Page 40 of The Iron Hex

“Don’t come any closer,” Eira warned the woman slinking toward her.

The archer wore her hair cropped close to her head, her features angular and her lithe body resembling nothing so much as a snake. “Don’t come any closer,” the woman mocked as she circled in.

“I am not afraid to hurt you,” Eira stuttered, lying. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hugo collide with the knight he’d called Patrick, the clang of their swords meeting leaving her ears ringing. Her ankle throbbed sickeningly, and she could hear her pulse in her ears; she was panicking. She glanced at Arthur, and her bag that she’d tied to his saddlebags—the bag with Pennyroyal in it.

“I think you are,” the woman hissed, smiling unpleasantly, crooked teeth bared.

Eira held out her dagger, taking tiny steps to her left, the woman matching her with each step.

“You’re far too pretty to be traveling with a traitor like Venton.” She lunged forward.

Eira managed to step out of the way, but barely, a piece of her sleeve catching on the soldier’s dagger and slicing open. Herankle radiated pain with each step she took. This woman was trying to kill her.

Another clashing of swords, and another. Eira couldn’t focus on Hugo right now, or she’d die.

“Sir Patrick told me we’re supposed to kill whoever is working with Venton,” the snakelike woman said, tilting her head. “Are you working with Venton, pretty lady?”

“Why are you trying to kill him?” Eira asked, desperately hoping that if she kept the woman talking, she’d be less likely to actually kill her. Eira couldn’t run with her ankle like this, and she couldn’t get on Arthur before the woman got to her—she was stuck.

“Your pretty mouth can’t distract me.” The woman lunged again.

Eira tried to parry, knocking the attacker’s aim slightly askew and leaving Eira’s arm only nicked instead of slashed bloody. She looked down to see a thin line of red seeping into the edges of the cut cloth on her blouse. She swung again, watching the attacker’s grin grow wider as she realized Eira was going to fight back.

Swords rang in the distance again, and Eira heard a grunt. She quickly looked over to see Hugo in active battle with both the smaller soldier and the extremely large one, the grunt coming from the smaller soldier as Hugo knocked him backward with a vicious kick.

The woman in front of her took advantage of the moment to lunge forward again, this time nicking the top of Eira’s back—another shallow wound. This woman was playing with Eira like she was prey, like this wasfun. Eira realized suddenly that she didn’t have a chance against this person, whoever she was. She thought back to last night, to Hugo telling her she could have other magical capabilities. How could she calm down enough to clear her head for magic in a moment like this?

The woman lunged again and Eira stepped back onto unevenground. Her weak ankle buckled, and within a split second she fell, her dagger thankfully still in her hand as she landed on her back.

Her attacker slowly approached, looming over Eira, a deadly grin on her face and a dagger in her hand as she looked down. “I thought this would be more fun,” she whined. “You’re boring.”

Eira closed her eyes, thinking of only the outcome she wanted. Just for her to stop—for them all to stop.

All at once, it was like a floodgate had opened, and she felt the magic flow through her. It was unfamiliar, and yet something about it felt like home to her.

The sounds of fighting stopped in a heartbeat, turned to panicked yelling. Eira opened her eyes.

The woman in front of her was caged in writhing vines. Eira turned her head to see the other two soldiers also caged in the same vines, trailing onto the road from the trees they’d ambushed Eira and Hugo from.

Time stood still as Eira’s eyes locked with Hugo’s, shock and fear etched into his features before his face hardened and he looked away. The soldiers screamed about Eira being a witch as Eira stood with her dagger drawn and brushed off her skirts absently, her ears still ringing. She looked back over at Hugo, who had turned away from her and was unceremoniously executing the two knights near him, slitting their throats with his bloodied blade. Eira flinched as she watched the soldiers die. It felt like overkill, and yet, it also felt necessary after what she had just done. Eira had cast elemental magic. Illegal magic. No one could know.

Hugo was methodical, slicing just as much of their necks as necessary to make sure they lost their lives, hardly looking at them as he did. If Eira hadn’t been afraid of Hugo before, she certainly understood how dangerous he was now.

Eira gingerly stepped toward the woman who had tried to kill her. Panic filled her attacker’s eyes as vines started to trail over her face. They were still moving, still writhing and trying to stop her from breaking free.

“I understand why you’re traveling with Venton,” the soldier finally grunted, a green tendril hooking into her cheek as she spoke, the tip of the vine piercing through her mouth and out the other side.

Eira tried not to gag—what had she done? “You shouldn’t have tried to kill me,” Eira managed, barely a whisper.

“I may not succeed, but someone will—witch,” she said, spitting at Eira, the glob of saliva landing on Eira’s face.

Hugo was there only seconds later as Eira wiped the spit off her cheek. She watched the woman fall as Hugo slit her throat, slicing through the vines closing around it. He turned to her, wiping the blood from the blade on the fallen soldier’s cloak before putting the knife away in his belt.

“Get on Arthur and wait,” Hugo ordered, placing his hands on her arms and trying to look her square in the eyes, but Eira kept avoiding his gaze.

Eira felt like everything he said had an echo, like she was existing outside of herself—she could feel the magic in her veins still, foreign and a homecoming, all at once.

“You need to breathe,” he said as he got closer to her face, his hand cupping her cheek as he forced her to look into his hazel eyes and hear what he was saying to her.