The Call of Nys #5 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

22 - W A V E R L Y

As often as steel clashed, hateful words flew.

Waverly crawled away from the duel as fast as her weak arms would permit, though she barely made any progress because the ground was covered in rocks that formed unavoidable obstructions. The chains rattled against stone, and her skin scrubbed their rough coats. Yet she pushed on in hopes to reach the river. Anything but being entangled in old rivalry.

But the sound of marching boots from behind told her she was being followed.

"Not so fast, love!" Pluton grabbed the fabric on the back of her dress, heaving breaths. "You're not going anywhere just yet."

Before she could swat him away, Duke had charged, initiating another round of intense combat. With Pluton being the better fighter, his opponent was soon overpowered by being pinned to the wall, like a needle to cushion.

Duke fought to dislodge the sword that held him fast and shouted at the top of his voice. "You will not get away with this, Braund!"

Pluton sniggered contemptuously. "I think you're about to watch me do."

Waverly shuffled back as he strolled to kneel over her, his odd breath fanning her face.

"You need to understand one thing, love," He began with a pitiful grimace. "Nothing about what I'm going to do is personal."

"Fletcher doesn't think so." She growled in a mumble.

But the man overheard.

"Don't do what he says!" He shouted.

Pluton's gaze did not waver. "In this case, you have no choice. All I want is to get close enough to the witch goddess without being torn apart."

"You're asking the wrong person then. She'll tear us both apart. Get away from me!"

She lifted a hand to strike, and he simply grabbed it.

"Rumor is that you're her new favorite now." He chuckled. "As much as she wants to rip you limb from limb, putting you to harm when she isn't the one responsible for it will guarantee an audience."

"Braund!" Fletcher shouted. "You're being foolish! You will fail again."

Pluton rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I should've stuffed that big mouth of his first."

He reached out to pick Waverly up like she was made of paper and slung her over his shoulder. The environment spun. There was little she could do, but wriggle every now and then. Albeit, Pluton marched on and on.

"You won't succeed, Braund." Fletcher called after him, still fighting to set himself free from the sword buried deep in his ribcage and the stone wall behind him.

"Fare thee well, Duke Fletcher." Pluton grunted.

Slowly, Fletcher's shouts of disagreement faded. Waverly watched the ground since it was the only permitted view. She thought Pluton could not possibly know his way out of the gorge, but the fact that he walked without pauses convinced her otherwise.

All was silent save for the sound of rattling chains and their faint echoes, and the occasional grunt of effort from Pluton. The thought of him going up to Hekate to bargain his freedom was a curious matter, and inasmuch as she wanted to punch him for involving her, she itched to know how he intended to go about it.

"Fletcher was your best friend." She muttered out of the blue. Pluton's long silence made her think he did not hear.

After a while, he scoffed. "He's a buffoon."

"You betrayed his trust." She reasoned. All of a sudden, their story arc was beginning to become clear to her. "That can be the only reason he's so angry at you. You don't care. You've never apologized for it."