Water's Wrath

“Tokshi, you’re not making any sense.” Vhalla’s sudden intensity and fear wavered Gianna’s usually strong voice.

“Go now. Go now and pretend you never knew me,” Vhalla pleaded. Gianna’s kindness would not be rewarded with the same ill fate that befell those foolish enough to befriend the Windwalker. “This was all a dream. If anyone asks, deny it all.”

Gianna opened her mouth to protest once more.

“Gianna, now,” Vhalla snapped.

The woman did as she was ordered. Vhalla could commend her for only looking slightly rattled as she stood and strolled out the door past Major Schnurr. The major gave Gianna a long stare before turning his attention back to Vhalla.

Vhalla stood, slowly raising her hood. She made for the door, looking past Major Schnurr the entire time. The man half-stepped in her way, forcing Vhalla to pause. From the corner of her eye she saw a group of men standing from a table, presumably men Schnurr had been coming to meet.

“You know what happens now, don’t you?” he purred.

“You and your friends eat a nice meal and pretend you never saw me. You want bellies to fill again tomorrow?” Vhalla threatened.

The major laughed ominously as Vhalla strolled into the night. She didn’t know where to go. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see Gianna anywhere. If the Knights were going to pursue the other woman, it seemed they’d missed their chance. Vhalla hoped that Gianna would heed her warning and do her best to forget the time she’d spent with the Windwalker—for they had just come to an abrupt end.

The Knights were already at Vhalla’s back. Men who wanted to take and use her for a madman’s dream. Men to whom she needed to send a clear message, a message that they could not force her into a corner.

Vhalla started forward and intentionally walked down the first mostly-empty alley she found. The crowded street was slowly reduced to questionable curiosity shops, gambling parlors, and sellers of flesh. Clenching her fists, she listened carefully to the four sets of footsteps behind her as they treaded lightly over the packed earth. They didn’t make any motion toward her, however. Too many eyes were still on them and the alley was too narrow for movement.

A dilapidated square was straight ahead of her. The narrow passage between buildings would open up into enough room to move—to fight. Vhalla fingered the weapon on her thigh, popping open fasteners.

She had a choice to make. Did she fight them with the axe or rely solely on her magic? If she brought out the axe, they would know it was real. It would be a waving banner that at least one crystal weapon still existed. She should be able to take them on with her magic alone.

But she’d never used the weapon before. It was a strong temptation just to see why so many people had spilled so much blood and furthered so much hatred for it. Vhalla surveyed the area as she crossed into the small junction of alleyways. There were no onlookers as far as she could tell—so the only ones who would know about the axe would be the Knights. Assuming any made it out alive.

“I’ll give you one chance.” She shifted her feet, pulling at the ties on her cloak. “Leave and live. Stay and die. Tell this to your comrades, and we will each go on to see all the dawns of our natural lives.”

The men looked at each other and laughed in amusement. “You think that will work, Windwalker?”

“I don’t want to fight you.” It was the first lie she’d told in weeks.

“Then make this even easier for us—submit willingly,” Schnurr demanded. “You were destined to help us return to greatness.”

“Help?” she scoffed.

“Yes, with you we will finally gain access to the caverns.”

“Never.” Vhalla tensed and her fingers curled around the hilt of the axe.

The first of the men moved, sending out a tongue of flame. Vhalla was already two steps ahead. Her feet walked on air, and she moved like an otherworldly entity, flowing from one attack into the next.

The wind pulled the unlaced cloak from her shoulders. Vhalla spun, bringing the axe hard into the man’s face. He didn’t have a chance. The blade cut clean through the man’s skull, as if understanding and multiplying Vhalla’s murderous intent. It offered nearly no resistance, and Vhalla blinked as the man crumpled with only half a head attached to his neck.

“The axe.” Major Schnurr instantly recognized the faintly glowing blade that Vhalla wielded. Where any sane person would look on in horror, the major looked as though he had just been handed the greatest gift of his life.

Something quietly snapped in her at the sight. The thin dam she’d built to hold back her utter loathing for the Knights vanished, and Vhalla thought nothing of thrusting out her hand to grab the nearest man’s mouth. Power roared and howled from within her, the wind screaming to be unleashed. It poured forth in a tempest that was so violent it both startled and scared her.

The Knight’s face exploded under her palm.

With cry of rage, the third Knight was upon her. Vhalla ducked, narrowly dodging his blade. It sliced down along her arm; blood sprang forth, setting a faint beat to echo in her ears. It had been weeks since Vhalla had heard Aldrik’s heartbeat reverberating through their Bond. It was a surge of magic and of overwhelming strength—Vhalla did nothing to hinder it.

The third Knight crumpled like a paper doll, cleaved nearly in half from shoulder to chest by the axe. Vhalla barely had more than a second to relish in the strength flowing through her veins. Adjusting her grip on the axe, she prepared herself for the satisfaction of skinning off Schnurr’s face with it—only to find him gone.