Taking power

Part 6 - Control

Alina had no idea where their journey had started but she knew that they weren't headed to Os Alta. Or at least she wasn't; the darkling hadn't returned and by now the sun was well and truly set. It had been hours and still she saw nothing recognisable across the sweeping farmland.

They stopped eventually in a small village that sat on the banks of a great river. If Alina could only walk along it for a few miles she felt sure she would recognise its meyanders from her mapmaking days, and possibly plan an escape. Mal would know already she thought as the memory of their days spent running crept back into her subconscious, free, happy. 

Alas, the noise of the currents was inescapable and it made her sore head hurt at the mere thought of planning an escape.

He finally re-appeared just as Alina was getting out, stretching legs that had long since died on the journey.

 She took in their travelling party properly for the first time; around ten grisha and a few battle worn otkazat'sya that had chosen to follow him. She saw familiar faces in both groups but none of them were friendly as they began to set up camp, tying up their horses and hauling packs against their bodies to carrying inside.

'We will rest in the inn tonight' he said, emerging from the largest wooden building Alina had seen in the whole village. It was more of a shack than a piece of architecture, indiscrete but for a swinging sign declaring it 'The freehouse of Saint Nikolai'. 

Her heart ached at the reminder but not for long as she was soon pushed forward by Ivan's rough grip. She held her head high as she was led in, flanked on all sides by heartrenders that could stop her heart in an instant.

Alina took it all in; the smell of old kvas and firepits, the landlord with a friendly face hiding behind the bar, the stubborn old man that had clearly had too much to drink to be fazed by the darklings presence. So normal. So far from what she could ever have again.

The prickling in her eyes threatened to burst into tears as Ivan signalled for her to move up the stairs with a grunt. If he noticed he didn't say anything.

'Wait.'

The voice came from behind. Looking over her shoulder Alina came face to face with the darkling's slate grey eyes. His wore his usual mask of impassiveness except when his eyes met Alina's, and the slightest twitch of his jaw revealed the only hint of his emotions.

'Come with me Alina' He said, waving off her guards and leading her to the far corner of the tavern. She trailed behind, careful to leave a distance between her and his bellowing kefta. 'You need to eat. I'll have something brought over' 

He waved a particularly terrified looking bartender over before ordering for Alina, barely wasting a glace on him. His hands had grown white around the gnarled wooden chair as he opened his mouth to speak to her, his eyes never leaving her. 

'Sir, outside' One of the darkling's grisha shouted from across the room 'the people have started gathering '

Alexsander dragged himself away from the table and into the cold air just as the rain started falling.

Alina sat down on the faded red corner seat as the darkling left to speak with the others. Here, in her dusty corner, she could watch as their troop all but took over the tavern. 

She watched as they busied themselves, most moving in and out stealing glances at the darkling through the doorway and sometimes her but by now some had begun to settle down at the chairs to eat. When drinks started appearing their hushed voices grew louder and bolder, and so did the amount of stares thrown her way. She was thankful for their noise; it covered up the sickening sound of the cut coming from the other side of the wall.

When her food finally arrived she was thankful for the distraction so she had something to stare at too. The potato dumplings were tasteless and she ate slow, pushing them around her plate until they had soaked up all the soup. They were potato blobs by the time Alina had finished.

Looking up, she was hit with the overwhelming smell of alcohol and sweat. The drunken man she had seen earlier was walking, more stumbling, over to her table and his eyes were locked on her.

'Sankta' he drawled, his arm reaching out to touch her. 'pretty. So pretty'

Alina backed away, her eyes darting around the room to see if anyone was watching her. No one was.

She gave him a small smile. 'Hello. Um, It's Alina' She said uneasily.

His colour in the old man's already rosy cheeks deepened. 'Sankta' He repeated. 'Svet, light, comes on please sankta. Let me see your light' He reached over to grab her wrist with a sweaty hand smiling at her madly. 'For me?'

Alina moved further off the seat to get away from him and the smell of his stale breath. She felt her light calling from where he had grazed her fetter.

 The air around her started to feel hot, stuffy, red. 

But she wasn't going to give this man what he wanted. She was no circus trick to be perform at the whims of strangers. 

Control. 

Remembering Bagrah's lessons, she controlled it until the call had settled down. A laugh slipped out of Alina's lips as she realised what she had done; she had kept control for the first time since that day. She tried to stifle the next one but it slipped out too. Soon her eyes were watering and tears were leaking out.

Looking through blurry eyes Alina saw that the old man's smile was gone as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a feverous glint in watery eyes that mirrored hers.

'Why not?' He coughed a laugh ' Grisha think they're so much better than me. You're not. Even you. What have you done sankta. No nothing'

His mumbling was cut off as he lurched forward grabbing hold of Alina's wrists, properly this time, and with surprising strength. He swayed as he stood up from his seat, holding onto Alina as he lurched again and was violently sick all over her table and her arms.

It was then that the darkling stepped back into the tavern, his dark hair wet with rain.

 His eyes drifted past where he had left Alina eating earlier only to find her trembling like a mouse caught in an oil spill. No, not a mouse, a hawk. Here eyes were alight with her own light and ready to catch. 

His shadows were there before he even had to think, a dark tendril curling around the drunkards neck. The man choked and spluttered as his feet slipped on his own putrid sick.

 It was quick. 

He knew just where to hold to crush his windpipe and stop his breath forever. Then he was just a heap of flesh on the floor. 

Alina looked down at the mess on the floor and then at her arms. Her beautiful fetter was covered, her hands soiled. They were shaking. Ruined. 

The darkling was at her side in an instant, pulling her upstairs to the rooms above.

He pushed open the nearest door and she was dimly aware of the black kefta lying splayed on the bed. She practically leapt into the bathroom towards the sink peeling her clothes off as she ran the blessedly clean water.

When she had scrubbed her arms and face twice over she allowed herself to breath again and look up into the cracked mirror. The dark circles were back but her white hair was thick, her skin tinged with a warm glow even now. She looked powerful. Haunted, but powerful. And it scared her to no end. Her fuse had been lit and she wasn't sure that she had any water left to put it out.

From the doorway the darkling cleared his throat, not trying to hide his smirk. He was wringing his rain soaked hair.

'We don't have spare clothes' He declared, holding up her ruined ones.