Heart of a Diamond: A Rakta Diamond Story

Torn Apart

A week later, Rakta woke up because the world was trembling.

Then he heard the scream and clatter of wrecked stone, the shouting of soldiers... the shrieks of those unable to fight.

Everything slowed and blurred within him for half a second, then he was dressed, the blades Avinos had given tucked safely into his belt. They were the only weapons he wanted or required today.

She was out there.

Rakta could hear cursing and men colliding in their haste to prepare for a battle that shouldn't have been happening. He didn't have time to fight his way through them, not without accidentally injuring his own men.

He had no time.

Half formed thoughts of a potential retaliation from the wrecked Black Decks flew through his head as he turned toward the window, throwing it open. He backed up, set his feet, then ran at the narrow opening, diving through it. He curled himself into a ball and flipped right side up, his feet hitting the ground for less than a second before he was sprinting to the castle.

Screams of dying men and the clatter of steel against steel assaulted his ears. The salt-sweet scent of blood and the tang of gunpowder filled his nose and mouth. Smoke obscured his vision. The courtyard was the absolute madness of a hand-to hand battle. Red sheeted across the cobblestones, making the ice more treacherous than normal.

Above the castle wall, smoke gushed into the sky, the crackle of fire sinister even though he couldn't see where the flames were coming from. He didn't need to, they were burning the surrounding town.

At first, he thought perhaps uniforms had been stole from the dead they had been unable to recover. His eyes scanned for the dark hair he was expecting, but found only familiar red.

Traitors.

The word whispered through his mind, insidious and wretched.

A sword swiped through the air, aimed for his throat and Rakta brought up his knife, catching the sharp edge on his left blade, his right easily finding a home in the heart of his attacker. Rakta's lips parted in belated surprise at the red eyes drilling into his own. He yanked his dagger free and the Heart soldier collapsed, his blood mixing into the snow beneath him.

His breath came in startled rasps as his eyes fell on the Heart mark on the dead man's neck. Then his vision expanded to take in the fallen all around him. Diamonds decorated the tender skin of necks everywhere he looked, blank red eyes glaring back accusingly like he should have been there to save them. Rakta's teeth clenched, his head snapping up to take in the battle as more men poured into the courtyard from every direction.

The dead were rapidly joined by their brothers-in-arms, many of them putting up a valiant fight before being overcome.

The crimson of their uniforms masked the blood but not the betrayal.

Rakta looked up just in time to watch a catapulted stone sail overhead, crashing into the western side of the castle, crumbling walls that had stood for centuries. The screech and grind of shattered stone was deafening, the debris scattered through the courtyard like deadly rain.

His breath rushed out, his pupils expanding as adrenaline coursed through him and he was once again sprinting, pushing hard for the castle. For Avinos and the Queen.

He was barely slowed by the Hearts that tried to kill him, slicing through their ranks until his hands were so covered in gore that the daggers slipped in his grasp. His blades found hearts and throats, livers and the small, vulnerable cracks in skulls. He barely avoided killing his own men on more than one occasion, his brain not used to having to distinguish between the Red Decks.