Alastair is the first to jump out, then he waits for me with open arms and catches me smoothly before dropping me on my feet. To my astonishment, he does the same for Stellan, who looks taken aback about the fact that the King can hold his weight so easily. Stellan grumbles something but Alastair quiets him with a quick kiss.
Helios waves at us from inside, visibly worried.
Griffin closes the hatch and it shimmers before disappearing. We watch as theBeetleleaves behind giant footprints in the ground. The three of us are left alone on the beach.
There is a row boat on the sand near a hut that houses rusty fishing gear. This place is remote enough from the village and appears to be abandoned. We grab paddles and push the boat to the water. The island looms in front of us. We can see the tip of the lighthouse peaking above the sparse trees, whose branches are dusted with the first snow.
Jude and Oliver told us the stone temple stands at the western side of the bigger island. The sacrificial altar is on the second smaller isle, farther at sea, which is connected to the first one by a long, rickety wooden walkway and stairs. They flew above it yesterday at our request, to make sure we didn’t go in blind.
We start rowing like mad men, our breaths fogging in the crisp morning air. It’ll take us a while to reach the island, and I hope we will make it before they sacrifice the prisoners. With some luck, theBeetle’s distraction will be enough to give us some time.
The wind coming from the ocean has a bite and the cold waves lap at our boat. I’m glad Helios had the foresight to lend us extra layers of clothes. Snowflakes come to die over the darkwaters. The island is surrounded by rocks and islets, pale with snow.
We reach the bigger island in half an hour and give the dangerous rocks a wide berth. Jude provided us with a rough location for the landing, and we aim for the western shore.
I let out a sigh of relief when we reach the small dock carved in the rocks. The wooden stairs are white with salt and must be suffering during every storm. The stairs rise up the cliffside to the bridge between islands. Why build their sacrificial altar in such a difficult location? Couldn’t the villagers stand the sight of blood on their land? Hypocrites.
Alastair jumps onto one of the rocks and offers us each a hand up. We tie the boat to the dock. I hope it’ll still be there when we get back. The water is dangerously cold and I’m not sure Vex can even float.
Stellan starts the climb, followed closely by Alastair. We pull our weapons out as we make our way along the rickety stair walkway towards the smaller island. The stone temple on the big island looms behind us, ominous and primitive. My hands are knuckle-white around the shotgun. I set out in the wastelands alone to rescue Vex and prove I wasn’t just a pretty face with a brain. Now that we’re actually walking into battle, I’m second-guessing this whole mindset and wish we could already be back at the Market.
As if sensing my fear, Alastair looks over his shoulder and smiles. “We’ve got this.”
I nod jerkily. “Let’s kick some ass.”
By the time we finish the long climb to the small island, I’m wheezing. We take a break, hidden behind some rocks as we leave the bridge, so that Stellan and I can catch our breaths.
Alastair is barely winded. “They’re standing at the altar,” he says, looking over the rocks towards the far side of the island,where the altar faces the open ocean. “They have the prisoners on their knees. Five of them. And I think Vex is bundled up on the altar.”
“How many cultists?” Stellan asks.
“Twelve. Eight men and five women. No children. With bows and arrows.”
“Shoot them all?”
The King grins. “I don’t see why not. They’re asking for it.”
I let out a nervous laugh. I’m not as bloodthirsty as the other two, but these people strung me up like meat for Scylla near San Francisco, so I’ll make an exception for them.
“Ready?” Alastair asks. When we nod, he adds, “Stay behind me, there is little cover. I can catch stray bullets and keep going. Trust me.”
Fucking fuck… I want to say, but too late, we’re already moving and hiding behind another rock formation just as an explosion echoes from the coast.
“Looks like Griffin has been unleashed on the village,” Alastair says, raising his gun.
As the first zealots turn and run towards us to the stairs to get back to the main island and check out the commotion, Alastair shoots a volley of bullets, dropping them. The black rocks drink all the blood, sparing me the ugly truth of the attack. Screams erupt from the prisoners and remaining cultists alike. Stellan drags me behind him as we follow our king into action.
The stone altar was built over an outcrop by the waves. The prisoners are crawling on their knees, hands tied behind their backs, trying to get away from the half dozen cultists left.
Marcus, the zealots’ leader and the one who ordered me to be sacrificed, stands by the altar, fury etched on his face as the waves crash behind him. “You,” he says, eyes on me. He’s holding a long blade. Was he planning on cutting the sacrifices’ throats with it?
In front of him, the bundle of ropes moves, and Vex utters, “Perri.”
I was right, they tied her like a rucksack. Like a meaningless object.
“Me, you motherfucker,” I say, before raising my shotgun and shooting Marcus right in the chest. The recoil surprises me, hurting my shoulder, but Stellan stands right behind, catching me. Marcus doesn’t make a noise as he falls backward into the waves.
Stellan joins Alastair to fight the remaining cultists, only a few left. Alastair has two arrows jutting from his chest, but he doesn’t seem to feel a thing as he grabs the shooter by the throat and throws him to the rocky ground before shooting a bullet between his eyes.
