Dragonoak (12 page)

The
stove began to heat up, and with Akela towering over me, I had no
choice but to press my back against it. She was boiling water, and
though I'd heard her tell Katja that she was making tea, I was
waiting for her to pour it down the back of my shirt. I murmured
her name, sweat making my hair damp, but she only grunted, lifting
a boot to subdue me into silence.

Akela
lifted the pan and I screwed my eyes shut, tensing as she poured
the water into a cup, and breathed so rapidly I thought I might
pass out. The spoon chimed against the side of the cup as she
stirred the tea, taking it into Katja's room and returning no more
than a minute later.

“Akela...” I whispered, watching her pull the door all but an
inch closed. Turning her head sharply towards me, she set her jaw
and dragged a chair over, placing it in the centre of the
room.

She
straddled the seat, arms folded across the backrest, and stared at
a spot above my head so intently that I didn't dare to speak again.
Anger resonated from her, more palpable than the heat rising from
the stove, and I knew that she was planning her next move. I knew
what she was capable of, had seen her take an axe to a man's face
to hide the evidence, and it was worse than facing Katja. Akela had
always been my friend, and she'd never belittled or chided me.
She'd never given me a reason to avoid her, and yet there she was,
full of rage, figuring out a suitable way to deal with
me.

Minutes
passed and eventually, Akela exhaled heavily and rose from the
chair. I pushed myself back with my feet, gripped the chains and
tried to tear them free of the stove for the dozenth futile time,
but Akela turned from me. Without a word, she headed back into
Katja's room, returning seconds later.

With a
blanket draped over her shoulder, Akela knelt in front of me. My
mind reeled with what she planned to do with it – whether she
wanted to blind me to what she was doing, or bind me, that I might
be thrown in the ocean – and when I shook and sobbed, Akela brought
a finger to her lips.

She
opened her other hand, showing me the small, silver key pressed to
her palm.

She was
helping me. She was helping me. Akela reached for the lock and I
thrashed my legs out, not knowing how to stop myself. She recoiled
instantly and held her hands where I could see them, and once I
forced myself to be still, she slowly held the key out to me,
pinched between her finger and a thumb.

I
reached out with an unsteady hand, dropped the key and watched it
skid across the floor. Akela didn't move a muscle, didn't take her
eyes off me, and I stretched out, fighting against the chains to
reach the key. I didn't make the same mistake twice. I held it
firmly, slipped my hand behind my back, and got it into the lock on
the third try. The lock clicked open and I pulled it from the
chains, pulled the chains from my wrists and clung to the burning
stove, clawing my way to my feet without taking my eyes off
Akela's.

After so
long chained there, after all I'd been through, my legs wouldn't
support me. I looked to Akela for help and flinched when she held
out a hand, but I knew there was no getting out of this, not
without her. Closing my eyes, I grabbed hold of her arm, and as
gently as she could, Akela wrapped the blanket around me. I wanted
to ask her why she was doing that, but when my eyes fluttered open,
I saw how much my skin was truly glowing, what with her hand
clasping my arm.

“Northwood. I am lifting you, now, and we are leaving,” Akela
whispered, “Please, you are not needing to be afraid of me. I
promise.”

I
nodded, terrified that I'd lash out against her, but Akela picked
me up so swiftly that I wasn't given time to panic. I felt like
nothing in her arms, weightless with all the blood I'd lost, and
Mahon came to me in scraps of sound. My eyes still couldn't focus
properly and I'd pulled the blanket over my head, desperate to hide
myself, afraid that another soul would see me.

The
apartment door swung shut behind us and Akela's boots pounded
against the stairs, pattered through the streets, and people
swarmed around us without seeing us, their voices rising to drown
each other's out, a buzz and a blur, rushing through me like rocks
being ground against one another; fading, fading, until the sound
of the sea returned to me, telling me that I was free.

I was
safe.

“Akela,”
I said. “How did... ?”

“How am I knowing that you are needing to be helped?” she
asked bluntly. “I am returning home, Northwood, and there is
a
hand
on my
table. You are in chains, covered in blood and vomit and I am not
knowing what else, and Kouris, she is saying that somehow, you are
to blame. She is... she is not well, Northwood. But she is sleeping
now. The tea, yes, it is very strong.”

“I-I'm
sorry. I thought you were going to—”

“Do not
apologise, Northwood. I am supposed to be back two days ago. If
only I am not running late...” Akela said, pier creaking as she
hoisted us off the beach.

The beat
of the sun stopped pressing down upon me and I shifted from Akela's
arms to the familiar comfort of the sofa.

“Bloody
hell,” Reis breathed, and I saw them push theirself to their feet.
I tried to focus on them, but all the colours in the world were
wrong, and the only reprieve was behind my eyelids. “What the
hell's happened here?”

Reis
grabbed their cane and hopped over to the sofa, not taking the time
to strap their leg back on. I hadn't told my body to, but every
muscle tensed as they approached, and I curled in on myself, trying
to disappear into the corner of the sofa.

“Careful,” Akela said, “I am not thinking that touching her
is such a good idea.”

“Look at
you,” Reis murmured. The blood on my glowing skin told enough of a
tale, and the scars I'd hidden for so long showed through what
scraps of my shirt remained. “I'm gonna sit on the edge of the
sofa, nice and slowly. That alright, kid? Gods. I've sailed with a
lot of types, but never a necromancer. You wanna tell me how we can
start fixing this up?”

I
pressed myself to the arm of the sofa as if held there by chains,
not knowing what to say, not knowing where to start. Reis was
perched on the far end of the sofa, just as they'd said, and didn't
try inching their way over to me. They simply held my gaze,
infinitely patient, not afraid of what they were seeing.

“How's
it feel?” they tried when words didn't come to me.

“Like...
like knots,” was the best I could do.

“Akela,
there should be a stash of bitterwillow in my room. Reckon it's
atop the crate left of the anchor. Fetch it for us, would
you.”

Akela
moved in silent compliance, and I glanced around the hut, telling
myself that I was home, I was home, that Katja couldn't hurt me
here, but everything within my body and mind alike were screaming.
Having found the bitterwillow quickly enough, Akela handed it to
Reis, who carefully placed it on the sofa between us. Holding their
gaze, I reached blindly for it, pulled it back and bit off as much
as I could at once.

I hadn't
used it for over a decade, but the effects were instantaneous. The
pain faded in a way that my powers didn't allow for, and enough
strength returned to allow me to ask for water. Reis gestured for
Akela to bring it over, and I took it without flinching, gasping
down my first mouthfuls in six days. Water rushed from the corners
of my mouth, soaking the sofa.

“Now,
feel like telling me which bastard did this to you, kid?” Reis
asked. “All this pissing about with Gavern means I ain't in the
mood to be as forgiving as usual.”

“...
Katja,” I said, hearing how ridiculous it sounded. Reis would never
believe me.

None of
them would. Not even Akela, who'd walked in on it.

“Katja?
Kouris Katja?” Reis said, dropping their head against the backrest
of the sofa. “Gods. Alright. Rowan, let Akela give you a hand to
your room. You've dealt with enough shit already.”

Akela
held out a hand and I gripped her wrist, pulled myself up and
walked to my room as well as I could without leaning on her. My
legs were working again, though my feet didn't seem to know how to
face forward, and each step served to remind me of the tangled web
of scars scored across my body.

I fell
on the bed, curled up so I was facing the wall, and mumbled,
“Please don't say anything about... about the hand.”

“Of
course,” Akela said softly, lingering in the doorway. I dreaded the
thought of her saying something more, and when my shoulders hunched
up around my ears, I think she saw enough to fall silent. She left
without another word, door closing quietly behind her.

“Where
is she now?” I heard Reis ask, voice muffled by the
wall.

“At the
apartment. I am using the bitterwillow Kouris is using when the
people who are coming to her, they are in so much pain they are
needing help to sleep,” Akela replied.

“What a
fucking mess,” they grumbled. “Alright. Providing she's still
there, I need you to go get her and take her straight down to the
jail. Don't reckon we need to be asking too many questions in a
case like this, do we? Don't wanna be bothering Rowan just yet, and
you walked in on it. You must've seen enough.”

If Akela
answered, it was only through a nod or the shake of her head. She
left without a word, and I laid there, staring and staring at the
wall, waiting for her to return and tell Reis that the tea hadn't
been strong enough; Katja was nowhere to be found, out amidst Mahon
with only one thing on her mind.

Reis
came in, knocked first, and left a tray of food, water and
bitterwillow at the foot of my bed. I waited until they were out of
the room before reaching for it, abruptly reminded of how hungry I
was, how many days it'd been since I last ate. I tore the bread
apart and gulped down a mouthful, shuddering when I felt it slide
through my chest.

I threw
the rest of the bread against the wall without knowing why and
drank enough to drown in. I chewed on the bitterwillow, chewed on
it though the pain had already been washed away, and stared at the
wall, not wanting to turn around, lest I find myself back in
Katja's apartment.

An hour
passed before Akela returned. I screwed my eyes shut, straining to
hear the words that had made a mess of my mind, but all she said
was, “It is done.”

“With
Rowan being what she is and the amount of blood on her, I'm
guessing your place is a mess. I understand if you don't want to go
back there,” Reis said, “Go to any of the inns in town. Tell 'em I
sent you and there won't be a problem. I'll figure out something
for you and Atthis in the morning.”

I
clasped my pillow over my ears, deafening myself to whatever else
they said. Atthis. Atthis was going to find out. Kouris, too.
They'd know; everyone in Mahon would. It didn't matter if nobody
told them. I was glowing bright, wearing my insides across my skin.
I couldn't hide that from them, not unless I stayed there, in that
room, and that was hardly any better than still being chained to
Katja's stove.

She'd
won. Whatever it was she'd wanted from me, she had it.

In the
hours that followed, I rolled onto my back, and stared blankly at
the walls in an effort to convince myself the room was mine.
Nothing had changed; it was just as I'd left it. Holding my hands
up, I watched the eerie light rush beneath the surface of my skin,
and when it wouldn't stop, I laid on my side, clutching my
wrist.

It was dark outside and light in my room by the time Kouris
returned. The moment I heard her voice I was angry. Angry she
hadn't been there, angry she hadn't done the impossible and
known
that I needed her,
and I dug my nails into the back of my hand as her voice boomed
out.

“You'll
never guess what was happening down at the docks today,” she said,
chuckling. “Tae had been waiting for a—”

“Kouris,” Reis said, cutting her off.

“She'd
been waiting for a delivery to come in, but—”

“Kouris
,” Reis tried again. “We need
to talk. Outside, now.”

Kouris
knew when to listen to Reis. I pulled the pillow back around my
head though I knew they were too far away for me to hear them,
wanting to somehow deafen myself to the awareness that Kouris was
finding out what had happened to me. What would she think? That it
was my fault for being alone with Katja, for putting myself in that
position? I should never have used my powers in front of her,
should never have been so forceful in making my point.

Her
knuckles rapped at the door sooner than I'd expected them to, and I
wasn't ready to face her. I wasn't ready for the look in her eyes
that meant she knew, but a noise forced itself from my throat, and
Kouris took that to mean that she could come in.

I'd
expected anger. I'd expected her to growl and charge against the
walls, scraping ruts into the wood with her horns, but she crouched
down, making herself as small as she could, all of the gold washed
out of her eyes.

“Yrval...” she said, voice cracking. “I'm so sorry. I
should've been there.”