"What do you mean by that?" Marcy asked in a hoarse voice.
When Kiyan noticed the crack in Marcy's tone, his whole body tensed. He hated that her heart had taken another blow.
"No idea. But I need to think. I'll come back to the stable later," Nova muttered while staring at the ground, then she turned around and stormed off with quick steps.
Marcy took a step forward, as if she wanted to stop Nova. Since Kiyan was standing slightly behind her, he could not see her face, but he clearly heard her inhale sharply as though she was about to speak. Kiyan placed a hand on her shoulder, which made her release her breath without letting any further words slip out. With glistening eyes she turned toward him and looked up at him.
"Let her go," he told her.
Her expression hardened and she asked in a trembling voice:
"Why? I didn't want to hurt her! Why do you want to get rid of her so badly? Without her we never would have made it this far!"
She pointed anxiously in the direction in which Nova had disappeared only moments ago.
Kiyan furrowed his eyebrows slightly. He would have preferred if Nova had not left either. But he could hardly stop her from going. His focus was on Marcy anyway. Besides, there was something else…
"That's not what this is about, Mar—" Kiyan began, but Marcy did not seem to listen to him.
"And I know I had my doubts too, but never about her! I mean, someone who smuggles people illegally across borders… who knows what they have done and they're definitely not very trustworthy! What if something happens to you? Or to Nova? Especially Nova, she is not at fault for any of this. If she had never met me, her life would have gone on unchanged. Then it wouldn't be three lives at risk right now," the words spilled out of her. She paced back and forth, fidgeting with her fingers while trying not to raise her voice too much so as not to draw attention.
Marcy waved both hands in frustration and snapped:
"Argh! We messed up!"
"Marcy," Kiyan addressed her again. His eyes followed her restless movements. But she seemed too caught up in her anger to notice him.
He disliked raising his voice, but since she had not responded at all, he forced himself to push that aversion aside for the moment:
"Marcy!"
She jerked her head up, spun around, and snapped at him:
"What?!"
Her eyes glared at him, full of anger but also hurt.
"Give her time. If she comes back later, we will deal with it then," he said firmly.
The tension that had built up in Marcy's body released all at once, almost making her topple forward.
With wide eyes and exaggeratedly raised eyebrows, she asked:
"Wait, what?"
"I cannot trust her, and you know why. I cannot just switch that off. But I acknowledge that she saved your life and that we owe her a great deal," he replied, looking away.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her freeze like ice. Kiyan, who normally noticed every sound, every faint rustle of distant trees, every tiny scurrying of a mouse searching for food in the grass two dozen steps away, could not even hear her breathing anymore.
Eventually she snapped out of it, blinked rapidly several times, and demanded:
"No, no, no… I want to hear that twice from your mouth. You and gratitude toward Nova?"
He tilted his head slightly and raised one eyebrow again, as if silently asking whether she was being serious.
When she realized she would not get an answer, she sighed.
"Kiyan, she is not Aurel. She is not going to suddenly stab us in the back. She is a good person. And if you are acting like this because you worry about me, then…" she began, but broke off again.
That may be. But we thought the same of Aurel, and now here we are, flashed through his mind.
At the thought of what had happened barely two weeks ago, fragmented memories surged up in Kiyan. The terrified people, all the blood, a completely shattered Marcy whose expression he could no longer erase from his mind and which nearly tore him apart inside, and of course her father, to whom he had sworn an oath and failed to keep it. Not to mention Marcy's face afterward, when he had approached her as Nova saved her and she realized that he had shown up alone.
For a heartbeat she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and continued with a stronger voice:
"I am not Reno. I will not end like him or like all the others who were taken from you. You are not going to lose me."
Even though she visibly had to force herself, he could see how uncomfortable the topic still was for her after all these years. Kiyan's stomach tightened slightly. Even after so much time, he still disliked being confronted with it. But he was not someone who avoided dealing with his past. And Marcy meant well. He knew that.
How can someone have such a good heart?
She must have been feeling awful, and yet she cared more about him than about herself.
He answered in a calm voice:
"I know."
Marcy exhaled loudly through her nose and let her shoulders drop. He gave her a gentle smile. At first he thought he was just trying to comfort her with it, but he quickly realized he meant it.
"And it would mean a lot to me if you trusted Nova more. She has proven more than once that she only means well," she added.
Kiyan stepped onto the side street, turned away, and said over his shoulder:
"We should return to the inn."
Then he heard Marcy sigh behind him.
Several hours had passed since Marcy and Kiyan had returned to the stable. The more time went by, the more restless they became.
Kiyan's inner tension had become unbearable, and the exhaustion only added to his bad mood. Summer was coming to an end, which made the air already chilly. To warm himself, he rubbed his hands over his upper arms. There was no light left to stand in either. The sun was almost gone, and there was still no trace of Nova.
Could it be that…?
He glanced over at Marcy, who was pacing in a circle, pulling at her fingers.
No.
For a fleeting moment he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had known Marcy for fourteen whole years. He knew exactly that she behaved like this because she was worried and wanted to clear things up with Nova. Otherwise she would never find peace. He had to pull himself together. For Marcy.
Kiyan had looked nervously over at the horses again and again, but they remained calm and appeared relaxed. Even one of the cats had come down from the hayloft, meowing as it rubbed against his legs.
No reason to worry, he told himself.
He stood in front of the open stable door and observed the surroundings. He listened to every little sound. Nearby he heard the peaceful trickling of the river, birdsong that was slowly fading out at this time of day, and even, one floor above him, the steady purring of the other cats.
His eyes found nothing unusual either. Opposite the yard grew a small patch of green. Thin trees and brush separated the inn from the other buildings. Usually something that calmed him.
Where is Nova?, he wondered as he drummed impatiently on his upper arm while he kept his arms crossed.
Then he suddenly held his breath to listen to the soundscape.
Was that…?
A startled neigh shot through the stable. Kiyan's exhaustion vanished instantly. There had been a sound.
He spun around toward Marcy. One hand had drawn his sword in a flash, the other reached out for her. She jerked and instinctively turned toward him. As he lunged forward to pull her hood over her head as a protective measure, a betraying hiss reached his ear. That hiss had caught his attention only a heartbeat too late, which made him curse internally. Suddenly a spot at his shoulder blade burned.
Marcy let out a short, sharp sound. In an instant he pushed her down by the shoulder. A raw instinct made him shout:
"Stay down!"
At least she was wearing his cloak. Even if it was far from perfect protection.
With a quick sideways glance he noticed that at least ten people in earthen-green uniforms were approaching the stable with raised weapons. Further back, several archers lined up. He suspected there were more. What he could see was that some carried swords while others held halberds. That meant the city guards had shown up with Veylan soldiers. A banner house not to be underestimated. This was not good.
"Forward!" their apparent squad leader shouted, raising his sword as a signal for the next assault.
Either way, there were too many of them. And both Marcy and he were trapped. What was he supposed to do? Throw Marcy over his shoulder and charge forward?
No, that would be suicide.
Even if he had used magic to increase his speed, he could not be sure Marcy would make it through unharmed.
He could not let the front line reach them. Kiyan dropped to his knees and struck the clay-and-straw floor with his open hand. Then he grasped desperately for his connection to it. For a single breath he feared the earth would not respond. But at the last moment the ground began to tremble. Thank the gods, she had listened to him.
Fast as a snapping latch and with a deep rumble, a misshapen wedge of earth surged upward.
Too brittle. It would not hold long, he clicked his tongue in frustration.
The front guards stood no chance. The rock hit them head-on. They were hurled far back before crashing hard to the ground, not getting up again.
Next, Kiyan caused the earth to split, deflecting the incoming volley of arrows. With a quick glance over his shoulder he made sure Marcy and the horses had not been struck.
But it had been too much. The wedge of earth broke apart with a loud crack. All that remained was a pile of rubble blocking the way.
Unfortunately not high enough to offer real cover. Even though he had little hope, he tried to move it again. But this time the earth refused.
He needed another element or another position. But where?
Without taking his eyes off the enemies in front of him, he scanned the area. The melee fighters were holding back for the moment. What troubled him were the archers in the back rows. A worrying whirring filled his ears whenever they drew their bows.
If only that restriction didn't exist, he cursed inwardly.
With a sharp motion of his arm he hurled another burst of air forward. At least that one could always be relied on. Yet even that could not smother the fear. If he were to lose her—
No. Push your feelings aside. Feelings won't help. Focus and think analytically. That is how you were trained.
The guards before him staggered, while the archers, hindered by the strong wind, were forced to hold their arrows.
"Y-You have something…" he heard Marcy whisper with a trembling voice. He felt her hand on his upper arm as something tore at his shoulder at the same time, causing a sharp, dragging pain that radiated down his entire arm. His shoulder blade burned terribly, and his fingertips had gone numb.
With one eye squeezed shut, he forced out:
"Leave it there!"
The touch disappeared at once as more arrows came flying. He heard Marcy's breath hitch.
Like lightning, Kiyan sprang up with a pounding heart and hurled another blast of wind at his enemies. The projectiles were swept away and the soldiers were not spared either. Some were pushed back, others struggled to stay on their feet.
Still not enough.
The arrows flew back in wild, uncontrolled paths. Two struck somewhere in the yard, while a third landed right at the feet of one of the archers. He recoiled in shock.
Only the squad leader's roar kept the front line from falling apart.
"The bows!" Marcy shouted behind him. She sounded almost pleading.
"No time," he shot back. He knew exactly what she wanted. But he could not risk it now. At least this gave him a moment to think. But which of the strategies forming in his mind posed the least risk to Marcy? Then he grabbed her firmly by the elbow and ran with her to the wooden crates in the corner.
He pushed her behind them and said hoarsely:
"Stay there and don't come out, no matter what happens."
"Kiyan, they're just doing their duty. You have to be careful or they'll call the Le—" she began.
But he cut her off:
"I know. But we're just trying to survive too."
He did not wait for her response. When Kiyan turned back around, the first soldiers had already climbed over the debris. The first swings and thrusts followed immediately. He dodged as best he could. With a diagonal leap forward and held breath, he avoided another attack. In the same motion he turned, knocking the shafts of the halberds aside, never taking his eyes off Marcy's cover.
Kiyan managed to deflect two, while a third had to readjust his strike so as not to hit his own men. In response they scrambled aside in a panic. Just as Kiyan had cleared that danger, he caught movement at the edge of his vision. He did not even have time to draw breath. Kiyan tried to ignore the numbness spreading through his arm and the burning in his lungs. Dodging was more important now. But unfortunately his reaction came a heartbeat too late. The tip of a halberd was already slicing across his upper arm.
At first he felt only a slight movement on his skin, but then it burned like fire, forcing his teeth together. As warmth seeped down his arm, Kiyan used the short distance to his opponent and struck him hard in the chest with the hilt of his sword. The man stumbled back, gasping for air.
During Kiyan's counterattack, a stabbing pain shot through him, far worse than the dragging ache before. He almost lost his weapon, but at the last moment his hand caught the grip again. His fingers closed around it with all the strength he had left.
That was close, he thought as he defended himself.
But it was obvious he would not last much longer. His heart and lungs were barely keeping up and every muscle in his body screamed for a pause. He needed distance. And he needed it now. Luckily he had spotted a good opportunity earlier.
So he retreated, stretching his free hand toward the horse trough. As if it sensed the urgency, the water rushed to him in an instant. Even this brief closeness to the element calmed him and sharpened his mind. At his command the water surged forward and froze again with a sharp exhale. With a cracking sound it wrapped around the feet of five soldiers, binding them to the spot with ice. Far enough away that they could no longer cause any harm.
While the frozen men cursed and hacked at the ice in an attempt to free themselves, the rear line kept Kiyan at bay with another volley of arrows.
Just before they could hit him, he managed to sweep the danger away.
A sword strike aimed at his midsection followed. Kiyan immediately pulled his own blade up. When the force of the attack crashed against his weapon, another stabbing pain shot through him. It spread from his shoulder across part of his back and into his numbing fingers. He could no longer keep his grip. His weapon was knocked from his hand with a ringing clang and disappeared somewhere in the stable.
Of all times!
He had to think fast. What should he do? The more unfocused he became, the less the elemental connection would respond to him. And he was exhausted. The little magic he could still use he had already overextended. Marcy was behind him and relying on him. He could not collapse here.
Without giving him a moment to recover, the next strike followed. Reacting on instinct, he blocked it with a gust of wind that barely deflected his opponent and hurled him back. But even at that point it was becoming difficult to lift his arm at all. And it was the arm that was injured the least.
He managed to fend off another sideways attack. The next one followed a heartbeat later. Barely, he dodged with a sidestep as sweat ran into his eyes and burned. The blade rushed past his cheek, close enough that only a few hairs fell to the ground. But the halberdiers had freed themselves again and now supported the swordsmen. He dodged whenever he could. Gasping, he forced out a few more wind attacks. His muscles screamed again, begging him for a break. The pain made every movement harder, even the smallest ones.
From the very first moment he had been fighting defensively, trying to keep a clear head and use his knowledge to somehow fight his way out. Just like the night he survived the assassination attempt on his own life. Just like when he saved Marcy from Aurel's clutches despite being hopelessly outnumbered. Just like he had always survived, even before all the madness started.
Shaking, he ducked under the next halberd that came swinging toward him. Then he drove his elbow into the wielder's face. The soldier staggered back before collapsing unconscious.
Finally. One less.
If he had counted the guards outside correctly, there were only eighteen left. Ten of them were in front of him at the moment. He managed to kick or strike several more with the arm that still worked, reducing their number to twelve. Panting heavily and with a dry throat, Kiyan stood there. He ordered his body to move, but it was simply too sluggish. Maybe he should not have stood out in the cold earlier.
Move already!
One of them shouted:
"Do not let up! He is finished, we almost have him!"
Several men grabbed him. Kiyan tried with all his strength to tear himself free, but he could not. He could barely stay on his feet anymore. One of them raised a halberd. Aiming directly at Kiyan's heart.
Nothing an Elementaris had to fear. At least not usually. But in his condition…
He tried to push himself backward to escape the danger closing in on him. But his boots found no grip and slipped again and again without Kiyan moving an inch. He kept trying until he was completely out of breath and his body simply could not go on.
If only he had managed to give Marcy a chance to escape. If only he had noticed the danger sooner. She did not deserve this. He did not like humans. He really did not. They were the reason he had lost everything. But this one person was an exception.
The weapon came flying toward him at a rapid speed.
Damn it!
With a crushed expression he let his head sink.
"No!" a loud voice rang out.
Before Kiyan could grasp what was happening, a fluttering shadow jumped in front of him. So close he almost touched it. He felt the blood drain from his face when he realized whose voice it was. Kiyan jerked his head up instantly, but it was already too late.
Marcy cried out and was thrown so hard against him by the force of the strike that the soldiers let go of him, and he fell backward with Marcy in his arms. He thought his heart would stop. She had thrown herself in front of the blade with her back to the point.
"What are you doing!" he shouted in horror.
Marcy could not answer. She curled up in pain, coughing uncontrollably and gasping for air.
Panicking, he forced his functioning hand, trembling, to move across her back. She was still wearing his cloak, the one that had saved him more than once. But it was no miracle cure. The chances were high that a strike from that close, like this one, had pierced the fabric.
He was supposed to protect her, not the other way around.
Just as he thought she might have been lucky one more time, he felt something warm on his fingertips. It was as if his own blood turned to ice in his veins. Still, he drew his hand back and forced himself to look. Red. Clearly blood. The trembling in his hand turned into uncontrollable shaking.
"Why did you do that…" he rasped.
"We have them!" he heard someone shout.
Marcy tried to force something past her lips, but she could not form a single clear word. Her shortness of breath was too severe.
He pulled Marcy against him with one arm to shield her as best he could, even though he knew deep down that there was no escape left. Kiyan did not even have the strength to stand up anymore.
At the edge of his vision he saw a swordsman raise his weapon, turned upside down for the blow.
"It is over," someone said to him.
One thing would not fit into his mind. How had it come to this? He had always been so careful. He had always kept an eye on the situation. He had never let Marcy out of his sight and had not slept a single night. And no one seemed to have recognized her until now. What had been different today? How had they known?
There was only one explanation for it…
His fingers clenched into the fabric of Marcy's cloak.
And then everything around him went dark.