Page 17

Chapter sixteen

Sifa

I Need to End Him

F hord carries Thyra as I drag the guard along with us, stopping every few feet to backtrack and wipe sand back over the path we’ve scraped clear. It’s slow going, but Thyra’s too fragile for anything else.

Four different times, Fhord or I sense a nearby guard and barely make it into the shadows, or down a nearby cavern. I can feel the blanket Fhord throws around us with his mind, protecting us from anyone who shares our gifts. Once, we’re seconds away from being caught, ducking into an alcove a moment before a guard comes striding down the hall.

I’m prepared to leave the Nest with Fhord and Thyra. To abandon my own goals for now—my need to find something that will help me better understand what I must do to get back to my worlds. I know how to get in now. I’ll go back home with them and return alone. Soon.

We’re nearly there—a few male’s-heights from the door we’ll use to escape—when I feel him stalking toward us. Bolverkr. The guard in charge of my torture.

Sweat erupts on my neck as my palms grow slick. My breath catches in my throat, memories of his depravity consuming my thoughts. I almost can feel the knife as it slices my skin, carving off little bits at a time while he laughs and demands answers I won’t give him. My thighs clench, as if I have any hope of keeping out the objects he shoves into me while I’m spread on the rack. Or the men who take me, one after another.

The phantom pains that stayed with me for months after my escape return, tearing into me while they remind me that these caves took a part of me I’ll never get back.

That he took something from me I’ll never get back.

I force myself to inhale and exhale, one shaky breath at a time. I’m safe. He has no control over me. He won’t hurt me again. Finally, I find the calm I need to finish this job. To go back to Toffer and Thor.

But then my memories shift to the vengeance I knew I’d find one day, my pulse quickening as that compulsion seeps into my thoughts. Suddenly, I’m sitting in my cell carefully constructing my retribution, holding on to that thin anchor for my sanity. My fingers flex, skimming the knife along Bolverkr’s flesh before I shove it up his ass, twisting the blade while he screams and begs. And then they’re wrapped around his neck, watching as he accepts my punishment. As I remove his evil existence from this world.

I take a deep breath, dragging my mind back to this cave. To here and now.

I try. I really do. I know I need to push those thoughts away—to stay with Fhord and Thyra and leave this place with them—but my urge to destroy Bolverkr is too deeply ingrained. It became a part of who I am. I could sooner staunch its control over me than I could stop breathing.

Inhaling deeply, my jaw shifts as my teeth grind against each other and my gaze flits around the cavern. I let the truth settle within me.

I may never get this chance again. I know what I have to do to put Bolverkr behind me. I need to hurt him. And then I need to end him. Maybe if he no longer walks this world, he’ll no longer haunt my dreams.

My eyes find Fhord, who’s staring at me in horror. He can feel my emotions. He realizes I’m about to do something reckless.

It doesn’t matter. I can’t let my tormentor go.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, dropping the guard’s shoulder and racing to find Bolverkr. Fhord won’t be able to follow right away. We’re close enough to the cavern for him to get Thyra and the guard there. He’ll do that before he comes after me.

Still, I almost stop when his emotions chase me down the dark hall. I feel his disappointment. The hint of anger that grows the farther away I get. As I pause, though, something else rises in him. Acknowledgment. Acceptance. He may not know why, but he knows I need to do this.

My steps slow as Bolverkr approaches. For a moment, I feel like I’ll collapse, the weight of my wrath nearly pulling me to the ground. My hands tremble as I unsheathe two of my blades and I have to shift my attention to my breathing, slowing it down with each inhale and exhale.

Dredging up the shields I learned to construct to hide my mind from him, I focus on my steps, testing every movement forward before I commit. I’m terrified that a pebble will alert him and take my vengeance from me. Desperate to be done with this—done with him—and leave this place behind me.

In less than a minute, as I huddle in a splash of shadow along the wall, he appears. Just as he always did, he strides through the cavern as if nobody and nothing could hurt him. As if he has nothing to fear.

This moment makes it all worthwhile. I savor the taste of revenge, drowning out my memories of the coppery taste of my own blood in my mouth, the brackish semen they spilled down my throat, hands around my neck to make sure I took everything they forced into me. I might keep his puny little penis as my prize tonight. A reminder that I’m strong enough to take this from him.

I cast my thoughts out one more time to make sure he’s alone—that nobody’s close enough to hear his screams—and then step into the light. His eyes grow wide and then narrow, recognition floating through the air toward me. My smile is vicious as I cast my first knife and take out his right hand. He’s not nearly as adept with his left. The next blade carves into his cock, drawing out the squeal I need to hear as his red uniform darkens at the groin.

By the gods, this is every bit as satisfying as I hoped it would be. I don’t even try to hold back the laugh that erupts from me, throaty and malicious as fuck . He needs to know how much I’m going to enjoy this.

“You.” Even with his injuries, his voice is as strong as I remembered, a commander dripping with authority. He pulls the knife from his balls with his left hand, shoving it into his belt before grasping the one in his right hand to yank it out. His gaze never leaves mine. My stomach flutters a bit as I watch the pain pass through him.

I nod as I halve the distance between us. His eyes remain sharp, his shoulders thrown back despite the agony that must be rippling through him. He’s still a dangerous man.

“I knew this day would come,” I tell him, my fingers pinched on the tips of the blades that will take his life. “It’s here sooner than I’d expected,” I admit, my smile somehow growing even wider. “Today’s a good day. For me.”

“You still can get away,” he spits out, his fingers clutching the handle of my weapon. “If you leave now, you’ll take your life with you.”

“Not before I take yours.” My next knife flips through the air to pierce one of his lungs. I hear the whoosh as his breath gusts out and he leans forward. I have to admire his restraint. No scream this time.

“Bitch,” he snarls. “I told them we needed to end you. Fucking idiots.”

“Why didn’t they? What did they think I would give them?” I never figured out how much they know about what landed in this world with me. If he can tell me, it’ll be worth an extra minute or two in this cavern.

His head rolls up, dark eyes finding mine. This is the moment I’ve been craving since I left this place. He knows he’ll die today.

“Fuck you,” he whispers, a harsh wheeze emerging with his malice. “You may have taken my life but you’ll take nothing else from me.”

I kick out my foot, finding the hand that holds my blade to wrench it free. He reaches for the knife in his chest but my other foot finds it first, twisting it before it tugs free to drop to the ground. A wave of pain rolls through him, and I wonder if I’ve ever seen anything more satisfying. The rock that formed in my stomach when I lived here sheds layers, lightening the heaviness I’ve carried all these years.

I breathe in, laughing again when I realize he shit his pants. About time.

My next blade impales his left hand, slicing through the tendons that would let him grasp a weapon. At last, he sinks to his knees, dropping his eyes to stare at the ground before they lift to find mine again. He knows his life belongs to me. But he still hasn’t let go of the anger, the need for someone else’s pain.

“You won’t leave here alive,” he whispers with a chilling grin. And then I feel the sweep of his psyche across mine, followed by the response of a half-dozen other guards, now alert to the attack.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck . I’d hoped to have more time to savor his death, but I need to escape more. I can’t be trapped here again.

Two steps carry me to him, his knees still on the ground, his neck arched so he can shoot spite at me while he still breathes. My spite, though, has a life of its own. It laughs at his pathetic attempt to intimidate me.

This is the memory I’ll drag up when my thoughts carry me back here. When I wake at night screaming, thrashing against the cords he wrapped around my wrists and ankles. When I can’t take the pain any longer and find some relief in my drifting mind.

I grab his hair and pull his head back, exposing the scarless neck. “I wish I’d had more time with you,” I breathe as my blade opens his jugular. I hold him there and watch the life leave his eyes. A puddle forms around my boots, thick and pungent, and I smile again. Fitting that his blood will leave here with me.

The relief that follows his death cleanses me in a way I couldn’t have expected. My gaze strays toward the ceiling as I inhale and exhale, in and out. I feel freer—lighter—than I have in years. As if this one act, a single swipe of my knife, removed an anchor I’d been dragging around since then.

I wish I could stay here and enjoy this moment. But I feel others approaching. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be forced to take risks I can’t afford.

After one last look at the man who deserved so much more pain, I gather my blades then spin and race down the hall toward Fhord and Thyra. I’m dreading his anger, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve rescued Thyra. We’ll be enemies again soon anyway.

I sense the guards barreling toward me—between me and my exit—before I see them. Six approach me, called by the man I just killed. They won’t have found Bolverkr yet since he’s lying in a puddle of his own blood in the opposite direction, but they’ll know I killed him. He should be here instead of me.

Even from this distance, I can tell that nobody has the talent they need to find my thoughts. But that won’t matter. They’ll know to search the shadows for me.

My body responds, the urge to fight overwhelming any thought of flight. The adrenaline that already flooded my system races through me, pushing me on as my vision focuses. I flit my eyes around the cavern, searching for some advantage against guards who’ll be every bit as skilled in combat as me. When I see the ledge a dozen feet away, I sigh in relief. That’s my best hope.

I take my time crawling up. If a single stone drops, they’ll know to look up. I can’t give up whatever surprise I’ll have up here.

They stride into the cavern seconds after I perch on the ledge, slowing as they search for me. I can feel their anger and resolve. They know I’m dangerous. They know they won’t find their comrade alive. And they’re determined to make me pay.

But I’m determined too.

My first two blades flip from my hands at the same time, piercing the throat of one guard and the temple of another. They crumple to the ground, not even a cry escaping their lips. The rest turn, finding me just as another two knives spin toward them. One finds its mark, dropping a third guard to bleed with his brothers.

These are better odds.

I drop to the ground … and twist my fucking ankle. My foot plunges into a hole I hadn’t noticed before and I nearly topple over. That’s all it takes to shift the odds again. Gritting my teeth, I breathe through the daggers that shoot up my leg when I put weight on it.

And then I grin. Because fuck them. They won’t see my pain.

They attack as one, flinging fists and legs at me. I’m outnumbered and nearly overwhelmed. All I can do is defend, spinning and ducking and scampering away more than once. My mind trips over itself, searching for an opening to do something other than respond to their assault. But they’re too fast, too well trained.

Once, almost by accident, I land a punch to the jaw. He drops back, shaking his head for a moment, giving me the smallest window to charge the others. Before I can step into my next punch, though, he drops his head and rams into me, tossing me into the wall a few feet away.

The air whooshes out of me as my lungs expand like a balloon and then constrict. I’m struggling to take a breath, even as I force myself to roll away because if I don’t, I’ll be dead. The stabbing pain in my side tells me I’ve broken a rib, or worse. Fuck . This will take a couple of hours to heal.

“What did you do with Bolverkr?” one of them demands, his voice harsh and guttural.

“Fuck you.” I’m scrambling away from them as they stalk me, searching for some escape I haven’t seen.

“Is he dead?” This guard’s hands punctuate his words, stretching out and then clenching into fists as if they want nothing more than to wrap around my throat. And then he stomps forward, giving in to their demand as he reaches out to grab my neck before I can get away.

He stands, pulling me up with him, his eyes narrowing.

My mind stills and slows, pushing out every sense, focusing on the fingers around my neck.

It’s not over yet, I remind myself as I lift my legs to kick away the guard. But another one stalks up to jerk my wrists behind me, yanking them up and away, nearly as high as my shoulders. For just a moment, I forget about the hands around my neck, focusing on the sharp pain that shoots up my arms, the throb in my ankle. Then the first guard’s fingers tighten, cutting off the last of my airflow.

Maybe today is the day I’ll die.

A wave of sadness washes over me, not for my life, but for Toffer’s and Thor’s. All the others who’ve filled my days in this world. I don’t want to disappear, leaving them wondering if I’ll ever return. And then for some strange reason, Fhord’s image erupts in my mind. I think he’ll grieve my death. I wish I could have known him better.

“Is he dead?” the guard repeats, squeezing tighter with every word before releasing his grip enough to let me speak.

“Fuck yes, he’s dead,” I croak as a cough forces its way out of my throat, bringing a new and different burn with it. I’m still trying to find any leverage to push the guard away, but my body won’t move the way I want.

I should have lied. Told him something to buy more time. But Bolverkr’s death matters too much for lies. Even if it costs me my life, I need these men to know he went to Helheim before me, and that I sent him there.

The guard in front of me squeezes again, his fingers compressing so much they nearly meet at my spine.

It won’t be long now. My mind is drifting, ready to let go.

At least I killed Bolverkr first.

When the guard’s hands drop, his eyes wide and a blade sticking out of his forehead, I stumble to the ground, wresting my wrists free. At first, I can’t wrap my mind around the change. It feels like I’ve died and landed in Hel’s realm of chaos. The guard drops to his knees and then falls forward—barely missing me as I shove myself away—the sword pushing up just a bit when its tip meets the hard rock below us.

Fhord’s standing behind him, his eyes flashing as his gaze finds me and then spins toward the man who held my wrists. He dies just as quickly, one of Fhord’s knives splitting his heart. I can only watch as he turns toward the remaining guard and they grapple for a few seconds. But that man’s no match for the ferocious dragon rider who came to save me. Before I can lift myself from the ground, he’s dead too.

And then Fhord’s turning toward me, his eyes haunted. “Why did you leave me, Sifa?” Fhord’s voice trembles as if he’d actually feared for me.

I stare at him for a moment, still too stunned to speak.

“Why the fuck did you leave me?”

Before I can move, Fhord’s in front of me, dropping to his knees to pull me to him. And our mouths collide.

Fhord’s kiss is frantic, desperate. His lips capture mine, his tongue stroking into my mouth to claim me. His hands are on my hips, holding me so tight it feels like he’ll never let go. An ache erupts in my center, spilling down to my core as every part of my body responds to him.

And gods help me, I kiss him back. My tongue joins with his, exploring his mouth as he takes mine, and my hands dig into his hair. Nothing has ever felt so right.

“You are so dangerous,” Fhord rasps as he drags his lips from mine. He watches me for a moment, his eyes dark and hungry, before he stands and strides away, turning his back to me. “We have to go,” he tells me, his voice tight.

“Fhord, I’m sorry. I thought I’d be okay.”

When he spins around, his eyes are full of torment. Desperate. He sighs, lifting a hand to run it through his hair, the other splayed out, holding tightly to his thigh.

“Nothing’s okay,” he says at last. “Nothing will ever be okay again.”

He turns and trudges into the cavern. I have no idea what to say to him—how to explain what I’ve done or why. So I push myself up and limp along behind him in silence.