Red Tigress

by Amélie Wen Zhao

  Amid the blazing red were coils of darkness, small at first, and then closing in on her. It paralyzed her. She reached and reached, but her Affinity was rapidly spiraling out of her control, shifting and morphing as though it had taken on a life of its own. As though someone else held the reins now.

  And then, abruptly, the crimson receded and her world faded to black.

  Godhallem had become a scene of massacre.

  In the distraction and amid the fleeing courtiers, Ramson had heaved himself away from the dais toward the end of the hall. He could only stare now, his mind frozen in disbelief. The floor was littered with bodies and soaked in an ocean of blood. Puddles formed beneath each corpse, staining the skin red and pooling quietly. A breeze blew in from the open-air end of the hall, stirring the pools of blood.

  The few living clustered around the walls on either side of Godhallem. Ramson heard a courtier to his left lean over and retch.

  Was this the fate that awaited his kingdom? The world?

  A long, drawn-out scream echoed across the hall, and Ramson’s world narrowed into sharp focus. He recognized that scream. It pierced his heart like a blade. Unleashed his worst fears.

  He turned just in time to see Ana crumple to the ground, blood smearing her neck.

  Beneath the emblem of the Earth Court, Sorsha straightened. She clutched her wrist bearing the siphon. The stone glistened with a dark liquid, but even as Ramson watched, the liquid seemed to be absorbed into the band until there was none left.

  Something was happening to the skin underneath. Darkness spread across Sorsha’s veins, like fissures across a surface. She shuddered, her mouth parted in ecstasy as she held up her hand and began to laugh and laugh and laugh. “Oh, this feels good, this feels so good!” she shrieked.

  No. A part of Ramson was numb with disbelief that the worst they had imagined had happened.

  Kerlan was on his feet now, the smug triumph wiped clean from his face. “What have you done?” he hissed.

  In response, Sorsha only smiled at him and raised her bloodied blade to her face. Lovingly, she ran her tongue down the length of it.

  Kerlan’s expression was tight in a way that Ramson had learned to recognize meant the utmost displeasure for his old master. He looked around him, aware of all the courtiers watching them, and reined in his anger. He held out a hand. “Come here, Sorsha.”

  Sorsha sneered at him. “I don’t think I will.”

  Kerlan’s face darkened. “If you don’t—”

  “You’re going to what? Kill off the only successful siphon bearer in the world? The one your empress needs? I’d like to see you try.” Sorsha cackled as she began to pace to the center of the hall, casually swinging her blade. Her iron spikes had shifted into flat discs, the edges sharp enough to slice. They orbited her like small gray stars. “You see, this is the problem with men. They’re shortsighted and vain and will let their egos get in the way of strategy.” She stopped and faced Kerlan, her expression turning ugly. “This is why I don’t work for you. I work for your empress.”

  Ramson’s mind was hurtling forward. Sorsha had complicated the situation with her series of betrayals, but in the chaos she’d sown, perhaps there was an opening for him. Across Godhallem, with the absence of Nita, courtiers had shifted to huddle behind the seats at the very edges of the court, clearing a space in the middle.

  “Enough.” Kerlan’s features were twisted in a way that made Ramson think of the worst bouts of fury his old master had ever thrown. He watched Kerlan signal at the rest of his men, who had remained behind the dais all this time. “Bring the bearer to me,” he snarled. “I want her alive. And I want the siphon!”

  “I think not,” came a new voice, and the entire hall turned to the double doors at the entryway.

  Kaïs stepped inside, cutting a massive shape against the night as he drew his swords. Rain slicked his hair, running rivers down his skin. By his side, like a shadow to his flame, stood Linn, daggers drawn. And, behind them, a slew of figures emerged from the rain. They held a much more diverse array of looks than Bregonians, skin tones ranging from pale to fawn and hair from white-gold to ochre. Several held up their hands, and various elements swirled over their upturned palms: water, fire, stone, marble, steel.

  Were these the Cyrilian Affinites whom Kerlan had trafficked into Bregon? Hope flickered in Ramson’s chest, and for the first time that night, he thought he could feel the tides of the battle turning.

  At the dais, a shadow of doubt crossed Alaric Kerlan’s face. It vanished quickly, contorting into fury. He motioned to his forces, then pointed at the new arrivals. “Attack!” he shouted.

  Commotion exploded in the hall as a swirl of wind, water, sand, and fire met in the middle of Godhallem, shaking the very foundation of the hall. Overhead, the bells hummed with urgency; sections of searock debris rained down from the ceiling.

  Ramson hauled himself to his feet. On either side of him, courtiers had begun fleeing, clearing a path along the walls.

  He found his gaze drawn, inevitably, to the spot beneath the brass lever of the War Bells.

  Ana’s lifeless form lay crumpled on the floor. From here, beneath the roaring sigil of the Earth Court, she looked so small, so helpless. There was nothing Ramson wanted more at that moment than to go to her, to pick her up in his arms and get her out of here.

  And yet…

  He cast his gaze about the hall, searching. It was only when he heard a sharp scream of laughter that he found her.

  Sorsha had leapt into the fray of battle, iron and fire whirring in rings around her. She cackled as she shot fire at the sand Affinite, wheeling through her different Affinities to try on him. His half sister wasn’t even fighting for any one side; she was merely enjoying being able to wield her powers in her newfound freedom.

  Perhaps, then, she would enjoy a game.

  Ramson picked up a discarded sword on the floor. “Sorsha,” he called.

  Sorsha paused in the midst of torturing the sand Affinite and looked at Ramson. Her gaze widened. She dropped her quarry and began to stalk toward him.

  “Brother Dearest,” she crooned, spreading her hands.

  “I’ll play a game with you,” Ramson said, and tossed the sword across the floor. It skidded toward her and stopped at her feet. “You injured one of my arms. See if you can get the other one.” It sickened him to say those words, to think of what might happen if she won. But he had nothing more to lose. “And,” he added as a smile began to bloom across his half sister’s face, “no Affinities. We settle this the old-fashioned way.”

  Sorsha’s lips parted with glee. “I never say no to a good game,” she said, bending down to pick up the spare sword. “I’m going to savor this, Brother Dearest. I’m going to chop you into so many little pieces that there won’t be anything left of you!”

  With that, she launched herself at him.

  Ramson palmed his own weapon with his good hand, tucking his injured arm to his side. He clung to the folds of his shirt, rooted himself in his center of gravity, and watched his half sister charge toward him, counting her rapid-fire steps. Fourteen-twelve-ten-eight…

  When she lifted her sword to strike, he dropped his, and sprang at her.

  The motion must have caught her off guard, for within that split second as he reached for her, he saw confusion twist her features. That was all he needed.

  With his good arm, he unhooked the blackstone collar from his belt and snapped it around her neck.

  Click. The sound seemed to reverberate across space, across time. Sorsha’s face was frozen in surprise. Her sword struck the floor.

  Ramson landed several feet away. Pain exploded in his injured shoulder as he used it to break his fall, tucking and rolling. He skidded to a stop against the foot of the dais.

  Even amid the chaos, he could hear his half sister’s shrie
ks filling the hall. She tore at her collar, leaving bloody gashes in her neck. Looking at her like this, Ramson almost felt sorry for her. But the blackstone did not budge.

  She turned to him then, her features twisted beyond recognition, teeth bared like a wild animal. “You!” she howled, snatching her sword. “I’ll kill you!”

  He didn’t have time to react. His sword was a dozen feet away, where he’d dropped it. As Sorsha charged at him, spittle foaming at her mouth, her face red with fury, Ramson prepared himself for the inevitable.

  And then came a stir of wind, and it felt as though a shadow had slipped before him.

  Linn brought up her blades and met Sorsha’s sword head-on. The sound of metal on metal reverberated through the hall.

  “Go,” Linn gasped. “Get Ana!”

  Ramson didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and made directly for the emblem of the Earth Court. Godhallem had emptied now. The ones remaining were Kerlan’s forces, and Linn and Kaïs and the Affinites they had rescued. Bodies littered the hall, blood and ice and other elements of battle smeared against the floor, but Ramson barely saw any of that.

  He fell to his knees before the girl lying against the wall of the Earth Court. “Ana. Ana.” Her name dropped from his lips like a prayer as he gathered her against his chest. Her normally fawn skin was ashen, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. Her lips were almost gray, as though someone had leached all the life and color from her. She was cold, too cold. “Ana, please.” His voice broke.

  Love made me weak, his father hissed in his mind. Love made me a fool.

  Ramson held Ana’s limp form in his arms, and as he buried his face in her shoulder, he understood the true meaning behind his father’s words.

  Love destroys us.

  It felt as though she were fighting her way out of a darkness that kept pulling her down, like the churning waters of a river: cold, biting, and heavy. In that maelstrom, though, a single voice cut through, as though from very far away. Calling her name.

  Ana tethered what she could of her consciousness to that voice, and fought to find it.

  Gradually, she began to hear sounds: shouts, the clang of swords, a rushing and roaring sound that filled the space around her. Feeling spread back into her limbs, the sensation of the world moving around her, of warmth enveloping her.

  Ana’s eyes fluttered open. All around, the world was seeping back in a confusing blur of colors and commotion, but here, for some inexplicable reason, she felt safe. Someone held her tight.

  “Ramson?” Her voice was a rasp.

  He looked at her, his eyes clouded with grief, which then shifted to disbelief, and wonder. In the flickering lamplight of Godhallem, the flashes of fire and the light of battle, he looked as though he had aged years, the skin pale and drawn around his face, cuts and scratches on his cheeks and forehead.

  For the first time, she realized that she was seeing him clearly, smelling the sharp scent of swordmetal and fire and sweat on his skin, taking in the way his hazel eyes were flecked with bits of dark brown, the cleft to his chin. It felt as though her world had stilled, emptied of something else, bringing her other senses into sharp focus.

  It took her a moment to realize what it was she was missing.

  “My Affinity,” Ana whispered. “It’s gone.”

  There was an emptiness to her where it had once resided: a chasm so vast, an ache so deep, she thought it would be akin to drowning. Ana gasped, gulping in heaving breaths. Tears burned her eyes as she clawed her hands in front of her, searching for anything to cling to.

  Fingers twined around hers; a firm grip trapped her hand. The panic ebbed slightly, and her vision focused.

  Ramson was still bent over her. Her nails had raked four long scratches across his neck; beads of blood pooled, but he seemed not to notice. His eyes were heat and pain, searing into hers as he held her. “It’s all right,” he said, gently shifting her into a sitting position. He pressed her fingers to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “You can rest now. The Navy is on its way—thanks to you.”

  She followed his gaze, taking in the scene in Godhallem. It was nearly empty. There were bodies strewn all around in pools of blood. Kerlan had retreated to the back of his dais, hiding behind the throne. He was utterly alone, and the lack of his men around him made him look defenseless, naked.

  A few people were scattered across the hall, panting, nursing various injuries. They wore ragged gray smocks, and they looked…

  “Affinites,” Ramson said, following her gaze. “Linn and Kaïs rescued them from the dungeons.”

  Ana found Kaïs, bearing down upon the last of Kerlan’s men. And then there was Linn, moving so fast she was a blur of shadow, sparring with Sorsha.

  Sorsha looked unhinged. Her eyes were so wide that they seemed to bulge from her cheeks; her face was splattered in the blood of the people she had murdered.

  Linn lunged. Her blade sliced through the air in an arc, and at first, it appeared as though she had missed. But then she darted back, revealing a long gash across Sorsha’s abdomen.

  Sorsha whirled around and screamed. “You pathetic little bitch!” she shrieked, and lashed out.

  Linn stumbled back, but Ana caught the flash of pain across her face. She dropped to her knees, pressing a hand to her breast. Her fingers grew crimson, and blood began to drip down her wrist.

  Sorsha’s eyes found Ana from across the hall. “Choose now, Blood Bitch!” she screeched, triumph twisting her face as she staggered to the edge of Godhallem, clinging to the wall that held the Blue Fort over hundreds of feet of cliffs. The wind whipped at her hair. “Stop me, or save your friend?”

  Linn’s lips had turned pale; a small red puddle had formed on the floor in front of her. She collapsed to the floor as her strength gave way. She was going to bleed to death.

  And there was nothing Ana could do about it. “Sorsha,” she croaked, climbing to her feet with Ramson’s help. “Don’t do this. We choose our paths in life.”

  Sorsha’s face was cracked in a leer. Her teeth were bared, froth dripping down her chin. “You fool,” she hissed. “We could have been great together. Together, we might have wreaked chaos upon those who imprisoned us, who abused us.”

  There was so much hate, so much anger burning in Sorsha’s face as she snarled at them. But Ana saw something else. A half girl, half monster.

  I’d like to think we’re not so different after all, you and I.

  Was this how she had once looked to the world? Was this what she might have become without Luka and May and Yuri? All Sorsha had needed was for someone to reach out a hand. To tell her that she was wanted, that she was human.

  Ana reached out a hand. She glanced to Sorsha’s wrist, where the siphon gleamed against the night, and to her belt, where the second one rested. “It isn’t too late. You can choose to be good.”

  Sorsha looked at her and blinked. For a moment, Ana dared to hope that her words had gotten through to the girl, that she had caught her at the brink of the abyss, before the fall.

  But then Sorsha’s lips curled into a vicious grin. “This is just the beginning, Blood Bitch,” she shouted, two daggers appearing in her hands. “The next time we meet, the world will fall at my feet.”

  And, with a tip of her head, she somersaulted off the edge of the cliff.

  By Ana’s side, Ramson gave a shout. Something else at the back of Godhallem had caught his attention.

  While they had been focused on Sorsha, Kerlan had crept from the dais to where Linn lay, strugglng to stay conscious. In his hands was a piece of searock that had fractured from the floor. Before Ana could even cry out a warning, Kerlan raised the rock over his head and brought it down on Linn’s arm.

  The crack echoed, followed by Linn’s scream.

  Ana shouted; she heard Kaïs roar in fury and charge for
ward.

  But Kerlan moved fast. In the space of two breaths, he had hauled Linn across the floor until she was balancing precariously at the edge of the drop to the cliffs below.

  Panting, he looked up. A slow, crazed smile spread across his face as he met Ana’s eyes.

  “Nobody move,” Kerlan said softly, his voice echoing over the dead silence of the hall, “or she dies.”

  The pain in her arm was like fire. Spots bloomed before her eyes, and her mind was clouding over, fighting to stay conscious. Even the bells had fallen silent.

  Dimly, she felt herself being hauled along the floor, her legs dragging limply behind her. Her wound continued to bleed, her arm trailing uselessly by her side, bent at an oddly distorted angle. Each small movement, each tiny shift of gravity was excruciating.

  She was only aware that she had reached Godhallem’s edge when she felt the cold brush of winds against her skin. They swirled against her face, snatching at her hair and burning her cheeks, as though to whisper: wake up, wake up.

  Someone was shouting her name. Linn.

  She knew that voice, knew its owner. His fate had been tangled with hers since they’d met atop the walls of the Salskoff Palace.

  Linn met Kaïs’s eyes, and the grief in his expression struck her, hard. He lifted his gaze to Kerlan, his face morphing into cold fury.

  She looked down. The searock floor of Godhallem ended where she lay; beneath her was a chasm of darkness, the sound of the ocean rushing up in whorls of cold, salt-tanged air. One wrong move, and she would plunge into the depths below.

  “Release her.” Someone else had spoken, the words a feral growl. Linn searched along the hall until she found the speaker. Ana. A faint sense of relief calmed Linn. Ana was all right. She was alive. She had pushed herself to her feet, Ramson supporting her, her forehead slick with sweat. “Release her, or I’ll…I’ll—”

  Kerlan’s smile looked more like a mad grimace. “Or you’ll what?” he crooned, then turned to the remaining Affinites in the hall, scattered throughout. “If anyone tries to hurt me, I will fling her off. All it will take is a little, tiny…tip,” he said, and held up her broken arm. Pain seared across Linn’s awareness again. “A broken warrior…why, she’ll hit the rocks below like a ton of bricks.”