No one else came for Kaye that morning. She expected them to bring her an Obsidian-style dress, or explain her part in the ceremony, or at least send a guard in case she changed her mind and tried to run. Every time she peaked around the curtain the main room was full of people running to and fro, preparing for the wedding, but no one saw the need to prepare her.
“What’s taking so long?” Loria asked as Kaye closed the curtain. “They should have been preparing for days.”
Kaye shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t think I’d come willingly. Or maybe they hold the ceremony at night.”
“They do like darkness.” Loria frowned as she looked around the dim space. At home the door flap would be open to let in light whenever there was a sunny day.
The curtain opened. Corbin stood in all black with a length of rope in his hand. So, the Obsidians also joined the new couple’s hands with rope. The thought of being tied to Obsid made Kaye want to scream and run, but she took a deep breath. Now she wished the Obsidians did hold their ceremony at night so she could wait a bit longer. She wasn’t ready to marry Obsid.
Kaye stood, Loria behind her with one hand on her shoulder. She looked at the rope and swallowed. “Which wrist?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
That was odd. Kaye held out her right wrist, the one she would have been bound with in Fie Eoin. Corbin tied the rope around it, then grabbed her other hand and began wrapping the rope around it as well.
Kaye gasped in surprise and Loria stepped forward. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Don’t interfere,” Corbin said. Kaye tried to pull away, but he yanked on the rope and she fell into him.
“What are you doing?” Terror crept into her voice. What kind of tribe would send a woman, both hands bound, to her new husband?
Corbin didn’t reply, just finished tying the knot. There was only enough space between her wrists for him to grasp the rope.
“Stop!” Loria yelled as he dragged Kaye out of the room. The main room was empty except for a couple of guards—everyone else was outside for the ceremony.
“Let her go!” Loria beat on him with a fist, but he shoved her away.
“Get rid of her,” he told the guards in Obsidian.
“Mother!” Kaye tried to turn but Corbin dragged her to the door. “No!” Kaye screamed as one of the guards drew his dagger. The last thing she heard before being shoved into the blinding sunlight was her mother’s scream, abruptly cut off.
Kaye cried silently to Aleda. This was no wedding—it was murder. Outside, the tribe stood around their chief, who was bound by the wrist to an Obsidian woman.
“What are you doing?” She asked, afraid of the answer but needing to delay. “Who is that woman?”
Corbin stopped in the middle of the circle and smiled. “That will be the chief’s new wife. Congratulate her, won’t you?”
Kaye looked from Corbin to the woman bound to Chief Obsid. She looked nervous, but there was no pity in her eyes for Kaye.
“I was supposed to give him a son.” Kaye tried again to yank herself away from his grasp.
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“And you will.” Corbin gripped her shoulders painfully. “Witches have great power. The sacrifice of an Odion witch is bound to please Mountain. He’ll bless the chief and his new bride with a son, and the rest of us with obsidian for our spears and knifes, so we can kill the rest of the Aledans.”
Kaye hadn’t thought she could be more terrified than when she heard her mother’s scream cut short, but Corbin’s words burrowed deep and lodged in the center of her soul. The priest next to Obsid drew a long black dagger from his belt and Kaye screamed.
“Aleda! Mother! Help me, please!”
She backed into Corbin and the hilt of his dagger jabbed into her spine.
“Kindra!” Kaye screamed. Her sister wouldn’t hear her, but she would sense the terror and feel the knife when it cut deep. “Eoin!”
Corbin shifted to get a better hold of Kaye, and the power of the God rose through her twin bond. She twisted, grabbed the hilt of his dagger, and plunged it into his stomach. The entire tribe froze as he doubled over with a groan of pain.
Kaye ripped the dagger out. They would certainly kill her now. She twisted to flip her cloak over her shoulders and spread her wings. The Obsidians—even the priest and chief—stepped back at the sight. Kaye jumped into the air and prayed that what she told Obsid was true and she still knew how to fly.
Her wings beat the air and propelled her into the canopy. “Get her down!” Obsid yelled from below. A spear flew at her but was lost among the branches. Kaye used the bloody knife to cut her wrists apart, then flew over the trees towards the mountain where the updraft would help her climb out of their reach. Already her wings were tiring from her weight.
She was over the river when the spears flew at her again. There was no tree cover here—nothing to stop their perfect arc—and they ripped through her wings. Kaye screamed. The pain was worse than the whipping—worse than anything she had ever imagined.
The water smacked and swallowed her. The cold helped the pain in her wings, but she rushed helplessly downstream with the current, fighting to keep her head above the water.
A tree blocked half of the river and Kaye slammed into it. She grasped for purchase, slipped, and finally caught a branch. The Obsidians were yelling, rushing down the bank on the other side to find a shallow place to cross.
Kaye pulled herself to shore and gasped for breath on her hands and knees. She didn’t have long before they caught up to her, so she forced herself to stand and keep moving south. There was a dark crevice just above the tree line of the mountain. She could hide there if she could make it in time.
Every step sent a jolt of pain through her body. Water dripped from her hair and clothes, mixing with the blood from her wings. She would never be able to use them again, but that didn’t matter as long as she made it home. They had served their purpose.
When the side of the mountain became too steep, she grabbed at thin trees to pull herself along, and when she reached the tree line, she scrambled up the shifting, rocky ground using her hands for support. The crevice was out of sight over a ledge, but she kept her eyes on the ledge. She’d have to climb two dozen feet of rock wall to reach it.
“An Aledan sword to the man who catches the witch!” Someone shouted and Kaye grabbed the first handhold she could find. She was halfway up the wall when the first Obsidian reached for her ankle. She kicked him with her other foot, and he lost his balance. He slipped down the shifting rock and slammed into the trees below. The others paused, but when he didn’t move or make a sound they came after Kaye with renewed vigor.
The rock was cold and her fingers were going numb, but she managed to pull herself onto the ledge and sit against the wall. She ignored the crevice—hiding wouldn’t help her now. Her pursuers were steadily climbing to the ledge. She could push them off when they reached it, but that would be more blood on her hands, and there was a good chance they would pull her down with them. The small ledge wound around the mountain to her right. Even if it didn't go all the way around, she could get out of sight and keep climbing. With her bloody wings pressed against the rock behind her and her hands splayed out to grip at the wall she slid out of sight around the side.
Cold wind buffeted her as she continued to inch her way around, and she stopped when she hit an area where the rock had fallen away. Ten feet of nothing hung between her and the continuation of the ledge. A man came into sight on her left, swearing at his big feet on the small surface. Kaye turned so she was facing the wall, grabbed a handhold and eased herself over the drop. Her muscles ached and her fingers were going numb, but she could climb across the space. She was hanging halfway across when the man reached the edge of the ledge.
"We'll be waiting for you, witch. If you ever come back to this side of the mountain, you are ours."
A strong wind buffeted them both and Kaye clung to the rock wall. If she could make it the rest of the way across, he wouldn't follow. She sucked in a deep breath and turned her head away from him, into the wind, and reached for the next handhold.