"Tell us what you're looking for," Leif said. "Soon the Prophet will realize we're not following through on our fact-finding mission and he will want to know what we're really up to."
"Go back like I told you to." My eyes shifted to the right as I drank from the mug, searching for anything or anyone in the tavern that seemed out of the ordinary. I didn't feel any flicker of the flame inside me. This was another dead end. In the three months since I nearly died at the Flatlander temple looking for the artifact, I searched every chance I got and found only disappointment.
"We won't leave you. The last time we let go off alone, you came back nearly dead." Wren gripped my wrist when I didn't respond and shook my arm. "Max, talk to us already."
"It'll endanger you." I set my mug down hard and shoved myself away from the table. "Do what I said and leave."
"You stubborn fool," Leif said.
I wove through the crowds of villagers and warriors who drank the night away, focused intently on any flicker of power.
"I've not seen you around here before." A man shifted from his conversation toward me. "What is a strange warrior doing out here without her army?"
He turned fully now, forcing me to ease back toward the wall to open up space between us in the tight space. Did he suspect me? And if so, what? I studied him, wondering if the artifact might be in the area after all. "I'm passing through."
His gaze fell to my sword. "How quickly might you be passing through?"
Suspicion twinged. My voice hardened. "What do you care?"
The man shrugged a shoulder and planted his hand against the wall on the other side of my head. "Wondering how long I have to know you is all."
My eyes narrowed in warning and utter lack of amusement, or more importantly, interest.
Another man standing beside this one started to turn around. "Rufus, what are you doing to this poor–" Golden brown eyes met mine and immediately widened.
My breath was lodged in my lungs as I looked up at the swordsman who nearly killed me. "What are you doing here?" I asked in a fleeting breath.
His shock slowly shifted into awe and then his plush lips twisted in a thoroughly amused smirk. "Now this is very interesting."
This man called Rufus glanced to Nash. "Great, you know each other." He muttered under his breath and rolled his eyes. "Might as well find someone else."
Nash slapped the man on the back when he walked away, but his attention never left me. "I'd also love to know what you're doing here. Perhaps we've been drawn here for the same reason."
My heart beat harder, and my hand shifted to rest against the hilt of my sword. A mix of danger and curiosity swelled inside of me.
"Unless you came to mingle." He placed his hand where Rufus had settled his and leaned in, eyes glinting with his teasing smile. "I can bring my friend back. Rufus loves women who carry swords."
"Rufus, huh?"
"Rufus. Yes." Nash's gaze fell to where my hand curled around the hilt of mine before he raised his gaze back up. "So, tell me. Why are you here?"
No longer dressed for battle, Nash wore his curls down, so they fell delicately against his whiskered cheeks. He looked beautiful, like someone sculpted him perfectly. A hint of his defined chest above the opening of his tunic nearly drew my eyes and successfully brought to my memory the image of him taking his off to make a dressing for our wounds. He was too close, so close I felt his nearness, and it tangled my mind in a way I didn't expect. I never let myself get distracted like this.
Was he doing this on purpose? He carried himself like a man who knew how he looked, and he wielded it now like a sword. I shoved my palm against the crook of his arm, knocking his hand away roughly. I wouldn't be disarmed and played for a fool.
"I'm only passing through," I said in a steely voice.
Nash chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. The space between us opened up enough for me to breathe comfortably but not for the warmth to leave my cheeks. How did I let him get to me like that? I felt like an idiot.
"For a moment, I thought we may be destined to finish our battle." His gaze lingered another moment before he started to shift away. "I suppose I was wrong, if you're only passing through."
"Wait." I gripped a handful of his tunic and jerked him back toward me. He came too willingly, not putting up the resistance I expected, and I pulled him so close our bodies grazed. Surprised, I pressed back against the wall. "What are you up to?"
He took my hand in his larger one, pulled it free of his tunic, and then released me. "I told you last time we met I had important things to do. I should thank you, though. Trying to figure out why a warrior like you would seek out a little temple showed me a whole new path."
Alarm rang through me.
"Of course, you're on this path already, aren't you? Conscripted warriors are always looking for a way to escape their Prophet."
Words like that could get a person killed. He implied we both wanted to kill our Prophet, but he might lie to trick me into confessing. "I promise you do not want to cross me."
He winked. "We'll see who finds it first."
I needed the artifact to regain my power. He wouldn't even know what to do with it.
#
In the end, it was thanks to Nash I found the artifact. He proved to be well-connected here in the Flatlands, an obvious advantage I lacked as an outsider. The problem with Nash finding it first was that he had a head start on me.
I slipped away from Wren and Leif in the night, not wanting to endanger them further, especially with this deadly swordsman.
My lead hadn't been entirely wrong. The artifact did pass through that tavern, but whoever carried it continued with their travels. Now they were back at another temple. I didn't understand why, but I suspected that it was a religious person carrying it. That they didn't use it for themselves and kept returning to holy sites made me think they revered it too much to use. They have thought bringing it into the temples would make the gods bless the Flatlands.
This temple was far easier to enter than the last one because I arrived to find a blood path already carved through the woods and through one of the entrances. I stepped over a dead warrior I knew Nash had slain. He was here and he wouldn't be easy to defeat.
Picking my way through the temple, I heard nothing, which didn't bode well for the unsuspecting guards. I followed the trail of fallen warriors until I heard a crashing sound and rushed for the noise.
I opened the door to the main room of the temple to see Nash surrounded by guards. Quickly, I looked to the offerings of gold, fruit, wine, and other useless gifts, trying to sense anything. The commotion was drowning out my thoughts.
Nash should be my first target. He was too deadly, and he chased what I needed more than anything in the world. But looking at his mesmerizingly precise footwork and swordsmanship made me just want to stand here watching him fight. He took full advantage of every motion, conservative with every move, never expending more energy than necessary or opening up more of himself than necessary to vulnerability.
One of his swords sliced down another man's and cut off his thumb while he used the other to block an attack.
I might be able to take Nash out now with an arrow aimed for his head or heart. I'd need to find a clean shot through the others. It felt cowardly and wrong. Or maybe I just didn't want to kill him. With the memory of his warmth the night we ran into each other filling me, and my eyes catching the tight swell of his arms from here, I understood with great frustration for myself that my hesitance to kill him had nothing to do with battle. My body betrayed me, wanting to spare a threat simply because of how it felt to stand too close to him.
I nocked an arrow, determined to defy these senseless impulses and smother the warmth he'd brought to my middle. But just when I aimed for him, his stare pierced my own, and his gaze caught me between the clashes of blades. Unsurprising that a warrior with instincts like his was attuned enough with surroundings to detect the threat. I grunted and fired on a guard who didn't see me. The arrow jerked his body, ripping a cry free. He stumbled back right into a second arrow that stole his life away.
They all saw me, so I had little time to take advantage of the distance. Running to the side to give myself as much time before they reached me as possible, I shot my arrows rapidly enough that I saw it panic them. I peppered the area, forcing their formation to scatter, while some arrows were deflected and others embedded deep in the men's bodies.
Nash sliced an arrow in half before it reached him.
The two of us attacked the warriors guarding the temple at the same time. Half the party split, pursuing me, leaving the other half to be more easily picked off by Nash.
I didn't launch an offense but rather continued sprinting for the offerings. A warrior lunged in front of me, striking. I deflected and kicked my heel against his shoulder. It opened his posture, leaving him vulnerable to my piercing strike. My sword lodged deep in his chest.
Three more warriors converged on me. I caught glances of Nash, needing to keep track of him before he sneaked up on me or found the artifact before me. I noticed he did the same to me, our eyes locking more than once as we fought.
A slash nearly caught my shoulder. I jumped back and swung my sword in a wide arc. It was then I realized they were pushing me back toward the other group, trying to reunite their war party.
I dove for the ground, rolled off my shoulder, and came up to the side of one man, dragging my blade up to slice him open from hip to shoulder. Spinning, I ducked to avoid a strike from another guard, and used the momentum to throw myself close the third man.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Our fight continued, successfully pushing the two groups closer, until I realized how close I was now to the other guards and Nash. I tore away from my group suddenly and snapped my blade for Nash. Twisting, he wrenched his twin sword up from the back to deflect my strike.
Damn it. I thought I'd at least clip him.
Nash growled, glancing to me as he fended off another strike from me and the guards.
We each turned our focus to the guards, but I watched for my next opportunity, and took it without apology, driven even more by my ridiculous hesitance to shoot him with my arrows.
He slid back to avoid a hit by me and barely blocked a guard's slash. "Stop it," Nash said. "We can kill them faster together."
"I'll kill you and them."
"Fine." He ducked beneath a guard's swinging sword and with incredible speed sprinted toward another, cutting open the man's back in a long swing. Nash kicked the wounded man directly at me.
I dodged the body and missed my opportunity to attack the person to my right. Nash and I traded blows with every chance we grabbed, greatly endangering each other in our fight against the others, forced to duel in two battles at once.
I didn't care. I refused to pass up any opportunity to defeat my enemy.
Soon only two guards remained and neither Nash nor I had injured each other.
It was time. I abandoned the battle to run for the offerings again. Nash yelled after me, but I left him to fight the two remaining guards.
I reached the offerings and began to pick up each, searching out the warmth. "Please," I whispered. It had to be here. I couldn't keep doing this forever. The Prophet would figure out I was up to something.
A guard shifted toward me when Nash's sword slid through his throat from behind. With only one target left, he quickly killed the other.
I continued to search the offerings, growing more desperate. But I didn't feel anything.
He began to search through the offerings as well, ignoring my threat to try to find the offering before me.
"It's not here," I said in a deflated voice.
Nash tossed a block of cheese to the side, muttering curses under his breath.
"We're too late." I shook my head. "It's gone."
He didn't give up, inspecting everything he found.
"You'll use it to kill your Prophet?" I asked.
"What other use for power is there? All the Prophets must die. There's not a good one among them." He threw a bottle of wine against the wall. "Damn it."
I studied him for a stolen moment while he ransacked the offering. He seemed lighthearted at the tavern, but he'd left all that behind. Nash wanted this artifact desperately.
If I didn't stay focused, he'd find it before me. Saying nothing else to him, I abandoned the main room of the temple and searched the vacant building, still not feeling anything. All the guards had pursued. The temple was ours now, but there was nothing useful here.
I turned down a hall, giving up, when warmth kindled in my middle. I twisted around and saw the man from the tavern standing at the far end of the hall. Rufus. In his hand, he held a cylindrical device that looked straight out of the books in the library of the Sacred School. He had my artifact.
I drew my bow silently, not wanting to give up my advantage at seeing him. Aiming for his head, I drew back and fired.
With my arrow soaring through the air, hope filled my heart. Until Nash lunged from a room to the right for his friend. I started to reach for another arrow before knowing whether it would hit.
Nash's arms wrapped around his friend, and he knocked them both to the ground. The arrow caught the back of Nash's shirt and continued on to bury itself in the wall. If it hurt him, it wouldn't be badly.
"Drop it," I shouted and shot another arrow. Nocked more, fired without hesitating. Nash's blades swung up from the ground and sliced the first in half. He rolled onto his knees, his twin blades whizzing through the air to knock the arrows away from him and his friend.
Rufus scrambled to his feet, disappearing in the next room.
"Shit." I sprinted toward Nash and peeled off another arrow. He rolled off his shoulder and then was out of sight.
As soon as I rounded the corner, I saw Nash standing there with the artifact pressed to his left eye. Rufus stared at him with alarm.
"Wait, okay?" I lowered my bow. "Just wait and hear what I have to say."
Nash held still, one eye still on me, and the other blocked by the device.
"You don't know what to do with that power. It'll take you years of training to get good enough to kill a Prophet, maybe decades. Maybe never." I reached my hand out. "You'll waste it if you use it."
When he still didn't move or even acknowledge what I said, I let out an anguished cry. Would I really resort to telling my secret to this man when I never even told my closest friends?
"Nash," I said. "I trained at the Sacred School. They sealed my power, and I need to unlock it so I can save my people. If you give that to me, I'll actually be able to kill them. And I will. I'll kill your prophet and mine."
No movement.
"Nash, come on–"
His eye rolled up until only the whites showed and his body dropped like a stiff slab of rock. Even after hitting the ground, his posture didn't move in the slightest. I gasped and stared in shock for a moment. The device was still held to his eye.
Anguish filled me as I rushed to him and ripped it free.
"Damn it!"
It was empty. Gone. Useless.
Nash had already used it on himself before I even found him and now he was passed out cold, frozen in place like he'd been captured for touching the stolen treasure.
I hit my fist against his chest. "Wake up." Again when he didn't respond. "Wake up, Nash." Panic welled up when he still didn't move. I pushed against his chest with both hands. He wasn't breathing. Rufus dropped beside me, shaking his friend.
Nash used the artifact I spent a year hunting down. If he died, then it went to waste.
"You don't get to die." I slapped his face. "Snap out of it." Sitting up, I slammed my fist against his heart as hard as I could, once, twice, a third time. A scream of frustration ripped free and I hit him again.
A deep gasp rocked his chest, and his eyes shot open. That kindling of warmth inside me exploded into a deep fire. I reached for it, desperate and hopeful I might catch it, but it quickly dwindled.
Nash jolted up, face-to-face with me, eyes on mine.
I stared, trying to sense his power. "Did it work?"
His hand came to his stomach, right where I usually felt my power in my core.
He coughed and bowed forward like someone socked him in his gut. Pain tightened his expression. His fingers curled in on themselves, muscles tightening as if out of his control. He grunted and he grasped his side when white tendrils of power suddenly zipped along his body.
Nash struggled for breath, body stiff and trembling.
"You're losing control of it." I reached for him and bright hot pain snapped against my palm. I gasped. "Nash, pick one thing to focus all of your attention on. Focus your mind, and you'll calm your power."
His skin reddened where the power danced along it, and then bright sparks zapped along his arms. The power ripped open a gash on his forearm and then sliced down one of his biceps. It was tearing him apart. Blood darkened spots on his chest and sides. I saw this once before. He didn't have long if he didn't stop this.
"Focus, Nash." I pushed him back against the wall and took his face with both of my hands. The energy spread up my arms, burning every place it touched, but I didn't pull away.
"Don't–" he cried out, weakly pushing me away.
I slid my palms over his face again, straddling his legs. "Look at me." My fingers dug into his cheeks. Pain spread along my body, and I grunted, forcing myself not to let go. "Now, Nash. Look at me!"
His eyes opened to mine, our faces hovering close to each other. The pain gripping us both was evident. Blood dripped from one of his ears and trailed my pinky.
"Focus on me," I said. "Breathe with me."
Everything about him seemed to still as he looked into my eyes. Our closeness burned as much as his new energy spreading from his body to mine, tangling us both together. My stomach fluttered in a softer version of the sparks of power.
The pain lessened. "That's it," I said. "Focus on breathing with me."
Relief filled his face. So close to each other, looking so deeply into each other's eyes, I saw more of him than I should see in any stranger. The power dissipated and no longer danced along my skin, but it felt like it moved into my chest, the burn so deep I nearly squirmed. My body wanted to melt against his even though I didn't even know him. I felt his breath on my lips.
Finally, every bit of the power disappeared.
"Hold onto it," I said. "Imagine you can hide it deep inside."
Eyes soft with wonder, he nodded slowly, and then his stare fell. Embarrassment filled me as I looked down to how thin the space separating us was. I started to slide off him, but he caught my arm, his thumb softly brushing the skin beneath a jagged cut. His gaze ran along the abrasions and minor burns.
His brows knit. Sweat clung to his skin, wetting his hairline and the nape of his neck. His breathing was labored still and his voice sounded weak. "I hurt you."
"I'm okay." It felt like breathing in water. "You're the one who's hurt."
"I'm sorry." His eyes slowly slid close, head lowering. I remembered the pure exhaustion of losing control of my power, just as powerful as a sedative. "I couldn't control it… Thank you…"
I took his head and helped him as he lowered to his side. A streak of blood smeared the wall behind him. "Nash." I tried shifting his heavy body to look at his back. "Try to stay awake and don't move. I don't know how bad it is. If your power injured your internal organs, then any move might make it worse."
"It feels superficial," Nash said.
Rufus approached now. "This was a gift for the gods and now you're cursed. We've committed a grave sin."
"It's not cursed," I said. "He doesn't know how to control his power."
"Is it true?" Nash opened his eyes, skin pale and clammy. "I was frozen after I injected myself, but I heard and saw everything…" He grimaced, touching his hand to a blood stain on his chest. "Did you truly have power before?"
I sat back, struggling to bring myself to utter the forbidden to these strangers. "Yes."
"My little sister is sick…" He drew his fingers back, bloody. "She's struggled with the sickness all her life. Our villages are starving, and she can't take more…" His eyes closed again. "If I don't kill him, people will keep dying. She'll die."
"I'm sorry about your sister. You know how Eskel the Ruthless treats his people. I want to free the valley."
"You offered to kill both Prophets. You said you know how to use this power." Nash started pushing himself up. I tried to stop him, but he shook me off. Once sitting, he settled against the wall to rest. "Help me wield this power and I will do what you offered. I'll kill the Prophet of the Valley and the Flatlands."
I swallowed hard, not sure I really had a choice. He stole my only hope at getting my power back and without it I was worthless in a battle against Prophets. Without me, he might be worthless too. It took a long time to learn to wield power.
"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked.
He reached a bloody hand out to me. I stared for a moment before I reached out. He clasped my forearm, his hand easily stretching around mine. I tightened my hand against his as well, chest tightening at hard muscle beneath my hand.
"I give you my word." He tightened his hold, nodding. "Help me, and I will not harm you or those you care for. I'll kill Eskel the Ruthless."
Words meant nothing, but his felt like power. The conviction I heard in his voice made me want to believe him. Or maybe it was hand on me that did that.
What could I do anyway? This was the greatest sin of the gods, to give the power to crush so many to so few. Nash possessed power now that could tear him apart but also rendered me and others helpless.
I hated myself for losing mine.
"Okay." I dug my fingers into his arm. "I accept your word."
His shoulders relaxed. His arm lowered and he relaxed against the wall. "Thank you."
I opened my mouth to speak when Nash's eyes widened. He grabbed both Rufus and me, pushing us aside. As I hit the wall, I turned to see a man standing behind us. His eyes looked void of life or emotion.
"You defied the order of the gods by stealing their power for yourself."
Nash struggled to his knees and started to stand when the stranger raised his fingers and snapped. A scream pried from Nash's lips and a burst of energy tore through his gut. Blood spurted from the wound. Gushed against his fingers as they came to his wound. He teetered, staring in shock at the devastating attack.
Who was this man?
"Wait," I said, hands lifting. "We didn't create this artifact. We did nothing wrong."
Globs of Nash's blood fell from his fingers and plopped onto the stone ground when he pulled his hands back to look at them. Then he collapsed, hitting the ground hard, his moan hardly audible.
I covered my mouth.
"You now know not to defy the order of the gods." Steely eyes fell to Nash's collapsed form. "Let this be your warning. I'll let you keep your life if you stop here. I know you plan to create more for your allies. Do so, and I will kill you and anyone involved in your plan."
"What about me?" I asked.
"You mean what if you regain your power?" He shook his head once, scattering blood all over the floor. "This matter has nothing to do with the gods. You lost it without them and if you regain it without them, what difference does it make?"
Despite my instinct to attack this incredibly powerful warrior, I knew deep down that even if I never lost my power, I'd still have lost against him. I sensed it in the void I felt in him, not the abundance of great power, but the destruction of it. This man was death.
He disappeared.