The two men exchanged a look.
“Ignore the Wind Demon’s lies,” Major Schnurr scolded. “She’d say anything to save her skin, and the Empire hunts her presently for justice, not us. We’d be heroes for turning her in.”
“But, sir—”
“If she can’t manage crystals, her skin would’ve already begun to turn to leather and her eyes red with taint from carrying the axe as long as she has.” The major patted his saddlebag and returned his attention forward, talking with another man. There were six Knights in all. Two in the front, the two talking to Vhalla, and two behind, one of whom was nursing his wounded face.
“Are you mad?” she screamed. The desert was vast and empty. She saw nothing but sand for miles. She didn’t even know how they were making headway. Roads were nowhere to be seen. But if someone was close by, she’d cry loud enough that they would certainly hear. “The Crystal Caverns have only ever spelled disaster!”
“Our forefathers were close to unlocking their secrets,” the man beside her proclaimed arrogantly.
“They would have unleashed a new reign with the Sword of Jadar, were it not for the Ci’Dan bitch,” the other snarled.
Ci’Dan bitch?
“This is insanity. What do you hope to accomplish?” Vhalla cried to the major. “The last time people went to the caverns they unleashed the taint that started a war!”
“Do not lump us in with Southern fools.” Major Schnurr had finally decided she was worth his attention. “We have centuries of studying your kind.” He chuckled. “A war is just what we want to start, and the Emperor was so ready to be rid of you he delivered you right into our hands.”
The ropes dug into Vhalla’s shoulders as she strained against them.
“Solaris is getting old, losing his edge. Who would have thought he would get so worked up over the son of the Ci’Dan whore finally finding something to squeeze beneath the sheets,” one of the men near her sneered.
“The time to strike is near,” another Knight agreed.
Vhalla stared at nothing, trying to process an escape, a solution, something. She’d tried to stop the Knights and only gave them what they wanted. She’d led Jax to his death in the process. The horse swayed and it caused the ropes to dig further into her slumped shoulders. They rode the entire day and into the first part of the night before stopping. Vhalla spent it in silence, keeping company with the shade of her friend.
As the other men dismounted, Vhalla was left strapped in place. They sparked a campfire—at least one of them was a Firebearer—and broke out rations, laughing and joking as though she wasn’t there, as though they weren’t on a fool’s mission.
Eventually, Major Schnurr stood and strolled over to her. He wet a cloth and held it up for her to suck upon. Vhalla scowled at the demeaning suggestion.
“It’s this or we tie you down and pour water over your mouth and nose until you have no choice but to drink.” His tone implied he didn’t much care either way.
She scowled. “That sounds like a waste out here in the desert.”
“We’ll reach the Southern forest by tomorrow night, the day after, maybe. We have supplies and Waterrunners.” The major shrugged. “We can’t have you dying on us.”
Vhalla stared at the dirty cloth another moment. Her throat practically screamed for the moisture that darkened it. But the last thing she wanted to do was give the Knights the satisfaction of lowering her further. The major waited just long enough, as if he could sense her breaking point nearing. Vhalla took the cloth from him, awkwardly with her shackles, and tried not to seem desperate as she sucked the sour liquid from it.
“You have been a hard one to catch, surprisingly so for a once-library girl.” The major placed his hands on his hips as though appraising a prize buck that he had shot down. “Our comrades in the Senate tried to snag you right off, but the Emperor was too fascinated by your power.”
Vhalla hadn’t even known who the Knights of Jadar were at the time. It had gone overlooked for months. But she suddenly remembered the senator who had demanded she be given to the Knights because they would “know what to do with her” on the day of her trial.
“Then we thought the march would be the moment for us to ensnare you; after all, you came right through the Crossroads. We worked carefully with the North after the Night of Fire and Wind to hide our movements. It was easier to let them create chaos, to let them capture you and throw Solaris and Ci’Dan off our trail. But they didn’t seem to quite grasp the idea of needing you alive.” Vhalla shifted the rag in her mouth, letting Schnurr ramble on his self-serving tale. “The two at the Crossroads quite missed the mark.”
Vhalla stilled. It was the second time the major had mentioned the Northerners who had attacked her the last time she was at the Crossroads. The night Larel Neiress had died was burned upon Vhalla’s heart.
“We couldn’t make a move ourselves, not then. The Knights haven’t survived centuries by being reckless. But the Crossroads served us well enough when it became clear that we needed to remove the son of the Ci’Dan slut to get to you.” He sighed dramatically. “And the North couldn’t do that right either, even when we fed misinformation to lead the army right into their attack at the Pass.”
Larel, then Aldrik in the Pass.
“We were at a loss when you arrived in the North. I never even contemplated the Emperor would be the one to push you away after he had you in his hands. Then again, I’ve never seen the whore’s son so taken with anyone. Power, or the loss of it, makes men quite illogical.”
“You’re one to talk.” Vhalla spit out the rag, letting it fall to the sand below the mount. “You were going to kill me for power, for the Emperor’s favor.”
“I would’ve made quite the show of seeming to do so.” The major stroked his mustache with a wicked smile. “It’s a special skill to carve a human carefully enough that nothing vital is damaged beyond repair while still having them appear to be quite deceased. It would’ve been my honor to see your corpse carried away only to have my men put you back together.”
“You’re disgusting,” Vhalla muttered caustically.
“You don’t get to say that.” The man’s eyes gleamed with dark pride. “You’re less than human. You’re nothing more than a tool. And it’s been a frustrating century and a half trying to hunt you down in the East.”
“Hunt me down?”
“The East has become quite good at hiding creatures like you; they don’t even speak of magic any longer. It’s been nearly twenty-six years since we got our hands on the last one. But we won’t mess up this time.” The major ran his hand up her thigh. “Not with you.”
Vhalla shivered as he left her, despite the residual heat of the desert still hanging in the air. She’d been hunting for connections, to see the bigger picture between seemingly unrelated events. But was she ready to see what was bubbling to the forefront of her mind as truth?
Why was everyone so ready to believe that no Windwalkers were being born when it made so much more sense that the East had simply perfected the art of hiding them? The laws following the Burning Times, the outlawing of all magic, the urge to forget, it was all to hide people like her.
She stilled, and the pain of her bindings was ignored for the briefest of moments. Vhalla suddenly had a thousand questions she wanted to ask her own father. How determined he was to go fight in the War of the Crystal Caverns, how outspoken he had been about sorcerers tampering with the crystals.
Vhalla remembered her mother instilling a fear of magic in Vhalla from a young age. A distaste for it that ran so deep Vhalla had never questioned or thought twice about it. She remembered the first time she’d fallen off the roof after climbing up fearlessly, unharmed. The argument of her parents she had overheard. She had never thought of it before, it seemed so normal. Her parents had been afraid for her wellbeing. They believed in fearing magic like the rest of the East; they’d never think their daughter was a sorcerer.