Page 24 of The Cursed and the Broken
“Maybe being different isn’t a good thing,” I sighed. “No one knows the rhythm, no one understands me. The elders, even the girls my age, they see me as strange. A problem child who needs to be collared and my leash pulled when my actions offend others.”
My tutor sat up, pulling me with her. She tilted my chin gently, looked into my eyes without judgement. “People push away what they don’t understand, accepting the norm—the safety in the familiar. In this witch, human, any other supernatural creature, we are all the same. You push boundaries and sing unsung truths, Kitarni. Only the brave bear the weight of purpose. Only the brave don their sword and armour, battling for a better world.”
I thought about my future then, wondering what awaited and whether my boundaries might lie within this forest forever. Or, perhaps, if the wide world beyond would take me lovingly in her arms. Where I could stand firm in my beliefs, where I could wander at will.
If we survived. If my futurehusbanddidn’t keep me caged and bound by law. Unmarried witches had freedom of choice at least, but I would have no such luxury. Bitterness coated my tongue and sorrow welled within, swelling to fill every crevice, every hollow of my being.
“And what is the weight ofmypurpose, Erika?”
She tilted her head, her long brunette braids falling over her shoulder. “Only Fate can tell you that, little warrior.”
Wrinkling my nose, I snorted in distaste. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
Foliage rustled and the sound of leaves crunching underfoot had us both stiffening. I straightened, straining my ears and holding my breath as I glanced at Erika. “Did you hear that?” The woods were dark now, the trees looming high above, their long nails raking at the air.
Slowly rising, we drew our steel blades—Erika with her short sword gripped tightly in hand—my throwing knives splayed and ready to throw in succession. Twigs snapped in multiple directions. “An ambush,” Erika mouthed. “Make ready.”
I nodded resolutely, altering my stance, waiting. The hairs on my arms raised and my mouth dried as a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, following a hooded woman sprinting into view. Her billowing black robes made her look like a wraith borne on a phantom wind and, behind her, more followed, daggers and clubs raised in palms carved with an inverted pentagram.
Others circled, trapping us within a sea of black. They moved with predatory slowness, faces hidden beneath their shrouds. My traitorous heart pounded as fear sluiced through my veins.Cultists.Come to claim more girls? Or perhaps to spill the blood of those who shirked their order.
Sparing a glance to Erika, I took courage in her calm. Her face was almost serene, eyes bright and jaw set. She rolled her neck, squaring her shoulders as she held her blade aloft in careful fingers, the wiry muscles in her slender arms flexing as she stared down our attackers.
“We need spill no blood today. Leave now or face the truth of my blade.”
The cultists only laughed and I suppressed a shiver at their dry tones, the strange, garbled sounds. In answer, they raised their weapons, the steel shining in the moonlight.
The fear writhing through me turned to panic and I willed my hands to remain steady, smoothing my face into a blank mask. The air rattled from my lungs in shuddering gasps and I forced myself to breathe. I had never fought another witch with magic before. Not like this. And I knew the cultists would take no prisoners today. It was my life—my very essence—they would drain, else I slicked the forest floor with their blood.
Could I kill another? My teeth gritted together, eyes burning with determination as the answer came in barely a blink. To save my sister and mother from these fanatics? I set my jaw, nudging the beast within me.Yes.I would do anything. Magic thrummed through my bones, setting my blood on fire, humming as if in answer to my question. That dark power in me uncoiled, awakening from slumber.Fight, it seemed to whisper.Destroy them all.
The allure of my magic called to me, a slick and oily power burning through my veins, and for a moment I forgot the world. A part of me ached to set it free and harness that power.I wanted to let it loose. To see the destruction it could wreak and to see the cultists burn like those wolves had. A small smile curved my lips.
“Kitarni.”
I blinked several times, finding myself planted firmly in reality again. What had just happened? Erika’s eyes crinkled as she looked at me.
“Focus,” she barked.
I shuddered, shaking my head to clear it. Disgust curdled in my belly as I realised how close I was to losing myself. I shoved that dark power deeper, ignoring the low hum inside me as I gripped my blade tighter. Summoning a fireball in my free palm, I offered a grim smile to the cultists. Let them see the conviction in my eyes, the readiness of my body.
The first moved so fast I barely had time to dodge the blade in their hands and, sidestepping, I wheeled, slamming my elbow into the back of their head. They crumpled to the floor and I moved to my next target, sending a blade whistling through the air to sink into the soft flesh of their belly.
Erika whirled with grace, her sword flashing as it arced down on one cultist’s spine before slashing the exposed ribs of another. Muted cries rang out as blood misted over the clearing. Orange lit up the night as I threw fireballs to scatter the group, vaulting out of the way as a club swished past my head. I sent another dagger hurtling through the air to implant into the cultist’s chest.
They toppled to the ground, clutching at the hilt embedded in their breast. Adrenaline fuelled my blood, my nerves tingling with the thrill of a fight. Later, I’d question that feeling, shiver at the power snapping hungrily at its leash. But now, my instincts silenced all things, the need to survive blanketing all else.
A sharp pain sliced through my leg, a thin scrape sending warmth trickling down my thigh as the cool air sighed upon naked flesh. Grimacing, I turned to the cultist and, as the moonlight glanced off their features, horror squeezed my heart.
Eyes as black as a bottomless sea glittered from a pale face, the colour blanched from the papery skin. He’d sewn his lips shut. Botched needlework piercing through infected flesh of swollen red and oozing yellow. Vomit climbed my throat as I stared, momentarily rooted by shock.
“Kitarni,” Erika roared, shaking me from my daze. I wasted no time twisting out of the way as a screaming woman—presumably the leader—fell upon me. We rolled in a tumble of limbs, her spittle flying on my face, her arms strong as we grappled. She was a small woman, but her strength was unyielding as she pinned me to the ground and straddled me.
Her elbow jammed into my throat and stars flashed before my eyes as my lungs expanded, my airways blocked and head pounding with exertion. She raised a rusty looking blade, the steel stained by blood but still deadly sharp. And, putting all her weight into the motion, she stabbed the blade towards my face. I barely blocked her attempt, my arms wobbling as I wrapped my hands around hers, the blade falling like a hammer ever closer to my eye. And all the while she screeched, her ungodly wails raising the hair on my arms. Wild, berserk, andso strong. I was fading out of consciousness and I heard another voice yelling at me to fight. Far away, as if in a dream, yet commanding enough to heed. With one last surge of strength, I jerked one fist out, slamming it into the woman’s throat.
She reared back, choking, and my own throat opened again, coughs spluttering from my lips. Her dark eyes widened as I plucked the last dagger from my belt and plunged it into her heart, angled just under the ribs. Blood dribbled from her lips, and right before the last sigh left her mouth, she smiled, voicing three words that turned my blood to ice.
“She will rise.”
