“What about Roan?” she asked weakly.
“Go, that is an order.” Even though flames raged around her, Vhalla suddenly felt cold.
“It’s rude to leave a party early,” the woman chimed in.
“Here I was merely trying to spare you the embarrassment of dying a pathetic death with an audience,” Aldrik lashed out.
The woman growled and lunged.
Aldrik stepped to the side, the Northerner ducked below his flaming punch and twisted, shifting her weight to bring her sword up. Aldrik jumped back, the tip of the blade missing him by a hair’s breath. She pursued with a back-handed slash, targeting his opposite shoulder. Aldrik spun around her side, grabbing the arm holding the weapon. Flames burned brightly, licking up the woman’s skin.
At first, Vhalla thought her immune to the flame. But as she watched the flesh changed color before her eyes, it dawned on her that the green color was actually a fire-resistant paint. She stared in shock as the woman’s mask was thrown off during a vigorous spin to land a sword hit into Aldrik’s side. He cried out, losing his balance and stumbling. Vhalla struggled to find her feet and escape the rubble.
“Vhalla, go!” he grunted.
As the woman raised her sword arm again, Aldrik reached up and grabbed the dark bare skin with his hands. Fire seared across her flesh and she cried out as it began to ripple and bubble under the heat. Her agony rose to a torturous scream unimpeded by any mask, and she dropped the sword. She twisted and fought with her free hand, but Aldrik held fast.
He stood slowly and released his right hand from her arm, which had almost burned away to the bone. Taking advantage of her shocked state, Aldrik pressed his palm to the woman’s face and her body seized. It jerked and contorted as flames licked around her eyes, boiling them in their sockets. Her throat swelled with the internal blaze, and she finally went limp. Aldrik tossed the charred corpse aside and looked to Vhalla.
Vhalla stared on in horror, her hands were over her ears, trying to block out the echo of the Northerner’s last desperate noises before death. She stared at the charred corpse. That was what they were fighting in the North? Certainly her skin had been slightly darker than a Westerner’s, and her hair curlier than a Southerner’s. But she had been human. She had been no more or less than Vhalla, and Aldrik had killed her.
Her eyes swung up to the man who had both saved her life and burnt a person alive. He had killed this woman and countless others. Aldrik took a step forward, and Vhalla took a step back. She swallowed. Why were they fighting these people at all?
Aldrik laughed darkly. “What did you think I was?” he snarled. “Did you think I went to war and read books?” Vhalla took another step back. “You ran head-first into my daily hell. Would it not be more convenient if weapons of death and torture could not talk back?” Vhalla forced herself not to tremble as she looked at him. He glared at her; the orange of the fire reflecting in the black mirrors of his eyes.
With all the bravery she possessed, Vhalla crossed the distance between them; he straightened and looked down at her, imposing. Vhalla swallowed hard and tried to muster her last scrap of confidence. There would be time later to ask him about the real reasons behind the war. For now, they needed to go home.
She grabbed his hand, praying it didn’t burst into flames at her touch. It didn’t.
“Quit being stupid, Aldrik. Let’s go.” His features barely softened, but it was more than enough to know she had made herself clear. Whatever this man was, he wasn’t a monster. Vhalla took a step back, turning to grab Roan and start the gory trek home.
With stunning clarity, she heard the distinct twang of a bowstring piercing the air. Vhalla moved instinctively in front of her prince.
She screamed a noise worse than any she had never made before as the arrow pierced her shoulder.
“Vhalla!” he roared as she fell to her knees.
She gasped for air, she gasped to make a sound. The pain seared through every nerve in her body, across every synapse in her mind. It seized her muscles and forced her to blink dizzying blackness from the edges of her sight. His hands were supporting her but his attention was elsewhere. Vhalla turned her head to try to see what he saw. But when she caught sight of the arrow sticking out of her body she instantly struggled with consciousness.
“My, isn’t this charming?” Vhalla tilted her head over her other shoulder to see the source of the voice. Her vision was becoming tunneled and she willed her eyes to focus.
There were three of them.
“It’s the jugglers,” she murmured.
“Don’t talk,” Aldrik whispered harshly, his thumb caressing her shoulder as he supported her.
“Careful, they’re, they’re missing...” She struggled to count. “They’re missing two still.”
He glanced at her and then back at the people.
“Don’t you think it’s charming?” a man asked.
“It really is,” came a nasally woman’s voice.
“The noble prince, defending the damsel. Who knew the Fire Lord had it in him?” the man snarked.
Vhalla heard the ring of metal on metal as a sword was drawn. These people truly wanted to kill them, Vhalla realized as she felt blood soaking down to her waist. She wasn’t in a position to run anymore; if he carried her, she would only burden him.
“Aldrik...” she whispered. He didn’t move but she knew he’d heard. “Go, go and leave me.” It was her fault he was there in the first place. The last thing she could do in her life was to ensure the heir to the throne did not die on account of her stubbornness. Vhalla closed her eyes and dipped her head.
“No,” he replied in a soft and low voice.
“Your life is worth more than mine. It’s the life I partly gave you, isn’t it?” She smiled faintly as she heard footsteps and the crunch of bodies across the street. Aldrik said nothing. “I should have some say over whether you throw it away or not. So, go.” His fingers gripped into her arms. She was fairly sure he was bruising her.
“You know, we thought it was a lie you were alive at all.” It was the man’s voice again. Aldrik still hadn’t moved. “Our leader brewed the poison that was on the dagger. One prick should’ve killed a large Noru Cat, and I hear you had the whole damn thing in your side.”
Aldrik’s breathing had become heavy. Vhalla was confused about the mention of a dagger.
“Then again, we also hoped that if the poison failed to kill you, the shame of one of your dear sweet brother’s men stabbing you in the back would be enough.”
Aldrik stood, and she swayed without his support. Yes, Vhalla thought weakly, go. She propped herself up with her uninjured arm and turned to sit on rubble so she could face her attackers. Unfortunately, Aldrik hadn’t run. He stood, fire surrounding his fists again.
One of the women laughed. “He’s still injured. Look, that pathetic little spark is likely all he can muster.” This woman was holding a bow, and Vhalla hoped she could keep her eyes open long enough to watch the woman’s face be burnt off. “Come, let us end this now.” She notched an arrow on her bowstring.
The man held his sword with both hands and the other woman followed suit. Aldrik took a few steps toward them, and Vhalla’s stomach twisted in agony. He wasn’t going to run. The three advanced slowly.
“Careful, he may be a beast with clipped claws, but he’s still a beast,” the man warned.
“If he’s still a beast, can we shave him when we’re done and wear his skin as a pelt?” Nasal voice asked.
“I’d rather hang it off my bow and wave it like a flag,” the archer chimed, glancing at her comrades.
That was all it took, and Aldrik seized his opportunity. He charged and grabbed at her bow, immediately setting flame to both the hand and the weapon. The man was upon him quickly, however, and Aldrik was forced to relinquish his hold in order to dodge. He moved his fingers through the air, creating a curtain of flame; the man’s momentum caused him to step into it. The swordswoman dashed around and lunged from the side. Aldrik twisted his body and brought his elbow down hard on the back of her neck, sending her reeling. In a horrible way, he was like a song of death and flame.