Page 42 of Echoes of Fire

My body moved before my mind caught up—rock-climbing reflexes twisting me sideways, fingers scrabbling for purchase on a vendor’s stall draped in gorgeous silk. The fabric wrinkled under my grip as I swung around the support beam, sending a cascade of tapestries crashing onto the warrior’s head. He roared, temporarily blinded by embroidered chaos.

Sweat stung my eyes as I bolted through the gap between stalls. My boots skidded on spilled spice grains, the air thickening with the reek of singed feathers from a nearby poultry cart. A child’s discarded toy nearly sent me to my knees, and I stumbled, the second warrior’s claws slicing empty air where my throat had been.

“Run, little leech!” someone jeered, met with jagged laughter.

I vaulted over a crate of melons, their skins bursting under my palms. Sticky juice coated my hands as I hurled a shattered fruit at my pursuer. It exploded against his chest in a sweet spray, buying me two ragged breaths.

The third warrior materialized from the crowd’s periphery, net already whirling above his head. I feinted left, then dove right toward a butcher’s stall?—

Too slow.

A weighted net slammed into my back like a meteor strike. Obsidian shards seared through my shirt, etching lines of fire across my shoulder blades. I hit the ground chin-first, teeth clacking together with the taste of copper. The fibers constricted with almost sentient malice, tightening with every thrash.

“Rath will flay you alive!” I snarled. My knee connected with something soft—a gratifying yelp—before four sets of claws pinned me.

“Your fire-heart’s not here,” the leader hissed, his breath reeking like fermented lava beetles. He pressed a talon against my windpipe, not quite breaking skin. “Scream again, and I’ll gift him your vocal cords in a festival box.”

A sack descended—coarse fibers soaked in Volcaryth moss extract. The world dissolved into chemical burn and muffled chaos as they dragged me across sharp gravel. I focused on the pain, mapping turns by the way shards bit into my hipbones. Left at the heated belch of bathhouse vents.

Silent tears cut through the grime on my face. Not from fear.

From fury.

“Don’t worry, human,” the leader purred, hauling me over his shoulder. “You’ll see your mate soon.”

Liar.

They dragged me through the city, but with the bag over my head, I had no idea where we were going. Deeper, I thought. I couldn’t hear the river, and it was almost overwhelmingly hot.

We finally came to a stop, and I heard the groan of metal before the Drakarn carrying me dumped me unceremoniously on my ass.

The cell door clanged shut with finality, its echo swallowed by walls weeping condensation. I pressed palms to rough volcanic stone, mapping fissures through grit-coated fingertips.

I ripped the bag off my head and took it all in.

Three paces long. Two wide. Ceiling low enough to graze my scalp if I stood straight.

Luminescent fungi smeared the walls in sickly green streaks, their light just enough to reveal the room’s cruel geometry. I crouched, cheek pressed to the floor’s single air vent. Sulfur and something floral tinged the stale draft.

I tested the bars, the walls, everything, hoping for some sort of weakness. I yelled for help until I was hoarse and then started again once I’d had time to recover. Hours could have passed; I had no way of knowing.

I yelled again.

“Should’ve gagged her properly,” a guard growled beyond the door, his Drakarn consonants sharp as flint. It was too dim in the cell to get a good look at them.

His companion snorted. “Let the leech wheeze. Karyseth wants the human intact, not comfortable.”

My nails bit into palms.Karyseth.That damned priestess who wanted me dead. This wasn’t random hostility—this was politics. And revenge.

Footsteps approached. I scrambled upright, back flattening against the warmest wall—the one vibrating with geothermal currents. One of the guards came into view.

“Still breathing?” The guard’s slitted eye glinted with malicious delight. “Pity.”

I lunged, slamming my shoulder against reinforced metal. The impact shuddered through my bones. “Tell your coward leader to face me herself!”

Laughter rattled the door. “You’re feisty for prey. We’ll see if you?—”

The insult dissolved into wet choking. Someone new spoke—a voice like smoldering silk. “Run along, pups. The grownups need to chat.”

---