Beneath the Sunless Sky

Chapter Six

—Unknown—

It was nearly impossible to breathe. Blood dripped through her fingers, pooling grotesquely as she tried to crawl away, one hand pressed to the gushing wound just beneath her ribs. Her body was shaking, vision turning black, lungs burning. She was broken beyond her limits. Her life was failing, but she would not give up. She would not lie down and be slaughtered like an animal. No. She was a Tor'Varyan. If he wanted to end her life, he would have to work for it. Ori rolled over onto her back, doing her best to keep her eyes open as a shadow loomed toward her. She took a deep breath, gathered her strength and, then, just as he entered her field of vision, impossibly large, she met his gaze and sent a pulse of lightning ripping through his chest.

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Ori woke with a sudden start, her body jerking upwards in fright. Pain trailed through her, starting at her jaw and spreading everywhere. She groaned at the sensation. Her head was pounding, mouth dry, and body aching. Her memories came back to her in a rush, racing through the forest, the arrow in her chest, the fist flying toward her face. When she whirled around, she saw him, the man in the black dragon armor. He glanced up from his work, but seemed not to care that she was now awake. He resumed his cooking, the smell rising from the small black pan making her stomach growl with hunger.

They sat inside a large cave, the cold from outside still reaching in though its intensity was lessened. A large fur cloak lay draped over the man's wide shoulders, long scraggly graying brown hair pulled back to keep it out of his eyes, though a few strands still fell loose. A full beard covered his jaw, dark eyes fixed upon his work. The light from the roaring fire cast shadows across his face, making the deep scar of his appear even darker, giving him a menacing appearance. Was this the man who had ripped her out of Andavaran and brought her to this strange place? If so, what did he want with her?

Ori wasn't about to wait and find out.

She focused her energy, ready to teleport herself as far away as possible. But, her magic didn't answer. It stuttered within her, making her cry out as it physically pulled her insides. She tried again. And again. And again. Each time, the same result. Her magic was dulled, unable to answer no matter how hard she focused. A quiet, gruff laugh made her eyes snap up. The man in the dragon armor was watching her, knew what she had tried to do. He thought it was funny, and that made her angry.

Pushing past the pain, Ori sprinted forward without warning, darting toward the mouth of the cave. In the end, it was a stupid idea, she would admit, but her anger forced her to action. He caught her easily, one large arm tucked around her waist to halt her progress. With barely any effort, he threw her onto the ground. If he thought her easily cowed, he was sorely mistaken. The moment her back hit stone, she kicked out both legs, catching him in the shins. He bent down, knocked off balance, only to be hit square in the face with the black pan he had been cooking in. When he staggered back, she pushed herself up, her hands grasping the hilt of Excalibur, retrieving it from the ground nearby as she raced out into the darkness.

Ori never looked back. The moment she was outside the cave she brought Excalibur's blade crashing down on the chains that bound her ankles. It was too awkward to find leverage to cut the chains between her hands, but all she needed was her legs free enough to run.

She had no idea where she was going, or what she would find in the snowy darkness, but anything was better than sitting obediently, allowing her captor to maintain the upper hand. But, she was tired, sore, and the nullification of her magic left her disoriented. It wasn't long before she had to stop for a breath, eyes scanning the landscape to determine her next move.

There was no time to react. For such a large man, he was surprisingly silent in his movements. Ori didn't hear him until he was upon her, his massive body slamming into hers and throwing them both to the ground. She wasn't going to let him drag her back, at least not without a fight.

So, she put all her strength into kicking him off her. There was no way she could hurt him by herself. She would have to rely on her sword. Excalibur was a relic of untold power, wielded by countless generations of her family, and it had killed everything from undead to dragons. It would kill him too.

Even with her hands bound, she was still able to swing, careful with her every step and strike. The scarred man dodged her blows. Clad in sturdy but flexible armor, he was light on his feet. Circling her, he raised the giant axe clutched in hand. The sharp blade glinted in the soft light of the night, an almost mace-like head on the other side. It looked heavy, as though one strike would be all it took to cleave through her entire body.

The danger was immediate. He had knocked her out with one blow, could kill her in as just as many, but despite that, Excalibur would not let her kill him. Every swing, the sword curved wide, drawing her away from a final blow. At last, she saw the perfect opportunity. She dove forward. The blade turned leaden, pulling her arms downward as it became too heavy to support. The tip of the sword hit the ground, leaving her vulnerable for another direct hit to her face. Ori fell, Excalibur dislodged from her grip. She groaned when she hit the ground, unable to stop the man from lifting her up over his shoulder, her body swaying with every step.

He returned them to the camp in no time, throwing her back where she had been and pulling another chain of manacles out from his bag. This time, when he bound her ankles, he left nothing to chance, driving a large spike into the ground that anchored her in place. The pain made her head throb, her body tired from the weeks' worth of running she had done. She didn't want to succumb to the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision, but she had no choice. Her body needed the rest. She didn't have the strength to keep fighting. He had taken Excalibur and kept it near him, ensuring that even if she got free, she could do little against him.

Ori lay there silently, drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the night. Awake, her thoughts focused around what she remembered. Andavaran. The King of Bones. Alistair. The world burning. The stranger that dragged her through a rift. Asleep, she was fighting for her life, drained, exhausted, pushed past her limits. The stranger who kidnapped her was there, smiling at her every attack, goading her into continue fighting. He was like nothing she had ever seen. He had horns, scales covering most of his body, only a few places thinning out for dark gray-green skin, and silver eyes that glinted with eagerness, watching her every move closely.

Her last thought before her dreams became a jumbled mess was of the scaled stranger leaning over her, blood pouring from a wound in the center of his chest. The skin there was seared, ripped open from the lightning she had used. He glanced from the wound to her eyes, and, then, he smiled.