Vhalla threw up an arm, and he flew backward. Just as she stood, a heavy greave kneed her in the face, shattering her nose. She was an easy target in white and Vhalla was quickly learning why nobility didn’t usually lead charges.
She coughed up blood, surprised she had not lost any teeth or bit her tongue off. Just a laceration inside her cheek. A heartbeat began to race at the edge of her consciousness. It was both familiar and terribly different at the same time, and she struggled to fight it. It was an unwanted and unwelcome sound, a rhythm that beat to the drums of war and bloodlust.
The man with the ice had recovered and was lunging again. With a cry that was part animal, Vhalla thrust a hand onto his face, dodging the other man’s second punch. Blood splattered the ground as the Waterrunner’s head exploded.
She spun, wind under her toes, making her nimble. Making her powerful.
Her sword rang out against its sheathe, reverberating up her arms and into her chest. The sound echoed in harmony with the pulse that propelled her. She would write their requiem in blood. There was minimal resistance as Vhalla put the wind at her elbows to shove her blade clear through the man’s skull, starting with his eye.
Vhalla kicked him off her blade. Laughter rasped against the inside of her throat. They would all die. Any who opposed her were weak. This was the only truth of the world. The weak would die to form the foundation of the world, the world the strong would inherit. A beautifully, wonderfully, chaotic world. It was only nature.
She turned her head, and, at her behest, lightning crackled across a sorcerer’s flesh. He shuddered, his eyes lolling in their sockets as his body became coated in burn marks that quickly turned black. He fell dead, and Vhalla turned for her next victim. It was as though the battle moved slowly for her. She saw every pulse of magic from the sorcerers and from the tainted. Each flash of weaponry was seen in perfect clarity.
She was death itself. No, she was stronger than death. She had beaten death twice! That made it hers to administer. Her body moved without thought, reckless and wild.
A pair of arms closed around her torso.
“Vhalla,” Jax’s voice hissed in her ear. “Vhalla, enough.”
She blinked the haze from her mind. The familiar call of her name pulled her back to the present, like waking from a dream. The battlefield had changed from her prior recollections. The last of the soldiers had fallen, their victory apparent. Vhalla panted heavily, trying to make sense of it.
Turning her, his palms on her shoulders as though he would need to physically hold her in place, Jax checked her up and down. A frown weighed on the corners of his lips.
“What did I do?” she breathed.
His scowl only deepened at her question. “We should get you to Elecia; she’ll heal you up.”
Vhalla followed dutifully, noticing her feet when she followed behind the Western man. It was as though she had bathed in blood. The white of her armor was coated and splatted in bits of gore. Soldiers stared. Some began to cheer, but others looked at her with a touch of fear.
Elecia made quick work of fixing Vhalla’s nose. But there was a reserved nature to her ministrations. The woman studied Vhalla carefully for far too long.
“We should get you washed up,” she said finally.
“I can do it.” Vhalla stood.
“I want to come, continue inspecting you.” Elecia half blocked Vhalla’s path and put on her best imitation of Aldrik when he was uninterested in any arguments. “We’ll be setting up camp here for the night anyway.”
“Very well,” Vhalla sighed.
They walked through the beginnings of a camp being erected just beyond the edge of the carnage. Elecia paused, resting her hand on a tree before heading away in a diagonal direction. Vhalla dragged her feet along.
“What are you doing?” Curiosity still got the better of her.
“Seeing where the trees roots get the most water in order to find us a stream or spring.” Elecia glanced over her shoulder. “You’re painted red.”
Vhalla looked back down at her armor with a small frown. If only she could remember killing the people whose blood she wore.
Elecia’s magic delivered. The spring they found was small and shallow, barely up to Vhalla’s short-statured waist. They were still in the transitional shrub land of West and South.
Her armor felt heavy and her fingers uncoordinated as she tried to unclasp it. Elecia sighed softly and helped Vhalla. The women found a spot at the water’s rocky edge to sit.
“Elecia, look, I’m fine.” Vhalla held out her arms putting herself on display. “You don’t need to be here to check or heal me.”
“It’s not your physical body I’m worried about,” the woman solemnly uttered. “Now, in the water.”
Vhalla obliged, wading into the center of the pool. The spring was chilly on her skin. It sharpened her senses and grounded her in the present. Vhalla watched as the water clouded with blood.
“What happened today?” Elecia demanded.
Vhalla cringed inwardly. She wanted to scream; she wanted to sob. Vhalla tilted her head back and looked at the unbroken sky. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.
“The wall had my magic in it.”
“Yours?”
“Alongside Victor’s and the crystal magic,” Vhalla affirmed. “I don’t think he can quite control or manipulate the crystals without it. My magic was like a support structure holding the rest together.”
“He’s not a Windwalker, but if he has Windwalker magic to work with . . . I suppose it makes as much sense as anything else involving crystals,” Elecia worked out.
“I thought I could pull out the scaffolding, or that I could reclaim it and gain control of the crystals. I invited it into me. I invited him into me.”
“Who?”
Vhalla’s eyes drifted over to the other woman. She dropped her head to one side, debating between laughing and continuing to stare at her incredulously. “You’re not one to ask dumb questions.”
Elecia frowned.
“I didn’t want it.” Vhalla returned to staring at her fingers, as though they were disconnected from her body. “But I didn’t think it could or would come in alongside my magic. Now he has some of my magic, I have some of his. I feel him. It’s like we, we’re . . .”
The word was thick and heavy on Vhalla’s tongue. It tasted like death. She was tainted, but it wasn’t the taint everyone knew.
“We’re Bonded.”
There was nothing but the sound of the winds and the rustling of small trees and grasses. Elecia stared at her a long moment, blinking her eyes. Vhalla wondered if the woman could see it, now that she knew what to look for.
“You’re shivering.” Elecia quickly splashed some water over her own bloodstains and stood. “Come, we’ll get you back to Aldrik and get you warm.”
“I don’t think I should be around Aldrik,” Vhalla confessed.
“Well, you can tell him that, because I most certainly won’t be the one to do so.” Elecia held out a hand. “You’re stronger than this, Vhalla Yarl.”
Vhalla searched Elecia’s emerald eyes for the hint of deception. If the words were a lie, Elecia did a great job of delivering them with confidence. Vhalla stood on her own, ignoring the offered help up. She didn’t want anyone touching her. She had used crystal magic. She could be walking taint.
Night fell quickly and, despite Vhalla deciding to risk some magic to dry their clothing, they were both cold by the time they arrived back at camp. Jax and Aldrik stood around a campfire, speaking with Fritz and a few other majors who quickly cleared out when the Lady Ci’Dan and the Empress sat.
“Vhal.” Everyone looked at Fritz in surprise. Apparently, none of them expected him to be the one to break the silence. “What happened today?”