The Midnight Storm (A New Dawn #2)

Chapter 50 - Fox

The road to Moondale was filled with tears and a rotting, festering pain. 

None of the soldiers had bothered to remove the bolt from his hand. Too afraid to come near him, Fox told himself, as the wound became one with the corruption that feverishly burnt through him. Too confined to squirm or scream, he bit the iron bit, cursing the Gods for allowing Katla to be taken away from him, stuffed in another cage, loaded into another waggon.

Outside horses trotted. Men talked and laughed.

Surrounded by people, yet all alone.

Everyone knows the world will crumble down when you're left alone.

Words from another lifetime, spoken by Alex, but they couldn't ring more true. He had been alone when Mallard had cowardly attacked him. He had been alone in the water when Wolf had drowned, setting off a chain of events that had cost too many lives.

Was this why she had come running back to him when her white-haired friend had shot him from the sky? Because she knew everything would fall apart. 

No. She wasn't his friend. Not anymore. All that had mattered to her was the price on his head. When she didn't get those silverlings, she had taken Katla's paper. All his money. Thief! Pirate! Traitor!

She would pay for this. Perhaps not now, but later, when he was free of these chains.

He would have his revenge.

Whitecliff Bay had just been the beginning. He and Katla would find a new ship—bigger than Alex's—to set sail to the Jade Islands, search through every cove and gorge until they had found the entire pirate fleet. Green fire would eat the wood, steal the souls of those who had done him wrong. One ship would follow after the other until the Jade Sea was filled with splinters and smoke.

He would let Alex watch. Beg to spare her life, like she had ordered Katla to beg to her.

Who did she think she was?

Fire Magicians didn't beg. 

They burnt!

First, he needed to get out here and rescue Katla. He didn't yet know how, but he had to make it work. Once he had obeyed the will of the God of Patience, he would succeed.

The fever took over his dreams until he was no longer able to tell what was day or night, real or a nightmare. Too much hurt as the Gods of Wrath and Sloth pushed him from one hell into the next. Stones falling. Water pouring through the cracks. Unable to breathe, he was drowning in sweet water that soothed his chapped lips.

No, no... he was a Prince, heir to the Greenlander throne. They couldn't kill him; would be wrong. He could bring Silvermark the riches they deserved. For King Ariel. For Prince Felix. For Wolf.

The hard wooden floor turned into a colder stone floor. Fewer chains, yet still as restrained. Two shadows loomed over him. Voices he recognised but couldn't identify.

"Make him swear allegiance," said the man. 

"He's in no state to do so," replied the woman. 

"You're the most powerful magician in the free world. Heal him."

"No, I need Storm."

"Denied," he said firmly. "Need I remind you that you're at my mercy for the regicide you committed?"

"No." She paused. "But I cannot do it. I'm unable to restore my magic. I insist Storm heals the boy."

"Why is the Ician still here? I could do with fewer sets of eyes on me."