field full of men trying to kill us, and it was a tree that roughed you up.”
Ukrah laughed as Crispin knelt in front of her, wetting a small cloth from their waterskin and dabbing her face. It came away quite dirty, and she wondered when she’d had time to get mud all over her.
“Would you believe me that I was just thinking the exact same thing?” she murmured, letting her eyelids droop.
She was coming off the thrill of a fight, and with the roaring campfire behind her, she was starting to feel heavy and languid with fatigue. She couldn’t rest though, because as soon as they finished patching themselves up and everything else, they were going to ride somewhere else. Somewhere hopefully safer.
“I believe it,” Crispin said with a huff. “I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t get yourself impaled with a sword this time.”
“Exactly. See, I’m learning.”
He gave her a deadpan expression that perfectly communicated how much he didn’t believe her, then continued cleaning her wounds. Cassinda was busy cooking some of the tubers that were in their packs while Athar was tending to the dragons, patting them over and saying soft things Ukrah couldn’t hear from where she was standing.
It was hard not to lean into Crispin’s touch, to seek out the comfort there. She had never been a tactile person before, always afraid of upsetting someone or being too needy, but her best friend was different. He was…safe. Which was probably a strange thing to think considering that he was a skinny orphan who she’d had to save more than once, but she was long past questioning it.
“I’m…mad at you, you know.”
Ukrah’s eyes flew open at that and she looked to Crispin in concern. The pleasant floating feeling she had vanished, leaving her to blink at him in confusion. “You’re mad?”
He nodded. “I’m not useless.”
She blinked some more, confusion seeping into her mind. “Why would you—”
“You shoved me into a hole and told me to hide,” he said, a bitter sort of edge to his voice. “I know I’m not like you, or Cassinda, but I can help. I helped you twice just this time. I know you see me as this…this affable little skeleton who trots after you, but I can help. I’ve survived a lot of years without you around, and I aim to keep on surviving.”
Ukrah swallowed. Crispin was rarely ever upset with her, so she was unused to the sting in his voice. And what was worse: he wasn’t even yelling at her, wasn’t raising his voice. No, even when he was upset and hurting, he still treated her far better than she ever deserved.
“But…” She licked her lips, feeling her grasp on common failing her. She looked up, spotting Tayir in a tree, but he just ruffled his feathers.
Don’t look to me about this. Not my responsibility.
“But I need you to be protected.”
His lips tucked downward. “I understand if it’s some big magic fight full of witches and you vessels and all the other insane things that seem to be happening. But this was just a bunch of guys in the dark. I need you to treat me as more of an equal and less of a kid you have to babysit.”
“I… But we’re not equal,” she said without thinking. The boy’s eyes went wide, and she rushed to continue. “If I’m hurt, or if I die…” She shrugged, making a vague gesture. “But when I think of something happening to you, or Voirdr, or Eist or Athar…” She shuddered. “I just… I can’t. It makes me sick.”
He swallowed thickly, his hand falling away from her face. He tilted forward, his forehead resting against her shoulder, breathing steadily.
