by Sarah Hawke
I screamed. My body froze helplessly in place as I watched the carnage around me, and I knew deep in my heart that I was about to die.
“Go!” Larric screamed into my ear. He smacked my steed with the flat of his blade, and I barely had a chance to steady myself in the saddle before the horse bolted down the road at a full gallop. My breath caught in my throat, and I pressed my eyes shut as I whispered a quick prayer to the Triad that they might spare me just this once…
And then suddenly the horse whinnied and stumbled, and before I even knew what was happening I was soaring out of the saddle. I rolled instinctively as I hit the ground, but the impact still knocked the air from my lungs. Gasping breathlessly, I managed to grab onto something and stop my reckless tumble, but not before a stabbing pain shot down the entire right side of my body.
“What the fuck are you doing?” a deep male voice growled from somewhere. “If she dies we lose everything!”
“She was getting away, what the hell was I supposed to do?” another countered. The rest of the argument devolved into an unintelligible chorus of irritated male voices. I opened my eyes to try and see what was going on, but they refused to focus. Everything was a spotted red blur, even the otherwise clear sky.
After a few moments a strong hand clutched around my waist and hoisted me to my feet, and soon after another grabbed onto my wrists and locked them behind my back. There were at least three men nearby, as far as I could tell, and I continued to blink to try and clear my vision…
“See? She’s fine,” the second voice said. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.”
“You’re lucky,” the first one snarled back. “And if we can’t clean this up for the auction, boss is still going to gut you.”
“You worry too much.” One of the hands clawed up into my hair and jerked my head back hard enough that my jaw rattled. “See? She’s the Grand Duke’s finest, just like I said. Worth a thousand sovereigns at least.”
“More than that,” another voice put in. Another hand abruptly grabbed onto the front of my dress and tore it open. “See? No brandings. She’s ripe and ready. Probably worth three times that much at least.”
One of them whistled. “Almost makes me want to try and sell her myself.”
“I’d rather not be marked for death, thanks.” A hand brushed against my chin. “Poor Duke Kristoff seems to be losing everything these days. First his land, then his army, and now his favorite pet.”
“What a tragedy,” another voice muttered. “Maybe we should try her out, make sure everything’s still working.”
“You so much as touch her and the boss will cut your balls off. Now stuff her in the wagon and open some of the healing salves. We need to get her to auction before word hits that she’s missing.”
One of them hoisted me up over his shoulder, and as my head dangled against his back my vision finally started to refocus. I glanced up as best I could to inspect the carnage…and almost immediately wished I hadn’t.
The guards were dead, most struck down before they’d even had a chance to draw their blades. Only two of them appeared to have managed any kind of serious defense, and their arrow-riddled shields and armor had still succumbed in the end. In the middle of pile, his armor splattered with blood, was Larric.
I wanted to scream, but I had no voice. I wanted to cry, but I had no tears. My entire body seemed to have gone numb, and my hand quivered in front of my face as I hung listlessly over the bandit’s shoulder. My brain refused to work at all; it was like I had been ensnared by some type of stasis spell.
But there was no magic involved here, just cowardice and fear. In the span of a few hours I had gone from a powerful sorceress capable of bending the mind of the First Artificer to a hapless slave so terrified she couldn’t even speak.
Eventually the bandits dragged a small wagon out from the forest and onto the road, and my captor tossed me inside. Now that my eyes were working I finally caught a real glimpse of his face, and he was actually less savage-looking than I assumed. All of his men were, in fact. They were adorned in unmarked leather armor, and even my untrained eye recognized the impressive quality. These were definitely not average street-side bandits; they were professionals hired by someone specifically to capture me. And Larric and all of the other guards were now dead because of it.
“Your master is pretty trusting to let you ride without cuffs,” the man commented as he grabbed my feet and started to tie my ankles together. “So who was carrying your control rod?”
“It’s here,” another of the men commented as he rifled over Larric’s corpse. “Looks like a nice one, too, probably enchanted by—“
And then, just as the man leaned up and turned his back, Larric moved.
In the span of a heartbeat the bodyguard leapt back to his feet, stole the bandit’s sword from its scabbard, and plunged it through the man’s back. My eyes gaped open in shock, and my mind barely had time to register what was happening before the bandit leader yelped out a warning to his comrades.
He needn’t have bothered. Reaching into the folds of his armor, Larric whipped out a pair of wicked-looking throwing knives and then hurled them at the closest two bandits with a synchronized flick of his wrists. The men died with choked-off gurgles, and before their corpses even hit the ground Larric had already drawn his own blade and lunged forward.
The road in front of me became a blur of steel, blood, and death as Larric whirled between the still-staggered bandits and carved them to pieces. One attempted to leap backwards and draw his bow, but Larric pounced forward and cut him down before he could nock an arrow; another tried to meet the newfound threat blade-to-blade, but Larric ran him through after single masterful parry and riposte.
It seemed to me that even the most hardened thugs should have panicked and fled at that point, but to these men’s credit—or perhaps abject stupidity—they stood their ground and pressed their assault regardless of the massacre unfolding before them. I could only assume they were more terrified of their mysterious employer than of the man who had just killed five of them in the span of a few seconds…and if that was the case, I trembled to think who that person possibly could have been.
Two of the remaining bandits drew their weapons and pivoted about in an attempt to flank their attacker, but the third drew a small, hand-sized crossbow and leaned against the wagon next to me as he lined up a shot. Larric, caught in another melee, probably didn’t even see the marksman, and I held my breath as I watched the bandit’s narrow and his finger twitch on the trigger—
I didn’t do it consciously. I wasn’t even sure how I did it at all. But suddenly my hands flicked upwards and a gout of fire roared outwards from my fingertips. The bandit shrieked in shock and anguish…and then abruptly fell silent as the flames consumed him. A pile of seared bone and charred flesh was all that remained when he hit the ground, and I gaped down at my hands as if I didn’t recognize their owner.
Unbound.
It took me a moment to realize that the word hadn’t just been inside my head; someone had spoken it aloud. And that was when I turned and saw Larric standing over the corpses of the bandits, his face contorted in disgust and horror. Blood still dripped from his sword, and for an instant I wondered if he might leap forward and cut me down as well…
“Merciful Triad,” he breathed. “That’s why Kristoff sends you everywhere. That’s why he protects you as if you were kin…”
I tried to speak, but again I had no voice. I stared at him, hands quivering, as my greatest fear was finally realized. My secret was out. And now he would drag me before the Covenant and have me executed as a heretic….
Larric closed his eyes and swore under his breath. He stood there silently for what felt like a small eternity before finally glancing behind him to survey the carnage. “We need to get back to Sanctum,” he murmured as he wiped his blade on his tunic and then sheathed it. “There could be more of them waiting nearby.”
He crouched down over the bodies and rummaged throug
h them for a few moments. I had no idea what he was looking for, but he tore off a small patch from one of the bandit’s armor and eyed it as if it were significant.
“Come on, get up,” he ordered as he spun back around. I tried to spin my legs over the edge of the wagon and untie the rope around my ankles, but my trembling muscles made it impossible. Larric growled under his breath and slashed the bindings clean with a single sweep from his knife. I yelped in shock, and he grabbed me roughly around the waist and hoisted me up onto his shoulder. He then strode over to the only surviving horse and plopped me into the back of the saddle before hopping on himself.
“Try channeling again and I’ll slash your throat,” he snarled. “Now hold on—we’re getting out of here in case more of them show up. His Excellency needs to know what happened.” I felt his muscles tense as he grabbed onto the reigns. “And then he has some explaining to do.”
Chapter Five
We rode hard and fast, and for the first several minutes I clutched my arms tightly around Larric’s waist and attempted to breathe normally. It didn’t work. I squeezed my eyes shut, but all I could see over and over again was a plume of Aetheric fire spraying from my fingertips and searing flesh from bone. I still didn’t understand how I had done it. Master had never taught me how to manipulate flame or lightning; such overtly destructive techniques were ostensibly the exclusive province of the Tel Bator. But somehow I had just managed to kill a man on pure reflex…
The wind dried the tears against my face, and eventually my arms stopped trembling. I had no idea whether Larric even noticed or not; the man didn’t utter so much as a peep the rest of the trip. But once I settled down and started to think clearly again, I wondered if clutching onto him like this was a mistake. There was a very real chance he would attempt to turn me over to the Covenant the moment we reached the Sanctum gates, and for an instant I was tempted to leap off the horse and try to hide in the forests around the city.
But even if I somehow managed to escape, my life as I knew it would have been over. The Inquisitors would track me down eventually, and in the meantime I would probably starve or end up captured by more bandits. No, whether I wanted to admit it or not, my life—and Master Kristoff’s—was now in Larric’s hands. He could turn me in and have both of us executed, and ultimately there was nothing I could do about it.
Swallowing heavily, I glanced up and studied the man in front of me. From the tightness along his jawline to the way his hands clenched and unclenched around the reins, I could practically feel the turmoil raging within him. He was probably trying to decide for himself what he should do, and just like before we’d been ambushed, I was yet again tempted to risk prying into his mind to see exactly what he was thinking…and to perhaps “convince” him to forget the whole incident. But I still had no idea whether or not my powers would even work on an Inquisitor, and so instead I rode along in quiet terror waiting for the inevitable.
We reached the Sanctum gates several hours before dusk, and I bit down on my lips as we cantered through the streets and approached the Aetherium. But to my pleasant surprise and unbridled relief, we rode straight past. I couldn’t even conceive of what Master had done to earn this kind of unwavering loyalty from one of his employees, even the captain of his guard. Larric was an Imperial citizen, not a slave—his contract would be forgiven the moment he proved that Kristoff was harboring an Unbound slave. It didn’t make any sense.
Still, I obviously didn’t protest, and by the time we reached the estate my stomach was so twisted into knots I feared I might wretch at any moment. But somehow I managed to hold myself together, and Larric screamed at the other guards to go and retrieve the lord of the house. By the time we had dismounted Master Kristoff came rushing out the door, his face pale.
“What the hell happened?” he gasped. “Where are the others?”
“Dead on the road just west of Whitestone Tower,” Larric said. “We were ambushed.”
Master leapt forward and grabbed my hand. Our eyes met, and his face twisted with worry and pain and outright disbelief. For a single fleeting moment, I could have been his wife returning from a long journey, and he could have been my loving husband waited desperately to embrace me.
Except it wasn’t love I was seeing in his eyes, not really. It was fear. Fear that he would lose his most valuable weapon—fear that all this schemes would finally come crashing down around him. Without me, he hadn’t a chance in the void of raising an army and reclaiming Stormcrest; without me, he would never be able to rally the Quorum or dethrone the Emperor. I was, quite literally, his last and only hope for redemption…and he had come within inches of losing me forever.
Eventually he seemed to compose himself, and he scoured my body for injuries. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, my shoulder and left leg had begun throbbing from dozens of scrapes and bruises. Still, I was absurdly fortunate that I hadn’t broken anything after being thrown off my horse. Each twinge of pain made me want to channel a healing spell, but naturally that was out of the question. I didn’t know if Larric would reveal what he’d learned about me, and I didn’t want to force the issue…
Master’s palm abruptly flashed with Aetheric power, and an instant later a soothing chill tingled through my skin as the healing magic stole the worst of the pain away. The bruises would probably still last for a day or two, but the actual cuts sealed almost immediately.
“I can’t believe bandits would risk attacking you so close to the walls,” he murmured as he stroked at my hair.
“They weren’t bandits,” Larric told him. “They were mercenaries hired specifically to capture Elara.”
Master froze in place. “How can you be certain?”
“They waggled their tongues after they thought they’d killed me. They knew exactly who we were and where we were headed. They were hoping to sell her at auction.” The bodyguard reached into his baldric and withdrew the scrap of armor he’d taken from the attackers. “And then I found this.”
“What is it?”
“Cured hide,” Larric said. “Specifically, cured thacedon hide. It has a unique texture and hardness that’s much different than what you’d find from any the local tanners.”
“Thacedon…” Master whispered, his jaw tightening as he rubbed the leather between his fingers. “As in, the nocturnal predators found exclusively in Rivani?”
“Correct. I can check the local merchants and see if they’ve received any shipments recently, but I don’t think it matters. Like I said, these weren’t local thugs; they were professional mercenaries. And there aren’t many people who would be willing to pay top sovereign to equip their hired swords with authentic thacedon hide armor. It’s just not worth the extra expense.”
“Unless, of course, they had an abundant local supply,” Master reasoned, his jaw tightening. “Like the ruler of Rivani.”
“That was my first thought,” Larric said with a nod. “It would seem that Zarene has finally decided to make her move.”
Master turned and paced away for a moment, his eyes glimmering in deep thought. I had never heard of thacedon hide before, but Grand Duchess Jora Zarene was the ruler of Rivani, often called “the Basin” due to its shape and position along the Empire’s southern coast. Rivani’s numerous ports made it the wealthiest of the Imperial provinces, and many believed that its lush forests and endless beaches also made it the most beautiful. I had never been there myself, obviously, nor had I ever wanted to for one simple reason: Rivani was the center of Covenant power in the Empire, even more than Sanctum. And its Grand Duchess was as legendarily fanatical as any of the prelates and possibly even the Hierophant herself.
“Why would the Grand Duchess wish to capture and sell me?” I asked softly. The two men turned to look at me as if they’d forgotten I was even there.
“Because she knows,” Master told me. “She knows I’m trying to organize the rest of the nobility.”
“Which isn’t particularly surprising,” Larric said with a fractio
nal shrug. “You’ll forgive me for being blunt, Your Excellency, but we haven’t been nearly as subtle in our movements since the fall of Balagarde. Zarene has as many eyes in Sanctum as any of the other Grand Dukes, possibly more.”
Master closed his eyes and pinched his nose. “If she had any tangible proof, she probably would have gone straight to Emperor Lucian by now. We haven’t actually done anything yet.”
“No, but once Arland and Farrow begin to march their auxiliary forces towards Sanctum, we’ll have crossed that line,” Larric said. “There won’t be any going back.”
Master stayed silent for a few moments before finally sighing and drifting back over to us. “It’s all right. We’ll just have to be more careful in the future.” He smiled and gently ran his fingers through my hair. “I should have sent more men to protect you. Next time you’ll get three squads. I’ll leave the whole bloody estate empty if I have to.”
I offered him a faint smile. I wanted to believe he was speaking out of genuine affection, but at this point I knew better. All those months I’d believed I was different than his other slaves, all those months I’d believed I was special…
I was, but not in the way I’d hoped.
“It might be worth keeping her inside the city for a while,” Larric suggested. “And you should reconsider your trip the Korvale. It’s too dangerous.”
Master shook his head. “We need Darkstone’s support before we can pressure the Emperor, and he won’t budge unless we push him.”
“Then perhaps you should at least postpone it until the Legion can—“
“No,” Master replied firmly. “Arland’s troops are nearly ready, and I doubt it will take much longer to convince Farrow. We cannot afford to wait.” He stared at me or a moment longer before shifting his eyes to Larric. “Are you wounded?”