Blow for blow, they continued their deadly dance. He would not yield. He. Would. Not.
Dots danced at the edge of his vision, sweat soaking his skin. He wondered in that second if the clan leader had purposefully ensured that Memphis was given plated armor to weigh him down and make him slower.
Jumping back, Zander swiped at his legs. Memphis swore, allowing the full force of his ability to rush out of him aimed at Zander. The sand sparked underneath their feet, particles rising. The power rippled, and the sands pelted like shooting knives.
The raider flicked his eyebrows up. “You want to play that way?” Sheathing his sword, he clapped his hands, and the sands froze a second away from cutting into his skin then dropped to his feet.
He charged, but not before Zander snapped his fingers and the sands twisted, banding together, creating a mass so large he couldn’t reach him. The crowd roared, begging for the blades as he cocked his head to the side, his eyes glinted. Zander snapped his fingers again, and the sands hissed, the mass moving toward him like a giant viper slithering at him, and he saw Zander unsheathe his blade. Memphis looked to the tumbling mass rushing at him. And ran.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nyx
Nyx gripped the railing, her knuckles turning white as she watched Memphis run for his life. The raiders had mended his broken leg enough to make a show of his death, the brace fluid with Memphis’s movements. He was moving too slow as the monstrous, churning sand snake coiled in front of him, cutting him off. And Zander charged up on his flank to meet him.
Nyx continued to chew the inside of her cheek raw-fresh blood filled her mouth. Memphis was sheet white as Zander grinned a blood-thirsty smile. The excitement through the crowd spread like wildfire as the Dust Clan leader soared over his fabricated creature and slashed his blade down at Memphis’s neck. Memphis, at the last second, brought his blade up, sparks flying between the two men. It was a dance of death, a dance of defiance.
Do something, do something, do something.
Her body and spirit willed her to act, but as soon as she did, it would break the promise of the duel, and everything would have been for nothing. They needed the raiders in this war. And so, she watched swords clash, and the roars of the crowd crashed around the stadium. Blood spurted as Memphis’s blade clipped Zander’s shoulder, and the raider rolled away. Memphis charged, seeing his opening, but Zander was too fast. The raider threw his elbow up into his nose, and with a sickening crack, blood started to pour. The drums had started up again outside their perimeter, their beats rolling like thunder.
She felt as Memphis poured all his energy into another mental wave toward Zander, who distracted the commander’s ability and broke his concentration. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she watched Memphis block, again and again, Zander’s relentless attacks. The two blades flashed in the flames like liquid silver. The Dust Clan leader was pushing Memphis into the corner of the stadium purposefully.
Her heart pounded as she watched Zander, as fast as lightning, duck from his blow and sheathe his sword. In the same motion, he loosened a leather whip from his belt and sent it flying. Her scream cut through everything else as the leather bit into Memphis’s skin.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Memphis
“MEMPHIS!” He heard Nyx yell as he watched Zander change his weapons in one sickening motion.
The whip was black as night as it lashed out toward his right wrist, the leather biting in his skin and ripping through it. The steel dropped into the sand. Searching the crowd, Memphis found Nyx’s violet eyes blazing into his. There was so much he wanted to say to her. He hoped she would forgive him for hurting her, forgive that he couldn’t love her as she deserved. Memphis’s pain demanded him back into the moment as Zander prowled toward him, and he dropped to his knees, scrambling for his sword. Scrambling for anything.
In that same moment, he felt the cool sands shift under his weight, and embers drifted down in front of his vision, taking focus. Tiny, burning pieces of power just waiting to be sparked to life once more. He took in the beautiful golden, fiery hues, and he found comfort even though he was afraid. Every fiber in his body begged to stay alive.
His pain crashed into him again as the whip bit into his midriff, tearing flesh and muscle. Panting, Memphis crumpled, and his blond hair spilled around him. The world spun, pain turning to numbness, his thoughts soaring: Thinking of everything that had once been beautiful in this world, he allowed it to fill every crevice of his soul.
Zander approached, his leather boots crunching against the sand, as he lifted his gaze to find that dark smile, that smooth smile, lips curling over his teeth. The shake of anticipation. The promise of his end.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nyx
The sword glinted up at her, mocking her, as Zander moved in lithe strokes. Nyx realized that the Dust Clan leader was smiling. Her blood turned to ice as the drums pounded faster. The crowd cheered, demanding the killing blow be met. And in that second, she screamed, and seeing the flash of metal, she hurtled herself over the railing, landing hard into the pit. No, no, no, no! Charging, her ability clambered through her body, watching Zander’s blade slice into Memphis’s heart.
“NO!”
Memphis’s eyes widened, just ever so slightly, as the light drained out of them. Hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks as Zander pulled the blade out of his chest and took a triumphant stance. He was met with a roar of approval. That was until her energy slammed into him, making him fly and collide with the stadium’s wall.
There were no words she could utter; there was only the pounding in her heart as Nyx cracked in two. And so did the world around her. Screams sounded as the golden structure around them split, fire spilling into the sands only to be extinguished. Raiders scrambled to stay away from the fissures. Zander shook his head, honing on to her as his blood poured from a gash in his forehead. Now it was her turn to grin wickedly.
Her voice sounded far off, like she was swimming through deep waters. “I challenge you. I will finish what Memphis started.”
Her voice cracked, as she charged. She didn’t allow him a second before she screamed, her throat burning from the force.
Zander froze as he watched his skin start to peel, particles of his existence breaking off. Grabbing her blades, she whipped them out of their sheaths, the metal shining in the night, the sharpened edges begging to bite into anything. Her blood roared, her muscles relishing in the burning as she dove into the darkest parts of her ability.
He was slammed back into the wall, his head cracking from the force. Her hands acted on their own accord as she sent the metal flying, and each knife found its marks in his shoulders. Each wet thud made her tears run faster, her anger flare. Pinning him in place, Nyx dissolved into the adrenaline rush of the fight. Allowing the monster to surface: A monster of magic and power. A monster trained to kill. Zander shouted at her, but she didn’t hear him. She didn’t hear anything except the cruel melody orchestrated by her pain. Memphis’s face flashed over and over in her mind. She had done nothing but watch Memphis die, because of the man that stood in front of her.
“I would make you suffer slowly,” her voice cracked, “but that would mean I care. And you? You are nothing to me.” She dragged her blade along his cheek, breathing in his fear. She grinned. “This world is meant for more than brutality. It is meant for more than to be dictated by men like you.” Her hand shook, as her blade stopped just above his heart. Locking eyes with him, she said, “You will not break us.”
The blade dug in, and she felt the warmth of blood on her hands, his exhale as the life bled out of him. And she watched, her fury, her pain, locking her in place. The Clan leader dropped, and she collected her blades. Panting, she stopped, her stomach rolling, blood and sweat mixed into her tears. It felt like a lifetime had passed as she lifted her gaze to the stadium around her and was astonished to find every single raider knelt on one knee, bowing their heads toward her.
Sile
nce echoed throughout the stadium as she turned and collapsed, her raking cries taking over her body as she took in Memphis, spread eagle on the sands.
She gave in to her pain. She gave in to everything, and it pulled her down and drowned her.
Chapter Thirty
Emory
The sun sank lower, dipping beneath the horizon as she stared at the opposing wall. The stone was weathered, chunks and cracks spattering over its surface. Green moss crawled over the bottom, eventually reaching for the top of the cell.
It had been three sunrises and three sunsets since they took Brokk. Three. Days. Breathing deeply, Emory clenched her jaw, her skin no longer feeling the cold, her body no longer feeling tired. Stripped bare, she found what she had been waiting for her. It had been concealed, been channeled. Her anger licked at her heart, and she smiled grimly in the fading light, knowing now, that she was ready.
The door creaked open, golden hues illuminating her bloodied wrists and the chains linked to the wall.
“Hello, Princess.”
Marquis’s voice was a soft drawl, Emory’s body bowing, metal slicing into her skin as she lunged. Leaning against the other wall, his brows rose, and he frowned. His jacket was pitch-black, his boots polished. His loose pants and shirt were casual, but he looked good.
“What’s the occasion?” Emory demanded.
“I see you haven’t lost any of your spirit.”
“Why would I? I quite enjoy your accommodations, oh noble King.”
He tilted his head. “Why should you be treated differently than any other person that comes to the Isles? Because once upon a time we were acquainted? The princess I knew back then didn’t do anything about her cage. Why would you now?”
“Because...”
“Because you think you understand this war? You’re being a child.”
“And you have hid from your problems.” Her words landed right where she wanted them.
“Spoken like a girl who doesn’t understand what she has done,” Marquis snapped back.
“Or like a woman who has given up everything, unlike you.”
His hand was suddenly around her neck, and he slammed her back, stars igniting in her vision.
“Don’t you dare begin to think you understand what I have given up.” His breath was ragged; his gaze scoured her as his hand dropped and he stepped back. “Time can only tell if what you and your party is saying is true. But you and I, Emory, need to have a general understanding of one another before we even begin to win this war.”
“We don’t have time,” she wheezed, sliding to the ground.
He smirked. “For this, we have to make time.” His slim fingers dug into his pocket. A small, silver key flashed as he crouched down, his lips in a thin line. The manacles shivered as she craned her neck to watch the metal quiver, a keyhole appearing above her head. Marquis unlocked them, and they dropped from her. Exhaling, she rolled her shoulders, rubbing her wrists, smearing her blood.
Offering her a hand, he said, “Come with me.”
Her curiosity overruled her better judgement, and so, she did. Standing, her bones popped, her muscles cramping. Salt, blood, and sweat covered her tattered clothes, and she sighed, not unaware of how she smelled. Marquis turned his back as they left the cells, her heart in her throat.
He pushed the door open, and the wind was there to meet them. Stopping, she breathed in the crisp air, the crashing of waves an orchestra, the sounds of the Isle still so new to her. Shivering, she looked to the ocean, the moon nestled high in the blanketed night. Shimmering down, the reflection was stardust, turning this wild land into one of magic and mystery. The cliff face was jagged, and following the edge, it was an endless amount of grasses, of slated rocks, until she found what she was looking for. There wasn’t a city or kingdom in sight.
Instead, a crowd of women and men were gathered, their faces illuminated by the line of torches. Their eyes glowed, the smears of coal along their jawlines and cheeks, their images haunting her. Stalking toward them, ice shot through her body as she straightened.
Throwing a cheeky grin over his shoulder, Marquis whispered, “Do you still wish our allegiance?”
“Your allegiance and your sworn promise that you won’t hurt any of my company.” If you do, I will end you.
“Tsk, tsk. Princess, I’m not a monster.”
They moved closer to the group, Marquis’s jacket flapping in the night. Fate had always been a fickle, taunting dream to her. Like anyone else, she wanted her stars to align, to lead her in the path that she was meant to go. Doubt rose in her. Was it the right decision to come to the Isles for help? Or would she just become another prisoner to a king’s madness?
Walking up to that group of strangers, their severe edges, their pointed looks, and sharpened weapons, she wondered, if maybe, being lost meant she would find everything she had ever yearned for.
“Emory Fae.” Her eyes snapped to Marquis who now stood at the front of the group, the waves crashing behind him viciously. Magic tinged the air, and as she met his gaze, that familiar pull of electric current filled her soul. Looking down, her necklace flickered, the storm within it stirring too. Her ability returned to her, and it was revitalizing as she dug her nails into her palms.
“You come here demanding we help you in the war against Adair’s kingdom. To help you liberate this land. To fight alongside a stranger.”
Chuckles sounded all around her as she took a step, Marquis’s eyes flashing in the firelight, shadows dancing along his skin.
“We have heard your company’s story. Of the maybe truths. And maybe lies. But here, we do decide what is best for our kingdom. It is not just my decision to let you dictate what the Shattered Isles will do.” He paused a moment before continuing. “It has been decided that we will first learn what the acclaimed queen has to offer us. How dangerous you are as an enemy. And how important you are as an ally.”
Marquis stepped forward, and all the air left her lungs as the crowd started a slow stomping beat. A tremor shivered along the earth as she turned, blanching.
His wrists were bound, the same smooth metal interlocking them. Brokk’s golden eyes brightened as he drank her in, the gag tied over his mouth tight. His shirt has been ripped, and he stumbled over the terrain. A strangled choking broke from her lips as Brokk was shoved to Marquis, who shook his head at her.
Marquis moved lithely. The crowd around her had turned feral, their catcalls and insults floating on the wind around her, egging on Marquis to act. Marquis ran, ripping the first torch from the earth and throwing it over the cliff face, and it streaked, flaring as it plummeted toward the ocean. Cries of joy, of anger, of fear circled her, her pulse thundering to the beat of the ocean, to the beat of the footsteps as the men and women gathered and mimicked their leader’s actions. Twenty more torches were thrown into the night, a burst of life against a blank slate. Her mouth ran dry as she locked eyes with Brokk.
Imagining his lips meeting hers. What they could explore, if only given the time to learn. Not as strangers and not being afraid anymore. But as broken parts finally becoming whole. Of two lost souls finding their way after a lifetime of mistakes.
Her cry tore through her lips as she watched Marquis’s hands collide with Brokk’s broad chest. As Brokk stumbled, his eyes widened, shock and fear igniting in them. A sharp roaring filled her mind as the world churned, and he dropped over the cliff’s edge.
Falling into the treacherous sea.
“NO!” she screamed; her cry echoing in the night.
Time slipped. The ground lurched as she scrambled, pumping her arms, forgetting about the flames and the Isles. Forgetting about everything but him. It had always been him. Shooting forward, she gulped down air, pushing faceless bodies out of her way. She would not lose him.
A flash of green was the last thing she took in of Marquis before she threw herself off the side of the cliff, and gravity disappeared. Screaming, the inky depths rushed up to greet her, the wind howling, the cold s
licing through her body. Biting down hard, blood filled her mouth. Swearing, she flipped her body, bringing her arms together, just in time before she sliced into the water.
Her limbs flailed as she dropped from the dive and instantly got pulled into the tide. The cold knocked her breath from her chest as everything became compressed. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The sea commanded her, dragging her deeper, spinning her, and she went limp. Ice clutched her muscles, pounding into her chest, into her mind.
Brokk. Her eyes snapped open, and she screamed his name, bubbles flying in front of her. The sea churned, and she couldn’t see anything as it heaved. A pulsing ripple shivered around her as she looked down. Her necklace was suspended in front of her, the gem blackened yet somehow glowed dully. The light was weak, but it was something. Think. Her lungs felt like they were about to burst, a ragged burn spreading too fast.
Clenching her fists, she closed her eyes and dove into that depth within herself: That blackness, that darkness. If the price was bearing it now, then so be it. If the cost of using it was to save him, she would do it a thousand times over.
The energy exploded from her, the shockwave sending her spiraling. But there—she gulped down the delicious air, as she snapped her eyes open. The bubble encased her face like she had seen Memphis do. The blissful oxygen flowed freely as she choked, trying to steady her breath. It felt like a lifetime ago when she dove into those rose-gold waters; blindly following and trusting Memphis.
She whipped her head around, searching for a flicker of anything. The waves pushed and pulled as she stroked with her arms, swimming as fast as she could. In the half-light, she saw patches of her pale skin traced with black lines, exactly where her veins would be. Don’t think about it. Fighting against her tiredness and defeat, she kept going.
Queen to Ashes (Black Dawn Series Book 2) Page 27
