Page 25 of The Cruel Dawn
One of the Sisters of the Dusky Hills screams as she runs toward the open desert, two Gorga bandits chasing her.
I shout, “No!” and run after them.
One of the attackers catches up and rips away the young woman’s robe.
His partner looks back over his shoulder and whirls around to roar at me, “You Mera bitch.”
I thrust out my hand and throw fire in his face.
The Sister screams again as her attacker throws her to the ground and wraps his hands around her neck.
I catch a glimpse of big brown eyes, hair the color of wheat and sunflowers… I know this woman!
Ancress Mily Tisen had been my attendant. Though her smooth, unwrinkled skin reveals her true age of twenty seasons, those brown eyes and husky voice belonged to a wiser, older woman who’d seen too much. Just two springs ago, and new to the order, she followed me around with paper and pen, recording all that I’d done and said. I’d started teaching her the Mera language, throwing in a couple of swear words in Mera and Yeaden. She’d prophesied a Gasho without light and a canal that ran rivers of blood instead of water. Her dream had come true: the light of Gasho—me—left the city shortly after her prediction and hadn’t returned until yesterday’s slaughter.
The Gorga bandit tightens his grip around her neck.
The blue glow that I’d blessed her and the rest of the city-folk with just a day ago drips back into amber. She’s dying.
I scream, “Stop!” and hurl a blast of wind at the bandit to push him off of her.
But he’s strong and scrambles back on top of her.
If I use my full wind and fire, I’ll hurt Ancress Tisen.
I grit my teeth and pull Justice from my back scabbard. I push that silvery-blue blade through the Gorga’s neck, expecting resistance, but it slides smoothly past scales and bone. Thick brown blood splashes across Mily’s face and the Gorga’s life-light blinks black. I kick the dead bandit off of the young woman and pull her into my arms.
She’s shivering with fear, but her breath steadies the longer I hold her.
A few times, I try to pull away from her, but she tightens her grip and whispers, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Don’t go—”
I whisper, “Okay,” into her curls, knowing that I must go—other travelers are under attack. Mily’s tears keep me there, and I don’t know what to do.
“Kai!” Zephar shouts from the riot. His voice snaps me out of my inaction.
I shout, “On my way,” to him, and to her, I say, “I won’t leave here without you, but I have to help the others.”
She releases me and weeps into her hands. Her eyes widen as she sees that another Gorga has spotted her, no longer in my arms.
He’s far enough away that I can tear him apart with fire. Then, in a fit of rage, I hurl fireballs at every Gorga that I see until finally, no bandits remain.
Ancress Tisen runs over to me and throws herself in my arms again.
I whisper, “You’re okay,” as my gaze roams the ruins.
Zephar frowns and holds out his arms. “Thisis what I’m talking about.Thisis why we need to go to Shelezadd.”
“Why weren’t there protective wards?” I shout back. “This wouldn’t have happened if wards were placed—”
He turns away from me and grumbles as he finds Prince Idus beneath the bodies of two guards who’d sacrificed themselves to keep him alive.
Prince Idus, bloody but breathing, bows to Zephar. He’s a tall, handsome man with golden skin, thick black hair, and a well-oiled and groomed beard and moustache. Even in its current state his loose brown tunic, made of the best cotton on Vallendor, looks splendid on him.
Zephar finds his simple crown of rose gold in the dirt and sets it on the prince’s head.
Prince Idus thanks him and freezes once he spots me. His lips start to curl into a sneer until he catches himself and forces a smile onto his face. “Lady.” Anger still bubbles in his eyes before wisdom tamps down the heat of his resentment.
…
