24. Nothing Like Him

The crossing was like a dream, half-sensed through cotton sheets. The iulipers were all gone - even the last few Shade had stashed - and there was nothing left to stave off the effects of their dizzying altitude.

Caela found herself stumbling along in a light-headed haze, her aching head throbbing with each step. When she looked up at the endless vault stretching overhead, she felt something approaching vertigo. There were no trees, no clouds, to veil her from the watchful void, as if at any moment she might simply fall up and into the sky.

The party staggered on, barely a word exchanged as they battled through exhaustion and light-headedness. The supplies they’d carefully packed back in Mulmais were running low, but nobody seemed to have much of an appetite, picking at the dry and stale remainders. It was only the shifting shades of blue above them that marked the days creeping by. Nights, under the cold and distant light of the stars, brought only fitful rest.

Caela knew that most people would kill to see such breathtaking scenery, but its alien majesty and intoxicating atmosphere demanded a heavy toll. This place was not made for mortals. She was beginning to understand why Lux called it the domain of the gods.

Just when it seemed they would wander in a weary haze forever - or until they simply gave up and lay down for good - their path began to decline. The cloud layer was an impenetrable veil between them and their own world, and it was greeted like an old friend when they finally descended through it.

Breaking free of the monochromatic landscape to see green again - forests and fields, laid out far below - Caela could have wept with joy. There was a renewed lightness in her steps as they carried on for another shambling day, finally rejoining the mountain road. Seeing it, and imagining the countless miles they’d bypassed with Shade’s shortcut, almost made the arduous ascent worth it.

They were on the home straight now, and the exhausted party began to stir with anticipation. They picked up speed on the downhill track, chasing blue skies as clouds nipped at their heels. There was a storm on their tail, and time was running out. To lighten their load, they left a breadcrumb trail of expended supplies; shedding everything but the barest essentials in the name of pace.

Each night, the travellers watched the waxing moon, counting down the days until their deadline.

By the time they entered the shadow of the Pass, there was no more than a sliver of its pale glow missing.

The high mountainsides funnelled the pursuing snowstorm through the narrow channel, the air becoming thick with snowflakes that clung to every surface. On either side of the valley, legions of spindly firs sprouted from the frozen ground, defying the weather through sheer force of numbers.

The sun, wan and pale, dipped toward the horizon, dyeing the snow beneath their feet a peachy hue. Caela pulled down her scarf and called out to her companions.

“We have to stop!”

She hoped they could hear her. Each was bundled head to toe, and carried a fragile jewel of light in a rattling lantern.

“Stop where?” one bundle replied, with Kazzik’s voice. “There’s nothing but- argh!”

Caela saw his shape dip sharply, then stagger as he freed himself from a deep drift.

“We can’t outrun the storm!” she insisted. “And if we get caught in it, we’ll be completely blind. We wouldn’t spot a cliff edge until we’d walked over it!”

Nobody could argue that they weren’t in trouble. Even if Johannes had some spell up his woollen sleeve, he was still an old man, and the indomitable Valerios was still far from his full strength. Even Freija - she of the Mulmais tidal wave - could no more hold back the storm than Valerios could lift a mountain.

Dissenting voices began to rise, but were cut off by a distant sound. It was hollow, resonant; somewhere between the bellow of an ox and the groaning of ancient timber. Whether man, beast or something stranger, it was clear that its source was very distant, deafeningly loud, and extremely large.

Exchanging glances, they picked up their pace, stumbling forward until a dark shape broke from the treeline to their left.

Caela fumbled with frozen fingertips for an arrow as the others readied themselves. Her joints creaked as she drew back her bowstring, tracking the lumbering shape as it unsteadily made its way down the snow bank on an interception course. Bracing herself for an attack, she readied herself to shoot, when the thing groaned.

“Oooh-ohhh…”

It was nothing like the sonorous tone that had preceded its arrival. In fact, it sounded more like…

Caela squinted at the dark, furry creature. The pressing storm had put a damper on their senses and set them all on edge but, now that she looked closer, she realised this was nothing more than a person swaddled in animal furs. They flailed their arms as they staggered down the slope, collapsing to their knees in front of Caela.

“Mercy!” they cried, in a thick dwarvish timbre. “Mercy and succour! Deliver us from this frozen hell!”

—

“Two weeks, give or take. Aye, we’ve been trapped here a little over two weeks.”

They sat huddled inside the remains of a stone building that was barely large enough to shelter the seven party members, a struggling campfire, and three slouched dwarves. No wonder Caela hadn’t spotted it from the path; all that remained was a few half-ruined walls draped in snow. Thin holly vines snaked between the blocks, probing at the crumbling masonry for any points of purchase.

Still, a band of angular runes was barely visible on the weathered stonework; a reminder of a time long past, when this was something more than rubble.

Caela knew how much Dwarves cared for their masonry, and the trio in front of her seemed to have taken on the mood of this place. They sat around the anaemic campfire like dolls at a forgotten tea party, button eyes reflecting the glow. The flickering flames gave each of them a dancing shadow, as if the vitality had escaped their bodies to leap across the walls.

The speaker was the same dwarf who’d flagged them down - apparently their leader.

Lux gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, I’m mighty sorry to hear that, mister…”

The dwarf opened his mouth slowly, as if operated by an uncertain puppeteer.

“Durham Steelbeard.” He touched the silvery braid on his chin, then gestured to his companions, who were similarly huddled in animal pelts. “That’s Kincave, and Wensley. That’s all of us left.”

Shade stirred restlessly. “Steelbeard…” he repeated, half to himself. “That name sounds familiar.”

“It should. The Steelbeard Caravan is the finest armed courier out of San Aria.”

Some pride flickered behind Durham’s tired eyes, and he straightened up a little.

“We left a few months ago, took the road round the mountain, made deliveries along the way. It was slow going at times, but no real trouble until we got to the Pass.”

At the mention of their current location, the group stirred. Valerios, wedged into a corner of the roofless ruin, eyed their dusky surroundings suspiciously.

“Then what?” Lux leaned forward, hushed excitement in his voice. “Bandits?”

Durham shook his head. “Worse,” he breathed. “A lot worse.”

He finally met Lux’s gaze, eyes still smouldering in the dying firelight.

“First time in Ciria’s Breast, boyo?”

Lux looked blankly at him.

“The mountains, lad!” Durham grunted. “Ciria, lying across the land, washing her hair in the Cirian Falls to the west. Orsale Pass is her slender arm, reaching down to the Palm in the north.”

He fished through his ragged layers, pulling out a stringy amulet. The bone fragment had been worn almost smooth, but Lux could still barely make out the form of a reclining woman.

“We pray to Ciria,” Durham said, voice sharpening, “for protection from the beasties that make this their home. From the wee gnats, to the mighty…”

He shuddered. Lux offered his water flask, and Durham gratefully gulped down the thawed meltwater.

“Damn thing should’a been too big to hide,” he continued, with a shiver. “But it came over the ridge, hidden in the mist. Reaching down from the accursed sky to pop the tops off our armoured caravans like corks.”

He shook his head in dismay.

“I’ll never understand why you people think the gods live up there,” he muttered, glancing upwards before clutching the talisman to his chest. “No. Underground, that’s what’s safe.”

“Goodness!” Johannes wiped his fogging spectacles. “There is certainly some, aha, unpleasant fauna here, but I’ve never heard of anything so… spectacular.”

“I shall have to see for myself,” rumbled Valerios, clearly disturbed at the idea of not being the biggest thing on the mountain.

“No!”

The cry came from one of the other dwarves - Kincave, whose ruddy face was framed with ginger curls. She leant on her palms, giving the party a beseeching look.

“No-one’s getting through that pass alive. But, if we hurry, we might make it back over the spine. Our maps say there’s a little town where we can restock.”

The party exchanged silent glances.

“Or,” Lux said slowly, “We could go through the Pass together. We’re tough, you know.”

“When it came,” Kincave whispered, “it killed eight of our guards. We’d have needed ten men for every one if we’d hoped to stand a chance.”

“And yet, you survived,” Johannes pointed out.

“Only because…” Her eyes drifted towards the final dwarf, Wensley, who shrank back at the sudden attention.

“Go on, Wensley,” Durham rumbled. “Tell ‘em what you did.”

“It’s alright, lad,” he said, a little kinder, as the younger dwarf retreated even further. “Ye probably saved Kincave and me.”

Wensley cleared his throat.

“I was in the vault car,” he began, his voice thin. “High-security cargo. Sometimes it’s gold bars, sometimes jewels, sometimes… stranger stuff.”

He cleared his throat again.

“This time, we had a little wooden box. I… dropped it, when we were loading in San Aria, and the seal broke. It just popped open. I swear, that’s what happened!”

He looked frantically at his companions, as if losing his job was still a pressing concern. Durham’s face was impassive.

“It was a necklace,” Wensley continued, “Or… maybe not. I’ve guarded a king’s ransom of jewellery in my time, but I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He placed his wrists together and wiggled his fingers, as if imitating a sea anemone.

“It was round, with a face in the middle and all these wiggly rays coming out. It was… hot, like it had been sitting in the sun, and sorta… buzzy, like how metal gets after you clang it together. Anyway, I got a thick ear from the boss for dropping it, so I quickly put it back. I hardly thought about it afterwards.” He chuckled, hollowly.

Caela heard Kazzik shift next to her. His expression was devoid of any good humour - that is, until he saw her watching, and flashed a thin smile.

“You’re doing well, Wensley,” he said to the shivering boy. “Go on.”

Wensley rubbed his hands together, gaze nervously flitting between the onlookers.

“The caravan gets hit a lot,” he said. “Sometimes word leaks about our cargo, or else someone sees the armoured carriage and figures it must be worth the trouble. But we’re usually ready for ‘em.”

“Not this time.” He shook his head. “First thing I knew, the vault car was lifted. Rolled clean over. There was treasure spilling everywhere. Then the roof peeled off, and a huge hand  plucked Saunter - poor lad - out, like a pea from the pod.”

He grimaced at the memory.

“It was chaos outside. Screaming, roaring. Like Kincave said: we were getting slaughtered. Would have needed double our guards just to hold the line.”

“I must have hit my head. Couldn’t find my spear. So I grabbed the first thing I saw: that strange amulet.”

Kazzik leaned forward, blank white gaze intent on the huddled dwarf.  “What happened next?” he asked, in a tone that suggested he foresaw the shape of the answer, and did not like it one bit.

“Heat,” Wensley rasped. “And smoke - thick and oily. Might’ve been some hidden bomb, something the Mages Guild conjured up. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard this awful squealing, and smelled this strange scent…”

The dwarves, caught up in the horror of the memory, didn’t notice all other eyes turn to Kazzik. He replied to their silent question with a serious frown and a subtle nod.

Wensley was finishing up his story.

“...so I threw it away and ran. Whatever it did, it was enough to scare the big fellas, or distract them at least. We ran back the way we came, and didn’t look back, until we arrived here.”

“I’m so sorry,” Caela said, softly. “That sounds terrifying. Don’t worry - you’re safe now.”

“Mister Durham,” Kazzik spoke, his velvet tones cut through with steel. “You saw Wensley drop this amulet. Who sent it? Where was it going?”

Durham shrugged. “No idea. Banco de San Aria handles that. They pay well for us to not ask questions. As for the destination, same story. All I know’s it’s going to some jeweller in Aegiswood. ‘Uri’ something. After that?” He shrugged again. “Anyone’s guess.”

He saw the dissatisfied reaction his words prompted.

“That’s how the Caravan, and the Bank, operate. Some people like their things to be delivered discreetly. Not for us to know, or anyone else for that matter.”

He snorted. “Go ask the Bank if you fancy your chances. Not that they’ll say anything different.”

Shade coughed into his sleeve. “Aha, perhaps, perhaps not…”

“Why not?” Freija spoke up for the first time. Her bright nature seemed remarkably undimmed by the grim surroundings or the dark tone of the conversation.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, tapping a painted fingernail on her chin. “I totally forgot. The Bank’s probably gone with the rest of San Aria, right?”

The dwarves stared at her in confusion. Shade raised a warning hand, but Freija carried on, taking no heed.

“Of course! You left before it happened. San Aria’s gone. Sorry. Well, not the people, but the city? Levelled. It got destroyed by a giant flesh monster that Lux sort-of-but-not-really let loose.”

“It’s really not your fault, honey,” she added, seeing Lux’s face drop.

“Anyway, we all escaped - except for Kazzik, who was off doing weird sex cult stuff, and Shade, who… what was it again?”

She turned sweetly to the one-eyed man. Kazzik’s eyes had widened slightly, but nothing compared to Shade’s expression - hunted, furious. His lip curled like a stray dog ready to snap, fingers digging into the cold stone floor.

“That’s right!” Freija chirped, clearly enjoying herself. “You fell out with those Black Serpents who run the Bank.”

“The Black Serpents?” Durham echoed in disbelief. He’d clearly heard the name. His gaze shifted to Shade, suddenly wary.

“Mhm,” Freija said, nodding. “He used to be one. But now they want his head, so he’s not too keen on dropping by the Bank to ask about this amulet thingy.”

She folded her arms, satisfied with the unassailable logic she had set out.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Johannes gave the bewildered dwarves an apologetic smile. “Excuse us for one moment. Lux, Kazzik, Valerios, please look after our comrades,” he said, rising to his feet. Shade was hot on his heels. Caela grabbed Freija’s arm and dragged her out after them.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Shade hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.

“What?” Freija batted her lashes innocently. “I was just being honest.”

“Great,” he spat, reaching for his bandolier. He picked a handle, seemingly at random, and drew. The onyx dagger glinted in the dim light.

“Now we have to kill them.”

That did manage to throw Freija. She’d clearly expected some kind of reaction - but not this. She smiled uncertainly, waiting for the punchline, until Shade took a step back towards the camp.

“No!” she protested, catching his arm, still half-smiling.

“They know too much,” Shade said flatly. “That knowledge will get back to the Banco. To the Serpents. It will bring danger on us.”

“On you,” Freija scoffed. “We made a deal with the Serpents. Too bad, I guess you weren’t part of that group.”

She tilted her head, unable to keep a quip from her lips.

“Must feel familiar.”

Shade’s glare darkened. Ever since their first meeting, Caela had found him hard to read. That air of impenetrable irreverence was like a smokescreen, through which nothing could penetrate. Now, she saw the shape of the man behind it. The man who’d kidnapped Lux. The assassin who had killed for money, and the pleasure it brought. The man whose flower beds were watered with blood.

Shade pushed forwards, but Freija held fast, pulling him close.

“There’s no call for this, Master Shade,” Johannes said, brow crinkling with worry. “She let her tongue go, but these people won’t give us any trouble. They’re safe.”

“They were safe when they didn’t know anything!” Shade snapped. “Before she opened her mouth! Now they are a liability.” He grinned darkly. “Or should we tell them everything? Maybe we should talk about Mulmais? Then perhaps you’d feel differently!”

Johannes recoiled. Shade swung Freija around, struggling to free his knife hand. “Let go, puttana! I need to go and clean up your mess!”

Freija shoved back with just as much furore, her heels kicking up a spray of snow.

Bound together in their furious tug of war, she and Shade spat insults at each other; he in his sharp-edged San Arian dialect, she in an elvish patois that was as melodic as it was venomous. It was nearly comedic - but the hatred in their eyes was real.

Caela hovered, frozen - torn between stepping in and running to fetch the others. This couldn’t continue, but to throw herself between them would only make things worse. Her mouth hung open, ready to call for help, when Freija gasped.

Immediately, she released her hold on Shade. He jumped back, coiling like a spring in anticipation of retaliation. Then, his gaze dropped, as Freija stared down at her stomach. She exhaled sharply, as if she’d finally understood some unspoken joke. Six inches of tawny skin opened up into a crimson smile just below her belly button.

Shade looked down at the onyx blade in his gloved hand. Caela didn’t see the blood at first. Slowly, a droplet built on the point of the dagger. It fell, red and steaming, to the frozen earth.

“Damn!” Shade muttered. “She pulled my hand. Crazy fool…” He took a step backwards, eyeing them warily in turn.

Caela couldn’t take her eyes off the wound. Blood, crimson and fresh, welled up, quickly seeping into Freija’s clothes. Too much of it. The cut was deep enough - enough that it would need stitches from a clumsy and frostbitten hand, enough that it would take more than their meagre medical supplies to patch up - but it was the blood that scared Caela. There was only so much of it a person could lose before their body started to shut down, before they reached the point of no return.

Caela rushed forward, already sick with dread, as Freija wobbled in an unseen breeze. She let out a small noise, which Caela took a minute to recognise as a laugh.

Where Shade’s knife had entered, a few electric blue motes began to shimmer into view. They condensed into the form of a tiny, translucent spider. Caela, Shade and Johannes watched in rapt silence as the sprite crept along the wound, stitching a shining filament into the skin and zipping the mortal wound back together.

Freija’s head remained bowed, teal hair veiling her face. When she spoke, her voice had the calm, eerie clarity that precedes a thunderstorm.

“Well,” she said simply. “If that’s how you want to play it…”

There was a rumble overhead.

Caela looked up. The twilight sky churned as clouds rolled in, darkening as they approached. A stormy mass roiled in the sky above them, spreading out raven wings to cast the valley in shadow. Lightning flashed within the cloud, picking out a pair of corvid eyes.

Freija raised her head. Her eyes were manic, too wild to even be called animalistic. Even animals had survival instincts.

She placed one foot in front of the other, poised to advance on her attacker. Instead, she remained in place, splaying her palms as if showing that she was unarmed. There was another rumble, and tiny arcs of electricity began to leap between her fingers.

Mene growled, echoing the thunder overhead. His shaggy fur was standing on end. Caela felt her own hair being lifted by unseen forces. Something was building. Sick with dread, she tackled Mene to the ground - just in time. Her vision went white. An apocalyptic boom shook the valley.

“Crazy?” Freija shrieked. After the deafening lightning strike, her voice sounded as if it was coming from very far away. “You want to see crazy?”

Caela raised her head, still staying pressed close to the snowy ground. Mene whined.

She had seen a tree hit by lightning before. The thunderous sound, the sheer force of it, as a flash of white reduced a mighty pine to nothing but scorched splinters. It had stuck with her as a reminder of the sheer power of the forces of nature that surrounded her.

With grim anticipation, she looked for Shade, half-expecting to see naught but a pair of smoking boots. To her surprise, though, she saw him still moving - pressed behind a tree, a few feet from a glassy crater. He dove again as another flash lanced down, splitting the spindly pine into charcoal fractions.

Caela blinked away the afterglow as a dagger whizzed past. Nowhere close to its target. Shade had thrown blind.

Flash. Bang. Dodge.

Flash. Bang. Dodge.

Freija was still screaming. “I always knew you were a snake!”

Despite her fury, she was swaying as badly as the trees in the wind. Every strike seemed to drain her further.

But Shade was running out of places to run.

Flash. Bang. Scream.

Shade collapsed. He rolled on the ground, limbs tensing madly, tendons straining against skin, mouth locked in a terrifying rictus. One sleeve had been burned away, revealing a raw red scar that forked down his arm like a river delta. Around him, the snow steamed. There was a horrible smell of burnt meat.

Caela felt the hairs on her arms rise again. The next strike was coming, and there was no way Shade would dodge it. She scrambled to her feet and ran towards him, standing over his twitching body.

“Freija!”

There was no flash, no bang.

Only silence - a ragged gap in the sounds of combat. Freija’s chest rose and fell madly as she gaped at Caela. One hand was clutching her now-healed belly, clawlike grip threatening to open new wounds. The other was raised to the sky, swaying like a flagpole in a storm. She stood frozen, trembling, wild-eyed.

Lux and Valerios arrived seconds later, swords drawn.

“Attack?” Valerios barked, scanning the sparse woods.

Caela shook her head, stepping away to reveal Shade. “Not anymore,” she said. She turned to Freija, voice low but firm. “Right, Freija?”

Freija didn’t seem to hear her. She was frozen in place, as if struck by her own lightning, her hand still outstretched. Then, slowly, she lowered it. She took one uncertain step forward. Then her knees buckled, her eyes went glassy, and Freija delicately collapsed to the ground.

Johannes was upon her in a moment, placing an ear to her mouth and prodding at her eyelids.

“Fainted,” he informed them. “Shock, I expect.”

Caela met Lux’s eyes. He looked as helpless as she felt.

“Take her back inside,” she said. “Make sure she’s comfortable.”

Lux paused, then nodded. He scooped the unconscious woman onto his shoulders, in a manner that Freija would’ve found most improper. At the ruined threshold, Kazzik appeared, murmured something too faint for her to catch, then waved Lux inside. He lingered a moment, drinking in the scene outside for a few long seconds, before ducking back out of sight.

Caela knelt beside Shade. Incredibly, he was already straining to sit up, leaning on one elbow for support. Caela decided not to wait until he was any more mobile. Best he stay seated for what was coming.

“Shade,” she said, unsure of how to begin. “We can’t keep going on like this.”

Shade coughed, drawing in a ragged breath. “S-she tried to k-kill me.” His voice was hoarse.

Caela looked away, the cold wind stinging more than it should have. “You attacked her.” She  injected every drop of her dismay into the word. “That’s… wrong.”

Shade snorted, far too nonchalant for a man lying in a smouldering heap on the ground. “Are you telling me off? Look where we are, ragazza. There are no rules here. This is how scores are settled.”

“No.” Caela shook her head, trying to keep the bitterness from flooding in. “We’re on the same team. And if you want to be one of us, you need to start acting like it.”

Something flickered in Shade’s one dusky eye.

“I need to do nothing, Caela, except what I want. You talk about the team, as if I begged to be part of your little squad. As if it wasn’t the other way around.”

Valerios stepped forward, raising his sword. “You were never more than a glorified guide, traitor!” he growled.

Caela raised a hand to hold him back.

Shade cackled. “You lie to yourselves. But I heard the truth in your retelling of your adventures in San Aria. The two vacancies in your little reunion party, and the desperation you felt to fill them.”

He glanced past her, towards the building. “That little rat doesn’t measure up to Hellebore, but I can see why you chose me to be your new Rose.”

Caela felt the vortex within her curdle, rising up in her throat.

Shade smiled an ugly smile.

“What do you think?” he sneered. “Not far off, eh? A guy who likes to break the rules, have a little fun, and just happens to have made an enemy of the Serpents?”

“Don’t say that,” she said darkly. “You’re nothing like him.”

“Why?” Shade demanded. “Because I actually knew Shadow? Because I was the one who pulled them from the gutter? Because I’m still alive?” He grinned as he delivered the coup de grâce.

Caela saw red.

“Because Rose went back!”

The words exploded from her. She saw a stirring within the ruins, and knew they’d heard. She balled her hands into fists, trying to stem the flooding emotions.

“Rose went back for Hellebore. And it killed him. That’s the difference.”

Her voice shook, but she pushed on. “He chose to stay. You would never - ever - do the same.”

Shade stared up at her. In the dim light, his face was still, unreadable. Had she finally broken through to him? Or would he just laugh it off?

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. The laughter was gone. “Your truth, ragazza. Not mine.”

He struggled to his feet, in defiance of both the devastating attack and Caela’s words. He didn’t get more than a few steps, however, before Valerios’ mighty fist closed on his collar, practically lifting him off the ground.

“There’ll be no more nonsense from you, thief,” he growled. “By the dawn, we’ll decide what to do with you.” Shade’s weak response was lost to the winds as he was dragged away.

Alone under the stormy sky, Caela allowed her shoulders to sink for the briefest of moments. Then, there was the quiet clearing of a throat behind her. She whirled, startled. In all the chaos, she’d forgotten about Johannes.

The wizard looked as calm as ever, despite the circumstances. Caela schooled her expression, trying hard not to cry, but Johannes’ gaze held understanding and just a touch of pity. After a moment too long, he patted her on the shoulder. “I expect the situation will seem less dire in the morning, my dear.” Caela nodded, trying to look as if she believed it.

He turned to leave, then paused. “Or,” he called back with a twinkle in his eye, “the giants will attack in the night, and we’ll have something else to worry about!” His hearty laugh disappeared into the ruins.

Trailing behind him, Caela felt an ever-deeper exhaustion sink into her steps. Mene pressed against her leg, and she gripped his rough fur, grateful for the support. Somehow, even though they were so close to their journey’s end, she felt more hopeless than she had back on the ruthless peak.

—

Despite her resolve to keep watch through the night, Caela found herself prising open frost-encrusted lashes to the pale light of morning. She must have drifted off at some point, the day’s tribulations catching up with her.

From the quiet breathing, the unmoving bedrolls, the rest of the party still slumbered. Most of them lacked her elvish affinity for light sleeping, and Freija was still in a fatigued slumber. Caela found herself afforded a moment of quiet. She let her eyes fall closed again. How could things have gone so wrong? She’d thought they were through the worst of this journey, only for fighting to tear the party from the inside out. Though they’d all known Freija was unpredictable, the power and fury of the storm she’d wrought had blindsided Caela. And as for Shade…

Shade.

Caela’s eyes flew open again. Heart quickening, she scanned the campsite. There was a patch of bare ground, already filling in with snow, between her and Valerios. Shade and his bedroll were gone.

In their place fluttered a scrap of parchment, pinned to the frozen earth by the obsidian dagger. Crawling from her blankets, Caela pulled it free. Even in the frigid morning, the dagger still felt unnaturally cold in her hand. Suppressing a shudder, she stowed it with the rest of her gear, and focused on the parchment. 

Squatting beside the burnt-out firepit, she began to read the clumsy handwriting. The words trailed across the parchment, some sections crossed out by a rapid, indecisive hand.

to Caela

to whom it may concern

to the relevant party

your friend is right thats a firework of a way to start a letter

excuse my handwritng its fucking dark and my hands are cold

calm your conserned heart's i havent been seized by the giants or devoured by wolves in the night. if this letter is the first sign youre getting that im gone it doesnt say much for your watches but ive always been good at making a quiet exit. consider this leavn leaving the party in style before im killeD by giants or condemmed to lifelong servitude. my apologies to il sovrano i know he was looking forward to a trial

what a way to end a job. quite honestly i should never have taken it in the first place but you know what they say about curiosity and cats and i am a very curious cat

i came looking for Shadow and i found you lot and your sentimental memory of them. poor trade

There was a section crossed out so furiously that the pen had nearly broken through the paper. Caela couldn’t make out any of the words.

never was a letter writer. guess thats most of Johaniss ink

well call me a liar and a traitor (che crudelta!) but ive seen through my end of the bargin at least. what reward i get! zap!

Shade had crudely scrawled a lightning bolt next to the words.

id say i wished you luck but i doubt youd believe anything from me at this point. as you should some healthy wary wariness is good for you and you could all stand to be a little less trusting. seriously

well onto better things. maybe when one of us hears about the agonising death of the other they might feel a little sad. probably not though

ci vediamo in un'altra vita

Shade

Caela stared at the page until the ink blurred. She was still crouched there, frozen, when the others roused from their sleep, crowding around her to read over her shoulders.

—

“Well, he’s gone. Good.”

Freija stood up and moved away from the note, its message instantly forgotten. The others took her cue to begin drifting back to their packing.

Caela, stringing her bow to ready for the day’s travel, stopped.

Something about Freija’s tone was so effortlessly callous, as indifferent and devastating as a landslide. Freija’s irreverence was, in itself, nothing new to Caela. She’d always found it wickedly amusing, and sometimes envied her friend’s quick wit. Now, though, it was like a chisel to her fractured nerves, prying open the fissures to let something dark bubble up to the surface.

“He was our friend, Freija,” she said.

“No,” Freija replied, unaware - or uncaring - of the testiness in Caela’s words. “There are no friends in this group. He was just pretending to play happy families with us, to escape San Aria, to learn about Hellebore, to eventually rob us in our sleep-”

She broke off the train of thought with a dismissive wave.

“I don’t know or, frankly, care. He was a nasty piece of work, and I hope the storm takes him.”

Twang. The bowstring snapped, whipping across the top of Caela’s hand. The stinging pain barely registered.

She wheeled on Freija.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Freija seemed to take a moment to register the exclamation. She gaped at Caela, replying in a startled squeak.

“Caela!”

Caela stalked across the camp, stomping little footprints into the snow. The others parted before her, scattering to the edges of this new arena. Even Mene, her silver shadow, gave her space.

“No friends?” she snapped. “After everything that’s happened. That’s really how you feel?”

“Look around, honey,” Freija said, sounding aggrieved. “Do you think we’d all be together if we didn’t have a shared goal? Everyone’s at each other’s throats. Shade attacked me!”

Drip, drip. Caela clenched her fist, feeling steaming blood.

“And you were so glad, weren’t you?” she demanded. “Watching him break? I saw how happy it made you to tell his secrets, to make him squirm. You always do this.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, realising just how true it was. “You see someone’s weak spot, and you can’t help but poke at it. Then when people finally stand up to you for a change, you act like you’re the victim.”

Freija still seemed thrown off-balance by Caela’s acid tone, but she stuck out her chin defensively.

“You’re wrong. I just wanted to show you the truth about this party. To stop you getting your heart broken once this is all over, and we realise we’ve no longer got anything in common.”

Freija sniffed.

“I’ll give Shade some credit - he was the only other one who could see what was going on. The only difference between us is that I’m not lying to you about it.”

Caela stared at Freija, her anger finding no reaction in those amused green eyes. Freija reached out for Caela’s cold hand, holding it to her breast.

“I said it was a bad idea, Caela,” she said, honey-sweet. “I said it should’ve just been you and me.”

“I’m not your pet, Freija!” Caela exploded. “Maybe in your mind, you picked me off the shelf, some passing fancy to take for walks and dress up with bows. But here, in the real world, I’m perfectly capable of deciding how I feel about people.”

Caela released the last word like an arrow. Naturally, at this range, it could not miss. Freija’s face was stricken for a moment. Then she pressed her lips together.

“Well,” she said in a strangled voice, “If that’s how you see me…”

Drawing herself up to her full height, she spun on her heel.

“I won’t torment you with my presence any further,” she finished.

If she heard Caela’s wind-whipped protest, she did not acknowledge it. She stepped forward, not looking over her shoulder, and disappeared into the storm.

S. Into the Dark >>