All the Stars and Teeth(85)
The other four watch, stunned. I take her dropped bone dagger and clean it on my pants. This isn’t how I wanted it, but the faces of the Zudians from earlier sit at the forefront of my mind. I made a promise to protect them, and I intend to deliver.
One of the younger boys runs to my victim and falls to his knees. His body caves in, as though his entire spirit has been knocked from him. Blood covers his tan hands as he presses them to her chest, trying to stop the bleeding.
I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but they’ve made it clear they’ll never be on our side. I shove down my sympathy; if defeating them brings me one step closer to restoring balance in Visidia, then they’ve brought on a fight I’ve no intention of losing.
He slams his hands against her, shaking. But it’s pointless; she’s already dead.
“Amora,” Bastian growls under his breath, trying to back away. “We need to leave.”
Impossible. The other two boys and remaining woman ready their blades and charge.
With a weapon in each of my hands and their death in my satchel, I’m ready.
I strike out with Rukan again, finding resistance at the tip of my dagger as it snags and catches on skin. A male voice cries out, gruff and angry. He stumbles in my periphery, clutching his arm. I should focus on the others, yet I’m stuck staring as tiny blue lines crisscross and weave their way across the man’s skin.
The poison’s working.
Years of fencing are serving Ferrick well as he lifts his rapier to parry the incoming blow. Though his opponent’s sword is heavier and more threatening, Ferrick is at an advantage with his speed. He yanks his rapier back and jabs the blade hard into his opponent’s chest. The man falls back, clutching at the blood soiling his shirt. It’s not a deadly wound, but it’s enough to sting.
My own opponent is all lines and angles, sharp with rage. His sword hand quivers as his other bleeds onto the dirt. He doesn’t know any better. My magic practically screams to be used, and I won’t ignore it or tamp it down any longer. One drop of that gushing blood is all I need.
The coals in the nearby fire pit are cooling, but hopefully still hot enough to burn.
I surprise my opponent as I drop to a quick crouch and sweep the bone dagger across his growing pool of blood. His movements are slow and off balance; if he wants to survive, he needs to hurry and wrap his arm. Yet, he doesn’t move. His eyes dip to the bone blade, then to the ground where the dead girl it belonged to lies. He lunges at me with a snarl.
I smack hard against the ground. My shoulder digs into a jagged rock and sharp pain seizes me. I hate that I scream, but the pain takes me by surprise.
“Amora! Get up!” Vataea yells, then gasps. Her opponent strikes her across the cheek with the hilt of her weapon. Vataea doesn’t cry out, but snarls. I’m pinned on the ground beneath this man, but she can’t help me. No one can.
“You killed her!” The man’s breath is sour and he reeks of blood. His skin grows more ashen by the second. While he struggles to sit up and keep his eyes open, his grip no longer wavers on his dagger. He lifts it over his head and points its tip to my chest.
He’s twice my size and too heavy to knock down, but losing isn’t an option.
It’s him or me, and I refuse to die on this island.
I jerk my hips up with all the power I have, trying to throw him even more off balance. He tilts to the left and I use the momentum to reach forward and stab both my blades into his thighs.
He doesn’t scream. Instead, he chokes on a sob and the sound flusters me. The blade falls from his hands as I claw my way to a stand.
My magic flutters and festers as the sound of his pain sears itself into my memories. It’ll be there later, I’m sure, waiting for me when I close my eyes tonight. But if there’s one thing I learned from my performance in Arida, it’s that I can’t allow myself to be distracted while using my magic.
The poison and blood loss have rendered my attacker useless, and Ferrick, Bastian, and Vataea are holding the others back. I sprint to Bastian first. His shoulder and chest are cut, but neither wound is deep. He presses something into my palm as I pass—it’s nearly an entire handful of hair. I make a fist around it, welcoming the magic that thrums to life, warming me.
The man Bastian’s fighting watches me cautiously as I make my way to the fire pit. Bastian uses his distraction to knock him to the ground and throw himself on top.
“Last chance to save yourself. Where’s Kaven?” Bastian presses the tip of his blade against the boy’s thick neck.
He spits a wad of blood to the side. “You really think that will scare me?”
Bastian presses his blade deeper. “Probably not, but she should.” He points to me. I stand several feet away, at the edge of the fire pit.
The thick-necked man stares at me, then at the hair in my hands. Realization widens his eyes. “It can’t be. There’s no way.”
“Oh, there’s a way.” I open my satchel and draw several teeth from inside. I wrap the hair around it, and then hold the bundle directly over the still-hot coals. Sweat beads over the boy’s brows.
The others have slowed, probably wanting to figure out what this boy’s outburst is about.
Ferrick seizes the opportunity and stabs his rapier into his opponent’s leg, knocking him to the ground while Vataea rushes the girl and wraps her hands around her opponent’s dark hair. She brings the dagger down, chopping half the hair from one side. Quickly, Vataea draws back toward me and offers it with a wicked sneer. I take the hair, but I won’t use it yet.