Feelings passed through Felitïa’s mind: anticipation, excitement. A few others as well, but those two were the strongest. She glanced around, but there was no sign of the source. The streets were completely deserted apart from small clouds of snow stirred up by the bitter wind. The sounds of the New Year’s celebrations were just audible here, so far from the city centre. Beyond that, there was no sign of life.

Imagination, she told herself. But she knew it wasn’t.

She picked up her pace. Elderaan’s shop was just ahead. She pulled out the key, rounded the corner and froze. There was someone leaning against the door, rubbing his hands to keep warm in the chill air. He looked up. The details of his face were obscured in the shadows of the night, but she could tell he was looking directly at her. And his feelings…oh gods, his feelings. She’d never felt anything like them before. Some hints of anger, a desire for violence, but others as well that were completely alien to her. He moved towards her, and moonlight illuminated his face, his smile, and the razor-sharp teeth within.

Felitïa turned around to run, but collided with a huge man standing in her way. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched the shop key from her. She screamed as loudly as she could before he took hold of her, spun her around and clasped his hand over her mouth. She bit him as hard as she could, but he didn’t let go. “Bitch,” he growled.

“Get her inside,” another man’s voice said. “That scream might draw the watch. We need to be quick.”

Felitïa began moving her finger in the prescribed pattern. She could feel magical energy moving through her, but she couldn’t concentrate on it. Fear enveloped her and the spell fizzled away.

The man holding her shoved her forward until they were standing in front of the shop door. He unlocked the door, opened it, and pushed her inside. Felitïa spun around and tried to gather her thoughts, but the magic wouldn’t come.

The man gave her another push and chuckled. With his six-foot height, she thought he must be a Folith, but as a second man came in behind him holding a lantern, she saw that he had the darker skin and wider build of an Eloorin. His head was shaved entirely bald and his nose was crooked. The man with the lantern was on the short side—very small when compared with the bald man—but beyond that, she could make out little about his features. He was wrapped in a silk cloak, and the way he held his lantern meant that no light was penetrating the darkness of his hood.

The man with the teeth came into the shop followed by two more men, the last remaining in the open doorway, keeping watch on the outside. What did they want with her? Anticipation was the overwhelming sense Felitïa got from all of them—that and the feelings from the sharpened-teeth man, but she refused to think about those.

“Where’s Quilla?” It was the man in the cloak who spoke. He placed the lantern down on the display table nearest the door.

“Who?” Felitïa replied, her voice shaking. “Who are you?”

The man with the sharpened teeth grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. She screamed—not so much from the pain as from his feelings as they flooded into her. His gruesome laugh sounded of insanity. Was that what she was feeling from him? Felitïa fought back the tears. The man let her go, laughing some more.

“When I ask a question,” the man in the cloak said, pulling back his hood, “I expect an answer.” He was young, maybe in his early twenties, and the only one of the men who seemed to have heard of bathing. “I’ll ask again. Where is Quilla?” His dark blonde hair was straight, his bangs hanging straight down, covering his forehead to just above his eyebrows. He stood in front of her now, gazing intently at her, cold blue eyes studying her. Despite being shorter than her, his look managed to make her feel small. Anticipation and excitement flooded from him. And hatred.

Felitïa shook her head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” She tried to wipe the tears from her face, but the man with the teeth grabbed her arm as she moved it. The short man’s slap sent her reeling. Her arm twisted in the pointed-toothed man’s grip.

“I will only ask once more. The time of birth grows near. I must find her! I will have the child! Now where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Felitïa sobbed. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe she really doesn’t know,” the bald man said.

The short man rounded angrily on him. “She knows. She has to know.”

“Maybe she’s the wrong one,” one of the other men said. He was an Eloorin with greasy black hair. “Maybe you got it wrong, Dyle. Maybe you’ve led us all on a wild goose chase. The Dusk Supreme will not be pleased. Looks to me like Aylor will get to be his successor now.”

“Shut up, Dogbar, you fool,” the bald man snapped. “You speak too much.”

The short man—Dyle—grabbed her by the back of her neck, those cold blue eyes raging. “This is her! I know it is.” The calm and self-possession with which he had addressed her earlier was gone. She thought that she could get a slight sense of fear from him now, but she wasn’t sure. There were too many emotions coming through. She tried desperately to remember her concentration exercises.

“Tell me where she is and I’ll let you die quickly,” Dyle said. “If not, I’ll give you to Vellon here.”

The man with the teeth laughed again. This time she saw what made his pointed-tooth grin all the more horrifying. No tongue. Gods! Who were these people?

There was a sound from the man in the doorway—like a horrid mix of cough and gurgle—followed by a spray of blood across Felitïa’s face, and then a thud near her. The man fell to the ground twitching. An arrow had ripped right through his neck and lodged into a shelf. Felitïa held back a scream.

“What the hell?” Dyle yelled, letting go of Felitïa and wiping away the blood that had sprayed over his own face.

“It must be the watch!” Dogbar yelled.

The tall bald man moved beside the door. “It’s that fucking girl from last week!” He slammed the door shut. There was a thud as another arrow hit it.

Felitïa knew that this momentary distraction was the only chance she was likely to get. She focused on her head, trying to push her fear and all the other jumbled emotions to the side. It was a huge effort, but they obeyed her. She flexed her fingers slightly, following the prescribed pattern, adjusting it to fit her condition and circumstances. She took a few cautious steps to the side. None of them noticed.

Dyle slammed his fist on a shelf in anger. “Sam, kill her! Vellon, you get the Will-Breaker. Then we make a run for it before the watch gets here.”

While the bald man edged the door open, keeping it between him and whoever was firing the arrows, the man with the sharpened teeth lunged at Felitïa and passed right through the false image she had created in their minds. As he stumbled and tried to regain his balance, she kicked him in the stomach with as much strength as she could muster. He doubled over.

“Clever,” Dyle said, and rounded on her—directly towards where she was really standing, not the image of her.

When she’d kicked the man with the sharpened teeth, she had lost concentration on the spell. Stupid! So stupid!

Dyle pulled a knife and lunged at her. Felitïa instinctively raised her arms to protect herself and gasped as the blade cut along the back of her left hand. Somehow, she managed to grab his wrist with her other hand and tried to force the knife from him. He roared and fought back.

“The watch is coming!” Dogbar cried. “Let’s get out of here!”

Dyle might not have been a large man, but he was certainly stronger than Felitïa. He pushed her arms back, brought the knife closer to her. She stumbled. Her grip on his wrist slipped a little. Yet she held on and managed to regain her footing. Finally, she brought her knee up to kick him in the groin. He doubled over. She wrenched the knife from his hand and pulled it away. He yelled in pain and looked up. A long gash dripped red down the right side of his face.

Felitïa backed away. Pointing the knife at Dyle, she looked around the rest of the shop. His associates had taken off, presumably from fear of the watch. He seemed to be just realising this, too. He glared at her for a moment longer, then turned and ran through the open door of the shop—straight into a City Watchman, who grabbed his arm and shoved him aside, straight into the arms of another guard.

Felitïa dropped the knife and fell to her knees, gasping for breath. Tears were forming in her eyes.

The first watchman stepped into the shop, stamping his feet to free his boots of snow. “What’s going on here?” He looked in distaste at the body on the floor.

Felitïa looked up at him. “They... they attacked me. I... I don’t know why.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The watchman turned his head away from the body and gazed about. He stroked his greying beard. “You’re that Folith girl who works for that Eloorin fraud, right?”

“He’s a wizard,” she told him, pulling herself back to her feet again. “He’s not a fraud.”

“Of course not,” the guard said. “My apologies.” He didn’t sound as if he meant it. “You say these people attacked you. Do you know why?”

Felitïa shook her head. “No. Not really. Though they seemed to think I knew where they could find someone else they were looking for. A woman. Named Quilla, I think.”

Another watchman entered the shop. “We’ve rounded up five of them, Captain.”

“And the dead man here makes six.” The captain turned to Felitïa. “Were there any more?”

She shook her head. “I only saw five, I think.” Everything did seem hazy though. Maybe there had been another outside.

“Thank you, Rios,” the captain said, nodding to the other watchman. “We’ll join you shortly.”

The second watchman nodded and left the shop again. The captain turned back to Felitïa. “So, a young girl like you holding your own against six assailants. Quite impressive. Did you kill this one?”

Felitïa shook her head. The one firing arrows! The bald man had mentioned a girl. What had happened to her? “Someone was trying to help me, I think,” she said. “Someone was firing arrows.”

The watchman walked over to the shelf where the arrow had lodged itself. “So I see.” He pulled the arrow free. “Come with me.”

He led her outside, where several watchmen had five people lined up on the street, their hands tied behind their backs. Four of them were the men who had attacked her. Dyle’s face still dripped blood. The tall bald man had acquired a shoulder wound at some point. At the far end of the line, however, a teenage girl stood staring at the guards with venom in her eyes. It was Zandrue.

“Were these your assailants?” the captain asked her.

“The men were,” Felitïa answered. “Not her, though. But when someone started shooting arrows at them, one of the men mentioned seeing a girl. I think she was trying to help me.”

“I was!” Zandrue spoke up.

“Do you know her or any of the others?” the captain asked.

Felitïa shook her head. “Not the men. Though I have seen her in the shop before. She came in last week. We talked a bit.”

“She was armed with this, sir,” Rios said, holding up a longbow. “And a quiver of arrows.”

The captain walked up to the girl, and Felitïa hurried after him. “It’s illegal to fire a bow and arrow on the streets of Quorge,” he said to the girl, “as I believe I’ve warned you of before.”

“Yeah, well, I bet it’s also illegal to attack helpless girls in the middle of the night. I was trying to help.” There was intense anger emanating from Zandrue, but also a hint of hope.

“Tell me what happened,” the captain said.

Zandrue sighed. “I was nearby. I heard a scream. I came to investigate and saw these men attacking that girl, so I tried to help out. Yes, I fired arrows at them. What else was I supposed to do? There’s no way I could take on someone like him in hand-to-hand.” She nodded towards the tall, bald man.

“She’s just trying to get out of her punishment,” the bald man spat. “She was our back-up on the street. Her job was to shoot down the girl if she got away.”

“That’s a fucking lie!” Zandrue snapped back.

The watch captain held up his hand for silence. “Did you kill the man in the shop?”

Zandrue shrugged. “I wasn’t close enough to see for sure, but if he was killed by an arrow then it was probably me.”

The captain turned to the bald man. “If she was your back-up, why’d she kill one of your own?”

The bald man shrugged, but Dyle spoke up. “Apparently she has lousy eyesight. She must have thought he was the girl. I won’t be hiring her again, that’s for sure.”

“Why you fucking...” Zandrue began and started to move towards Dyle. One of the Watch grabbed her shoulder to hold her back. She turned to look at the captain. “Look Almais, you have to believe me. I wasn’t working for these men. I was trying to help her!”

“What were you doing in the area?” the captain asked. “Most people are at the festival tonight.”

“I was bored. I left early.”

“Really? Somehow I doubt that. This young lady says you’ve been in her shop before. Is this true?”

Zandrue nodded.

“Did you buy anything?”

“No.”

“Did you see anything you wanted to take?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The captain sighed. “I think you know what I’m implying.”

“Okay, look,” the girl said. “Almais, you know me. Yes, I’ve stolen a few things before, but I don’t work for thugs like these. I don’t attack innocent people.”

Almais sighed. “You’re right. You don’t. But I have to arrest you anyway.”

Both the bald man and the man with sharpened teeth laughed.

“What the hell for?” Fear was starting to overshadow Zandrue’s anger. That made sense, yet there was something odd about it too. Felitïa couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she got the sense that Zandrue wasn’t so much afraid of the Watch or the four men, but something else.

“On what charge, Captain?” Felitïa interjected. “She was trying to help me, after all. Killing that man was an act of defence.”

“On suspicion of robbery,” Almais replied. “She was either about to rob your shop or had already done it when those men attacked you. That’s why she was nearby.”

“You can’t arrest me for something I might have been considering doing,” Zandrue said.

“And when we search your belongings, what will we find?” Almais asked her. “Items from the store, perhaps? Items you claim you never bought? Shall I have your belongings brought forward?”

All four of Felitïa’s attackers were chuckling now. She could sense contempt and hatred for Zandrue coming from all of them, along with amusement over her predicament. Felitïa had no idea what had previously happened between them and the girl, but after what they had just done to her, she wasn’t about to give them any satisfaction.

“Captain,” Felitïa said, “if there’s anything in her belongings from the store, I hereby give them to her. Therefore she hasn’t stolen them.”

Zandrue smiled, and her fear diminished a little.

“I had a feeling you might say that,” Almais replied, “but you’re not actually the owner of the shop, are you? What will he say about this?”

“I’ll talk to him.”

Captain Almais shrugged. “I understand your desire to help the girl out. She may have saved your life. But I warn you: she may not be a killer, but she’s not to be trusted.”

“I’ll make that decision for myself, Captain,” Felitïa said.

He nodded. “Very well.” He motioned for Zandrue to turn around. He then began to undo her bonds. “You’re too young to take responsibility for her,” he told Felitïa. “I’m considering her the wizard’s responsibility as long as she remains in the city. If he doesn’t want that, he’ll have to turn her over to us.” He finished undoing the bonds and turned to his men. “Let’s get these others out of here. Move!”

As the watchmen began to march her attackers away, Dyle looked in Felitïa’s direction. “This isn’t over, Will-Breaker!” One of the watchmen elbowed him in the back along with an order to shut up.

Felitïa watched as they moved down the street. She didn’t turn away for several minutes until the blowing snow completely hid them from sight. In the distance, the sound of New Year’s revellers—oblivious to everything that had happened here—just barely reached Felitïa’s ears.

“Why’d he call you Will-Breaker?” Zandrue asked.

“No idea,” Felitïa replied. It was a good question. Why had he? And who had he been looking for? “Your name’s not Quilla by any chance, is it?”

“No, it’s Zandrue. I told you that. Who’s Quilla?”

“I don’t know. The person they were looking for, apparently.”

“Well, it’s not me.”

“It was a long shot,” Felitïa said, thinking back to what had just happened. The image of sharpened teeth stood prominently in her mind. And Dyle’s final words. This isn’t over.

Emotions started to well up in her, dizzyingly strong. Fear. Panic. Sadness. She lowered her head to stare at the ground, hoping for stability amid the strange sense of motion she was experiencing. She could feel the blood on her face, and the pain on the back of her hand was getting worse.

“Well, I better get going,” Zandrue went on. “I’ll leave town. I don’t want to put any pressure on the old guy. Thanks for what you did. I appreciate it. I’ll put back the...” She trailed off.

Gods, Zandrue was an emotional one! Felitïa wanted to say something to calm Zandrue down, but realised they weren’t Zandrue’s emotions at all. They were her own. Gods, those sharpened teeth! She could have died. Who were they?

She felt Zandrue’s arms catch her. She hadn’t even noticed herself start to fall. “You’ve never been in a fight for your life before, have you?”

Felitïa started to cry. She tried to hold back the tears, but they just kept coming.

“Don’t worry,” Zandrue said. “You’ll be okay. I’ll get you inside, and watch over you until the old man gets back.”