Page 25 of The Cursed and the Broken
I sat there staring at her limp body, the blood pooling from her fatal wound. Chaos unfurled behind me, Erika gliding over the clearing with finesse, her sword a blur of steel. Black-robed bodies dotted the clearing, and blood … so much scarlet on green blades of grass.
All I could think about was the blood on my hands, the death I’d wrought today. My fingers shook as I breathed deep, smelling copper in the air, tasting metal on my tongue. Moans sounded around me. The gargles and cries of the dying soon silenced once Erika drove her blade home for the last time.
Only one remained. A thin man buried in drapes of sable threads, eyes of the same inky hue, lips pulled back in a sneer. He struggled beneath Erika’s unwavering grip, thrashing like a madman as she tied his hands with a strip of torn cloth. The sight of him churned my stomach, disgust settling like a stone in the pit of my soul.
“If you don’t sit still, I’ll slit your throat and throw you to the wolves,” Erika growled, shoving him to his knees. She spared me a glance, eyes crinkling with worry as they lingered on my wound. “Are you okay?”
Adrenaline still coursed through me, numbing the pain, but as I looked at the crimson staining my brown leggings black, I grimaced at the fresh wave firing up my thigh. “I’ll be fine.” I jerked my head at our captive. “What’s to become of him?”
A guttural sound came from his throat, but she merely kicked him in the sniffer, crunching cartilage and bone. Blood streamed from his broken nose. “That depends on whether or not this filthy bloodborne is going to share.”
At my puzzled frown, she gestured at the man’s robes, the star painted on his palm. “It’s what we call the cultists devoted to Sylvie. We no longer recognise them as witches or warlocks. They turned their backs on our faith long ago, dishonouring our magic and birth right. Our purity.”
Rising from my position, I towered over the man as he leered at me, his gaze lingering a little too long. Shoving the hood back from his head, I studied him closely. Long black hair hung limply to his shoulders, making his pale skin seem even ghostlier in contrast. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the dilation of his pupils, the sweat beading his temple and the blood thumping impossibly fast in his veins.
“They’ve taken some kind of potion,” I informed Erika, chewing on my lip. “It might explain their strength and speed, but gods only know what kind of drug could heighten such things.”
Erika’s face blanched. “I think I might. There’s a fungus deep within the Sötét Erdo that thrives in darkness. It’s said to give users a rush—to amplify their senses. When combined with blood, they can distil it into a potion that enhances one’s strength, their speed, their agility. It’s called bloodmorphia.”
“Distilled with—with blood?”
She nodded gravely. “A practice invented by the bitch queen herself.”
I shivered. “You’re saying these leeches are drinking us, too? Sucking us dry like fucking vampires? Witch’s tits, that’s insane.” I glanced at the man before me, toeing him with my boot. “Is there anything you maniacs don’t do?”
He said nothing and somehow the silence was more unnerving. Anger boiled inside me, bubbling to the fore. That dark power rose within, almost stifling in its need to be free, but I clamped down on that feeling, lest I lose myself … and our only lead.
“Speak, wretch,” Erika hissed, slapping the man hard across the face. “Why are you taking girls from our village? Where is the cult hiding?” His silence was deafening in the stillness and I watched, holding my breath as my tutor leaned in, her blade pressed to his gut. Anger blazed in her brown eyes, her lips set in fury. Hers was the face of a warrior now. An executioner who knew no mercy. “Tell me where you’re hiding. What spells you’re using to drain our girls.”
A muffled moan escaped his lips as she drew him close, her blade sliding home. Still, he said nothing. I might have admired his determination had so much not been at stake, but nausea filled me instead, my head still faint from air loss earlier.
Blood gushed from his wound as Erika pulled her sword loose and he doubled over in pain, head bowed before her. Erika’s nostrils flared in irritation, her fingers tightening on the sword hilt. And to my surprise, the bastard started laughing. A mocking, cruel sound that seemed muffled.Wrong.
Pulling one of my daggers from a cultist’s chest, I stalked back to the man and glowered down at him, reaching in with my blade. Hesitating, I glanced at Erika, who nodded once. She positioned her sword over the man’s privates. “Move an inch, and your Dark Queen will find herself a eunuch in her army.”
That earned a reproachful glare, but the man stayed still as I parted his lips with the flat of my blade. He clamped his teeth shut. “Open your damn mouth,” I barked and, with a broad grin, he slowly opened his jaw.
I flinched at the open cavity before me. He was tongueless, nothing but blood and pink gums riddled with veins. The man only laughed with that strange sound, not a laugh at all, but a strangled cry of victory.
We were right where we started. Nothing to go on, no information to glean, only the knowledge the cultists were growing bolder and our village was very unsafe. I paced away from the fanatic before me, raking fingernails through my hair and pulling until it hurt. “What now?” I asked helplessly.
Erika lunged, cleaving her blade through the air so fast I could barely blink before the cultist’s head toppled from his body, silencing that mocking tone forever. She wiped her blade clean on her tunic, sheathing the sword before turning to me. “There could be others circling the village. We need to get back and inform the patrols. I’ll report to the elders.”
I grabbed my daggers from their fleshy cages before looking her square in the eyes. “And me?”
She sighed. “Go home, Kitarni. Rest, hug your loved ones. Pray these fanatics do not bother us again tonight.”
I gave her a weak smile. “Mama might put up more of a fight than this lot. She’ll be furious upon seeing me in this state.”
Erika stalked towards me, placing a warm and sturdy hand on my shoulder. “The time for punishments and stern words is over. Her cub became a wolf, a girl no longer. You’ve shed blood now, Kitarni. It won’t be the last time.”
We hurried home and I mulled over her words, knowing the truth in them. We were four feet in shite. The time for silence was over. The cultists had made their move, which meant the head of the snake was rearing, venom spreading fast.
As we parted ways on the village boundary and Erika threw me a quick wave before dashing off to her duties, I could think only of the words that cultist had said before I killed her. The conviction in them would stay with me. A haunted lullaby to sing me to sleep.
She will rise.
TEN
