The bandits are severely outmatched by our group, even though they outnumber us. They have only a few weapons between them, and though several are fire-born, we manage toget by with only a few singed blankets and one ruined canvas between Taran’s water and my shadow.
And Typhon’s wind. I didn’t realize Typhon was wind-born until he puts his magic to use at last to extinguish the fire on the tent. “I’m sorry! I’m not very good with magic.”
“You’re doing great,” I shout back as I parry a blow from a rusted machete with my rapier. I jump back, using the rapier’s reach to keep me safe as Octavia steps behind the bandit, cutting his throat with her dagger.
“My blanket!” says Seth as the man collapses, blood pouring from his throat. “Taran, you’re needed—”
“Not now,” says Taran. He throws up a shield of water as one of the last attackers left standing pelts him with bolt after bolt of fire.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Seth, sending a single deadly bolt of his own fire directly into the man’s ear. The man collapses slowly, falling to the side as if his mind continued working for a moment after his head was cooked from the inside. “Now will you help?”
We don’t manage to keep any of them alive. Not that we’re truly trying; it’s clear they haven’t been sent by Adria, and judging from the desperate state of their clothing and lack of attempts to surrender, they had no intention of doing anything but fight to the death.
“Good morning to you too,” says Quinn once the dust settles, looking around at the damage.
“We should leave,” says Larus. “There could be more where they came from.”
“What a mess,” says Seth. He attempts to salvage the smoldering remains of the tent, but we’re down to just the single canvas for the rest of our journey through the mountains.
The part of the journey where we need protection from the elements the most.
“We should see if their camp is nearby,” says Octavia, saying what we’re all thinking. “They may have something there we can use.”
“And if there are more of them?” asks Ronan.
“I think we’ll manage,” says Seth. “How many could there possibly be?”
There’s no real way of knowing, but I also know it doesn’t matter.
There’s no way Ronan will agree to this. Maybe these people are lawless bandits, preying on those who are forced to take this path, but maybe they’re just desperate people living the only way they can. Killing them when they attacked us is one thing, but going after them is something else.
“Do what you will,” says Ronan. His eyes are on the place the temple should have been on the hillside. “But we should leave soon if we’re going to make it to the mountains before nightfall.”
I glance at Taran. He’s as disturbed as I am. “Are you sure?” I ask Ronan, squatting next to where he’s packing up our blankets. “You don’t think it might be risky?”
“I think we’re in a desperate situation without many good options. I think if we’re unlucky on the mountains, we could die before we even make it to Pyka. I think I’m tired of putting aside the needs of the people I care about to protect people who would cut their throats in their sleep. We are at war. It’s time we acted like it.”
“Ronan,” I say gently, reaching for him.
He brushes my hand away. “Not right now.”
I step back from him, chastened. He’s never been like this with me.
“Who’s coming with me?” says Octavia. Seth raises his hand, and Quinn volunteers to go on Bitey. Typhon declines, mostly because he knows he’s no use in a fight, but Larus agrees, shaking off my judgment.
“It’s survival, Sylvie. Do you want to see Faros restored?”
“Of course, but—”
“Then you have to survive to get back there, don’t you?”
I shake my head at him as he goes.
Part of me knows they’re right, but part of me can’t shake the feeling that who we are isn’t just the choices we make when it’s easy. It’s the choices we make when things are hard. It’s the things we do in order to survive.
I don’t know if I can be this person.
And I know Ronan can’t be. I know that he’s in a dark place right now, but I know this isn’t him.
