Page 129 of Fires of the Forsaken
Darragh’s fist connected with the side of my head.
Sadly, he was an inadequate fighter. The blow sent a searing pain throughout my skull, but it was misplaced and did little more than daze me.
I vomited, the clear bile spilling down the front of my shirt. My vision swam. I reached for something, anything, to grasp onto.
“Ach, no!” Jaxon called. “Darragh! Don’t—”
Darragh cursed as I clutched his tunic. My fire consumed the fabric, singeing his skin.
“—let ‘er touch ye.” Jaxon’s voice was frantic. “She’ll kill ye!”
“You monster,” Darragh hissed.
His next blow was much more effective.
* * *
The townI was taken to was called Lamex. But it was so similar in size and appearance to Swindon, I at first thought I’d been brought home.
I felt a twinge of excitement as I walked the streets, even as my hands were bound in iron shackles, and chains encircled my ankles. I’d traveled for days like this, hardly able to walk, pushed at a grueling pace anyway. But, for the first time in years, hope blossomed in my chest as I surveyed the town. My head swiveled every which way, trying to absorb my surroundings, hoping I’d find familiar faces amongst the sea of strangers.
But I had no friends in this town.
It was early morning. The streets bustled with market life. Vendors called out prices. Buyers argued the costs were grossly unfair. Children ran and laughed, chasing each other around the shops.
My hands trembled.
I’d been like those children once. Not very long ago.
Jaxon yanked on my chains when I stopped to watch a dark-haired boy share his apple with a bulbous pig. The shackles cut into my raw wrists, and I cried out.
The little boy looked up and startled when he glimpsed my chains. “Mama!” he cried, turning away from the pig and darting to his mother’s side.
She’d been deep in consultation with a vendor about a spool of fabric. But she stopped at the sound of her son’s distress and drew him against her bosom.
A smug smile stretched across Jaxon’s lips. “The boy is wise,” he said to me, his voice light and conversational. “‘e wanted to come over ‘ere to speak with you. I’m glad ‘e decided otherwise.”
I found myself envious of the boy, wrapped in his mother’s loving embrace.
“Don’t,” Jaxon snarled. “She’s no’ interested in what ye have to say.”
I ignored him. “Please,” I whispered to the boy’s mother.
Jaxon tugged on my chains.
“Please!”I yelled.
A hush fell over the market. Children returned to their parents’ sides. Many of the adults gawked at me, looking horror-stricken. But no one reached for a weapon. They did not know me; they hadn’t seen my power.
Perhaps I could convince them to spare me kindness…
“Be quiet!” Jaxon hissed in my ear before he straightened and addressed the townspeople directly. “The girl is a prisoner. She may be workin’ with Seruf—”
“I amnot.”I tasted salt on my tongue. Tears. “I’m merely a hybrid—”
“Seruf’s‘ybrid,” Jaxon interjected.
“No,I’m—”
