All the Stars and Teeth(97)

I drive Rukan forward with everything in me.

There’s a scream. This time, it’s not my own.

As the shadows of the curse fade, a world that smells of smoke and iron takes its place. My fingers twist around Rukan’s woven hilt, and I rip my weapon from Kaven’s stomach.

My shoulder’s numb, hot with my own blood from where Kaven cut me. High on adrenaline, the pain hasn’t fully set in.

Kaven clutches his stomach as blood soaks through his shirt. “How?” is all he can ask.

“You’re not as strong as you think.” My body trembles as I slide the edge of my blade over Ferrick’s severed arm, coating it with Kaven’s blood. Then I feed it to the fire as the smoke rises, shrouding us.

Kaven digs his hands deep into the bramble and screams. Blood leaks from an invisible line on his skin as it begins to tear around the elbow. The skin beneath it bubbles up, sizzling to match what’s happening with Ferrick’s in the flames.

His arm begins to melt away from him, bones and all, and the leather bracelets on his wrist burn with it.

Somewhere behind me, I hear Bastian’s quiet gasp as the bloodied bracelets burn, but I don’t stop. I strike, fully intent on delivering the final blow, when something slices through the air beside me.

I whirl with just enough time to avoid the blow of an Aridian soldier, and his sword clatters into the earth. Behind him, at least five others are approaching, their weapons raised.

There are too many of them for us to win. And not just them, but Kaven, too. Though injured, he still fights.

There’s something in his hand I can’t quite see, and with a dawning horror, I watch as he slides it over his blade.

His blade that drips with my blood.

My insides twist as his curse on me takes hold. My body singes like a fresh wound doused with alcohol, every breath full of fire.

I go to lunge for the dagger in Kaven’s hand, to stop him, but Bastian grabs hold of my wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. His eyes flash sharp and silver as he pulls me into him. “It’s too late. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t let them leave!” Kaven’s yell sounds like an echo somewhere in the distance. I clutch my chest as a vicious cold blossoms within me, hazing my vision.

Bastian grabs hold of my hand and forces me to run. White-hot pain shoots through my arm, nearly bringing me to the ground. Ferrick bounces on his feet behind Vataea, who uses her makeshift torch to ignite the bramble beneath us. Several soldiers stumble back as the flames roar to life, quickly moving to find a different path. But a few of the Kers manage to speed themselves up in time to make it through the flames.

A man in amethyst lunges for us, movements so fast they blur. He slams his blade into Ferrick’s shoulder, and the healer falls back with a grunt. The man arcs his weapon in preparation for another attack, but something sharp and silver gleams from the trees and hits him square in the eyes before he can manage to swing. The man falls back, and my head whirls.

Casem pants, a bow in his shaking hands. I stare at him and his lip quivers, face dripping with sweat.

“Amora,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry. I only wanted to find you. I thought this was … I mean, my father insisted I come, but I had no idea that … By the gods, I’m so sorry, I—”

“There’s no time!” Ferrick grabs Casem by the collar of his blazer, his shoulder already knitting itself back together. He pushes him toward us, and Casem stumbles, trying to keep up.

“Talk later,” Bastian says, “run now.”

I can barely follow that command. Bastian’s the only reason I’m still standing, bearing the majority of my weight as he hauls me through the forest. Every step jars my shoulder, causing the pain to build into something so exponential I can no longer tolerate it. My vision blurs and I try to decipher what’s happening around us; all I’m able to make out is a hundred distorted colors, and blurred outlines. There’s screaming, and I think it’s Vataea who whirls around with a snarl.

At some point my vision fades entirely. I’ve no idea how much time has passed before I see Vataea again. This time, she’s covered in blood and our surrounding landscape has shifted. Footsteps are harder.

Sand.

More blood. How long have we been running?

I think I fall at some point because I taste sand and salt, but I’m lost to whatever’s happening inside my body. My gaze flickers between real life to blinding white, and when I try to summon my legs, I can’t even feel that they’re there. They buckle as someone continues to haul me forward, dragging my limp body through the sand.

“Vataea!” I don’t know who yells her name. “Now would be a really great time to show off more of that sea magic of yours!”

I hear the quiet snap of a bow. Wet sand sloshes around my boots, but I don’t see or feel it as much as I hear it. It mixes with the garbled sounds of voices and clanking steel as everyone fights. Everyone except for me.

But my eyes won’t focus enough for me to be able to help. My body’s hot and paralyzed, dead weight to whoever carries me.

It’s not Vataea. I catch her face in a passing blur; she’s bleeding from the nose as she raises the tides over her head, chanting a vicious song. It looks like the ocean stretches around us, the water parting. But I can’t focus. I can’t watch. All I see are flashes of blood. Sand. A wall of dead fish around us.