The Way We Fall

Chapter 180 (Roche)

TW: Injury, illness, blood, death

The first thing Roche registered was the soft hum of voices, both within her head and outside it. She groaned, trying to escape the pounding within her temples and the iciness that had frozen her veins, but the voices kept her awake.

"Venom of an uskoi..."

"We know, great Striga. We will do all that we can."

"I will stay until she is healed."

"We cannot risk her. If a single drop of inkblood is misplaced during the healing process, she will die."

"She is made of ink. What do you suppose her fevered thoughts will do?"

"We don't know. Please, great Striga. We would not endanger the Ala. We've all sacrificed much for her already, we would not see her harmed."

That name. It pricked through Roche's mind, drawing an image to mind. Sparkling green eyes, bright and beautiful, commanding yet kind. A queen in name and fate.

"Tigris," Roche murmured, stretching her fingers out, seeking the warmth of her queen, her friend. Where was her lady? She was supposed to be by the queen's side...

"She is delirious. Her thoughts are raving."

"Then we must work quickly. Goodbye, great Striga. Hopefully, we will meet again."

There were hands pressing against her, words cradling her. Their chanting made her blood boil and the air churn, yet there was peace within the chaos. Roche sank into the tranquillity, surrendering her thoughts to the soothing words.

-------

Hands roughly grabbed her, hauling her upright. Roche blinked, struggling to tug her consciousness out of the mires of sleep. Around her, voices raged.

"She's not ready-"

"If she stays here, she will die. The traitor will see her dead. Where is the next suitable location?"

"The Northern Mountains."

"Then that is where we must take her."

There was a scream in the distance, followed by an explosion. A familiar voice tore through the air, bellowing words that swirled in Roche's muddled mind. She struggled to place it. Her heart perked at the deep voice, the voice of a friend. But why was that voice so furious? Why did it sound so detached?

She tried to open her eyes, to peer at the scene before her, but her strength flagged at the simple effort. A hand slipped beneath her shoulders, holding her upright.

"Sleep now, Ala," a voice murmured in her ears. More hands wrapped around her, holding her up. They were warm, warmer than the ice flooding through her veins. Roche nestled into their touch as someone else whispered, "All right, time to go."

There was air brushing her face, reminiscent of obsidian feathers tickling her cheeks, and Roche was pulled back into oblivion.

-------

The coldness was unbearable. Roche couldn't hide from it any longer. She surfaced to frigid fingers of ice tapping against her cheeks, frigid wind howling in her ears. She managed to blink her eyes open with a groan.

"Ala? Ala, please awaken. I need you to walk, please. I cannot carry you on my own."

The voice was kind but unfamiliar, and Roche immediately rose to alertness. Her lashes were tinged white with snowflakes, and she struggled to balance on the icy ground. Thankfully, there was an arm supporting her. She turned, blinking at the stranger who held her.