by Jada Fisher
“I’m sorry! It’ll be okay, though. We’re almost there!”
“Hoof….beats,” the boy barely managed to whisper. Ukrah didn’t even have time to ask him what he meant before suddenly five men burst from the trees, all on horseback and all looking a little worse for wear from what she could make out.
“You insipid little wench,” one of them hissed, and she recognized the knife-flipping man who had been so assured before. It really was a shame that he hadn’t been killed or sidelined in the shack.
“I did warn you,” Ukrah said steadily, standing and moving so she was over Crispin’s body.
“Aye, ya did, didn’t you. It really is too bad for you that you didn’t actually kill me then.”
He nodded to something behind her and the next thing she knew, there was an explosion of pain. She stumbled, almost collapsing on Crispin, but she managed to right herself. When she was somewhat steady on her feet, she looked down to see a crossbow bolt right through her middle.
Oh.
“Such a shame it had to end this way, but consider it a compliment. You were too dangerous to let live. Krasic, grab the boy. The lord will have our ears and jobs if we don’t get ‘im back.”
Ukrah opened her mouth to object, and maybe also tell them where they could shove their swords, but no sound came out. She was just staring at them, open-mouthed, trying to breathe slowly even though her whole body was tensed in indescribable pain.
“What’s a matter? Cat got your tongue?”
No, no, it couldn’t be ending like this. She couldn’t be failing Eist, Crispin, and everything all at once. But as much as she wanted to draw poison words to her lips, none came. With the last of her energy, she drew spit to the front of her mouth and launched it right at the man.
It hit his chin rather than his eyes—pity—but she didn’t get a chance to see his reaction because she was falling to the side. She hit the ground but was barely aware of the impact, watching silently as Crispin was picked up and thrown over a horse.
Gone. He was gone, and she was leaving too.
Eist was going to be so disappointed.
...cold creeped into her, starting at her skin and sinking deeper and deeper until there was barely a drop of warmth in her. She was reminded of once when she was younger, and she’d wandered all night to safety after her mother had died. It had been so cold that her teeth had been chattering and her hands had been numb by the time she was found. The emptiness sweeping over her now was much worse.
The horses disappeared from her vision and she was left alone, having amounted to nothing. Maybe everything would have been better if she had died that night on the stake.
You leave me for a few hours and this is what you get up to? I swear, it’s like you want to die.
Tayir?
That wasn’t possible.
Do I have to walk you through this again?
She wanted to snap at him, but all she could do was wheeze. She had so little energy left. Why was he being mean to her?
In fact, he was always kind of mean to her. Condescending. She hated it. She hated feeling so helpless. She hated that those stupid men thought they had a right to her life and Crispin’s.
Are you really going to let them get away with that? They hurt you. They hurt him. Come on, you know what you want to do.
The flame of anger flickered in her and her hand stretched out, pressing into the earth. The heat was rising in her, burning too hot to contain. The more she breathed in, the more her rage built until suddenly she was on her feet.
There was a flash of pain, and then it was just…gone. She glanced down in time to see the arrow in her middle turn black, then burst into ash.
Good.
She was full of energy, so much that she might burst into a star or brilliant sun. But first, she had to save Crispin.
You better hurry up. They’re getting pretty far.
No, they weren’t.
She held out her hand, feeling that same burning, raging power swirl around it. A moment later, there was a crash through the trees and Fior landed beside her.
Ukrah turned to him, wondering if she was shaking or just the whole world was vibrating. The dragon was looking to her curiously, his head tilted to the side. It was a question if she ever saw one, so she reached out to him.
And he acquiesced, just like that.
She knew in the back of her mind that it probably wasn’t supposed to be so easy or simple to ride a dragon not her own, but maybe Fior was just brilliant that way.
Or maybe it was her.
Either way, it didn’t matter. She settled onto his back, crouched low, and let out a hot breath.
The brindled dragon took off without a moment’s hesitation, bursting through the canopy and racing in the direction of the horses. How he knew to go that way, she didn’t know, but she didn’t care. She trusted him, and that was all her mind needed to know.
They cut across the sky like a hot knife through lard, silent and fast. Soon enough, she saw the men.
“Put us down in front of them,” she hissed.
Fior let out an argumentative chirp, but she just pressed both hands to the top of his head. “Trust me. Do it.”
He did, but she had a feeling the only reason he obeyed was because of Eist’s orders. He tucked his wings in then dove, going in a smooth swoop that had them setting down a half a field’s length in front of the fleeing guards.
The horses whinnied in panic, and now it was their turn to pull up short, eyes wide and giving startled shouts as they skidded to a stop. There was so much bucking and whinnying that it seemed to take the men several seconds to realize what exactly was standing in front of them.
“You,” the same man hissed, sounding like he didn’t believe it himself.
“I warned you,” Ukrah repeated, sliding from Fior’s back. He let out a discontented wuffle, but she held up her hand to him. “Watch,” she ordered simply.
And for some reason, he listened.
She took a step forward and some of the men shuffled back on their mounts. But not the dagger-flipping man. No, he stared at her with so much hate and bewilderment that it might have been intimidating if she wasn’t about to kill him.
“It’s not possible that you’re alive. I saw that arrow pierce your gut.”
His certainty that he had won, the sneer on his face, all of it made her so angry, so ready to hurt. She felt whatever it was clamoring inside her, wanting to protect. Wanting to defend. Men like him were dangerous. They’d hurt her. They’d hurt Crispin. They’d probably hurt dozens of others that she didn’t know about.
“This whole world is full of things you don’t understand, and you’ll never get a chance to.”
There was a now-familiar sound and a crossbow bolt flew toward her. She stood still and felt the tip of the arrow scratch her forehead before bursting into ash.
Now that definitely upset all of the men, and there was a declaration of prayers and curses.
“A witch!” the man hissed, his expression going wild. “A caddin’ witch.”
“Those are terrible last words,” Ukrah remarked before stepping toward him.
He was still a good ways away from her, and yet all it took was that step to reach his side. She grabbed his foot and yanked him from the saddle, taking comfort in the sound of alarm he made as he hit the ground.
One of his men rode for her, sword drawn, but she just looked to the man, releasing some of her grip on the broiling, churning inferno inside her. One moment, he was galloping in her direction, and the next, he was gone, and his horse was screaming into the woods without a rider.
That seemed to be the final straw, and a true cacophony broke out. The rest of the guards all went in different directions while the man holding Crispin dumped him to the ground. But seeing her friend, the boy who had saved her, hit the ground so carelessly just made her burn hotter, and the darkness in her bubbled up and over.
She could almost see the shadow around her, red eyes and ful
l of teeth. It didn’t crave violence for violence’s sake, but it demanded justice. Retribution. It was both her and not her, connecting her to things she didn’t know or understand and fueling her with something she couldn’t contain.
But she didn’t need to contain it. In fact, she was in the perfect position to let it out.
She glanced to one rider that had almost made it out of sight. He cried out, then fell from his horse, writhing in a pain she didn’t understand but knew was there. Her eyes flicked to another, and he burst to ash right there. Another one, and he simply went still and fell to the side. Another, his horse bucked him off and he slammed into a tree before slumping to the ground.
It was then that she realized that those screeching voices in the darkness, along with those alluring whispers, had changed. They no longer burned and blazed without consideration. They didn’t bring justice indiscriminately. She didn’t know if it was because of her guilt, or that she had accepted its presence inside of her, but it was suddenly sparkling clear to her that they had changed. They were judging each person by some sort of criteria. Maybe the blood on their hands, maybe the choices they had made, maybe just on what was within their hearts. Whatever the process was, it wasn’t something she was a part of. She felt like more of a conduit than a practitioner of magic. She didn’t feel like it was some out of control spell, but rather that it was a force within her that she was housing.
Maybe she wasn’t a witch at all.
Or maybe she was. Who could say? The important thing was that she was no longer petrified of the bubbling black inside of her. If she was able to do all of that in just four or so short months, what more could she do with a year? Or two?
The thought made her pride and the magic within her swell. She felt connected to the entire world, all that was and all that would be. It flowed through every part of her, scrubbing out all the fear, uncertainty, and unbelonging that she had ever felt. She wasn’t just a girl anymore, she was something else. Something old and new and forgotten all at once.
There was another whinny, and she realized that another rider had gotten a good distance away. Funny how the whole thing had only happened over a few moments, yet so much more happened in her mind. It was almost like time was stretching out, slow and languid like molten earth.
She punished that rider. Then the next. Then one last one before they were all taken care of. That need to protect throbbed within her, telling her that there was more yet to do.
The man who she guessed was the captain must have realized that he was alone, because he tried to crawl away. Ukrah approached him, slow, steady, and almost detached considering how full of fury she was.
“W-w-what are you?”
Ukrah didn’t think about what she said next. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if her mind had actually comprehended his question as he tried to scuttle backward. Nevertheless, words left her mouth in a deep, rich tone that was layered with so much that she didn’t understand.
“I am balance,” she answered simply before letting all that was churning inside of her burst from her skin.
It was just like that night in the desert, but this time, she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t force herself to be unconscious rather than face what she was doing. She watched, intent, as the man was completely swallowed by the burning, churning swell that had brewed within her.
He didn’t scream, and he didn’t curse her. He just let out one small gasp, and then there was nothing.
She stood there over the spot where he once was, silent and still. She was aware that she should probably feel something about what had happened, but all that was left in her was a cold sort of peace. The danger was gone, and there was balance.
A groan sounded from behind her and she jumped, needle-sharp spikes of alarm flaring up right beside her need to protect. Crispin!
Her eyes jumped around, looking for his crumpled form. It took her longer than she would have liked to spot him, he blended in so well with the tall grass and roots, but she ran to his side as soon as she had.
“Hey, Crispin,” she said breathlessly, gently rolling him over and partially into her lap.
By the old spirits, he did not look good. His face was a swollen mass with splits and welts, and there were thick, brown spots in several places on his clothing, which was torn and caked in wet dirt from the forest floor. Had they already dragged him behind their horses a bit? It seemed as much.
But she didn’t verbalize any of that. She didn’t want to alarm him. “I’ve got you now. We’re going to get you home and take care of you.”
He moved his lips slightly, the swollen, split things bleeding even more. She could tell that he was trying to make words, but the pain that flashed across his face was too much to bear.
“No, no, it’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I’ve got you.” That white-hot knife rose within her. Wanting to protect. Needing to protect. It filled her whole vision and mind until there was only him.
“You…came…for me,” he rasped, his words slow and faint, barely audible over his wheezing.
“Of course I did,” she laughed. “How could I not?”
But he just repeated the same thing, his voice trailing off somewhere in the middle. For a moment, she feared the worst, but his shaky wheezing kept going even as his eyelids fluttered.
She didn’t know where the strength within her came, but she slid her other arm under the boy and hauled him up. He groaned, and she hated it, but she needed to get him to safety. The longer they were out on their own in the night, the more danger he was in.
“Hold on,” she ground out, walking to Fior, who was still patiently waiting right where she’d left him. “Can you help me?” she asked the dragon, unsure of what he would think of her display or the waves of energy she could feel radiating off herself.
He appeared to think for a moment, his crystalline eyes containing so much, before he flattened himself to the earth.
“Thank you,” she breathed, hoisting Crispin onto his back and then sliding in behind him, her arms bracketing him as they found handholds on either side of Fior’s neck. The young man slumped back against her, his head leaning against the crook of her neck and shoulder, letting sticky and alarmingly cool blood dribble down her shirt.
But she paid it no mind. She had him secure. She had him safe. That slaked the burning heat in her head enough for her to concentrate, and she squeezed her knees to let Fior know she wanted to fly.
She wasn’t sure if that was the proper way to do it, but he definitely understood because the next thing she knew, they were taking to the sky.
The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to touch the very bottom of the horizon as they rose to the clouds. It was beautiful, and it brought a pleasant sort of warmth that countered the burning, uncomfortable heat inside her and the rapidly growing exhaustion that was trying to break through where she had walled it off.
But she held herself firm. She would be able to relax once Crispin was safe. That was all that mattered.
Her internal mantra was interrupted as the sound of large wing-beats filled the air. Craning her neck, she saw Athar rising from the tree canopy on the back of Estelle.
He… He didn’t look happy.
“Th-that was not the plan,” he said tersely, looking more upset than she had ever seen him.
“I’m sorry,” she said flatly. She knew she should be a bit more capitulating, but she didn’t have the energy. It was like her entire being was dedicated to the boy in front of her, to making sure he was safe and sound and taken care of.
“You’re s-s-sorry? You burst into the shack without thinking, causing us to be ambushed, and when you managed t-t-to get him out of there, instead of calling Fior and fleeing, you tried to make it on f-f-f-foot!” Even though he was yelling at her, Ukrah couldn’t help but feel relieved. If the giant man was there with his giant dragon, that meant they had made it. She was going to get Crispin back to Eist’s home and he would be safe. “If you had just stayed calm and do
ne as I’d instructed, you w-w-would…” He trailed off, his eyes going wide. “You’re bleeding.”
Ukrah waved him off then gestured to Crispin’s head. “It’s just from him.”
“No,” Athar said slowly, as if he was afraid his words would somehow harm her. “I can see it seeping through the back of your tunic right now. Were you hurt?”
What?
Nudging Crispin forward enough to look down her body, she saw that the hole in the middle of her tunic was indeed covered in bright red and more was seeping out after it. But…but she had made that go away, hadn’t she?
Apparently not, because suddenly, as if a lever had been pulled within her, she went from strong and full of the ardent need to protect to very much in pain.
She heard herself let out a little whimper and all the strength left her body. Her eyelids fluttered, and suddenly, she was no longer the arbiter of justice or balance. She was just Ukrah, and she was so, so very weary.
“I…” she whispered, trying to put together an explanation, but her thoughts just wouldn’t connect to each other.
“Ukrah, are you alright?”
Her mouth opened, she breathed, but no words came out before she slipped under into a dark respite.
10
Aftercare
Hurt.
Discomfort.
And she was cold. So cold.
Consciousness rolled toward her like an inevitable wave, and every time it crashed to her shore, it brought some new sort of discomfort with it. It started deep within her, then radiated out until eventually the push of it all was enough to have her eyelids crack open.
Or at least attempt to, but they were sealed with such a painful layer of crust that all she could do was whimper.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” a familiar, but thick voice said, as if the speaker was talking through a mouth full of cotton. She knew who it was, but her mind refused to supply the answer, entirely preoccupied with how she couldn’t open her eyes and what it would be like to be blind forever.
