Spinning on my heels, my back to the wall, my eyesimmediatelycaught on a male sprinting toward me. Heappeared to beSouthern, and when the morning sun glinted off thealychitecuff on his ankle, I realized quickly that he was a prisoner here.
And so were all the other males that came into view behind him.
They werepractically asmall army themselves, though I knew theyweren’tthe army I should be worried about.
The first male kicked up dirt behind him with how quickly he got to me, a rusted pickaxe as his weapon of choice. The other males, still far off, were yelling battle cries as the first one descended upon me.
He was tall, and though he looked underfed, he still had muscle to him—likely fromthe amount of labor he was forced into. He swung his pickaxe toward my shoulder, to which I ducked away from with seconds to spare.
“Friend or foe?” he ground out between clenched teeth as he circled me.
“Pardon?” I asked, debating on reaching for one of my daggers. Ididn’twant to hurt the male—we were here to help, after all. Though if he got in my way anddidn’tallow me to finish my task, I might not have much of a choice.
“Friend. Or. Foe?” he ground out again, slower this time.
“Friend!” I answered, dodging another swing of his pickaxe. “We’rehere to help.We’renot leaving untileach and everyone of you are safe and free.”
“We?”heasked, his voice straining as we made rounds around each other.
Before I could respond, though, I realized the other males were advancing—and Iwouldn’tbe able to take them all.
The male swung, though each time he did, it was toward a non-vital point of my body. I noted that as I sidestepped him, causing him to stumble toward the wall behind me. And as he was righting himself, I took a few steps forward andcalled formyziriliumthrough a sun stone.
With the energy I needed boiling beneath my skin, I inhaled deeply, then released a long, deep breath, spitting fire straight from my core. I turned my head as I did so there was a half-circle of thick blue flames surrounding me and the first male, the wall at my back protecting us where the firecouldn’t.
The males on the other side of the flames yelled out, holding different tools in the air as though they were proper weapons. Yet, the ones who got close enough to feel my flames quickly found out just how hot they burned.
Turning back to the male behind me, I realized he seemed slightly less hostile with us now being obscured from view.
And yet, he still advanced again.
“Do you want out of this placeor not?” I asked, backing up a step.
“Of courseI do. Now take this from me.” He motioned to the pickaxe as he charged forward. Not knowing what else to do besideslistento him, I gripped above and below where his hands lay on the handle of the pickaxe and yanked it from him harshly.
“Now what?” I asked as he retreated a few steps, as though he was reassessing the fight now that he was weaponless.
“Aim for the cuff,” he instructed, beginning to circle, hisfists raised as though he was going to attack again.
“Why are you doing this?” I questioned, not sure if he could be trusted or not.
“They took the females and children—threatened to slaughter them all if wedidn’tkill you and anybody else that tried to enter.The males on the other side of these flames might not stop—not while the cuffs are on. Butthat’sbecause theydon’tknow what happens when they come off.”Then hethrew a punch toward my jaw thatwould’veknocked me out if Ihadn’tducked.
“The cuffs…they’realychite. Yourziriliumshould return oncethey’reoff, right?” For the sake of theperformanceweseemed to beputting on, I swung the pickaxe toward his side, to which he swiftly rolled out the way of.
“Let your aim be true and you’ll find out exactly what happens,” he said, a sort of finality to his voicewhenhe kicked his leg high, as though to knock me down.
Hoping I was reading the situation correctly, I adjusted my aim as I brought the rusty pickaxe down on the thick cuff—right where the seam of the metal was.
Exactly where I imagined it was weakest.
The material dented andcracked, butdidn’tfall off the way I thought it would. With no time to spare, I threw the pickaxe to the ground and conjured fire to my hand—enough that it coated me like another glove—though itdidn’tburn me.
Needing no instruction this time, when the male kicked again, I grabbed his leg midair with both hands, making sure my flame-covered hand landed on the cuff attached to him.
Then I pushedall ofthat fire into thealychiteuntil it melted from the male’s skin, ensuring that none of the fire burned him.
And as the last drop ofalychitedripped off hisflesh, I was thrown back and to the ground as the male seemed toburst.
