Page 100 of Oath of War
It smelled of dry meat and bread, and despite the grim situation, I chuckled after ripping it open. It was a sandwich and a canteen of water. My miracle had come in the form of a healer and a sandwich, and although the bread was stale and the meat tasteless, I devoured it with gusto, washing the mush down with fortified water.
In this pit of hell, I had an ally who’d hated Cahyon enough to help me, and that was more than I’d ever hoped for.
The healer’s intervention also provided something else: information. Annika was close, likely with Ormond and Reynard leading the army.
I had to leave. I inspected the walls, running my fingers across their surface. I had done it before but had given up after finding nothing but rough stone. This time, I would continue until I found a way out.
I moved along the wall, poking and prodding every nook and cranny for some way to climb out. Finally, I found a crevice wide enough to force my fingers into. It wasn’t much, but I had to try.
I fell countless times, the many skeletons in the pit crumbling from the impact, but each time, I discovered something new—a crack or an uneven stone that allowed me to climb higher. I was exhausted. The small amount of energy I’d gathered from that dry meal didn’t last long, but I was determined to continue until I was free or dead.
After several hours, I was panting hard, my clothes in tatters from all the falls, my body covered with a thick sheen of sweat.
I finally grabbed hold of the trapdoor that barred me from freedom. But as I hung there, trying to catch my breath, I heard the heavy stomp of two golems marching in my direction.
‘Hrae,’ I muttered, shifting until I was near the edge of the hatch, trying to position my body to the side.
I knew there was no point in trying to negotiate, but with their strength and lack of awareness, I could likely just hang onto the hatch as they lifted it. This was my chance.
I controlled my breathing, my muscles tensing when the constructs grasped the trapdoor. As the first golem lifted it, pulling me upwards, the second twisted around when it saw me. I jerked to the side, propelling myself between them. It was a clumsy and painful move, but it got me where I wanted, and I sprawled on my back just under their feet.
They turned in unison, hands outstretched, and reached for me, crashing into each other and allowing me to scramble away.
My luck ran out as I discovered the corridor I ran down was a dead end and I was stuck with nowhere to go.
I attempted the same tactic, hoping they weren’t clever enough to learn from past mistakes, but as I flew past, a massive clay hand caught my collar. I coughed, clawing at the iron band and the golem’s hand. When it didn’t work, I reached up to gougeout its eyes, the only thing I knew that could incapacitate it other than crushing it to dust.
I missed.
Instead, my hand smashed into the golem’s forehead, and thin lines appeared on the smooth surface. The creature froze, the cracks spreading. In the desperate attempt to free myself, I must have struck the sigil written in the clay that powered the golem.
‘What are you doing?’ The healer’s voice hissed down the corridor as I punched the same spot again. This time, it didn’t merely crack a little—the whole form crumbled into a pile of dust.
‘Starting a pottery class?’ I snapped, rushing at the remaining golem, who seemed determined to smear me all over the walls for destroying its brethren.
‘Then do itfaster,’ she said, keeping her distance. ‘The chancellor wants you on display to welcome your invading army. Your position has improved from prisoner in a shithole to caged bird over the city gates.’
I wasn’t paying attention, entirely focused on the clay moloch that reached for me. Its massive fist whistled past my face as I jumped back. I prayed to the Dark Mother for Cahyon to have been too arrogant to place his spell elsewhere as I leapt between its arms and hammered my fist into its forehead.
Time stood still as I watched the cracks appear again, and the golem’s movements turned sluggish until they stopped altogether. I exhaled in relief, punching its chest, and the clay broke, falling apart like an old flowerpot.
‘Are you done now?’ the healer asked, just as I recalled her name. Lara.
‘Yes, come, Lara,’ I said, reaching for her hand. ‘We need to get out of this city.’ I didn’t know her, except for a few unpleasant encounters, but she had helped me, and I would not leave her to that bastard’s punishment.
‘I can’t, but here. I brought you this,’ she said, passing me a key.
I looked at her, dumbstruck. The unassuming healer had somehow retrieved the key to my collar.
‘Thank you. Now, please come with me,’ I insisted, unlocking the device that crippled my magic.
‘I can’t, there’s ... just go. The gardens are swarming with the undead, but the kitchens are almost empty, and the drains lead to a working canal that connects to the port. No one works there now, and as long as you reach the sea, you’ll be safe.’
The collar clicked and fell, and I took a deep, relieved breath, feeling the aether inside me. Lara was suddenly by my side, her hands cupping my face. I frowned before I realised what she was doing.
‘Thank you, my lady,’ I said, letting her magic finish its job. The goddess knew I needed her healing touch.
‘I couldn’t help my family, but you ...’ she trailed off before gathering her courage. ‘If your people defeat that bastard, please speak up for us. Tell them the Moroi didn’t stand a chance and ask your king to show mercy for my remaining brethren. I can cure the blood fever, and there are still a few of us left ... Please. That’s all I ask for.’
