“Stop!” My voice was seething fury. All eyes turned to me but I glared directly at Chevelle. “Stop.”
He understood and my ears ceased ringing, my hearing cleared. I stepped forward, the rage still fuming. It had dawned on me that he'd been the cause of my hearing issues before, and I knew he was the one holding the tracker there. He bound him from magic for questioning. He had studied it, said he knew something about it.
I approached the kneeling tracker, daring anyone to stop me. “Tell me what you know about binding.”
He didn’t answer, his jaw tight in resistance. I had placed the sword in my newly acquired sheath this morning, during my boredom. I pulled it out, enjoying the ssshk sound of the steel as it passed. The tracker smirked, defiant. He wasn’t afraid of a sword. The other didn’t crack at broken bones, didn’t give even before death. I’d need something dreadful, a new tactic.
I noticed a tiny snake sunning on a nearby rock and smiled. I slipped the tip of the sword down to the tracker’s leg, just above where his knee met the ground, and sliced his trousers up to the thigh to reveal his leg. I drew the snake to us with magic and grabbed it with my left hand, the sword in my right. The prisoner watched me, almost smug.
It was a tiny snake, no thicker than my pinkie, but it would do. I took the sword and slid the tip across the skin above his knee, making a small incision. His faced changed then, a mixture of puzzlement and uncertainty. I smiled at him wordlessly in response. I left the sword tip there and placed the snake on the handle, letting it slide down the blade toward my mark. I closed my eyes to relax, settle into the snake as I had the bird.
My knees buckled as I released too much. I backed off, giving myself just enough to control it. As it entered the wound, I heard the tracker gasp and my smile stretched wickedly. I wormed my way up his leg, intent on getting the information I needed. They were getting closer. They had found us a third time now. They would kill us. I wanted to free my mind, free my bonds. They would not take me.
His screams broke as the serpent reached his thigh. I opened my eyes. The body of the snake made a defined lump, curving long and thin under the skin of his leg. His face was twisted in agony and fear. He cracked. Chevelle released his hand long enough to scribble a few words of a spell, not allowing him to speak or cast magic.
He slumped after his surrender, confident the worst was over. I reached the sword tip back to his leg and made another incision to release the snake. I heard a low voice. “Kill him.”
I didn’t know who it had been intended for but I still held the sword in my hand. The sword I was supposed to slice someone’s head off with. This was likely my only chance for practice. I knew I’d not more than a moment before their magic broke him. I didn’t hesitate, I just pulled my arm up and swung hard, backhand. The blade cut clean and his head rolled backward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
I looked away.
“He didn’t mean you, Frey.” Steed’s voice was low, wary.
I turned, trying to avoid the bloody vision in my peripheral. The group was gawking at me, surprised, at the least. I looked at Chevelle, the trackers words in his hand. “Okay… let’s try it.”
He was staring at me, disbelief more than evident as he shot back his answer. “No, Frey.”
Ruby spoke up. “It could be a trick. He’ll need to try it on someone else first.” Someone else? Who else was bound? She could see I was prepared to argue. “It isn’t safe.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” She didn’t answer. I nodded. I remembered the story of her father then, how he’d been released after the fairy’s death.
I faced Chevelle. “If the council member who bound me dies, then will I be released?”
He plainly regretted what he'd divulged that morning. “Yes.”
“Then we kill them.” And if we don’t know which ones? “We kill them all.” I glanced around the clearing. They were all watching me with changed expressions. They were revering me and I realized how they had looked at me before, since we had met... uncertain.
Anvil was smiling.
A movement at the tree line caught everyone’s attention. It was Chevelle’s guest, Asher. He stood in the shadows, staff in hand. He inclined his head once toward Chevelle and turned, a long braid of hair whipping behind him as he disappeared into the brush. The group seemed relieved, happy even.
Anvil thumped his right hand, balled into a fist, on the left side of his chest. It was directed at me. Grey followed, repeating the action and adding a single nod. Ruby clasped her hands and bounced twice with excitement. A tandem wolf howl sounded in the distance.
Chapter Thirteen
Dear Diary