Page 53 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
“Just like old times,” Nakir mused, finally releasing his grasp on her and drawing a second blade.
Balthasar held a long dagger in each steady hand, reminding her of something her father had once said.“Swords are for fighting—for defending oneself in battle. Daggers are for ending lives in the dark.”
She hadn’t seen Balthasar or Nakir fight before. She’d never even seen battle outside of stage plays. Nakir moved like the fire spinners who’d once graced the court, his parries and dodges executed with mesmerizing precision. Balthasar’s immense frame seemed tailored for brute strength, but his speed was lightning-fast, his agility matching the fluidity of water. Balthasar’s was sheer terror, a raw force of darkness unleashed upon the battlefield. Many of his combatants fell before his blades ever reached them, clutching their heads in agony.
Alethea found herself caught between them, a fragile wisp amidst the storm. Even as the enemies attempted to slip pastthem to reach her, no one made it close enough without a blade running through them.
“There’s a bunch of these fuckers,” Nakir commented through gritted teeth.
Alethea caught sight of his face, pale and pained. Even still, he didn’t slow.
“More of them to the north. They’re all mercs. Leandro Gregor’s sellswords.”
Panic held her in its grasp, her entire body trembling as she hovered between them, desperate to stay out of their way. “They’re here for me.”
“I know.” Nakir blocked an incoming attack from one side before another came at him from the other, each strike met with a calculated response. An opening formed between two tents, and Nakir pulled Alethea through it, Balthasar following with his back to them as they were pursued. Their path was blocked by an overturned supply cart, and Nakir held her shoulders and checked her for injuries.
Terror clawed at her, echoing a single word.Helpless.
“Let them take me!” she begged. Alethea was desperate, especially when she noticed the amount of blood spattered on his armor. His bicep was bleeding profusely, though he hardly seemed to notice. The metallic scent hung heavy in the air, but his face was set in a hard line.
“No.”
“You’re hurt!”
“I saidno, Alethea.”
A fiery explosion to the north told her at least Kerrigan was still alive.
“You’re not a pawn to be passed around!” Nakir’s eyes were fierce, resolute.
The roar of battle surrounded them, drowning out all other sound. Balthasar’s form was a blur of motion.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Helpless.
“No one else has to die!”
Balthasar continued to defend them, his blades deadly accurate even in the dark of the night.
Nakir shook his head, eyes filled with determination. “They signed their own death warrants the moment they stepped into this camp. They’re not taking you.”
How could he summon so much conviction?
Balthasar was drawing as many of them away as he could manage, but as the battle continued to crash around the camp, Alethea knew that they had moments before it reached them once more.
Helpless.
The singular word gripped her, threatening to pull her into its suffocating depths.
“No,” she whispered to herself, pushing back against the spiraling thoughts.
Perhaps she would never pick up a blade, never wield a sword, never defend herself in battle, but the Weave had given her a gift. All her life, her mother had taken it and abused it—so it was time she used it for something greater.
“Fine,” she breathed, her eyes radiating white light. “But you won’t do it alone.”
She opened herself up to that well of magic, letting prophecy flow through her fingertips. They glowed with white light, echoing the intensity in her eyes. Nakir tried to protest, but it was too late. She remembered the night he saw her prophecy while she slept and dared to imagine allowing her powers to flow into him. She couldn’t fight, but she could do this.
