Chapter Twenty Nine

  The Vault

  The woman’s jet black leathers stood out starkly against the piles of gold. Her hair was bound in a single braid. If Freya were to guess, her outfit was inspired by Fourth Wing’s Violet Sorrengail.

  The woman drew a dagger, dashing Freya’s hope she might not be for Sulivar.

  Freya burst forward, the strange woman dove out of the way of the stone figures making a beeline for her skull. The woman bounced to her feet with a grace Freya was all too familiar with.

  Only someone with extensive combat training could recover that quickly. It looked as if she was going to speak before Serenity sliced a deep gash in her side. Whatever prepared speech this woman had wouldn’t see the light of day. Freya was not about to let her stall for time.

  A small pile of gold coins collapsed beneath Freya’s foot, sending her off balance just enough for the woman to notice and launch two daggers from the sheaths hidden in her leather tunic. One Freya deflected with her epee, the other set her shoulder aflame with pain. Freya cried out despite herself. The thing was buried to the hilt just above her armpit. Just the movement of her breath sent new waves of agony crashing over her.

  “That was impolite,” The woman pressed at the gash at her side, then rubbed her blood between her fingers. “Not bad though.”

  Lorin and Molly both stood with the stillness of a possum playing dead. Why weren’t they attacking?

  “Seems a thank you is in order, you were trapped in here and we just saved you.” Freya said.

  “You have my eternal gratitude.”

  “Freya.” Lorin’s tone was like that of a guitar string plucked too hard.

  The woman’s smile turned dark. “Perhaps you should have spent more time at Esselem before you entered my domain.”

  She knew who they were. Freya clenched her fists. Sulivar was a fucking liar. How could she have been stupid enough to believe him? “Your domain? Magistrate Pralter governs this town, and you don’t have the look of an old man.”

  “Astute observation. It is no wonder your ingenious plot was able to fool us.”

  Freya’s cheeks burned, she was going to destroy whoever this was. Before she could move though, Lorin shook his head. “It’s the Duchess,” He said at just over a whisper.

  The Duchess? Freya wracked her brain and the few classes she had taken. What Duchess? Sulivar was in command, and from there each former city-state in the Bluffs was lead by some magistrate or lord. The thought that this woman might have been right, that she should have just stayed in school until she knew enough about this world, drove her absolutely insane.

  “Why would your little cadre of fools let you have any semblance of authority if you can’t see what your friends are up to behind your back?” A sly, blood boiling smile crept up the woman’s face.

  Freya took a breath. She is trying to needle you, calm down. That wiser part of her mind was shoved back as her hold on her temper slipped. To hell with caution. This fucker was dead.

  Freya tore the dagger from her shoulder, blood spurted, but was quickly slowed by the handful of pages she dedicated to her increased constitution. It wouldn’t be enough to restore her completely, but that was a problem for later.

  Serenity flew into Freya’s hand at the same time the stone soldiers took flight. The Duchess, or whoever she was, let another dagger fly. Freya swung Serenity, its odd magnetic field sent the dagger straight into the gold at her feet. The Duchess’ smirk fell off of her face, only to be picked up by Freya a moment later. Good, be afraid. She thought.

  An ornate set of full-plate armor burst from the mound of gold coins behind the Duchess, it glowed with Lorin’s signature pale white. She ducked a moment too late to avoid the armor’s haymaker. The blow cracked her straight in the temple, she flew across the vault as if she had been hit by a truck.

  The crumpled form at the far side of the vault gave Freya pause. Maybe they should have tried to talk. Stop it. She thought. They couldn’t let up now. They needed to be ruthless. Freya and Lorin’s armor sprinted across the valuables piled up as if they were sand dunes. The stale air took on a strange metallic smell, it was powerful enough that Freya could taste it, it felt like she had licked a battery.

  The Duchess rose, her eyes took on a dull purple glow. That wasn’t good, that wasn’t good at all. Freya doubled her pace, why hadn’t she set aside a few more pages for increased speed?

  The hair on Freya’s arms prickled. Strands of lightning danced across the Duchess’ fingers. Oh shit. Purple bolts of electricity spewed forth and snapped the tension in the air. Oddly most of the larger bolts went around Freya, the few that hit her did little more than make her skin tingle. The chilling realization struck her too late.

  “Lorin!”

  Lorin and his phantom armor collapsed at the same moment. Steam rose from his body. Where was Molly? Another bolt struck out. This one was making straight for her. Freya let Serenity fly straight into the bolt, it served as an adequate Lightning rod, absorbing the entire attack. The rapier flew straight for the Duchess, she parried with yet another dagger but quickly regretted it as the stored electricity passed through the small blade into her own body. The duchess cursed and tossed the dagger back at Freya wildly.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The scrape of a boot along the ceiling distracted Freya, it was Molly finally crawling toward the Duchess. Freya sent Serenity on the attack again before she could muster another lightning bolt. She was keeping the blade at bay easily enough, but that was fine. They just needed her distracted long enough for Molly to-

  What felt like a bucket of cinderblocks crashed down on Freya’s head. She felt something snap in her arm. Though the pain she knew should come with was nowhere to be found. All manner of coins dug into her cheek as whatever was on top of her kept pressing her down. Freya turned just enough to see the large shield laying on top of her. A large brownish grey cat was painted on it along with the bright yellow words ‘Goddamnit, Donut’.

  Molly? The coins burst with energy, pouring electricity into Freya’s face as if she had stuck a fork into a power outlet with her teeth. This was bad. Lorin was down, Molly was either useless, or actively helping the enemy. Freya closed her eyes and felt for her stone soldiers.

  One was just a few feet away, the increasing torrent of electricity was making it hard to focus. She shut her eyes tight, pulled on the soldier and sent it hurtling toward whatever was on top of Molly’s shield. A yelp came with the release of pressure on her back. Freya threw the shield off to see Molly rolling through a pile of coins. Molly usually had the shield on her back, she would have needed to take it off and aim with purpose to land on Freya as she did.

  Traitor.

  That was how Sulivar knew their plans. A white-knuckled rage overcame her, they trusted each other. Freya tried so hard, they had just started to have something more than just hate for each other. The stone soldier pounded into Molly’s back with each memory that was suddenly recontextualized.

  Molly had been the only one to openly moan about Zora not revealing her name. Because Sulivar wanted dirt on all of them. BAM! Molly had been trying to force Freya out of the group, not because she was angry about the name thing, but because Sulivar didn’t want extra people working against him. BAM! Molly had been somewhat kind to her the other night not to make amends, but to let her get comfortable. Too comfortable. BAM!

  Molly was howling in pain now. She reached for her glasses, what was it those did? Shot lasers or something? A stone arrowhead flew from Freya’s pocket and impaled the offending hand.

  Molly had no counter play. She wasn’t a fighter. Her pages were all dedicated to sneaking. Freya took a step toward the traitor, her vision narrowed on the writhing form. Fucking liar, fucking coward. Another flash and a single enormous bolt smashed into Freya, the world blinked out.

  #

  Freya snapped up in bed, struck by the stark difference between the stuffy air of the vault and the fresh winter air in her room. Glowing red numbers on her 80’s style alarm clock read 3:29 AM. She couldn’t be awake now, she needed to get back, Lorin was unconscious, and now so was she. It was up to her.

  Sleep wouldn’t find her. Too much was swirling about in her mind. Molly betrayed them. Lorin was down, maybe even dead. What about Athena and Zora? Was that why there were more explosions than Freya expected? Was Roman safe?

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Freya leapt to her feet and ran to the bathroom. She tossed half a dozen expired orange medication bottles out of the cabinet and found a bottle of Nyquil. She took two hearty swings and slammed the bottle back on the counter. Every second was another second for everything to go wrong. More so than it already had.

  She dove into bed, covered up, and prayed the medicine took effect soon.

  #

  Pain overcame Freya. Her eyes snapped open but her vision was fuzzy. Molly and the Duchess were saying something to each other. Lorin was deathly still, laying face down in the treasure. He hadn’t moved since he had been hit. Freya forced the darker thoughts from her head. He had to live, he wasn’t going to die on her watch. Several pings in her chat system poked at the back of her mind. She opened a tiny window for the Unbound group chat.

  Roman Taylor: They know we are here.

  Athena Stall: A squad of magic users attempted to stop us. They’re dead.

  Zora: Where are you Roman?

  Roman Taylor: At the extraction. Where’s Freya Lorin and Molly?

  Athena Stall: They aren’t answering. I’m on my way.

  Roman Taylor: It could be a trap. Stay back.

  Zora: I don’t give a shit.

  Roman: What good will come from getting ourselves killed?

  Zora: Freya put her neck on the line for us, if you can live with abandoning her you be my guest. But I’m helping.

  Help was on the way.

  With a flick of the wrist Serenity flew across the room, it speared Molly straight through the stomach. Freya smiled, she would need to thank Lorin again for that sword. If he lived. Serenity ripped out of Molly’s gut, blood sprayed across the mounds of treasure.

  Freya struggled to her feet, her skin was tight, as if she had been sunburned horribly. Serenity flew into her hand hard, a spike of pain radiated out from her palm. Across the room Molly fell to the floor, but the Duchess paid her no mind. Her laser like glare focused on Freya.

  “You’re gonna have to try harder than that,” Freya said.

  “Think yourself brave do you?”

  “More hotheaded than brave really.”

  Freya used a large gemstone to throw herself through the air. Knives flew for her only to be deflected by Serenity. On the last hit the rapier flew off wildly. Freya landed softly on her Boots of Feather Falling and drew her knives. The Duchess’ eyes widened.

  “Those don’t belong to you.”

  Freya didn’t bother with an answer. She swung wildly, she wasn’t a skilled knife fighter, but she didn’t need to be to do some damage. The trench knives bit through leather into the skin beneath. The Duchess caught Freya’s wrist and plunged another knife into her shoulder. Freya ignored the pain and smashed her jaw with the knuckle duster guard of her knife.

  The Duchess hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

  Lorin groaned behind Freya. A weight fell off her shoulders. She didn’t know what she would have done if he had died. The air shimmered and The Duchess let another bolt loose, again it didn’t make for her, but for Lorin. This time Freya was fast enough, Serenity shot out of a pile of silver and caught the bolt mid-air.

  “He is already down!”

  The Duchess threw a dagger at Serenity, discharging it. “First rule, a wounded enemy can stab you in the back. A dead one can’t.”

  Heat built in Freya’s cheeks, she was certain her whole face had gone cherry red. Now she was sure what kind of person she was dealing with. The kind of person that saw a combat medic’s red cross as a target rather than a symbol of hope.

  “I’m afraid you are wrong Jara,” A familiar, refined voice said. “The first rule, is that you can never hide something from me.”

  Sulivar stood alone at the vault’s entrance. An impossible heat radiated off him. Freya’s heart climbed into her throat, any hope of survival died with the slam of the vault’s door.