“Are there none here who recognise the truth in our message, who will stand up for what they know to be right? How many of you have resented the humans, longing for a chance to be rid of them?” Beserkir slammed his fist into his palm. “Now is your chance.” He held his arms out wide. “Take it.”
The crowd listened without making a sound, the mass of people standing eerily quiet, their expressions hard and guarded. Whether this stemmed from shock or outrage, she couldn’t be sure, but the only response he received was deathly quiet.
Until a man edged his way out of the crowd.
Aelia’s scowl deepened, her fear transforming to rage as she recognised the white-blonde hair of Shiva striding towards the leader of the Astraea. He triggered a tide of movement, emboldening others to come forward until more than a dozen people,herpeople, stood before Beserkir.
How could they, howdarethey volunteer to join him, to join a movement that so unabashedly strove for the genocide of an entire race?
It made her blood boil. She would not, could not, sit back and watch this. She took a step forward, preparing to fight her way to Mirra and kick the living shit out of anyone who tried to touch her, when a hand snatched around her arm and dragged her back.
Aelia’s eyes jumped from the hand around her arm, to the hulking lump of muscle it belonged to. His expression was rigid, unreadable, and fixed on her with an intensity that made her blink. It took her a second to recover her thoughts, her mouth opening to tell him what she’d do to his hand if he didn’t take it off her right that very second, when a voice broke the silence and her heart spluttered in her chest.
“Please don’t mistake the stupidity of the few for the acceptance of the rest,” Otis said, the villagers turning to face where he stood at the edge of the clearing. A space opened around him as he walked towards Beserkir, the crowd parting around him like a blade cutting through flesh. “You and your kind are not welcome here. Humans have been a part of our community for too long for us to allow you to spill your poison on the soil we toil over. Leave now and avoid violence that will end in bloodshed on both sides.”
Aelia pulled against the hand that still held her, trying to yank herself free, but his grip held firm. Shocked, she tried harder, using all her strength, but it was like it was nothing to him. Never before had anyone been able to overpower her, to make her feel weak, but this man restrained her without breaking a sweat.
“Let me go,” she hissed, still trying to wrestle her arm free.
“You saw what they did to that man,” he said. “They could kill you.”
Who the fuck did he think he was? She was missing what Beserkir was saying to Otis, their voices lost in the scuffle as she tried to break away, so she twisted towards them. Peering over the crowd, she saw a couple of the black uniformed thugs approaching Otis from behind.
“I understand. You may not think I do, but I do.” Beserkir’s voice carried over the clearing as he sauntered closer to Otis. “I have known many who have been taken in by their pitiful plight, but just because they are weaker than us, does not automatically mean we must protect them, pander to them. They take up jobs that could be better fulfilled by artemians, they eat food that would otherwise sustain those who give back to the community rather than drain it.”
Otis stood tall in front of the man, head held high as he stopped in front of him.
“This is wrong.” Otis shook his head and waved his good arm at the sea of faces behind him. “And we won’t let you hurt anyone else here, human or otherwise.”
Aelia chose that moment to spin and knee the towering stack of brawn still holding her right in the fruits. Hard.
She was fast when she wanted to be and, distracted as he was by events unfolding around them, she managed to take him by surprise. She felt a twinge of remorse as she felt them squash beneath her knee, her mind jumping momentarily to how tempted she’d been to pound into them in a vastly different way mere minutes before. But there was no time for such reflection.
He may have looked like the biggest badass she’d ever seen, but even tough guys crumpled with a well-placed knee to the goolies. He dropped his hold on her and bent double, hands cupped between his legs, and she took her opportunity to dash into the throng.
People had hugged closer to one another in their terror, and she struggled to push her way through, sliding and shoving her way closer to where Otis stood, just visible over the sea of heads.
“Your bravery is commendable, my friend.” Beserkir rested a hand on Otis’ good shoulder. Aelia was still stuck halfway through the muttering mass of people, frantically pushing and sliding between them. “But you’re deluded if you think you have a choice in the matter.”
In a blur of movement possible by only the most powerful of artemians, Beserkir drew his blade and plunged it into Otis’ chest. He twisted it, shoving it in deeper, his face made monstrous by the dark delight contorting his features.
Aelia’s scream was lost amongst countless others, the tenuous control everyone had on their fear breaking in a heartbeat. People heaved around her, jostling her from every angle as they tried to flee, but she stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away as Beserkir slid his blade free. Otis stayed upright for one long, agonising moment, before he dropped to the floor, motionless.
Aelia snapped into motion, shrieking his name over and over as she wrestled her way towards him, shoving anyone aside who got in her way. After what felt like an age, she broke free of the wall of people and staggered towards where Otis lay, skidding to her knees next to him. Beserkir had moved away, commanding the Astraea with cold efficiency as they closed in on the panicking villagers, but Aelia hardly noticed.
She rolled Otis over, heart tumbling when he looked up at her, alive and conscious. Her relief was dashed immediately as her eyes fell to the blood pouring from the jagged mess of flesh in his chest. She pressed her hands against it, desperately trying to stop it, but the blood pumped between her fingers in sickening waves.
She chanted nonsense at him, telling him he was going to be okay, as if she could make it real by saying it often enough, desperately enough. Tears streaked her face, dropping from her cheeks and onto his red soaked shirt. Otis raised an unsteady hand and clasped it around her wrist, his grip weak and trembling. Aelia blinked through her tears to look at him, quietening her sobs to hear him.
“Aelia,” he croaked, his face twisted with pain. “Aelia, you must leave…”
He broke off, eyes rolling shut as a wave of pain hit him.
“No, no, no,” Aelia pleaded, her gaze dropping to the weakening flow of blood around her hands. Otis let go of her wrist and moved his hand slowly to his waist, pulling his jacket aside to free the dagger he always wore from its hilt.
“Take this,” he rasped, the effort of holding it out to her making him grit his teeth.
“No,” she sobbed, shaking her head vehemently.
