Akarnae

  “If you think I’m going to sympathise with you, then you have another thing coming.” D.C.’s voice rose in anger. “I won’t allow you to kill my people.”

  “Nor will I,” Alex agreed, crossing her arms.

  “I’m not giving either of you a choice,” Aven said.

  “You have to give me one,” Alex said. “I have to let you through that doorway out of my own free will, remember? Otherwise you can’t get through.”

  Aven smiled at her. It was a dark, sinister look. “You’re mistaken, Alexandra. Again, it would seem. I did need the willing permission of a Chosen one in order to pass through the doorway into the inner Library, but you gave me that when you opened the book and entered first, leading me through. Now you just have to open the last door for me, thereby allowing my entrance. That part need not be out of your own free will.”

  Alex felt her blood freeze as she grasped his intended meaning, but she held her ground.

  “If you want to use her to get to Meya, you’ll have to go through me first.” D.C. crossed her arms in imitation of Alex. Side by side they stood, neither one willing to back down.

  “Do you mean to intimidate me, little princess? I’m truly trembling within.”

  D.C. glared at him, but Aven just smiled at her as if indulging a child.

  “Don’t worry, Delucia. Your role in all this is not yet over. You shall be an example to your race. A royal martyr. Surely there’s no higher honour than to die for your people. Your death will be the first of many, showing your pitiful human subjects exactly what is to come with my rise to power. I will rule Meya, and with it all of Medora. And your people will be rounded up and exterminated like the vermin they are.”

  Alex could feel the tension radiating off D.C., but she had to give the other girl credit when she didn’t react. He’d just made a declaration to commit genocide, after all.

  “Enough stalling,” Aven said, as if they’d asked questions. “Gerald?”

  As the menacing lackey started towards them, Alex looked at D.C. and yelled out, “Now!”

  D.C. caught her meaning, and both girls jumped at Gerald, with D.C. going for his legs while Alex grabbed his tattooed arm to steady the knife. Gerald stumbled when they collided with him but he didn’t go down, solid as he was. He used his free arm to backhand Alex painfully across the face, but she refused to loosen her grip on the knife even when the effort jarred her injured shoulder. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, causing Alex to see that D.C. wasn’t faring much better with him kicking out violently at her.

  Suddenly, Alex was pulled away from Gerald, her grip wrenched from his arm by one much stronger.

  “Enough,” Aven said, holding Alex still as she struggled in vain against his unnatural Meyarin strength.

  In the blink of an eye he pulled a dagger from his belt, its blade the colour of blue ice. In a single motion he sliced it across his own palm and silver-coloured blood began to flow out of the wound. Alex was so shocked that she failed to stop him when he pulled her left wrist forward and ripped the bloody dagger across her open hand.

  “Eugh!” she cried in disgust and pain as he forced her bleeding palm towards his own, pressing both their wounds together. She felt her stomach lurch when their bloodied hands joined with a sickeningly wet squelch.

  Alex ripped her hand out of his grasp, surprised when he let her go.

  “That. Was. Disgusting,” she said, in a near hysterical pitch. The wound throbbed in time with her shoulder, but then the pain in her hand began to ease and she looked down in shock as it started to heal before her eyes. After only a few seconds, all that was left was a light scar across her palm which was splashed with their mixed blood—silver blending with red.

  Alex watched the dripping colours with a morbid sense of horror. She opened her mouth, fully prepared to scream out her fear and anger. “What the—”

  “Be silent!” Aven shouted, ending her rant before she could even begin.

  His order caused a burning feeling to pulse through her palm until her mouth closed of its own accord, completely against her will. As she tried to open it—without success—she noticed that Gerald had overcome D.C. and was once again restraining her.

  “Now, follow me,” Aven ordered, and her left hand burned again with his command.

  No way, she tried to say, but the words wouldn’t form. Her mouth wouldn’t open. She looked at her friend with terrified eyes and saw that D.C. was just as scared as she was. They were in real trouble now, and they both knew it.

  Alex’s fear escalated when her feet started moving, and she found herself following Aven as he walked through the doorway and back into the brightly lit corridor of doors.

  Something must have happened when he’d cut her palm, because all of a sudden she was like a puppet on a string, obedient to his command. She heard D.C. struggling behind her but there was nothing she could do to help. Her body was completely outside of her control.

  “There now, that’s much better,” Aven said.

  Alex tried to scream at him, but her mouth wouldn’t open. All she could do was trail mechanically after him, step for step.

  She followed him through a doorway which led to another corridor of doors, and then through a second doorway with the same results.

  It was like a maze, Alex realised, and she desperately hoped he would lose his bearings. She couldn’t stand the idea that he’d only have to order her to open the right doorway and her traitorous body would comply, allowing him to step through to Meya unhindered. If Sir Camden didn’t find the headmaster soon, they were all going to die.

  I’m not ready to die, Alex’s thoughts screamed. She was meant to have decades of life left—time enough to grow old, surrounded by loved ones. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, not here, not now. What about her parents? They would never find out what happened to her. Would they think she’d run away? Would they spend the rest of their lives searching for her, wondering where she was and if she was okay? Just the thought of them, worried and grieving, pierced Alex’s heart with agony. She wanted to wrap her arms around her torso to ward off the pain, but her limbs continued to ignore her commands. All she could do was place one foot in front of the other, with each step moving her closer towards her impending execution.

  When Aven eventually came to a stop, Alex’s body halted directly behind him.

  “It’s time,” he said, looking at the door in front of him with longing. “I can finally end what I started all those years ago.”

  No, Alex tried to say. She thought she might have broken through his control when she heard the word echo out loud, but then she realised it hadn’t been her voice, but D.C.’s.

  Alex turned her head—she could do that at least, since she hadn’t been ordered not to—and watched as her roommate sliced her nails across Gerald’s face, sending the larger man staggering sideways and clutching at his torn skin. D.C. managed to leap forward and place her body between Aven and the doorway before Gerald was up and restraining her once more.

  “You’re beginning to annoy me, Princess,” Aven hissed. “I was going to wait until we had a larger audience, but I think this will be much more satisfying. Alexandra?”

  Alex’s palm tingled and she was forced to step closer to him. When she was by his side, Aven held out his hand and offered her his ice-like dagger.

  Alex was repulsed by the blade, which still gleamed with their mixed blood, and she could only watch as her non-scarred hand reached out and grabbed the hilt. Everything in her wanted to flinch away, but instead her fingers wrapped around the dagger and drew it close, waiting for Aven’s next instructions.

  “Kill her.”

  Alex sucked in a sharp breath at his words. Her left palm burned like fire and she stepped forward, watching as her body moved closer to its target.

  Run! she thought to D.C., hoping her eyes communicated her urgency. Get out of here! Get away from me! But her friend just stood there and stared at her.

  Then
D.C. jolted out of her shock, but she didn’t try and struggle in Gerald’s grip. If anything, she seemed more determined to hold her position. “Stop, Alex! Don’t let him control you like this! You have to stop!”

  I can’t! Alex wanted to scream. She watched in horror as her arm lifted into the air, raising the dagger into an attack position.

  “Fight him!” D.C. yelled. She was clearly terrified but still she didn’t try to break free from Gerald. “You have to fight him! Please!”

  I CAN’T! Alex screamed in her mind. She fought desperately against Aven’s control, begging her limbs to resist the kill order, but his grip on her was too strong. She felt tears roll down her face while she tried to battle her body into compliance, but it was no use. It wouldn’t listen to her.

  Three steps to go.

  “Stop, Alex, please!” D.C. begged.

  Two steps to go.

  “Don’t do this.” D.C.’s voice shook with fear.

  One step to go.

  “Please,” D.C. whispered, tears falling down her cheeks now. But still she didn’t try to escape, even when Alex pulled the dagger back further, ready to strike. The princess had meant what she’d said before—Aven would have to go through her if he wanted to get to Meya.

  In the moment before she attacked, Alex wished that D.C. was less worthy of her crown.

  I’m sorry! Alex screamed in her mind as she watched her arm slash forward through the air.

  Forty-Three

  Time slowed down in the moment before Aven’s blade pierced flesh.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Alex could see the Meyarin smirking, certain of his victory. Gerald was also grinning gleefully, even with the fingernail gouges still dribbling blood down his face.

  And then there was D.C., ready to surrender her life for her people, no matter how lost the cause. She was staring at Alex through watery tears as the blade moved straight towards her heart.

  “Alex,” D.C. mouthed, one final time. It was a plea, perhaps. Or maybe it was an offer of forgiveness. Either way, the emotion in her eyes ripped through Alex like nothing she had ever felt before.

  NO! Alex screamed in her mind. NO! NO! NO!

  She felt something inside her snap.

  “NO!”

  The word tore out of Alex’s throat and echoed loudly in her ears. She reclaimed control of her body and wrenched her hand away from its intended path. She was too late though, and she recoiled in horror when the blade sliced effortlessly through skin.

  Gerald’s tortured screams filled the hallway. He released D.C. to grab hold of the blade that was now lodged deep in his bicep, dropping his own knife in the process.

  D.C. wasted no time in tackling him and knocking him to the ground.

  Hoping her friend could keep Gerald contained, Alex launched forward to pick up his fallen knife and turned to face Aven. She held the weapon in the air defensively, but her hand trembled when she saw the look on his face.

  “I told you to kill her,” Aven ordered, emphasising the words. Her palm burned like liquid fire, but she wasn’t under his control anymore.

  “And I said no,” she returned, holding the knife tight and ignoring the burning sensation.

  He snarled at her and she had to force herself to hold her ground despite the terrifying expression on his otherworldly face.

  “You will do what I command!” he roared.

  “I’m not your puppet anymore!” she yelled back. “You don’t control me!”

  “That’s where you should be wrong,” Aven said, his voice quietly simmering now. “But you seem to be broken.”

  Alex didn’t care if she was ‘broken’ so long as she never had to bend to his will again.

  “You have no power over me now, Aven.” She hoped her words were true. “And I’ll never let you through that door. You’re out of options.”

  “I’ll never be out of options while you still live, dear Alexandra,” Aven said, causing her to shiver with trepidation. He was never going to leave her alone until he got what he wanted.

  “I doth believe the fair lady hath asked thou, sir, to depart from these here premises.”

  “Sir Camden!” Alex cried, happier to see him than ever before. She looked around, hoping to see others, but it was just him. She wilted with despair when she realised that he must not have found any help.

  “This is your backup?” Aven asked, laughing derisively. “A rusty old suit of armour?”

  “Sir Camden be my name. A Protector Knight I be, sir, and thou art unwise to mock so readily.”

  “You’re nothing more than a distraction.” Aven waved a hand dismissively. “And a lousy one at that.”

  “Those be fighting words, sir. Draw thine weapon.”

  Alex watched with wide eyes as Sir Camden stepped between her and Aven and unsheathed his sword.

  Aven growled—actually growled—at the interfering suit of armour, and then he held his hand out as if waiting for something. A wounded scream came from Gerald as the ice-dagger tore out of his flesh, soared through the air, and landed in Aven’s scarred palm. The Meyarin raised his free hand to stroke the blade, and before Alex’s eyes the dagger grew in length and transformed into a sword.

  “That weapon doth not belong to thee,” Sir Camden said, pointing to the ice-coloured blade.

  “The previous owner had no further use for it,” Aven responded, his tone full of meaning.

  “Judgement will prevail upon thee for such a grievous act,” the knight said. “En garde.”

  Aven didn’t give any warning before he thrust his sword towards Sir Camden. But the knight was remarkably nimble for a suit of armour, and he easily parried the blade and began his own attack.

  The two weapons blurred through the air so fast that Alex couldn’t follow them. She had no idea how the knight managed to keep up with the strength and speed that Aven possessed as a Meyarin, but he was meeting him blow after blow.

  A startled cry drew Alex’s attention away from the fight and towards her roommate. Gerald had the upper-hand once again, despite his injury. D.C. looked dazed, as if she’d been hit in the head, and she leaned heavily on the big man as he dragged her to her feet.

  There was a loud, metallic crash and Alex whirled back around to see Sir Camden on the ground. In pieces.

  Aven took advantage of her shock and used his sword to dislodge Gerald’s knife from her grip, sending it to the floor with a clatter. He stroked his hand down his ice-blade again, and the weapon shrunk back down to a dagger.

  Alex quickly backed away. “You can’t kill me,” she told him shakily. “You need me.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, his golden eyes glinting dangerously. “You I need. But your friend only ever had one purpose.”

  Alex watched in horror as Aven threw his arm back and flicked it forward again, releasing the dagger. It hurtled through the air, straight towards where D.C. stood.

  “NO!” Alex cried.

  Without thinking, she leapt forward and crash-tackled D.C. and Gerald to the ground, collapsing on top of them when the blade embedded deep into the flesh of her back.

  She heard D.C. scream her name, but she couldn’t respond as pain ripped through her torso, pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Even the simple act of drawing air through her lungs caused an agonising ache to tear through her body.

  Seconds passed, then minutes. Finally, as the pain gave way to numbness, Alex slowly came back to awareness. Only then did she realise that the room was full of noise. The clashing of steel against steel, the yelling of several people all at once, and one silky voice that penetrated through the foggy haze of her mind.

  “We’ll meet again, my dear Alexandra, and when that day comes, you will give me what I want.”

  Alex raised her head just in time to see Aven push Gerald through another doorway. He made eye contact with her a second before he leapt through himself, and she knew he meant what he’d said. He would come after her again.

  She didn’t have the st
rength to hold her head up anymore, and she collapsed on top of D.C. who was still half-trapped underneath her.

  “Stay still, Alex,” a soothing voice told her—a voice she recognised.

  “Darrius?” she asked, her words barely audible. “You’re late.”

  “I came as fast as I could,” Darrius said as someone lifted her carefully off D.C. and placed her onto a soft, flat surface. “We all did.”

  “Thanks,” she mouthed, but she wasn’t sure if the word actually formed.

  “Alex, you have to stay awake now,” Darrius told her, his tone urgent.

  “But I’m tired,” she whispered, again uncertain if the words formed.

  “I know you are, but you can sleep soon. We have to get you back to the Medical Ward first. Just a little longer now. You can make it. Just keep talking to me.”

  Alex realised that she was moving, or rather, someone was moving her—and fast. The speed should have jostled her injuries, but she couldn’t feel anything since her body was now completely numb. It was a nice change to all the pain she’d been experiencing lately.

  A voice called to her from far off, but Alex was too tired to listen to it, too tired to respond, and instead she drifted off into blissful unconsciousness.

  Forty-Four

  “She wove him a hat made from a melody…”

  Alex groaned as the steady noise hummed through her foggy mind.

  “He wondered how to fix his calamity…”

  She wasn’t ready to wake up yet. Her body felt like a lead weight. Was she dead?

  “If she’d known how to sing, he’d have worn it with a grin…”

  Her eyelids fluttered as light filtered in through the dark. She knew that song. She’d heard it once before.

  “But instead he preferred it a parody.”

  “Darrius? Is that you?” she croaked.

  “Take it easy, that’s it,” a soothing voice told her, and she felt something press against her lips. “Drink, Alex. It’ll help.”

  Too muddled to object, she swallowed as someone gently tipped cool liquid into her mouth. It hurt at first, but once she started, she couldn’t stop. She was so thirsty that she would have continued forever if the person hadn’t taken the fluid away from her.