“And you’re sure these will break?”

  Boras asked worriedly when a pair of iron manacles were clamped around his wrists. They felt tight and already rubbed against his skin in that irritating way that manacles were clearly designed to do. He made a face that expressed his concern and discomfort, feelings which Torrance assuaged with a calm smile as his own shackles jingled with his movement.

  “They will, my friend swears by them.” He said.

  “Oh lovely…” Boras rolled his eyes. “I just don’t want to die this way. It’d be very embarrassing.”

  Torrance chuckled. “I understand completely.”

  In The Four Claws, the thirty-five Mercuries were in the process of being shackled. True to her word, Malka arrived an hour after the meeting with a large wooden crate filled with the chains. Torrance volunteered to be placed in irons before displaying the brittle nature of the chains. He applied the same pressure one would use to break an arrow shaft and the chains did indeed snap apart. Mollified, the criminals submitted themselves for their ‘temporary’ incarceration.

  Reeva and Boras were calm enough with the feeling of the shackles. But it was Arcos who froze up. He was the last to put on the manacles. He was sat on a bench at the back of the mess hall, holding the opened chains in his hands. He stared at the iron for minutes, not saying a word.

  Reeva saw this and sat with him. Boras followed her and sat on his other side.

  Arcos noticed their presence and looked up at them with a strained smile. Reeva reached up and rubbed his shoulder. Boras had his hands clasped together and waited in quietude. The trio sat there for a quiet moment.

  Soon Torrance approached Arcos and knelt in front of him.

  “Hey kid.” He said.

  Arcos looked up at him.

  Torrance laid his hand on Arcos's knee. “This isn’t good, I know that. And I cannot imagine how painful it is for you to do this. But it is our only way in. This pain you have belongs in the past.”

  “I swore to never be in chains again.” Arcos finally spoke in barely a whisper.

  Torrance nodded slowly. “I know. I don’t like it much, either. You don’t have to be a slave, you can play a part in Malka’s troop, it’s not an issue.”

  “No!” Arcos snapped. “Sorry. No… I need to be there. I need to know Nerisity is safe. I need her to see me coming for her. So she knows that I haven’t given up on her. I’ll put it on, I’ll…” He coughed a sob from his throat. His heart hammered. Sweat built on his neck. “Can you help me? I can’t do it myself.”

  “Okay. Okay. Guys?” Torrance asked the pair.

  Reeva leant over Arcos and placed her hands on his shoulders, giving him what could be seen as a half-hug. Boras and Torrance locked the manacles on Arcos's wrists.

  As soon as he felt the tightness of the metal on his skin, Arcos felt his breath seize up. His heart thudded against his ears. His fists clenched and unclenched. He battled to control his breathing. Slowing his inhale and exhale. Slower. Slower.. Slower… Slower….

  Bear up, Arcos. Alaintiqam’s voice whispered in his mind.

  This is the night of judgement. The night of vengeance.

  Those that have wronged you are in one place.

  You are close to your justice. So close.

  Hold your nerve and I will serve you to the very end.

  Stand strong, my wielder.

  Arcos smiled gently. Alaintiqam was right. The moment was coming. He had to remain strong. For everyone’s sake. For Nerisity. He looked up at Torrance, Reeva and Boras.

  “I’m alright. Thank you.” He stood up straight, though a little shaken and pale.

  “If you’re sure,” Reeva checked.

  “I am.”

  Torrance nodded. “Good. Let us start.” He turned and headed back to talk with Vanto and Malka. Reeva and Boras remained with Arcos. He noticed their looks.

  “What?” He asked.

  “You’re certain you’re in control?” Boras asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Last time we did something dangerous, you kind of went crazy on us.” Boras said. “What?”

  “Back at the Guild.” Reeva reminded. “The mountain spiders? And the fight with the Revenants?”

  Arcos sighed sharply. “Look, if you’re worried about that, then don’t be. It’s fine. I am fine.”

  He tucked his shirt into his trousers before grabbing the dirty, ragged hood and cloak given to them by Malka. He pulled it over his head and the large cloak comfortably fit over his leather armour and the sheathed Alaintiqam that was strapped to his side. “I’m aware of what we’re doing. I am clear on our mission.”

  “Arcos…” Reeva pushed. “If you’re bothered by anything, you know you can talk to us. We’re your friends.”

  “Seriously.” Boras added. “Your problems are our problems, and the same goes for us.”

  “I know.” Arcos nodded. “But I’m good. Thank you very much, but I am good. Now leave it be.” He turned away from the pair and headed away, feeling uncomfortable with the way the conversation was headed.

  “They don’t understand.” He muttered under his breath. “How could they?”

  Indeed. They lived good lives with family and friends. What of you? Where was your family? They try to empathise with your pain. But they cannot. They never will. I understand you, though. And I will be there to give you the power you need.

  “Thank you.” Arcos said with a smile.

  As he stood with the Mercuries, he hadn’t noticed that whilst talking with his friends and right now, his right hand, though bound, lingered on Alaintiqam’s hilt. His hand twitched. His body was eager for battle.

  Reeva and Boras followed their friend towards the gathering group.

  “I’m worried,” she spoke softly, so that Arcos did not overhear. “I have a bad feeling about him.”

  “Did you see how he holds onto that sword?” Boras noted in equal volume. “He won’t let anyone near it. Hells, I’ve seen him whisper to it sometimes.”

  “You think it’s cursed.”

  Boras gave her a look. “After everything we’ve seen, I’m willing to stretch my belief to curses and charms. I say the second we get our people out, we get that sword away from him.”

  “I don’t think he’ll let you.”

  Boras cracked his knuckles. “He’s not going to have a choice. It’s about time he got a reminder about who loves him.”

  “Aw, you’re so caring… Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Reeva laughed a little. Boras was always good for a laugh, even in the darkest of times. “It’s good that you’re here with us. Love you, mate.”

  Boras gave her a cheery grin. “Love ya too. Always.”

  They reached the group where Torrance was looking concerned. “What do you mean you couldn’t find Hacker?” He asked the bounty hunter standing before him.

  Malka shrugged. She was dressed in her full fighting gear, with her crossbow slung on her shoulder and her sabre by her side. “I looked everywhere. The hospital. The docks. The College. Everywhere. No sign. But I was told he was sen’ for by the Baron a’ the fortress. Chances are, ‘e’s still there.”

  Vanto scowled. “But he was supposed to be here, to play as middleman for you.”

  Like Arcos, Reeva, Boras, and the Mercuries, Vanto was dressed in a shabby travelling cloak. One large enough to hide his collection of knives across his chest.

  “I’ makes things trickier, sure.” Malka nodded. “But the plan hasn’ changed. He already sen’ word tha’ I would be coming with the slaves. We will be le’ in.”

  “This is very concerning…” Vanto admitted. “We will be running a great risk now. Four Claws? What say you?”

  Torrance thought it over, his boot tapped on the ground in that moment. Then he looked up and nodded. “It’s too late to change the plan. We need to get in there. Malka, can this be done without Hacker’s help?”

  Malka nodded. “As long as we’re not late.”

  The formation was created as they left The Four Claws. Half of the Waywards and Malka would lead the front, whilst the other half of the Waywards would bring up the rear. Torrance, Vanto, the Mercuries and the Trio would stand in the middle as if under guard. Maraby was told to remain behind and given instructions by Torrance to flee The Four Claws and bring word to Victor should the mission fail, and by fail, he meant that they would not return by late dawn. Maraby nodded but stated that the mission would not fail, which gave Torrance a reassured grin.

  They were about to leave when Arcos felt a strange sensation in his chest as they stepped outside. A pain that was unlike anything he knew before. It wasn’t extreme like Elder Divana’s power. It was a withdrawing pain, as if something was being pulled out of him without his consent. It felt wrong. It felt so fucking wrong.

  He felt like he wanted to throw up.

  Which he did, right on Boras's boots. The morning’s breakfast splattered all over the boots.

  “Oh, what the fuck?” Boras moaned as he stepped back. “Arcos, why?”

  “Oh gods… I’m sorry.” Arcos wiped the sick from his mouth.

  “Must have been something you ate.” Torrance commented. “Hey, don’t clean that up, Boras. It’ll make the act more believable.”

  “Fucking gross…” Boras shuddered as he allowed Arcos's vomit to fester on his feet.

  “Sorry…” Arcos coughed out some bile. “I don’t know what that was…”

  “Nerves, it happens to us all.” Torrance patted his back. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Arcos wanted to agree with him. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t nerves. He wasn’t nervous of the fight. He was excited for that. He was even eager for the bloodshed of his enemies. No.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  That sensation was not it.

  It… it felt evil. Monstrous.

  Something bad had happened. Something that went against the nature of the world. And for a reason that he at that time could not explain, felt a deepening feeling of grief and loss and agony. Something was taken from him. He feared that feeling and made a split decision to never feel that sensation again.

  “Remember boys and girls,” Torrance advised as they moved away from The Four Claws as one unit. “Before we reach the fortress, dirty up your faces with mud and lichen and look like the world has come to an end for you. You’re slaves now.”

  The journey through the city went as well as they could expect. The sight of shackled slaves flanked by armed men gave the cityfolk all the reason they needed to stay out of their way. The patrols of Lawgivers and guards also noted the large group moving, but after various words exchanged with Malka who handled all the interactions with the authorities, they were moved along without molestation.

  Reaching the Western Gate, Arcos saw the soldiers garrisoned there had doubled in number. It seemed that the threat of rebel action was truly a concern. The Barons were not taking any chances. He smirked as they were waved through. The soldiers had no clue. This was easy. Or Malka was just that good at the art of bullshit like Torrance.

  Passing through the gates and out onto the main road, the group made a collective sigh of relief. The act was briefly dispelled and the group were at last able to talk amongst themselves as they marched, secured by leaving the earshot of all those loyal to the Oligarchy.

  The main topic was the spoils to be gained from assaulting Markus's fortress. Victor and Torrance had agreed that the Waywards and Mercuries would be entitled to an even split of the riches Markus kept in his cellars. The Baron was not an extravagant man, not like his kin Malachi, but being the Slavemaster of the Oligarchy should have allowed the man a strong tithe of silver and gold. Having his brother as Coinmaster did not hurt generate the wealth. After saving the prisoners and killing the Bodyhunters, the fortress would be thoroughly looted. Malka was also entitled to a worthy percentage of the loot, seeing as it was her plan they followed.

  An hour from the city, Malka made a quick glance behind her so she would be able to keep an eye on the group staying together. And that was when she saw something else. She whistled sharply and held up a fist.

  The formation came to a jumbled halt. Torrance looked at Malka curiously and then turned to see what she was seeing. Soon everyone else did so. And they all saw a lone traveller following them and catching up. They wore a dirtied cloak and hood, obscuring their face and hair. It was until they drew close and pulled back their hood when everyone saw who it was.

  “Sitra!” Boras exclaimed.

  Sitra Sade indeed. She strode up to the group wearing that cocky look that only her visible eyes could display. She was dressed in a tight-fitting travelling suit of black leathers with brass-knuckled gloves, copper vambraces, and shin-pads. A light chainmail vest fitted over her chest and torso and was tied around her waist with a threaded leather cord. At her hip were a twin set of long knives and her stiletto tucked into one of her knee-high boots. Her hair was tied into a small bun, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

  Vanto instantly rushed for her; his eyes were ablaze with irritation and deep concern.

  “Miss!” He snapped. “What in the blazes are you doing here??”

  “Joining you, that’s what.” She put her hands on her hips and looked over the group. “You all look a sorry state.”

  “How did you get out of the city??”

  “The sewers.” Sitra shuddered at that. “Fuck that place… Never again.”

  “Sitra!” Vanto persisted. His normally calm demeanour was shattered in the moment of seeing his boss’s daughter in the middle of dangerous territory. “You were told by your father to stay in the city! Ordered, even! What is he going to do when he finds out??”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “And I say otherwise. I will not be cooped up in a house like some helpless storybook maiden. You really expect me to sit out on this? I think it’s mad and dangerous. I like that. I want in and you’re not going to turn me away. Well, you going to welcome me or not?”

  “I- I-…” Vanto struggled to come up with an answer - any answer - that could persuade the belligerent girl to leave. But it was useless. Sitra was known by all to be a stubborn girl, who would require three oxen to pull her away from any decision she was set on.

  Vanto hung his head and stepped aside, allowing Sitra to nod to him with a smile and saunter towards the group.

  They parted for her until she came up to Boras, who was staring dumfounded like the rest. She looked up at him and down. And then she swiftly kicked him hard in the shin.

  Boras cried out and dropped to one knee, holding his attacked limb. Sitra raised a superior eyebrow as she passed him. “Now we’re even, Cutter.” She said sweetly. “For a lot of things.”

  After filling in Sitra on the plan and who was where, she elected to be with the ‘slaves’. After locking her in a spare set of manacles, the group set off once more. Boras was not too pleased to have her with them, neither was Reeva. They had not expected her to join them in this. And like Victor, Vanto and the Mercuries, they did not trust her fully.

  Reeva hung back with Boras and Arcos, making sure they were overheard by her nor by some of the Mercuries.

  “I don’t like this,” she whispered. “Why is she with us? There’s something she’s up to, I know it.”

  Boras leaned close to her. “Maybe she’s on her own mission. Victor definitely sent her out to do something,” he assumed.

  “Regardless, she’s an extra fighter we have on our side,” Arcos trudged through the mud on the wet road. It had started to rain. A light drizzle, but continuous as such that the dirt began to cake their shoes. “We just have to watch her. I doubt she’s attempting to fuck up the rescue.”

  “Well, keep her away from me,” Boras asked. “I don’t like her and she definitely does not like me.”

  “Didn’t you hear her, Boras?” Reeva gave him a half-smile. “She’s even with you.”

  “I really don’t believe that…” he grumbled.

  An hour into their march, the group saw the ocean to their right. The blue sea stretched outwards towards the east, towards what Reeva knew her homeland lay. She felt a twinge of pain.

  One day, she swore, one I will return. Maybe then I can remember what I lost. My father. My mother. My brother… Until then… I need to look out for my friends.

  She looked to her left towards her friend. Boras was glowering ever since the Sade girl had joined up with them. He shot veiled looks at the back of her head. He would even open his mouth to say something, but he was unable to make a sound. Reeva sighed with irritation. That would not do. They all had to be on the same page, the same mental stability if they were going to fight as a team.

  Boras and Sade needed to get their shit sorted.

  “Hey, get your shit resolved,” she voiced her thoughts with a rough shake of his shoulder. That snapped him out of his thoughts.

  He looked at her. She glared at him. “Talk to her, do what you need to do. We need you.”

  Boras glanced between her and Sitra. “I thought you hated her.”

  “I don’t hate her. I just don’t like her. But you like her. That’s enough for me to be a little generous. Go.” Reeva said more softly, seeing the turmoil in his eyes. “It’s better than having things left unsaid. You don’t know if you’re getting another chance.”

  Boras swallowed and then approached Sitra’s back. He tapped her shoulder.

  She whipped her head around, eyes flashing with indignant anger. Reeva bristled, ready to beat the shit out of her if she hurt Boras in any way.

  But she was surprised to see Sitra’s eyes dull in his presence. A look of guilt? Sadness? Reeva couldn’t tell.

  But Sitra came away from the group willingly, following Boras to the side of the road.

  Vanto and Torrance noted the two of them moving away and lagging behind. But at Sitra’s silent insistence, they did not waver.

  With a nod from the two men, the convoy shuffled ahead, leaving the pair behind. Reeva spared a final glance to her friend and this vexing girl. She offered a prayer to both the Black and to the Wyrm, hoping Boras was successful in this new trial.

  Standing to the side of the road, Boras turned around and waited for Sitra to join him.

  “So?” She asked, with manacled arms crossed. “What is it?”

  Boras stood there before her, silent and unsure of himself. He was so easy with his words, he would be able to talk to most people he came across. With Arcos and Reeva, it was easy as breathing air. They made it that way. Tilda and Torrance both had the seniority and experience to gain his respect, but even they were fine enough to converse with. But Sitra? Not her. There was an impenetrable wall there, surrounded by a moat with stakes. He risked his life with every word spoken to her. He risked his emotions. She would break him in two with her glare alone. Those eyes were still that wondrous jade green. But there was something sharp in there now, as if a jade vine flower decided that thorns were now a necessity for its survival. Boras disliked that he was the possible reason for her guardedness.

  The young woman was powerful, confident, and fierce.

  Boras could only hope to match just one of those.

  He looked down at his dirty boots. “I… I… I just wanted to say…”

  “Yeah?” Sitra ducked her head low to keep her eyes on his. “Boras. Look at me.”

  Boras looked back up only to see Sitra’s face so close to him. The last time her face was this close to his was when he… when he had her against the wall with his hand on her throat.

  Shame burned through him. He was a pathetic waste of skin.

  He sucked in a breath and willed his dwindling courage into action.

  “I am a coward and I’m sorry.”

  Sitra leant back, eyes slightly widening in surprise. “I- what?”

  “I’m a coward. And I am sorry. What I did that day… I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. That was evil. Weak. It was very wrong.”

  Sitra slowly allowed her arms to unfold. The manacle’s chains clinked, filling the gap of silence shared by the two. She was very quiet as she stared at him.

  She cleared her throat. “Well… it’s not like I wasn’t blameless in that. I was goading you. I was angry. I shouldn’t have gone after your folks.”

  Boras stared at her. “That’s… that’s no excuse. You can insult my ancestors for all I care and that still would never give me the fucking right to… to ever lay my hands on you.”

  She blinked slowly a few times. “That really fucked with you, didn’t it? What I said about your parents? What you did? How long have you been beating yourself up about that?”

  “Not long enough.”

  “For the gods’ sake…” Sitra shook her head as she began to pace. “Why are men so… isolating? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  Boras picked at his fingernails in an attempt not to look at her. His chest was getting tight. His eyes watered. He couldn’t breathe. He was feeling sick. Something was stuck in his throat and he had to get it out, get it out now before he choked.

  “Because I was ashamed!” He snapped, but not at her. Only at the ground. “Because I am a coward. Because I should be better. But I’m always the worse. I fail every time and I get the shit kicked out of me because I do deserve it and I can’t even have a normal conversation with you without it turning into a fucking screaming match-”

  Sitra closed the gap and grabbed his face with her hands. “Boras. Stop. Stop that, right now.”

  Boras stared at those eyes. And his soul was shaken. Sitra had tears in her eyes. She was crying? Why? For him? Why?

  “It was a lot.” Sitra said quietly, eyes utterly unflinching despite the tears. “What you learnt at my mother’s. You had expectations. I didn’t prepare you. Obviously, I would have prepped you if I knew you were coming. But that is either here nor there. You know now, and I am sorry you found out the way you did. I want you to know this now. I appreciate and accept your apology. You reacted angrily as expected. And you regretted it just as quickly. The fact you apologised says volumes of how brave you are. You are brave. You understand me? You are brave.”

  Boras reached up his hands and held hers against his cheeks. “You are incredible, you know that?”

  Sitra afforded a laugh through her tears. “Of course I am.”

  Boras gave her a searching look. She rolled her eyes.

  “And I suppose that you are pretty alright as well.”

  “Thank you.” Boras made a half-hearted grin. “I’d hug you right now, but… well…” He brought up his chained wrists. “You know.”

  Sitra’s eyes squinted into what Boras could now assume was a smile. “Well, the sentiment’s shared.”

  “Hey, what if I…” Boras brought down her hands gently and with a step forward, pushed into her space. Sitra stiffened for a moment, but she relaxed when Boras pressed his body on hers and rested his head and face onto her shoulder. Realising what he was doing, she put her head on his shoulder. It was an embrace without arms. But it somehow meant more meaningful and impactful than any hug either of them had given to each other.

  They remained there in that full contact. Boras smiled. And so did she.

  Boras liked her scent. Whiskey and woodsmoke.

  Sitra liked his scent. Incense and tanned leather.

  “I’m sorry for calling you a weakling.” Boras admitted into her neck.

  “That was pretty fucking mean.” Sitra replied, then she added softly. “I’m sorry for punching you.”

  “I’m sorry for judging you for how you live your life.”

  “I’m sorry for not telling you about it.”

  “I’m sorry for intruding on your privacy.”

  “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

  “You’re not a bitch. I’m sorry for being an arsehole.”

  “I’m sorry we had to have this conversation.”

  “We’re going to have more, for certain.” Boras chuckled again. “I think that’s how we communicate.”

  “You call what we did that day communicating?”

  “It’s good enough…”

  “I’m fucked up, Boras.”

  “Same.”

  She laughed. Boras loved hearing her laugh. “That’s not a good thing, Cutter. But at least we’re talking…”

  “You think we could be friends?” Boras asked her.

  “Just friends?” She pulled away slowly to look him in the eyes. They had not stepped away, so they remained close. She breathed heavily.

  “Yeah.” Boras smiled after a pause. “Just friends.”

  Sitra blinked slowly, clearing her thinking something but choosing not to say it. “Okay. Friends.” She nodded. “Easier that way.”

  “Agreed.” Boras stepped away.

  Sitra did not like the fact that she wanted him to stay close to her. That annoyed and worried her simultaneously. But she understood a boundary when she saw it. Boras had put one up with that one word and was stepping away. Whether it was for her benefit or his protection, she could not say.

  This was good. That was what she wanted. What he now clearly wanted.

  So why the hells did she still feel like utter shit?

  She sighed wearily. “You like some truth? A good way to commemorate our friendship?”

  “I’d love that.”

  Sitra looked away for a second, almost seeming embarrassed by what she would say. Then, with a flutter of eyes, she said, “You are definitely the best kisser I’ve had.”

  Boras’s fractured spirit suddenly jumped back together and glued into one piece with the ego of a hundred strongmen. He cocked his head at her and grinned. She refused to meet his eyes.

  “And to match you in honesty—” he began.

  “Don’t be crass, you son of a—” she interrupted.

  “You have the best arse in all of Dargania.”

  Sitra paused with a stare at him. And then with a sudden burst of noise, she threw back her head and howled with laughter.

  “Why did I,” she spluttered between gasps, “expect anything else from you??”

  Boras cackled. “Welcome to my friends’ world.”

  Their laughter continued as they turned in tandem and headed after the convoy, both of them feeling lighter and happier than they had been for the last few weeks.

  Reeva heard the oncoming laughter and saw the pair returning to the convoy. She smiled.