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“Get the fucking blade out!” Ajali roared.
Acheron’s face swam in her vision. “Brace for the pain,” he said in his broken voice. “Gavyn, hold her down.”
“Should we remove it and unplug the wound, the blood loss would seal her fate,” Gavyn warned.
Ajali cradled her head in his palm, and his other hand gripping hers in a tight hold. “Get it out, Acheron. It has a serrated blade. The edges are still ripping at her insides.”
“She jumped from the bushes straight into the path of the blade meant for your back. Why would she do that if she is the enemy?” Acheron asked quietly, probing at her wound.
They knew she was the enemy. She shifted, intending to disappear in the darkness. But the pain that knifed through her stomach had her heaving.
“It makes no sense. When she disappeared, I thought she hid, allowing the people she worked with, to kill you without hurting her.”
“Remember she is untrained in taijiu, Acheron. It seemed she hid to protect herself. But the minute she saw the death blow aimed at you, Ajali, she intercepted it from her hiding space. I am not sure if she did a brave or stupid thing, because death is coming to claim her,” Gavyn whispered as if loud voices would inflict more pain on her.
“Aye, Gavyn, that it is. Her breathing is too shallow, her skin cold and clammy from the blood loss,” Acheron replied.
Ajali’s tone was cold and vicious. “She will not die. Do all in your power to save her, Acheron, and I will be in your debt.”
An eerie cry filled the clearing.
“Here comes Kezriel. Let’s go!”
Chapter Ten
I am flying.
T
ehdra wavered in and out of consciousness. She felt the rhythm of Kezriel as he rushed on the wind. Nausea roiled as agony lanced her, robbing her of breath. The pain inside her stomach was ice cold with sharp stabbing fire at the core of the damage, creating an unrelenting cramping. Death hovered; its insidious creep skulked through her. Strong arms held her, and the scent of Ajali teased her nostrils and brought a sense of contentment in the midst of such harsh distress. A sharp bank of the creature dragged a weak moan from her. Gradual darkness slinked in and took her mind under, allowing her body to unwillingly savor every bite of chilling agony. She was unaware of the raw, ragged moans she uttered before the darkness of oblivion claimed her.
***
Acheron flew beside his king with speed to Adara. The hari Tehdra could die in the minutes it took to reach the city of light. It made no sense for Ajali to stop at any other villages to seek the aid of their healers. He would want access to the healing elixir he had stored away. She would be restored to perfect health instantly; it could not recover her from death.
Acheron kept his senses opened, on alert for any attack. His friend and king had almost been taken and could have been killed, if not for the courage of a mere slip of a girl. One he had intended to torture a few hours from now, for they all knew she lied. She was not from Aria, or if she was, she was someone’s well-kept secret.
Kezriel banked, straightened his wings and shot through the sky. The moan that came from her throat caused his gut to tighten in regret. Lines of pain bracketed her mouth, creating deep grooves. Her already pale skin appeared even paler, and cold sweat beaded her skin.
He and Gavyn had worked tirelessly and with grim efficiency to withdraw the sword and stop the bleeding as best as they could. A blade designed to cause maximum damage to organs upon its withdrawal yet, for it to remain, the poison coating the iron would have shriveled her insides, causing irreparable damage.
She had launched herself between their king and his assassins. Why would she give her life for him? Acheron had been engaged with two enemies, while his king battled several, two of them shooting bolts of lightning from fingertips like claws, and the other spewing water, creating an electrifying attack. Then an earth wielder assassin, bending his valnetium iron sword, had attacked Ajali from behind, while two more engaged him in a frontal attack, their lightning bolts shaped like the sharpest of swords thrusting towards him from above. Earth, lightening and water had come at them in torrents of deadly warfare. The heat of Ajali and Acheron’s flames had turned almost all water volleys into mist, melting earth, but unfortunately amplifying the lightning. It had been a harsh and swift battle. The assassins were skilled of the highest order, but their cadre was the deadliest in his kingdom. And yet, their king had almost been taken.
Their strike had been masterful, and in a different time and place, Acheron might have admired their strategy. Perhaps they would have gotten Ajali. Acheron would never know because the hari Tehdra had chosen to intercept and take the most damaging blow. His king had barely dodged the sword of lightning that had slashed his neck. Blood still trickled from the wound, pasting his shirt to his form.
“How is she?” Ajali asked gruffly.
Gavyn grimaced, regret keen in his eyes. He’d agreed to her being under Acheron’s blade in his torture chamber despite the fact he liked her.
“I fear she will not make it. Kezriel flies with speed, but death is slowly approaching,” Gavyn said.
The flame in his king’s eyes swirled, and Acheron’s guts tightened. Hoping to give his king some hope, he said a swift incantation and surged his power deep inside her body. He found nothing. The anomaly of it had him peering at her pale, still form closer. “I cannot find her spirit to hold onto. There is a fracture, as if something is missing or holding it away from me,” he said.
“Death?” Ajali probed sharply.
Acheron, being part witch, should have been able to find her spirit so he could enchant it to force it to stay with her body. Was it death that meant that it was missing?
“Fracture in what way, Acheron?” Ajali demanded.
