I throw myself forward, grabbing Meg by the shoulders and shoving her down, landing inelegantly on top of her. I feel the brush of the arrow as it whizzes by my hair, ricocheting off the wall an instant later and clattering down the alley.
I roll off of Meg, keeping hold of her arm and pulling her hurriedly to her feet, looking over my shoulder towards the shooter. They have disappeared around the front of the pub, likely reloading.
I take a cursory glance of the alley, cursing the lack of cover. "Stay behind me and keep low." I hiss. Together we dart quickly across the narrow space towards some empty ale barrels. I pull Meg down next to me just as another arrow glances off the stone.
"Now what?" Meg breathes.
I pat the pockets of my pants and tunic, abhoring my lack of foresight. "Give me something I can throw."
Wordlessly she slides a heavy gold bangle off of her wrist, handing it over to me almost apologetically.
"That will do." I take it from her and hurl it with all my strength at the single lit lantern, ducking a moment later when another arrow strikes the barrel in front of us. There is a satisfying smash as the bracelet finds its mark and the lantern crashes to the ground, coating us in darkness.
"Now, move." I push her deeper into the alley. We stay crouched, moving quickly into the encroaching blackness. All of my senses are on high alert, my ears strained for the sounds of anyone following us while I desperately will my eyes to adjust to the darkness. We just have to make it to the street on the other side, then I can vanish with Meg.
The silence is the most terrifying thing I have ever heard.
"Just a little further." I whisper. In the dim light I can barely make out her head nodding in agreement. We creep forward a few more steps, the narrow gap between the walls now only a few yards away.
I stop abruptly, grabbing Meg's ankle to hold her in place. Glancing up the side of the building next to me, my eyes trace the light dusting of pebbles trickling down from the roof.
A weighted shadow drops down upon us. I barely have enough time to turn onto my back and kick out, deflecting the attacker and slamming them into the wall opposite. Meg lets out a shriek as the heavily-cloaked figure scrambles almost instantly to his feet, swinging his lethal spear out in front of him.
I can immediately see that he has the advantage of reach within the tight quarters. The deadly length of the spear effectively cuts off both of our exits. I grab my dagger, short and paltry in comparison. This is not going to end well.
The spear is thrust forward with savage precision, ripping the sleeve of my shirt as I duck and roll towards him, crossing the narrow gap and swinging my leg out. I connect fluidly with his calf, sweeping his feet out from under him. The person falls and I dive for the spear, grabbing hold and receiving a solid fist to the ear for my efforts.
My head rings as something sticky trickles down my neck. I grip the spear more firmly, punching out with my free hand and connecting with the heavy mass above me. I twist the dagger in my hand and swipe madly, tearing the swaths of fabric concealing my attacker's face. He's heavier than me but the adrenaline coursing through me body gives me the strength I need to block his punches. I switch tactics abruptly and shove my forearm into his nose, resulting in a satisfying crack.
I take advance of the momentary distraction and roll out from under him, using the spear as leverage and coming down hard on his neck with my elbow. He gasps and releases his weapon to claw at his throat. I kick the spear away and Meg scrambles forward to grab it, staying a safe distance back but keeping the lethal point leveled at the man on the ground. My ears are still ringing and I shake my head to clear it, releasing the pressure on his throat slightly but keeping the tip of my dagger close to his eye so that there will be no misunderstanding.
The swaths of fabric have slipped off of his face in the struggle and I blink as realization slowly dawns on me.
"You?"
Snake stares up at me, red-faced and breathing heavily. Blood flows freely from his shattered nose and his lip curls as his eyes dart to Meg and back to me.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Rage courses through my body. Every muscle is tensed as I fight to hold my dagger steady while I keep him pinned with my forearm.
"What I was ordered to do." He spits. His black eyes glint even in the dimness of the alley.
"By whom?" Meg speaks up. Her tone is measured, ever-diplomatic despite the circumstances.
"You'll see." He releases a bone-chilling laugh, his hulking form shuddering under my arm. I raise my eyes momentarily to meet Meg's. Her brow is furrowed in confusion and the spear she is holding wavers slightly.
Then I hear it. The whistling of wind behind Meg right before her eyes widen and she stumbles forward, the spear clattering to the ground and echoing madly off the impassive walls of the alleyway.
"Meg!" I scream, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as she crumples to the ground, the shaft of an arrow protruding prominently from her shoulder. The colour red blooms around the wound, staining her back and growing at a distressing pace.
A cry of fear and frustration tears from my throat. Channeling my rage I use the hilt of my dagger to strike Snake in the temple, scrambling to my feet as his head slumps sideways in unconsciousness. I arrive at Meg's side, my hand shaking as I tentatively touch her, my heart pounding furiously in my battered ears. I glance up in the direction of the shooter, registering a shadowed figure walking slowly and deliberately towards us, calmly notching another arrow.
My hand grasps desperately at the ground, finding purchase around the hilt of Snake's spear. Grasping it, I rise unsteadily and point the weapon towards my opponent, standing between them and Meg's prone figure.
A familiar pair of narrow, shadowed eyes greet me. Rowan's coiled hair has been pulled back from her face, accentuating her sharp features and the tight set of her mouth.
"You gods damn traitor." I spit. "We brought you into our home. We trusted you."
"That was your mistake." She responds smoothly. Her bow is notched but remains pointed at the ground. I notice her dark eyes darting towards Meg and I adjust my stance, placing myself more prominently in front of her.
"You will regret this." My voice is low, no longer my own. The colour red flashes across my vision and I leap, kicking off the wall to my right and propelling myself towards her as she raises the weapon.
My spear collides with her bow and we tumble together to the ground, limbs entangling as we thrash and kick. Her foot connects with my ribs and I roll away, clutching my side as I raise the spear again, adjusting the unfamiliar weapon in my hands.
Her eyes have compressed into slits as she casts her bow away, sending it clattering down the abandoned alleyway. Wordlessly she reaches behind her back and withdraws the heavy, feathered staff, rotating it expertly in her hands. The corner of her mouth pulls up in a smirk as she twists the weapon, levelling it at me and quirking an eyebrow in question.
I lash out with the spear, aiming the tip towards her heart. She blocks my maneuver easily and sidesteps, using the weight of my thrust against me and countering, throwing me off balance and sending me staggering backwards. I barely manage to keep my footing, adjusting my grip and ignoring the vibration reverberating through my weapon.
I grit my teeth and wait, circling Rowan so that I once again stand between her and Meg, forcing myself to concentrate on her movements and not the fact that my best friend is slowly bleeding to death on the ground behind me.
She licks her lips once, her every muscle tense and coiled before she swings the staff at me. I block her attack clumsily, taken aback by the sheer force of her. She doesn't pause an instant before striking out at me again, switching hands abruptly and targeting my weak side.
I duck but not before receiving another blow to the ribs. Something cracks ominously inside me as I ignore the pain and dart away, raising the spear in anticipation for her next move. I guessed correctly and am rewarded when Rowan appears above me a moment later, bringing her heavy staff down with a crushing speed. Our weapons connect, the clash of wood on wood deafening. I thrust upwards once, throwing her over my head before I turn and sprint after her.
An inhuman cry tears from Rowan's throat as I stab madly with the pointed end of my spear. She rolls out of the way, a satisfyingly heavy stream of blood drenching her arm from where I grazed her. She is back on her feet by the time I manage to bring my weapon around again, blocking and countering me with a practiced precision.
The Waster woman's fighting technique is completely unlike anything Will taught me. She is wild and savage, thrusting and parrying seemingly at random, her every blow full of lethal intent. It is all I can do to stay upright and block, my muscles straining as the strength gradually ebbs from my body. It is obvious she is stronger and by the cruel grin curling at the corners of her mouth, I can tell that she knows it.
I can't win this.
Meg needs me to win this.
Desperation sings through my body, humming through my injuries and pulsing in my tired muscles. I back up a step, then another, using the length of the spear to keep her at bay, giving myself the space I need.
With one last thrust that saps most of my strength I send her off balance, then plant the end of my weapon into the ground and run at her, jumping and using the spear to vault myself upwards and forward. I twist midair and kick out, connecting with her chest and sending her sprawling backwards, limbs flayed.
I land unsteadily, fighting to regain my footing and turning back towards Rowan. She sucks in great lungfuls of air as she struggles to her feet, fury and pain written clearly across her formerly smug features. Gods sake, why can't she stay down?
My next strike is clumsy and lopsided. She counters, knocking my weapon aside before swooping her staff at my left knee.
My weak knee.
Pain shoots up my entire leg, reverberating through my hip and my cracked ribs as I crash to the ground, the spear dropping from my hand. Sand flies up around me at the impact and I choke on a combination of agony and dust. Immediately there is another blow to my back and I tuck into a ball instinctively to protect my head.
I roll blindly to the side, scrabbling hysterically for my fallen spear. Her staff falls again, violently knocking my head to the side and splitting my lip open.
There is a clatter. It takes me a moment to recognize the sound of Rowan kicking my weapon out of reach and another moment to realize that she is no longer hurried. I turn onto my back and attempt to sit up, my shoulders slamming into the wall as I blink up at her, the motion pulling the newly-formed bruises on my face.
Blood fills my mouth from the cut to my lip and I spit, wiping my face with the back of my arm, keeping my eyes trained on the unfeeling orbs shadowing her face.
"Why?" I force myself to keep my gaze locked on hers, not daring to look back towards Meg. My heart flips in my chest, clawing its way up my throat. For once I don't feel the icy grip of panic and instead am consumed with nothing but a crushing blow of disappointment. "We were so close to peace."
She releases a mirthless laugh, the savage sound escaping her lips and making her appear even more wild. Her coiled hair is mussed and covered in sand and a stream of blood gushes from the wound on her arm, trickling down and coating her hand, still clutching the heavy staff.
"There are forces at work here that you could not even begin to understand, girl Miner." She adjusts her grip and pushes her tangled hair back, leaving a terrifyingly vivid streak of blood across her face.
"We didn't take Noah." I tell her, my words slurred slightly around my swollen mouth.
At the mention of his name she starts, appearing momentarily baffled before rage settles once again over her savage features. "I know that." She hisses. "But this is what I must do in order to get him back. You and your queen are casualties of a much larger war."
My traitor eyes dart to Meg, at her limp figure sprawled across the darkened passageway between two nondescript buildings. Even in the dim light I can make out the sticky texture of blood coating her back and the shaft of the arrow piercing her, mocking me.
And I am feeling everything.
The too-familiar weight of betrayal. The collision of my old world and my new life, bleeding out and forgotten in an alley. After everything we've accomplished, after everything we've been through, this is where it is going to end.
Backed up against the wall with Rowan towering over me, her staff raised, I have the clarity of mind to realize that this is almost exactly what Will experienced in the desert. Only this time there will be no one to call off the execution.
Just me.
The staff comes crashing down. I force every last reserve of strength I have left into diving to the side, fire shooting up my knee as I wrench it unfavourably and absorb the killing blow with my shoulder. There is a sickening pop as my arm is pulled free of its socket and I rock to the side, kicking out blindly with my one good leg and tumbling out of the way as she stumbles and releases a cry of rage and pain.
I scrabble at the ground, clawing madly as I fight to rise to my feet, one arm hanging limp and useless. Rowan grabs my ankle and wrenches me back down. I turn onto my back and thrash out again, aiming a kick for her injured arm, relishing in her scream as I make contact.
She casts away her staff, recognizing it's uselessness as we roll over the ground, clawing, kicking and punching fiercely. Her hits are relentless and I block as best I can, the pain now forgotten amidst the rush of rage and adrenaline. All I can see is her wrenched face and vivid splatters of blood flying back and forth between us. There is a rushing in my ears, a twisted, terrifying flood of rage and release as I lash out over and over again, unleashing all of my pain and fear. Her blows land but I barely feel them. She exists now only as the recipient of my fury. She is a faceless, empty encumberance of everything and everyone that ever tried to limit me. She tried to take the last family I have and for that she will pay.
She twists abruptly and comes down directly on my bad leg, recognizing my weak side and taking full advantage. I howl and thrash. Blood, sweat and tears mingle on my face and blind me momentarily. She comes down again and the pain sings through my body anew, ripping me apart from the inside. My strength is sapped along with it. I have nothing left. Nothing.
I twist awkwardly onto my back, dragging my arm over my chest and panting as I watch her rise slowly to her feet, the heavy staff retrieved and held tightly in her hands. Her face is a mess of cuts and bruises, giving me a hint of what I must also look like. I keep my eyes trained on hers, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing me beg for mercy as she raises her weapon for the final blow.
"I hope he's worth it." My words are barely coherent as I drift on the abyss of pain and unconsciousness.
"He is."
And then the staff falls.
A shadow flies between us, absorbing the blow and forcing her back. The staff is knocked from her hands and clatters down the alley, the feather adorning it fluttering as though taking flight. Rowan is incapacitated instantly as another shadow appears and uses what appears to be my discarded spear to shove her backwards and pin her against the wall. Her knees instantly give out and she slumps down in defeat. Spent.
Someone reaches for me, jolting my dislocated shoulder and I scream, batting them away and clawing frantically towards Meg. She hasn't moved a muscle and her face is deathly pale. I ignore my saviours and lay a trembling hand on her back, flinching at the sickening texture of blood against fabric.
"Don't touch her." A deep voice commands from behind me. I glance over my shoulder, blinking when I see that it is Jaron who is keeping Rowan pinned to the wall. His face is drawn and the muscles in his arm flex, his eyes never leaving Meg's prone figure. Luca stands a little ways off, his expression unreadable as he watches me.
"How could you?" I hear myself scream at Jaron. There is a pounding of many feet as people flood from the bar into the alleyway but I ignore them. They're too late to help.
"I had no part of this." The Waster chief protests and looks back to Rowan, at her hunched figure shaking behind the pressure of the spear. "Kay, I swear it to you."
I am barely listening, only capable of staring at Meg as Luca pulls me gently to my feet and slips an arm under my shoulder. I am too weak and lost to protest. We stand back, watching helplessly as Meg is surrounded and someone snaps off the length of arrow sticking out of her shoulder. Amidst a flurry of activity she is lifted and rushed back through the alleyway towards the street. Harry and several others remain behind, guarding the scene carefully with various weapons drawn.
"Red?" Harry asks tentatively, his normally gruff voice gentle as he demands my attention.
I raise my head slowly, looking first at him and then at Luca supporting me. His normally bright blue eyes have darkened and filled with some emotion that takes me a moment to place.
Anguish.
I can't say definitively why I trust him. I suppose that he could have run and let Rowan finish the job but instead he stepped in. Perhaps my time in the Waster camp has given me an instinctive sympathy for them. Perhaps it is because of the way Jaron's eyes followed Meg when they carried her away. Whatever happened here tonight, I am certain that the brothers were not a part of it.
I don't know how I can be so sure. But I am.
"Put my arm back in and let's get out of here."
Luca obliges, barely flinching when I shout in pain and slump back against him. Rowan and Snake are restrained and pulled along behind us, nary a protest between them as the Miners and Wasters tramp back through the blood-filled passageway. I keep my eyes forward, limping and leaning heavily against Luca's shoulder, every step jolting me, helping me stay conscious and focused on getting into the carriage. A second carriage carrying Meg has already rushed back to the Palace and we follow behind at a slower pace, rattling over the uneven stoney streets and back towards the centre of the City.
Rowan sits across from me, her head bowed as she stares blankly into her lap. Only minutes ago I wanted to kill her, to rip her throat out and force her to feel everything that she has taken from me this night. Now I recognize a broken hearted woman, desperate, shattered and defeated.
There is more to this story. If Meg lives, I will hear of it. If she dies, I will single-handedly destroy every person involved in bringing Rowan into that godsforsaken alleyway. Truth comes through blood and there is no shortage, tonight.