Water's Wrath (Air Awakens Series Book 4) (5 page)

“For you, three days away from books means something is terribly wrong.” The woman gave Vhalla a sweet smile. “Come, we’ll go somewhere you’ll be forced to practice.”

Vhalla fell into step alongside Gianna as they walked away from the now locked and dim store. She hadn’t put up much of a fight and didn’t bother questioning where they were going. Gianna hadn’t ever done anything to slight or harm her. In fact, when Vhalla had arrived in Gianna’s shop on a whim weeks ago, the Westerner hadn’t kicked the younger woman out after Vhalla had huddled up in the corner for hours, reading as much as she could.

Vhalla had slept on the street that night, then returned to Gianna’s the next morning. Gianna had shared her lunch and let the odd patron stay the day again, despite Vhalla not actually buying anything. By the fourth morning, Gianna had figured out her latest ‘customer’ had nowhere else to be and put Vhalla up in the small attic in exchange for an extra pair of hands in the shop.

It’d taken three weeks for Vhalla to realize that Gianna had no need of a shop assistant. Now, it’d taken over six weeks for her to say anything about it.

“Thank you,” Vhalla blurted suddenly.

“For what?” Gianna’s question reminded Vhalla that her companion could not actually read her mind.

“For taking me in.”

“Hon, you know that is nothing to thank me for.” Gianna laughed. “My girl is gone and grown and married and raising kids of her own in Norin. It’s good to have company in the house again.”

The statement made Vhalla think of her own father, which only brought a fresh wave of shame over having yet to return to the East. No matter how much gold she sent, it wouldn’t make up for her absence. But that absence had crept on so long that now Vhalla had no idea how to break it.

Gianna led them to a restaurant that specialized in Western foods. Proud of its authenticity, the entire staff and most of the patrons spoke exclusively the language of old Mhashan. Vhalla’s tongue curled and rolled off the words, doing her best to pronounce them as carefully as Gianna had taught her.

Their conversation fluctuated between Southern Common and the old tongue. Vhalla was relieved by the time food arrived, using the excuse to busy her mouth as an opportunity to listen to Gianna’s description of the great castle of Norin rather than speak.

“. . . though, I suppose it’s nothing like what you’re accustomed to.”

“Me?” Vhalla had explained her humble beginnings to Gianna; that, despite her current status and wealth, she wasn’t accustomed to luxury.

“With having grown up in the Southern Palace.”

“Ah,” Vhalla uttered a noise of comprehension.

“When will you be returning?”

Food paused on Vhalla’s spoon halfway between her mouth and the bowl. That was the one thing Gianna could ask that Vhalla wanted to avoid discussing at all costs. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you miss it?”

“I . . .” Vhalla wanted to object. She wanted to say she didn’t miss the palace and its winding passages. She didn’t long for the chill and crisp mountain air, more refreshing than the coldest water she’d ever drank, even if it did set into her bones too quickly and made her shiver. She wanted to claim she didn’t want to run through the Imperial library again like a rebel child, running her fingers gleefully along the spines of the books.

But it would all be a lie
.

“I do,” Vhalla confessed.

“But there’s something keeping you from returning.” Gianna’s dark eyes regarded Vhalla thoughtfully.

“There is.” Vhalla sighed, frustrated. It’d been so long since she’d talked with anyone openly about the heaviness in her heart; Vhalla wasn’t sure if she could remember how. But everyone else in Vhalla’s life had a reason to be kept at arm’s length. Gianna, however, was a neutral third party. “There is a man.”

Gianna burst out laughing, and she only laughed harder at Vhalla’s scowl. She quickly reduced her voice to a wheeze. “Vhalla Yarl, the Windwalker, the champion of the North, terrified about seeing a
man
?”

Vhalla’s eyes darted around for any who may have heard the name said aloud. Spying no one, she rolled her eyes. Just saying the name of the man would’ve explained the cause of her concern.

“We were
involved
,” Vhalla started delicately. “Things became complicated. His family wanted him to be with someone else, and now he’s betrothed.”

“I take it he’s a noble?” Gianna questioned.

Vhalla gave a gesture of affirmation. It was an easy assumption to make since only nobles considered arranged marriages. It was a trend that was going out of style across the continent.

“And he still loves you?”

The question stilled her. As much as Vhalla didn’t want to think about it, she had to ask:
Was that the truth?
Her eyes didn’t want to see it, her mind wanted to ignore it, but her heart knew it with every certain thrum.

“I think so,” Vhalla sighed softly.

“And you clearly still have feelings for him.” Gianna leaned against the tall back of the booth they sat in. “I don’t think you should be so worried.”

“But—”

“Listen,” Gianna demanded, and Vhalla obliged. “Whatever bride his family strapped him with cannot be better than the woman sitting before me. If I were you, I would gamble on going back. You may discover that they are more amenable to changing their minds when the Hero of the North stands before them.”

“I doubt it.” Vhalla thought of the Emperor, which immediately soured her appetite. She couldn’t settle with just normal people loathing her existence. She had to have some of the most powerful leaders in the world craving her demise.

“Then show them what they’re missing,” Gianna suggested with a shrug.

“What?”

The Western woman laughed at Vhalla’s startled expression. “Show his family what they lost in you. Spread your wings,
tokshi
, and fly. Soar above them, make their eyes tear as they stare into the sun to watch you reach new heights.”

The idea turned itself over in Vhalla’s head, settling like wet cement curing into a firm foundation.
Show them
, she thought,
show them what they are missing
. The watch felt hot against her chest, and the axe on her thigh seemed to thrum with power.

Vhalla opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her.

Her eyes drifted over to the entry. A man with a bushy mustache stood in the doorframe. The notable facial feature sat atop a triumphant sneer.

Vhalla glanced around frantically. She had been found and there was only one exit. Schnurr may not attack with all the witnesses currently enjoying their dinners. But all he had to do was wait, wait for his prey to finally leave and follow her like a hunter on a blood trail.

“Gianna,” Vhalla whispered, thinking frantically. “Listen to me.”

“Wha—”

“
Don’t turn around
,” Vhalla hissed, trying to keep her voice level. “You’re going to get up, and you’re going to go and not look back. You’re going to pretend like this was a casual meeting, we happened upon each other—you don’t really know me or who I am.

“Go back to your shop and burn everything of mine. But, most importantly, find my black ledger and destroy it, burn it, make it so that no one can ever read its words.” Her heart was racing. “By the Mother, do not read its contents, do not put those words anywhere inside your head.”

“
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.

The mad beat in her ears faded into confusion.
The coward had run
. She stared in shock, paling to horror, as Vhalla realized the depth of her error.

The major had seen the axe and fled with the knowledge
.

A Knight now knew that the axe was real and that she possessed it. She had to find the major and kill him before he could tell anyone. Vhalla quickly sheathed the axe, fumbling with the latches as cries began to rise from the street.

Her mind whirred as Vhalla tried to think of Schnurr’s next action. Schnurr wanted her for the Knights; they needed her alive, and subduing her would require more than a small group. Vhalla looked on at the corpses oozing crimson onto the dirt.

He’d need a mob.

Vhalla snatched up her cloak and donned it frantically as she ran. Men and women stumbled from the parlors, blinking in confusion. Her hands were slick with blood, her heart thrumming frantically. If she could find the major, she could stop him before he acted. Before he had time to spin the situation to serve him best.

Vhalla emerged into a dense crowd that was circled around the man she sought. “Down that alley, there!” he shouted while pointing.