The Princess and the Blade

[Emora Deen]

Tenara stiffened at the sharp press of the knife point. She thought about her options, followed Havitharon's movements against the dark. If she called him off, would he listen? Did she want to stop him? What would these people do to them?

"Fuck you," she spat. "I hope he tears out your throat."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon tore through a third target and set his sights on Jace. He dropped low and swept in for his target. He came up in front of her, reared back to strike, and froze. Jace smirked at him. Even though his eyes never left hers, she knew what he could see easily in his peripheral vision over her shoulder. "Release her, and fight," he spoke slowly.

"You sure you're up to that?" Jace smiled.

Havi shook his head like a cobweb was stuck on his face.

"Slowing down, are we? Blaine's tinctures tend to have that affect on people. He's an expert with poisons, and in quite a bit of demand, if only he would do as he's told." She turned to her men who were holding their captured guests, and clicked her tongue.

Havi's eyes left hers for a split second, glancing at the wound in his chest before returning to hers.

Jacob stared in horror from the ground next to his brother. "No. It won't kill him. We only needed a distraction!" he pleaded his defense to Tenara.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara shook her head. He wasn't... He wasn't dying. No.

Poison.

He was poisoned.

Red light bloomed in Tenara's eyes. She felt the burning in her hand, a searing pain traveling up her arm and she welcomed it. Embraced it. Wanted it. She was angry. So angry she'd helped them. Because of them their little house was gone. Their quiet peace with it. She liked the house, liked waking up next to Havitharon—no matter his form. And now they were here, surrounded by danger, and Havitharon was poisoned.

Tenara's gaze flicked to Jacob's horrified expression. She shifted her head, flicking her chin up, across the blade pointed at her. It sliced her skin, but the motion coincided with Jacob's body flinging up out of the grasp of his captors and crumpling like paper.

Pain lanced up her arm, the dark line spreading out from beneath her bandage, a spiderwebbing of black, holy ruin. The power in her eyes dimmed, but she flicked her gaze to Thomas, and he rose up out of his captors arms. Well, at least one managed to hold onto him, but they dangled above the earth and just as Tenara was going to subject them to the same, terrible fate, the pain in her arm grew maddening and distracting and her knees buckled. Her head drooped. They dropped back to the earth.

She almost vomited, but instead went weak against the person holding her, resting her head back against their shoulder. Her blurred vision fixated on the stars while she gathered her bearings.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon and Jace stood in a tense standoff as Tenara's magic wreaked havoc behind her. "You know who she is?" Jace asked in a low voice.

"She is not your mark," he returned.

They eyes were deadlocked on each other. "No. Not tonight. But if you want to live, you are both coming with us."

"..."

"Believe me, I'm impressed. But you're outmuscled right now, and I'm not afraid to kill you both if you want to play games. Do the smart thing, and live to your next fight."

He stared her down, and she stared right back. He finally snorted and walked to Tenara's side. The men started toward him, but Jace signaled them to stand down. Havi knelt beside her, inspecting her condition. One look at her arm told him she'd overdone it. "Crazy woman, what have you done?" he murmured under his breath. Someone pulled his arms behind him and tied them. He threw a brief glower at the man and was pleased when he flinched, but he knew he was out of moves.

"Good choice. Get them up and let's move out."

[Emora Deen]

"...what have you done?"

Tenara's heavy-lidded gaze lifted to Havitharon. "Not enough," she said. Then, Tenara was on her feet, stumbling along next to the person who held her. Her head lolled, and she half-slept and half walked, trudging forward while the world sped by her in a blur of shadow and moonlight.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon walked close by her side, and the other men seemed content to allow them to be near each other as long as neither was resisting. Thomas was quietly sobbing a few yards behind them, despite his captor's impatient cursing. Havi wasn't feeling particularly steady on his feet either. He kept shaking his head as phantom sensations pricked at his face and neck. His limbs felt sluggish and far away. Some kind of neurotoxin, he guessed. Being disoriented meant he couldn't get a good feel for how bad his stab wound really was. Such a stupid way to get injured. He seethed at himself for being so careless as they followed along with the rest of the party.

The hunters' camp wasn't far. After about 20 minutes, they were marched up to a large fire and each tied to a separate tree at the edge of the clearing. "Sit. You won't be going anywhere until morning," Jace said to them after she'd settled some things with her other men in a nearby tent.

Havitharon stubbornly kept his footing and leaned against the tree he'd been tethered to. "You agreed to feed her," he said in a sluggish growl.

Jace studied him with interest. "Yes. Yes, I did."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara plopped onto the ground, feeling a little more awake than she had a moment ago, but she definitely didn't have an appetite. She admired the black veining running up her arm, avoiding looking at the faces of the bounty hunters around them. It didn't seem any of them recognized her. No one said so, if they did. She felt a pang of relief, even though she shouldn't. They weren't out of the woods yet.

She glanced up at Havitharon, twisting her hands behind her back, fighting to get the rope lose enough to free herself.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon didn't argue with her to stop. If she thought she could get loose, that could prove an advantage. Jace suspected something, but she might not be certain yet of who Tenara was. *Do you think you can get your hands free?* he pushed a thought through their link. The concentration made him lightheaded.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara jumped at the voice in her head, so sudden and unexpected. She stopped writhing her hands for a second. *I'll try. It's tight...* She wiggled, twisting her wrists. She felt the rope loosen, but only around her injured hand, and not enough to drag it and the bandages through. She tried, and sucked in a sharp, pained breath. "Fuck," she hissed aloud.

[Soran Nightblade]

The blatant pain in her voice set off visceral warning signals in his brain. He leaned into the tree and thought about being ill on the grass. *Okay... it's okay. Stop,* he said. He needed a way to physically get to her.

Well, there might be one way. *What about the sword? Can you draw it from me? The way you did before, when it was separate?*

[Emora Deen]

Tenara watched the fire for a minute. *I can try,* she thought. She swallowed the sick idea using her magic gave her. She told herself she needed to be stronger. She needed to free them, to get them to safety, and heal Havitharon.

Tenara took a deep breath and reached through the connection she had with Havitharon. It was hard to grasp, hard to focus. Her magic fueled better with blood or emotions, and she'd burned through her anger earlier. She tried to conjure it back, but it fizzled, the moment gone. She glanced around the camp, looking at the men gathered nearby. She thought of the cabin and the fire and the fear she'd felt before they were shoved out the door.

She didn't want to be taken back to Arken, dragged across the sea in a ship. Taken prisoner by people like the ones before. It was easy to use fear as fuel. She had a lot of it to call upon. Panic rose in her chest, and with it need. She needed Havitharon. She needed the sword. Needed it like food and water and air. She wanted it in her hand, the blade against her palms, so that she might guide it over the rope. Tenara opened her hands behind her back, as if to catch him.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon shuddered at the sudden sense of being sifted into two, of becoming less. The air around him began to feel thinner, and the ropes on his arms grew dull against his skin. He recognized the sensations, the half-presence. It was working. He slid to a seat gracelessly on the grass. *Good, keep going* His thoughts were bleary, and he wasn't sure if he was reaching her anymore or not. *Take me,* he urged.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara did. One second her palms were empty, the next she felt the weight of metal slap into her hands. She swallowed a cry in the back of her throat at the slap against her burn.

From the perspective of any of the bounty hunters, if any were watching, Havitharon simply disappeared. But, Tenara could still see him, feel him near. She curled one hand around the blade, and began to drag the ropes over its sharp edge. The blade nicked her skin, and she drew on it, called that lick of flame that spilled forth when she did so. It ate at the rest of the ropes and snuffed out before the pain in her hand grew to fierce.

Tenara felt the rope snap loose and she took a breath before leaping up to her feet and bounding into the dark, sword in hand. She ran blindly through the midnight forest on bare feet, stumbling over logs and roots, catching her balance on trees. She ran until she skidded down a steep hill, and found a large fallen log to hide behind. There, she listened. She tried to keep her breathing under control, fearing if she panted too much they would find her. She knew she couldn't outrun them, so she had to hide. It was only a second later that she realized, in a stroke of dark amusement, that her first meeting with Havitharon—a truer meeting than drawing him into the world—had been under a similar tree.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon sat propped against the tree and watched the camp break out into chaos. They were looking for her. Looking for both of them. So he really was a ghost again. He pulled lightly on his bindings, and they melted through his flesh before falling to the ground. He used his newfound mobility to investigate the wound on his chest. He knew what he'd find, but that didn't make him any less displeased when his hand came away dripping with blood. It occurred to him that he wasn't sure there was a way to bandage himself as a ghost.

He put the problem aside and turned his thoughts to Tenara. How far would she run? If she got far enough, would the sword bring him to her side?

The hunters were already gathering, preparing to hunt down their new prey. This was no time to cross his fingers and wait. He looked in the direction she'd headed and heaved himself uncomfortably up to his feet again. The thought of trying to catch up to her before the hunters did made his head swim. It would take too long. He'd bleed out if he tried.

No... the fastest way to her was just the opposite. He turned around and strode through the chaotic scene, in the opposite directly from where she'd run. He had to hope the sword would pull him back. He broke into a tight jog that made his head pound with every pace. His chest throbbed as the distance grew, and finally he felt the sword begin to haul on his soul. He didn't ignore it as he usually did; he answered it by leaning into the feeling.

A moment later, he appeared just beside a collapsed tree. He staggered on the uneven footing, but his chest protested any effort to regain it. With a gasp, he fell right on top of Tenara.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara let out an involuntary yelp as a shadowy form appeared in the dark before and then fell down towards her. The sound echoed off the trees, short and distinctly female. But, then the figure was sitting with her... In her. She knew immediately it was Havitharon.

The princess slid out from beneath him, twisting to peak over the felled tree, hoping against hope no one had heard or no one could pinpoint where exactly her voice had come from.

When she didn't see anyone, she shimmied back to Havitharon, reaching out to inspect his wound. At least, she tried. Her hands went right through him to scratch against the bark just behind him.

"Shit. Shit. Okay," she whispered, reaching for the sword and dragging it into her lap. "I'll make you whole and then... then I can try healing it." The idea of using that magic would normally be thrilling, knowing the pleasure and power that came with giving him form. But as she turned the sword in her lap, and saw the angry black webbing leaking out from beneath her bandage, she knew it wouldn't feel the same this time. She wasn't even certain she had the strength to do it.

But Havitharon looked ill.

Of course he looked ill. He'd been poisoned.

And she knew he'd protest it, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it right now. He looked like he'd sink into the log if he lost any more of his focus.

A twig snapped somewhere in the dark, and Tenara froze. She didn't even breathe. Her good hand wrapped tight around the sword hilt, and she bent low, pressing close to the tree. She heard the shuffle of leaves. The sound of feet crunching across the earth. She couldn't tell how close, and she was afraid to look. If she kept quite. If she didn't move...

The sound faded, and Tenara slowly uncurled herself from where she'd pressed into the log and Havitharon's ethereal side. She peeked out, and didn't see anything. After a minute longer, she straightened and went to drag her hand over the sword, to call him back.

Something moved quickly in the dark. Before Tenara could register it, a boot made contact with her shoulder. She fell sideways, and the same boot curled around, planting itself in her stomach. Tenara heaved in a tight, pained breath. She rolled onto her back as the figure came for her a third time, and meant to swing the sword at them. But the sword was heavy, and she only had the one hand on it. The figure fell down on her, grabbing the wrist that held the sword and forced it down on the earth. Her bandaged hand came up, risking pain to strike them, but they caught that too and pinned it down next to her head, crushing it against the earth.

Tenara made a terrible sound in the back of her throat, but did her best not to scream, not to draw more people to them. Not having air in her lungs helped a bit.

"You're boyfriend?" the man asked.

Tenara's watery eyes flashed to the log. The man followed her gaze, but couldn't see Havitharon. He squeezed her injured hand until Tenara's legs thrashed against the earth and she opened her mouth to beg him to stop. Nothing came out but tears and a strained, silent scream. "Where?"

Tenara's other hand let the sword hilt go, and she stretched her fingers towards the sharp edge of the blade. She grabbed it, held it so tight it cut into her hand and blood dripped to the earth. Red light bloomed in her eyes.

"Don't try that witchy shit on me." He grabbed the sword and put the blade to her neck. "Where the fuck is he?"