Two hours later, they sighted Markus's fortress. The turrets of the fortress crested over the head of a hill that they were climbing up, which declined insidiously towards the cliffs.

  The size of the fortress was a sight to see, especially the walls. While not as great as the capital’s, these walls stood tall and could easily hold out against a large number of fighters. That was made clear to the group as they neared the place. A siege was futile. They halted as one hundred paces from the closed gates of the fortress.

  The battlements of the fortress were quiet.

  Malka relaxed her gait as she strode towards the gates. “Hullo!” She called out. “Malka Catcher, ‘ere with a catch of slaves t’ sell!” She snapped her fingers and Torrance, instantly playing the part of her slave, staggered up with his head down. She roughly grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him onto his knees. He grunted with pain. That part was not acted.

  “Baron Markus is expectin' me!” Malka shouted. “Come on now, I ain’t staying ou' here all nigh'!”

  Arcos scanned the battlements, but he could not see anyone at the heads of the walls. It was silent.

  Dead silent.

  Suddenly, the gates shifted as the sound of the portcullis was lifted, the chains of the iron bars bashed against one another in their coiling. The portcullis was raised and the gates opened outwards, revealing the courtyard within the walls. Malka looked behind her and gave a single nod. The Waywards pushed the ‘slaves’ onwards and into the gates of the fortress.

  The first stage of the plan was complete.

  Arcos felt his entire body tense.

  Standing in the courtyard, he saw that it was an expansive open area with dirt and gravel. In the centre was a well with a turning apparatus and a bucket on a hooked rope.

  On the perimeters of the courtyard were a series of stables housing a troop of horses. They were thoroughbred creatures, bred for battle. Their saddles and armour hung all around them. A single stableboy was quietly cleaning the stables, but kept snatching glances towards the group with a nervous look.

  And facing the group was the keep itself. It rose stories high, a tower protruding from each of the four corners. The windows, tall and thin, were barred from the outside and had the design of use for archers in case the walls were breached. Leading up a small flight of stone steps was a large pair of great oaken doors, which were closed and manned by two Bodyhunters. Dressed in their dark leathery overcoats and tricorn hats, both were armed with barbed glaives, nasty blades with horned edges.

  Other Bodyhunters were seen around the courtyard and up on the battlements. It seemed they wanted to remain out of sight. Three of the Bodyhunters were in the process of lighting lanterns around the place. In total, Arcos could count thirty Bodyhunters in total. The count Boras had made was fifty or more. Where were they? No doubt, somewhere within the keep.

  His spine itched. There was something not right. He couldn’t explain what that feeling was, but it could not leave him.

  When the group formed in the centre of the courtyard, every single Bodyhunter stopped what they were doing and stared down the group.

  Malka nodded and stepped forward. “So. Where’s the Baron?”

  “He is indisposed.” A woman’s voice, clear and cold, said. The Bodyhunter approached the group from the shadow of the gates. She had been in the dark and allowed them to pass her.

  None of them noticed her, not even Torrance. That was an impressive, if extremely worrying, feat.

  Boras and Sitra froze. They recognised her instantly. It was the female Bodyhunter that hunted them that day outside the fortress. They dared not look in her direction.

  The woman was dressed in full attire of the Bodyhunters, with a high collar and tricorn hat. Boots slapped the mud, and her gauntlet hands rested easily on her sheathed blade. Her cold eyes and expressionless face suggested a well of power that was not to be underestimated.

  Reeva felt a shiver of emotion go through her spine. She could not place the reason for it, but the feeling was undeniably rage. Reeva was infuriated by the very sight of this woman. Whatever this woman did, it was enough to make Reeva’s heart boil. Reeva felt her hands clench. Her teeth ground against her teeth.

  This woman… this fucking woman is evil.

  Reeva’s senses were now on the highest alert. They had to leave this place as soon as they could.

  Malka coughed, obviously disturbed by this woman’s appearance.

  “Malka Catcher. Bounty hunter of Fennaposia.” She announced to the woman.

  The woman inclined her head, tipping the hat into a slight bow. “Hildur Blackheart. Second-in-command of the Bodyhunters.”

  “Of course you are.” Malka joked nervously. “Well… I am here with some fresh slaves. I would like to be paid for them. Is the Baron present?”

  “He is in the keep, currently indisposed.” Hildur gestured towards the keep. “I would recommend that the slaves be brought to the cells. I shall have my people escort them in. I shall retrieve the Baron. You and your people shall wait outside.”

  “Okay.” Malka nodded. She turned towards the group as Hildur whistled over two Bodyhunters to her side. “You heard her.” Malka ordered. “Off you go.”

  Malka passed the slaves, before giving Torrance and Vanto a brief look.

  Boras and Reeva glanced to Arcos. He was staring away from the keep and towards one of the stairways that led up to the battlements. Standing at the midpoint of the steps was a Bodyhunter with hair as white as snow. It was Darius Snowhair.

  “Oh gods… It’s him.” Reeva whispered. Then she cursed and looked away. “Fuck. He’s seen us.”

  “He did?” Boras hissed back. “Shit. Shit!”

  “Arcos, stop looking at him. Eyes on the ground.”

  But Arcos wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on Darius, who was now stepping down towards the ground and making a slow way to the group. Reeva and Boras kept their heads down and grabbed Arcos to look down as well. He did, reluctantly.

  “Hildur.” Darius spoke. “Allow me.”

  Hildur turned on her heel to face Darius head-on. “You?” She sneered. “You are already in the deepest of shitty waters, my friend…”

  As he neared, Torrance could see a fresh and nasty gash across his cheek and cutting into his right ear. It was stitched well, but it looked bad all the same.

  Interesting. Torrance noted. Strife within the organisation… Could be useful.

  “All the better to regain his favour. I shall ask for his forgiveness.” Darius bowed his head. “Please.”

  Hildur rubbed her chin. She smirked. “Never thought I’d see you bow to me. Fine. But remember, we have our eyes on you… Varma!” One of the Bodyhunters stood to attention at the mention of the name. This sour-faced woman stepped towards Hildur and nodded to her. Hildur regarded her and then thumbed towards Darius.

  “Varma, you and Darius take the fresh stock down to the lower section. To where the doctor is.”

  Torrance frowned. Doctor? Hacker’s in the cells? He’s a prisoner? Why? What’s happened?

  He made to look towards Malka, but she wasn’t able to catch his glance. She was busy scanning the courtyard. She was planning her incoming attacks.

  “Very well, ma’am.” Varma saluted, drew a silver hand-axe from her belt, and gestured the slaves to follow her. Darius sighed deeply and kept pace with her as they began to lead the group towards the keep.

  The second part of the plan was now complete.

  Arcos couldn’t tear his glare from Darius. His right hand twitched. His head throbbed with a dull pain. The anger and indignation swelled in his chest.

  Darius was there. Right fucking there.

  All he had to do was draw Alaintiqam and skewer the son of a bitch through the spine. But, no. Not yet. Not until they found the others. Not until he found Nerisity.

  The uneasy feeling Arcos felt on the walk from the city had not fully subsided; it remained there like a terrible reminder.

  Something terrible had happened.

  Something very, very terrible.

  And Arcos feared what it could be… He prayed it was nothing to do with her.

  Gods, let it be something foolish. Please let her be safe…

  Boras saw Malka break away from discussion with the Waywards. The mercenaries started to unpack leather gourds of drink and split into various groups that spread across the courtyard. Some mingled with the Bodyhunters to strike up banal conversations, with very little success. Boras noted the gourds the mercenaries carried. He knew some of their drinks were for consumption, like fermented goat milk and rum.

  And he also knew that the others were filled with highly refined absinthe, one of the most flammable liquids in the city.

  Of course, Torrance knew a friend who knew another man who was a brother to a woman who ran a brewery of the stuff. Easy to procure and dangerous to handle. Boras did not want to be here when that drink would be set off. It was going to make a hells’ of a bonfire.

  Reeva noted Hildur quietly following them, as she was on her way to find Baron Markus. That woman… what was it about her that irked Reeva? No matter what it could be, Reeva knew that if a fight came to be - which was proving more likely by the minute - she would enjoy killing that woman. Hildur entered the keep first and disappeared from sight.

  They did not go through the front door, interestingly enough. They were instead led around the keep and towards a side door that was open. Into the darkness they went.

  Boras felt Sitra close behind him in the dark. She shivered and then stumbled and uttered a quiet curse.

  “Hold onto me.” Boras advised her. “I’ll lead you.”

  Sitra whispered a word of thanks and Boras felt her hand on his cloak. Her hand was shaking. That was not from the cold. She was worried. Gods, so was he…

  They headed downstairs. Clinking chains and manacles echoed in the dark. They continued the descent until they felt the levelled-out flooring of flagstones. There was a knocking on wood and a door creaked open from the inside, swinging inwards, allowing fresh orange firelight from hanging sconces to pour through and revealing another Bodyhunter who was standing guard.

  “Stock up.” Darius said plainly.

  The Bodyhunter nodded and beckoned them in. Once inside, the Bodyhunter closed the door and brought back down the bar that held it locked. The Bodyhunter roughly pushed past the slaves to join Darius and Varma at the front.

  Boras saw that they now stood in a cave-like tunnel with brick walls curving over them in an arch. Truly a dungeon, even with the lit torches along the walls.

  Most of the doors were closed. Some were open. And through these doors, he could see supplies. Dry foods, like beans, aged beef, corn, salt, seeds, and others of such quality. Others opened rooms showed aligned armour and weapons on racks.

  There was one door that was firmly closed. It was larger than the other doors, which alluded to a larger room. Upon wondering what that was, Boras noted a glint of light on the floor by the door. His heart skipped. It was a single gold piece. He made a quick look around the group. Most of the slaves, including Vanto and Torrance, saw the gold piece. A silent agreement spread through the group.

  They had just passed the treasury. Now they knew where to run to for the looting. Provided they survived long enough to actually do so.

  After a few turns in the tunnels, Darius and the Bodyhunters stopped before another closed door. On this door, there was a sign, nailed to the wood and embossed in bronze. It read: Slave Storage.

  Arcos glowered at the sign. He could barely hold himself in check at this point. He yearned for a fight.

  Darius hammered on the door, and another Bodyhunter opened this door and nodded. “New arrivals?”

  “In a sense,” Darius replied.

  In the group, Vanto shuffled next to Torrance while the Bodyhunters’ backs were turned.

  “Just give the word, Four Claws,” he whispered in Torrance’s ear. “We’re ready.”

  “Yeah…” Torrance nodded. “Now.” He stepped forward slowly, towards the Bodyhunters.

  Vanto turned his head subtly and motioned for the Mercuries to be ready. They all nodded as one.

  Sitra shook with excitement.

  Reeva tensed.

  Boras swore under his breath.

  Arcos gripped Alaintiqam in his rags.

  Torrance was only a step away from the female Bodyhunter, Varma.

  Darius took one step back whilst talking with the Bodyhunter in front of him. “For what it is worth… I apologise.” He said grimly.

  “For what?” The Bodyhunter asked confusedly. Then his eyes went wide as Darius dug his hands into his coat and whipped out his twin sickles.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Before anyone could react, and with two sickening swipes, Darius cut open the Bodyhunter’s throat and buried the other sickle into his eye.

  Blood sprayed, caking Darius’s white hair and pale face with flecks of red.

  “Holy hells!” Boras yelped as he jumped back, knocking Sitra back.

  “You traitorous shit!” Varma screamed. She raised her silver axe overhead to strike down the snake that she had once called an ally. She flinched when she heard from behind her the breaking of chains. With speed honed by years of relentless training, she spun to face Torrance who had come right at her, teeth baring and eye blazing with combat lust.

  She would have struck him first, but he was too close and well within her guard. His right hand’s claws punctured two holes into her neck and his left claws speared her chest as he drove her to the ground dead.

  The third and final Bodyhunter made to attack Torrance as he was the closest, but even a trained fighter was no match for thirty thugs armed with knives, axes, hammers, and shortswords who surged forth, led by Vanto, and fell upon the unfortunate as a tide of steel and flesh.

  As quickly as it started, it was finished. Three dead Bodyhunters lay between the rescuers and Darius Snowhair. Darius sobbed as he yanked his weapons out from his comrade.

  He stood up straight and regarded the group who stared at him.

  “What the fuck…” Sitra uttered.

  Darius cleaned his sickles and held up his hands. His face was constricted with conflicting emotions of pain and relief. “I am what you see. I am done with this. All of it. I have seen too much evil and I want to leave. Doctor Hacker told me what may occur. I want to help you. Allow me to do this.”

  No one moved. Except for Arcos.

  He pushed through the crowd, right to the front with Torrance, and faced down his old nemesis. His mortal enemy. The reason for his pain.

  Darius peered at Arcos. Then his jaundiced face blanched in shock. “You…”

  “Yeah… Me! ” Arcos snapped his chains and made to draw Alaintiqam. But Torrance lunged in front of him and grabbed Arcos by his sword hand, holding him in place.

  “Not now.” He hissed softly.

  Arcos glared venomously at Torrance. “What are you doing?!” He snapped. His lips were curled back and his teeth bared in rage.

  “Not now.” Torrance snarled next. His eyes were wide with adrenaline. The veins in his neck throbbed. The blood from Varma’s corpse was splashed all over his chest and hands.

  With his crimson hair and eyepatch, he looked as if he stepped from the pages of a horror.

  “Not now? Not now?” Arcos tried to shrug his hand from Torrance’s grip. But to no avail, the man’s grip was stronger than his. “We came here to stop Markus. That means killing the Bodyhunters! All of them!”

  Arcos tried to wrench free with more anger and strength, but Torrance was fast. He spun around and slammed Arcos against the stone wall, pinning him there with his forearm on Arcos’s neck. Face to face, Torrance leaned in.

  “We came here to save our friends.” He reminded calmly, but barely. “That was the point of this entire endeavour; dead Bodyhunters were only a bonus. We have a new ally now. A proper Bodyhunter. Our chances for success have increased. Do not be foolish to throw away the opportunity. Remember our talk, kid. The crossroads... Remember that.”

  Arcos gritted his teeth, looking from Darius, to Torrance, and to Torrance’s hands holding him in place. He turned to his friends. Boras and Reeva stared in parts confusion, concern, and worry.

  Arcos closed his eyes and forced a sigh from his locked jaw. “You’re right. Gods damn it… you’re right.” He looked up at Torrance.

  Torrance’s face softened a tad. “I get it, kid. I really fucking get it. Can I let go of you now? Or are you going to stab me and make a scene?”

  “I’m good. I’m good.”

  Torrance gave Arcos a final appraising look before he released him and backed off with hands raised. Arcos kept his head down so that no one could see the blaze of fury in his eyes. Torrance turned to their new unlikely ally.

  “Alright, Snowhair. Welcome to the group.” He addressed the Bodyhunter. “Now, make yourself useful and tell us: Where the fuck are our friends?”

  After dragging the dead into a storage room for ale barrels, the group were led by Darius through the doorway and down a final set of steps into the main corridor. They were lit up well by a two-row of torches and a final row of lanterns on the arched stone ceiling. On either side were the cells. The grates covered the alcoves fully with no space left for escape. The smell was dank and musty, with a tinge of body odour and sweat.

  The smell twinged the noses of the group. It was an unpleasant scent. It was the smell of hopelessness.

  Immediately, Arcos peeled from the group, grabbed a torch from off the wall and waved the light across the bars of the cells. He peered inside. Inside, he saw pale faces, gaunt and fearful, staring back at him. They had the look of surprise and confusion, almost the same look he must have had when Torrance offered him his chance of freedom all that time ago.

  Darius fished out a set of keys he pulled from the body of the first Bodyhunter that died. “They’re all the same lock and key.” He snapped the iron band apart and threw the keys around the Mercuries. By now, everyone had broken their chains and were freely discarding their rags, unveiling their armour and readying their weapons. Arcos took one key, more snatched than taken, from Darius and moved quickly ahead. Boras, Reeva and Torrance followed him.

  “Vanto,” Torrance called back to the Mercury with an iron jaw and a flinty eye. “Get them all out. Those who can’t walk, you carry them. No one gets left behind. We are all going home.”

  Vanto nodded. His face was mixed with outrage and grimness. Sitra was severely uncomfortable with the surroundings they were in, but she nodded as she led a group of men to some cells. Darius stayed with Vanto and opened other cells.

  Ahead of the group now, Arcos led Reeva, Boras, and Torrance to each cell. He scanned every face. But none were recognisable. He did not see Barnabas. Not the Belle Dame. Not Nerisity. He started to panic. What if they were not here anymore? What if Hacker or Malka got the dates wrong? What if they were too late? What if they were sold? What if they were dead? What if—

  “Boras?” Came a deep and— thank the Black— familiar voice. Arcos skidded to a stop at a larger cell than the others and turned to it.

  And right there, still alive and beaten badly, was Barnabas himself.

  The large tavernkeep stared back with disbelief. “What the hells?” He whispered. “What the hells?”

  He rushed to the bars and gripped them with a shaking clatter. He saw all of them.

  “Arcos? Reeva! Boras!” He cried out.

  Boras laughed joyously and grabbed at Barnabas’ hand. “Fuck me, mate, I thought they killed you for sure!”

  Barnabas grinned weakly. “They definitely tried.” His face was bruised purple and blue. He did not look good. But his eyes were bright with defiant strength. He was not broken like the others the trio saw.

  Barnabas looked past them and locked his gaze at Torrance. “Bloody hells…” he uttered. “Torry? Is that you?”

  Torrance grinned. “Good to see you alive and well, you mad old bear. You look terrible.”

  “You can talk.” Barnabas sputtered, shock still striking his composure. “You’re missing an eye!”

  Torrance waved his hand flippantly. “Eh, had a tangle with a slaver. Nothing special.”

  Arcos hurriedly opened the gate of the cell.

  Barnabas charged out and bear-hugged all three of the young ones in his embrace. He burst into the most manly of tears. “You are a sight for the blind, that’s for certain!” He blubbered. “Oh gods…!”

  The trio wheezed. Seemed Barnabas did not lose any of his strength.

  “Reeva!?” A woman now.

  Gods… Reeva began to instantly tear up at the voice.

  “Letti?” She whimpered. She pulled herself from Barnabas and saw Letti herself emerge from the dark. The older woman was bedraggled and haggard. But like Barnabas, she remained strong. Reeva sobbed as she leapt forth and hugged her adoptive mother.

  “Oh my dear!” Letti cried out. “Let me look at you!” She examined Reeva, before embracing her tightly like a long-lost treasure at last found. “You look so grown up! So beautiful! Oh thank the gods, you’re alive!”

  Reeva cried into her shoulder. After all the days in fear, in uncertainty, in grief for the tragedies that befell her home and family… it was an undeniable feeling of joy and relief that threatened to rob Reeva of her senses.

  “Letti… Letti…” she cried.

  After Arcos unlocked the opposing cell gate, more of the Silverstreakers slowly pushed out from the gloom of both areas and were welcomed by Torrance, Boras and Reeva. Grateful arm-grabs and back-pats aplenty. Men, women and even children filtered out.

  Torrance pointed back to where they came from and explained what had transpired. Other Silverstreakers who could not walk from exhaustion, hunger, or illness were carried by others as they shuffled towards the main rescue group.

  “What about Marvis?” Letti asked worriedly. “He fled from the hangings.”

  Reeva’s face dropped from joy to crestfallen. Letti saw that and understood. “Oh no… Oh my dear husband…”

  “He- he-” Reeva swallowed the sob in her stomach. “He got to us before he died… He warned us. If he hadn’t told us, we wouldn’t have even known. He was the only reason this happened. He was struck by a crossbow bolt. One of ours…”

  Letti glowered. “That bitch…”

  “Who? Who did it?”

  “There was a woman, a Bodyhunter. She had blond hair like Arcos. An evil look in her eyes. She stole my crossbow and used it. She claimed that she got him. I hoped she was lying.”

  Reeva staggered back. Her mind reeled. That woman… That woman… Hildur. Hildur Blackheart. She did it. She killed him… She killed him!

  Reeva’s birthmark itched. Her eyes clouded with tears and something raging.

  Marvis taught her how to hunt. He brought her up, protected her. Sheltered her. Hugged her tight before sending her away from the home she loved. She should’ve visited the hunters more often. She should have been there. She would have been there. She would have wrung that filthy bitch’s neck until her eyes popped from her sockets and-

  Stop. Stop. Stop.

  Reeva channeled her breathing.

  Calm down. Calm down…. She recalled Tilda’s teachings: One breath at a time, Reeva. One breath at a time…

  And the tears and the anger retreated. The itching stopped. Now was not the moment… Hildur could wait. Her time would come. Her reckoning would come and Reeva would make her suffer for it. She swore it in the name of the Black.

  Not now. Not tomorrow… But one way or another and someday soon, that cunt will die screaming.

  “Look, we can talk more afterwards.” Torrance insisted. “We need to get you all out.”

  “Where is Nerisity?” Arcos demanded. He spoke this to all in the area. “Where??”

  Barnabas pointed towards the end of the corridor, towards a corner. “She was taken there. She had a fever, the doctor said so.”

  “A fever??” Arcos's eyes widened. He sprinted off. Reeva and Boras followed him.

  “Arcos! Slow down!” They called after him.

  Arcos skidded around the corner and yelled, throwing all stealth to the hells.

  Panic overtook him. “Nerisity! Nerisity! Nerisity!!” he screamed.

  “Arcos? Is that you?” An older woman’s timid and broken voice came from the cell to his left. To his right, Arcos saw only children. A large group of them packed together in the cell and stared with wide, terrified eyes at him. Boras and Reeva reached him and saw the children.

  The children, recognising Reeva and Boras, started to cheer and cry. But they were hushed swiftly by a well-dressed man who pushed through them and reached the bars.

  Boras recognised him. “You. You’re Doctor Hacker!”

  “And you. You’re with Malka!” Doctor Hacker pointed at the lock. “You have a key? Please, free us! I need to get in there!” He jabbed a finger towards the opposing cell.

  Arcos unlocked it and Hacker flew out. He looked terrible. His right arm was tied into a sling and half his face was swollen and beaten. Dried blood flecked from a split lip.

  “Gods…” Boras swore.

  “Courtesy of Baron Markus.” Hacker said as he passed them and got to the cell. “Margret! Margret! Is she alive?”

  “She is.” She replied weakly. She sobbed. “She is so strong… My little starling…” The three knew the voice. It was the Belle Dame, or now known as Margret. But her voice. It was so broken, so weakened… it sent a chill of fear through their spines.

  Arcos did not hesitate. He nearly broke the key as he jammed it into the lock and turned. He wrenched the gate open and both he and Hacker rushed in.

  Carrying the torch, Arcos stared in growing horror.

  Kneeling by a straw bed on a wooden frame was a woman that he thought could not be the Belle Dame. The Belle Dame that he knew was full of vim and vigour. A worldly woman who lusted for life and celebrated the differences and similarities of all. A welcomer and mother of strays. A woman that helped Arcos during uncertain times. A powerful woman.

  Not this shell of the woman.

  Her hair was in strands, coming undone at the roots and hanging in unkempt strands. Her clothes were ragged and filthy. Her fingers and arms, once clean and pristine, were caked in grime and something that looked like…blood? Blood.

  Arcos whipped his eyes to the figure lying on the bed. Hacker slid down to the side of the bed with Margret and looked over the still figure.

  No. No. No.

  Arcos staggered forth and leant over, the torch providing light to see her.

  Nerisity was pale. A sweat was formed over her as she shivered and shuddered and winced in pain. Her small stomach rose and fell with each breath.

  “Gods…” Boras whispered as he and Reeva stood at the gate watching.

  Arcos gave them the torch, so he could kneel by her. Hacker saw Arcos take Nerisity’s hand and kiss it softly. Arcos felt tears fall down his face.

  Hacker nodded, his face pale. “I see… You’re the one called Arcos.”

  “You know me?”

  Hacker looked to Nerisity and wiped a rag to clear the sweat from her forehead. “She wouldn’t stop talking about you. She said you’d come for her.”

  Margret broke down into a heavy sob. “Oh gods… I’m so sorry…”

  Hacker looked to her and grabbed her hand. “Come, Margret. Not here, not now.”

  Arcos leaned close to Nerisity. “Hey… hey… It’s me. I’m here. I’m here for you. Just like you said. Wake up… Please… Nerisity…”

  Nerisity murmured. She stirred. And her eyes slowly opened. Bloodshot and clouded, but the colour of her ice-blue eyes sparkled against the pain she endured.

  She blinked, uncertain of the face staring down at her.

  The last two hours since… that happened… were pain, misery, grief, and sorrow.

  She had wept deeply. She had screamed. She had howled. All into the darkness.

  She slapped and swore at the Belle Dame, even though she knew it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault.

  It was the Baron. It was Hildur. It was the Bodyhunters.

  That was where her rage truly pointed. Gods, if she had the power, she would have burned down the entire Fortress and all of them in it.

  But the emptiness. The emptiness was the worst feeling… She had lost a part of herself. She had lost someone more precious than anyone… except…

  She blinked again as the hazy view of the face became clear. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Haunted stare. But handsome, wonderful, and the greatest face she could ever hope to see.

  “Arcos…?” She asked with a growing smile, though it took her all her strength to smile.

  “Yeah. Yes! It’s me!” Arcos cried out.

  Nerisity burst into tears and her hands whipped out, grabbed Arcos, and pulled him into a hug. The hug could have lasted a year. A hundred years. An age. She wanted him. She needed him. Gods… He was here and he was alive! She cried into his shoulder with chest-cracking sobs.

  “How-? How?” She asked.

  “We snuck in.” Arcos looked at Hacker. “Can she move?”

  Hacker rubbed his mouth. “We have no choice. She has to.” He looked to Nerisity. “Can you-?”

  “I will.” Nerisity snapped with a ragged breath. A strength surged forth from the pit in her soul.

  The sight of her Arcos beside her, staring at her with such deep worry, pushed her soul to a higher level of fortitude. What was once thought lost and extinguished was reignited and found with a power. A heat powered through her.

  She pressed her hands on the bed and pushed.

  The Belle Dame, Hacker, and Arcos all made to help her. But Nerisity shook her head at all of them.

  “Let me do this. Let me do this.” She gritted her teeth and groaned with fresh pain flaring in her abdomen.

  “Careful, dear. Careful!” The Belle Dame warned fearfully.

  “I’m fine!” Nerisity snapped at her before wincing at her anger. She was upright and breathing heavily. “I’m sorry… Belle Dame, I’m sorry. I can walk. I can. Just help me up, please.”

  They did so. And Nerisity, despite the horror she suffered, rose to her full height. Her hand pressed against her flat stomach, and the pain stung her again. She felt tears of pain beyond the real break over her eyes. But she blinked them back.

  She refused to be weak. Not in front of them. And not in front of him.

  She breathed in and out. “I’m alright. I’m-”

  Her eyes rolled over and she staggered. Arcos was fast and caught her in his arms. Nerisity swore under her breath. “Damn it. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Gods, you’re brave. You’re so incredibly brave.” Arcos said before kissing her tenderly. Nerisity welcomed it hungrily. Her hands latched around his neck and she drank up his love as hungrily as she could manage.

  “Alright.” He said as they turned to the gate. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “Wait!” Nerisity spoke. “Hacker… could you get the…”

  She pointed towards a corner of the cell.

  Hacker made a small gasp and nodded sadly. “Of course.” He rushed over and picked a small bundle of bloodied clothes with some strange reverence. He hurried over and handed them to her gently. Nerisity held onto the pile of clothes tightly and would not let go.

  Arcos looked at the pile questioningly. “What is that?”

  Before Nerisity could answer him, footsteps, fast and hard, came sprinting down the corridor. Boras and Reeva brought up their weapons but relaxed when they saw Sitra rushing for them. Her eyes were filled with terror. “We need to go! Right! Fucking! Now!” She yelled.

  “Calm down! What do you mean?” Boras asked her.

  “Malka’s only just kicked off the bloody fighting! Bodyhunters and Waywards are battling it out with her!” Sitra panted. “The fire bottles went off like a charm. Everywhere’s ablaze! Fires as high as the walls, despite the storm!”

  “That’s a good thing!”

  Sitra grimaced. “But they worked too well, and part of the keep is on fucking fire! Right on top of us!”

  Eyes widened all round.

  “Bugger me.” Boras said with his face pale. “If the keep collapses and we’re still down here…”

  He made to rush back towards the exit they came from, but Sitra grabbed him and shoved him the other way and towards a set of doors at the end of the passageway.

  “Not that way!” She denied. “Bodyhunters are at the door we came through! They’re chopping it with axes! It won’t take long for them to break it down.”

  “You can’t be bloody serious!” Reeva protested as she piggy-backed a small, frail girl who looked more dead than alive. “We’re not fleeing through the actual keep!”

  “Into the keep and out that way! It’s our only chance!” Sitra declared.

  And as she said this, there was an echoing crash of wood, a shout of alarm, and many screams of panic.

  Three seconds later, Torrance, Darius, and Vanto charged around the corner with the Mercuries and the freed prisoners and Silverstreakers. They were all sprinting like the Denigrations of the Black themselves were after them.

  “They’ve broken through!” Torrance roared at the trio. “RUN!”