My hands form tight fists over my head.
Water rises from the ground in glimmering drops.
Faramir’s mouth drops, eyes wide. “Wh—that’s not possible!”
“You wanted a waterwielder. Here I am.”
Water swirls into a dense orb over his head, swallowing his garbled screams and flooding his lungs.
Zev lunges. His sword flashes—a clean arc of steel.
Faramir’s head drops one way. His body sways the other.
His corpse hasn’t even hit the ground yet, but Zev’s already moving. In a blur, he’s before me, slicing through the roots holding me captive.
When I fall, he’s ready for me. We sink to the ground. I wince as Zev gingerly unwraps the thorny roots from my wrists.
“Are you all right?” His voice is cold, hollow eyes fixed on his brother’s corpse, yet his hands are gentle as they cup my face.
“Yeah,” I rasp, glancing at Faramir’s severed head. “Are you?”
He nods jerkily. “Come on. The kitchens.”
The forest breathes around us, rustling leaves and trilling insects. We’ve walked nearly half the perimeter of the camp, within viewing range of the border through the cover of trees. With my reserves running low, Zev reasoned it’d be safer to cutthrough the forest, and only descend into the camp’s chaos when we’re closer.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask softly. “He … he was still your brother.”
A shadow darkens his face. “I had no love for him.”
“That’s not a yes.”
“It’s all I can give right now.”
“You—”
He freezes beside me, head snapping to the right.
“What?” I ask, following his gaze. There’s nothing but a thick copse of trees. His answer is the unsheathing of his sword.
“Let me handle this,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.
“What—”
“They’re coming closer,” he grits out, angling himself in front of me.
I unsheathe the sword Tumaas gave me.
A low rustling. A stuttered heartbeat.
And then four men emerge wearing snarls and blue furs.
Zev doesn’t hesitate.
He flies through the clearing, sword in hand. Two men hit the floor, blood seeping from gaping wounds in their necks.
But the other two are fast. Well-trained. Perhaps by Daak.
An ice spear hurtles toward Zev, barely dodged in time. Still, it grazes his arm, leaving a thin stream of blood. The other warrior rounds on me, water whip flinging toward my legs. I freeze it, then send it flying back. It melts before it reaches him.
