by J. A. Ludwig
“No. You can’t be here. You aren’t real,” Aya pleads, trying desperately to convince herself she’s dreaming.
But the pain feels very real.
The agony of the spiked chains biting into her legs fades as she stares into the blood-covered face, or where the face should be. She throws her hands at the figure, trying to shove it off her, but more chains appear and wrap around her wrists, pulling her arms to the ground. She screams as new spikes puncture her skin.
The figure’s long-fingered hands reach for her and she struggles beneath it like a trapped animal.
The cold hands close around her throat.
Chapter 5
A large splash of water hits Aya’s face. She jumps, falling back from the pond. A small branch floats on the surface of the clear water and the waterfall trickles as if nothing had happened. Looking around, Aya realizes she never moved from the side of the pond.
A dream? Or a vision conjured from memories?
Cautiously moving up to the edge of the pond, Aya peers into the disturbed water. The water is clear. She can see the bottom. The waterfall pushes the branch that fell towards the edge.
There’s no blood, no chains, no figure. Only frightened white fish reemerging from the rocks.
“Felt real,” Aya whispers to herself, rubbing her legs. She still feels the spikes in her skin, but there are no marks. It reminds her of how she still felt the pain of Petri’s broken leg after waking from her dream that morning. Are these dreams, or visions, part of her magic? Or something else?
She looks away from the pond, unable to stare at her reflection anymore. She notices the air is unusually warm, and a smell overpowers the wildflowers. Slowly standing, Aya realizes the birds are silent.
Everything seems to have stopped in the forest.
Aya’s heart grows cold. She walks towards the edge of the cliff, her eyes locked on the smoke now filling the sky. She forces her eyes to lower and her hands cover her mouth in shock.
Flames tear into homes on the northern edge of Oula Village, sending black plumes into the sky.
Villagers run from the flames, clinging to each other as strange men in black armor herd them towards the center of the village. Their screams are loud enough to reach the cliff. Men not gathering villagers move building to building, breaking the doors down and looting.
Squinting through the smoke, she makes out Elder Mircien, Iria, and many others being forced together by the very well she’d sat on almost an hour before.
Aya runs to the edge of the slope where she climbed up. She nearly falls down the side of the mountain, moving faster than ever before. As she moves lower, the smoke thickens and darkens the air. It burns Aya’s eyes and lungs, and she coughs. The pain blurs her vision and forces her to slow her pace.
No. No more death.
She can’t lose any more people she loves. Not when she can save them. Her magic may not be strong, but...if she can heal, she must be able to harm as well.
The dark thought fills Aya with anger. She pauses to grab the dagger from her boot. The heavy metal feels strange in her hand, but she keeps running.
A sudden blur of fur runs across her path, nearly tripping her. She grabs a nearby tree to keep from falling as animals flee the fire.
Once the wave of terrified animals passes, she continues her approach, reaching the eastern rim of the village. The homes burn, collapsing as the fire eats away at the wood. Sparks fly into the air, threatening to set the surrounding forest ablaze.
The usual path into the village is blocked with men in armor. Aya decides to circle around and try to enter near where she healed Petri.
She carefully makes her way, keeping an eye on the flames as she goes. About to cross the small path leading up to her house, Aya hears a scream. She drops to the ground.
Heavy footsteps and angry voices grow in volume ahead of her. She quickly creeps into a group of bushes between two trees, pulling the dagger from her boot and gripping it tightly. Her heart pounds loudly in her chest, her thoughts filling with prayers to the gods to keep her hidden.
Three men in black armor appear out of a nearby home. One of the men drags an unconscious male villager behind him. Blood covers the villager’s head and Aya’s breath catches in her throat.
“See where this path leads. There may be stragglers,” the man dragging the villager orders, then heads off towards the center of the village.
The other two head up the path, their eyes glancing into the surrounding trees. After they move past Aya’s hiding place, she crosses to the opposite side of the path. She hesitates only a moment, deciding whether to follow the men, but she knows she can’t stop them from doing whatever they plan to her home.
Aya doesn’t know how many attackers there are and doesn’t care. She only cares about the villager’s safety. She runs between two homes, staying close to the ground. When she reaches the edge, she peers around the corner.
Five men run by, carrying large jars. Aya hears liquid sloshing inside and wonders what they could be for. Pressing herself against the wall of the house, she hopes they don’t notice her. Once they pass, she hurries to the next house. She follows the wall of the house quickly, nearly running into two more men blocking her path.
Aya curses silently and circles back. Finally making her way to the back of Mircien’s house, she follows the wall around to the left side. A tall pile of cut wood towers on one side. Aya moves behind the pile and peeks through a gap in the logs.
She can now see the center of the village, the familiar well at its center. Huddled together, the villagers are clustered on the left side of the clearing from Aya’s hiding spot. Many weep or pray softly. Petri clings to his mother, his father forming a wall in front of the two.
Aya searches the faces and spots Iria sitting at the front of the gathered mob. His eyes are focused across the well to the right side of the clearing. Mircien stands between two men in armor. A third walks in front of her.
This third man is different. Aya can tell by how he stands: confident, commanding, hands on hips as if surveying good work.
More men in black armor enter the clearing from between homes, including the five carrying the jars. Placing the jars around the well, the men join the rest in blocking any possible escape routes. She counts thirteen in all, a few carrying burning torches. One man moves in front of the pile of wood where Aya is hiding but doesn’t quite block her view.
The man in front of Mircien stops as two men approach, increasing the total number to fifteen. Aya recognizes them as the ones sent to her house, marveling at how quickly they returned.
“There’s one house outside the village but no one inside. From what we saw, only one person lives there. Should we burn it down?”
Aya’s heart leaps into her throat. She squeezes the dagger in her hand. Why even suggest such a thing if they didn’t do it already? She understands looting, but why burning?
A hand grabs her arm and she turns quickly, raising her dagger. She stops as the familiar face sends a wave of relief through her. “Lane!”
The frightened man whimpers in response, his wide eyes bouncing from the blade to Aya. “I was told to find you. I’m supposed to get you out of the village and away from here.”
“We can’t leave! We have to help.”
“There’s nothing we can do. We’re outnumbered.” He pulls on her arm, attempting to drag her away.
Aya aggressively pulls her arm free. “I’m not leaving. There has to be something I can do.”
She spies through the logs once more. The man in front of Mircien, whose armor is more elegant and seen more action than that of the others, shakes his head and waves the man away. He turns to face Mircien, giving Aya her first look at the man responsible for this attack.
His black hair is shaggy, and his eyes are bright blue lanterns within the dark skin of his face. He smiles almost pleasantly and leans close to Mircien. The elder leans away, but the two men on either side grab her by the shoulders to keep her stil
l.
Aya barely hears the question the man asks.
“Where is the magic user?”
Chapter 6
“We know you’re hiding a magic user here. Tell us who he is, and we’ll spare the rest of you,” the blue-eyed man says.
Aya presses close to the woodpile. These men are here for her. All of this is her fault.
Mircien eyes the villagers, pausing on Iria’s worried expression. Sweat rolls down the side of her face, but her voice is calm when she speaks. “There haven’t been magic users in this part of the valley in many generations.”
Blue Eyes’ smile falters for a moment. He locks eyes with both men holding Mircien and nods. They release him and move away. Before the elder can react, Blue Eyes punches her hard in the face. Mircien stumbles back and the two men catch her before she hits the ground. Her eyes widen and blood rolls down her chin. The villagers scream in shock and huddle closer together. Iria tries to stand, but one of the villagers holds him back.
Blue Eyes grabs Mircien’s throat and pulls her close to him. “You’ve seen men like me before. I can see it in your eyes. You know why we’re here.”
Mircien licks the cut on her lip. Her voice is no longer calm, shaking with fear and anger. “You’re slave traders. You’re collecting slaves for the Arena.”
Arena? Aya doesn’t remember ever hearing about an Arena. She knew about slave traders, but she never thought about what happened to those who became slaves.
“Very good. If we don’t find the magic user, we’ll take the others. All of them. Tell me where he is and no one else will be taken.”
Mircien swallows, having difficulty with the man’s hand at her throat. She spits blood into Blue Eyes’ face. “Go back to your murderous land and leave us in peace. We are poor people who only wish to be left alone.”
Blue Eyes sighs and wipes the blood from his face. He steps forward, thrusting his knee into the old woman’s gut, driving her to the ground. He enunciates each word through gritted teeth. “Where is the magic user?”
Struggling to her knees, Mircien’s wandering eyes lock on Aya in her hiding spot behind the pile of logs. Aya’s eyes widen and she tries to stand. They’re only here because of me. I can stop this.
She starts to rise. Lane grabs her arms and pulls. “We must go.”
“Let me go, Lane. I can stop this right now!”
Mircien smiles sadly before turning to meet Iria’s eyes. She touches her chest with her hand, placing her fist over her heart. Iria’s eyes widen and he struggles against the villager holding him.
“I’ll only ask one more time. Where is the magic user?”
Looking up at Blue Eyes, Mircien leans back on her heels. “Leave us in peace.” Mircien closes her eyes and speaks a prayer under her breath
Slowly nodding, Blue Eyes steps back from Mircien. “Very well.” He points to the man standing to Mircien’s right. “Silence her.”
The man draws the axe from behind his back, and in one quick movement, the blade slices cleanly through Mircien’s neck, beheading her. The braided cloth on her head flies off, landing in front of the villagers.
Aya screams. Lane’s hand quickly clasps over her mouth. Luckily, her screams aren’t heard over the cries of the villagers.
Mircien’s body stays kneeling upright for longer than Aya thought possible before slumping to the ground. The man with the axe cleans his blade on Mircien’s clothes.
The villagers scream in terror and a few try to shove their way through the surrounding men, but the armored men easily force them back to the center. Some even draw their weapons and wave deadly metal in front of the villagers, laughing at the fear in their eyes.
Aya squeezes the hilt of the dagger in her hand tightly. Why? Why did Mircien have to die? Why didn’t she tell them she was here? She isn’t worth anyone else’s life. Mircien shouldn’t have protected her.
Again she stands, but Lane grabs her around the waist and falls back, dragging her to the ground with him.
Blue Eyes storms forward and rips the axe from his man’s hand. “I said silence her. Not kill her.” He slams the handle of the axe into the other man’s stomach. When the man doubles over, Blue Eyes knees him in the face then throws the axe to the ground in disgust.
Iria stares at Mircien’s body in shock, unmoving. His eyes lower to the bloody cloth on the ground in front of him. He reaches for it with a shaking hand and pulls it to his chest, the blood staining his hands.
The man with blue eyes moves towards the group, not even glancing at the body lying at his feet. “We’ve heard tales from the other villages about the magic user that lives here. Bring him forth.” Staring down at Iria’s frozen form, the man’s eyes narrow. “Or take your chances in the Arena.”
“Let go, Lane!” Aya fights to free herself. “Now.”
“No! I promised Mircien I’d get you out of here!” He tightens his hold on her. “Come with me, for her sake!”
“For her sake...” Aya pauses, still gazing on the scene.
The villagers stare at the man in fear, but none speak. Aya sees Zuri holding Petri so he’s facing away from the still body, blood pooling on the ground. Ervine is sitting beside them, his arm protectively around his wife and son.
Frustrated, Blue Eyes gazes at the men surrounding the clearing and waves his hand. The men close in on the group, drawing their weapons. They each grab a single villager and pull them from the large group. Other villagers try to keep hold of those being separated, but the men kick them back or threaten them with their weapons.
Petri is ripped from Zuri and Ervine’s arms by the same man who beheaded Mircien, but his father tries to fight the man off. “No!” she cries at the same time as Ervine. A second man hits Ervine with the butt of his sword, knocking him to the ground. The man dragging Petri from his family returns to a position in front of Aya’s hiding spot, blocking her view for a moment.
Aya’s heart pounds louder and louder in her head. They wouldn’t kill a child...would they? They couldn’t possibly. She fights against Lane, but he’s surprisingly strong.
Blue Eyes grabs Iria and drags him to his feet. He draws a dagger and holds the blade to the unresponsive man’s throat. The other men follow suit, preparing to kill the ones they hold.
“No, no, no, don’t do this,” Aya whispers, the dagger shaking in her hand. “Don’t protect me.”
“Where is the magic user?” Blue Eyes asks. She can tell from his tone that he is finished asking.
She wipes the tears from her cheeks and grips a log tightly, splinters burying into her palm, as the villagers remain silent. For her sake.
Blue Eyes meets his men’s eager expressions and takes a deep breath. The man holding Petri tightens his grip on the small boy, his hand holding the blade tensing with anticipation.
“No!”
Aya elbows Lane low in his gut. His arms loosen around her and she breaks free. She throws the one of the logs at the man holding Petri. The heavy wood hits him in the back of the head. The shock causes him to drop his axe, but he holds firmly onto the boy. She stands and crashes into the man, using her dagger to slice the hand holding the frightened boy.
Yelling, the man releases Petri, swinging his free arm at her. Aya quickly pulls Petri to the ground, dodging the strike. She kicks the man in the knee and, feeling a small shock of magic shoot through her leg, dislocates it. She hesitates a moment, realizing her magic ensured the man would be seriously hurt.
Petri scrambles to his feet and scrambles to his mother and father, passing the man with blue eyes. He watches his man collapse to the ground, screaming and holding his leg in excruciating pain.
Aya stands, holding her dagger in front of her and stares at Blue Eyes, anger filling her. He returns her look, his expression calm.
When Iria sees Aya, life returns to him. He struggles against Blue Eyes, clutching Mircien’s cloth close to him. “Aya, get out of here! Leave now!”
“I’m the magic user,” Aya announces. “Don’t
hurt any more people.”
The man rolling on the ground grabs for her. She kicks him in the side and another shock of magic shoots through her. She feels the man’s rib break. He curses and grabs his side. A wave of exhaustion rushes through her. She knows it’s from the sudden uses of her magic. If she needs to use it again...she may pass out.
Blue Eyes shoves Iria away, knocking the older man to the ground, and waves for his men to do the same. His men release their captives and sheathe their weapons, somewhat reluctantly. Two run to the wounded man and pull him away as Blue Eyes walks towards Aya, stopping an arm’s length from her.
She struggles to keep her breath steady as exhaustion threatens to take over.
The villagers find their voices and speak all at once.
“I’m the magic user!”
“I’m the magic user.”
“No, I am!”
“Run! What are you doing?” Iria hisses as he crawls towards her.
The men standing around the villagers silence their cries with threats of dismemberment or immolation. None seem to view Iria as any threat as he moves across the ground. Ervine runs to him and holds him back.
The leader’s gaze moves up and down Aya’s unsteady frame before eyeing his injured man. Satisfied the man’s injury is not life threatening, his eyes lock on the knife in her shaky hand. “What’s your name?”
“Aya Flandeen.”
“And it’s true? You’re the magic user?”
“Yes.”
The man steps closer to her, easily moving her hand with the knife away. His blue eyes take in her face, curiosity making them almost shine. “What did you do to him?”
Unable to tear her eyes from him, Aya lowers her arm. “I don’t know.”
He faces the villagers, sheathing his dagger. His eyes move to Mircien’s body before rising to his men. “Burn the village to the ground. We’ll take them all to the Arena.”
Chapter 7
