Queen Of Nothing

Part Twelve: The Reckless Ruse

Netilaa had another query on her tongue when an arrow lodged itself between the pair, the tip digging deep into the last log the king had chopped. Both were in action before the second arrow had been loosed, rousting their companions from their sleep with urgency. Cerlic and his brother were on their feet first, while Sthenra's movements had been slowed by her exhaustion.

The bushes shifted in the corner of Netilaa's vision, and she wished the king had allowed her to brandish any weapon at all to protect herself as she and her companions darted through the trees. She had no idea where they were going, though the queen recalled Ember's words about their familiarity with this forest. Netilaa's bare feet pounded along the earth as another arrow darted past them, dangerously close to her head.

The shape of a small structure became visible, though the sun had yet to make an appearance in the early morning to light their path as the group headed directly for it. Netilaa glanced back, catching the sharp teeth and pointed ears of a creature as its slender, green fingers notched another arrow-aimed directly at the king. There was only a moment to react, and the queen sidestepped on the path, catching the sharp sting of the shaft as it lodged itself between her shoulder blades.

Her gaze met Ember's as the queen's cry rang out, her legs threatening to give out beneath her as she stumbled into the safety of the little shack. A set of strong arms caught her as the door slammed shut behind them, and the jostling movement sent pain tearing through her chest. Netilaa gasped for air, her fingers reaching over her shoulder for the arrow in an attempt to remove it.

"Hold still," Ember grunted, his gaze meeting Sthenra's sharply. "I'm going to remove it, can you heal it before it becomes fatal?"

"It's already fatal," the mage muttered around a vitriolic curse. "Just pull it out quickly."

"This is going to hurt," Ember warned, his touch gentle as he tore her borrowed tunic to get a better vantage point.

"Just do it," Netilaa hissed through gritted teeth. The world was spinning, her lungs struggling to function as she choked on the blood that filled her throat. The feel of the king's fingers along the shaft of the arrow sent waves of agony over Netilaa that left black spots dancing along her vision. She prayed it would be quick.

In one, swift movement, Ember removed the arrow, and a sickening sound filled the room as it dislodged from the flesh and bone. Netilaa's body writhed with the torment, and Cerlic flinched as Sthenra placed both of her hands on the wound as the blood poured down the queen's back. Ember's arms moved to support the queen once more as the mage worked her magic, though the healing process was slow.

"Goblins," Deinall spat, eyeing the figures outside through the small hole where a window had once been in the forsaken structure. "I counted twelve of them."

"Bastards," Cerlic cursed. "I didn't know there were goblins this far north of Ectobora."

Netilaa felt the pain ease, though the mage couldn't heal her entirely. The blood on her tongue subsided, and though she still felt breathless, the dull throb that she was left with felt far less severe. Ember's fingers grazed her lips lightly, wiping away the blood that had dripped down her chin, and when Netilaa met his gaze, something passed between them. The king had known that the arrow was for him, and despite having kidnapped her and bound her for bargaining, she had taken the blow without hesitation.

"Can you stand?" Ember asked, his voice low as he helped Netilaa to her feet.

"It will still take time to fully recover," explained the mage. "My magic is only capable of so much, and it's a miracle it saved you at all."

"I need a weapon."

The queen's words seemed to take all of her companions by surprise, though she did her best to square her shoulders and present herself as the warrior she had once been trained to be.