The Writer - Chapter 14

Unbeknownst to Uris, but quite to the amusement of Clara, the demigoddess and her soldiers actually brought Clara’s army closer to their next destination. 

Clara hadn’t seen Bones or Titus since her capture, but she assumed they were being supervised by the rest of the Silver soldiers in the back of the travelling entourage. The spot in the front was reserved for Clara. 

Uris had taken no chances, and immediately tied Clara’s hands together with a thick cord that left abrasions on her wrists. The girl was then loaded onto a pure white horse and led around the camp like a prize. Every time Clara objected or did anything considered an escape attempt by Uris, the demigoddess would grab hold of Clara’s wound for a few moments. 

Gale and Keenan were captured as well and forced to heal Uris’s injured soldiers. They didn’t complain, much to Clara’s disappointment. 

For some reason, Uris had also left the rebels to collect their tents and supplies. Clara’s tent and bag were strapped onto her horse with her. Perhaps this was so Uris didn’t have to provide shelter for her prisoners, or maybe it was Baelle’s orders. 

Clara longed for Emmeline’s Guide to appear again, maybe with news or reinforcements. But the fox did not show himself, and Clara’s hope grew slimmer with each passing hour. By midday, gray clouds had rolled in overhead and darkened the world. Rain began to pour down in sheets and Uris ordered the caravan to stop. 

Clara then understood what the tents were for. The silver soldiers unloaded the remaining tents and set them up in perfect rows. 

Uris tied Clara’s ankles with the same thick rope before draping the girl over her shoulder and tossing her into the tiniest tent. It took Clara a long time just to be able to sit up with her bound limbs. 

The wind howled likes wolves on the hunt and the rain pounded relentlessly against Clara’s tent. She pitied the soldiers forced to keep watch outside her tent. 

The rain didn’t stop and by evening, Clara’s stomach threatened to tear her apart. To distract herself from the hunger, she tried to picture her friends or figure out a way to escape. Instead, her mind strayed to Luca 

It felt like years ago that she had visited Luca, and she hoped he was doing well. 

If I’m feeling lonely in an army of 200 people, then what is Luca feeling? Clara wondered to herself. She felt selfish to have been so concerned with her own life when Luca was living alone and insane every day.

That made her wonder how many other people out there thought they were alone. She remembered Kalaia and how the demigoddess was willing to give up her powers just to live a normal life. Clara wondered if the Rogues even had friends, or if they just considered each other allies. 

Just then, an argument broke out in front of Clara’s tent. The rain had subsided enough for her to her bits and pieces of the conversation. It seemed to be between two girls, one Uris and the other one vaguely familiar. 

“No, you may not visit her,” Uris spat, sounding angry as always. 

“I’m on order directly from her,” Not-Uris replied, and Clara could tell the person was smirking. Her had to refer to Baelle, but that didn’t narrow the possible identities visitor down. She also didn’t understand why the mysterious person wanted to talk to Clara of all people. “And unless you want to displease the queen…” 

Uris scoffed. “That very queen would not send someone like you.” 

“How much are you willing to wager on that assumption?” Not-Uris said. 

“More money than you have ever seen - or will ever see - in your pathetic lifetime.” Clara bit back a laugh. She had assumed Uris and Not-Uris were friends, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Not-Uris still worked for Baelle, however, so that wasn’t much better. 

“Just let me in, Uri,” Not-Uris pleaded. Clara was surprised by the nickname, but she wisely kept quiet. She assumed the conversation wasn’t meant for her ears. 

“Very well, but if this is some kind of trick or joke, I will skin you alive and feed you to my lions,” Uris threatened. The lions we killed?, Clara wanted to ask. She decided that would only get her killed faster and said nothing. 

The zipper on her tent pulled open and a sopping wet figure stepped inside. 

Shock and anger spread through Clara like fire and she lunged to attack, forgetting that her limbs were bound, and promptly falling on her face. 

Kalaia laughed, her silvery-blonde hair swishing over her shoulders like a waterfall. 

Clara glared at her, trying to haul herself up. “Here, let me help you,” Kalaia offered. Clara wanted to decline, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sit up without help and it was embarrassing to be stuck in such a vulnerable position. 

“What are you doing here?” Clara grumbled. “And where are your wolves? Afraid of Uris?” 

Kalaia laughed again. Clara was still puzzled by the demigoddess’s choice to appear as an eight year old, although maybe that was her real age. Finally, when Kalaia had calmed herself down enough, she pressed a finger to her lips and gave a sly wink. 

“Now, are you ready to join Baelle’s cause?” Kalaia asked loudly. Then she shook her head from side to side. 

Clara got the message loud and clear. “I will never join Baelle,” she said loudly. 

Kalaia gave a maniacal laugh. “Then you will suffer!” Clara screamed loudly and movement outside the tent proved to be Uris running away, clearly satisfied. 

When Kalaia spoke again, her voice was low, barely audible over the pounding rain. “This storm is a gift from one of my … friends. It won’t affect you or your army if you should attempt to escape. As for my wolves, they were provoked into an attack by some silver soldiers guarding an encampment of prisoners.” 

Clara nodded. Kalaia was here to rescue her! “You’re going to help us escape?” 

Kalaia gave a small sigh. “Unfortunately, while being in your tent and torturing you, somehow you gained the upper hand and knocked me out. I remained in the tent for the duration of half the battle before waking up confused and joining your side in a fight.”

Clara was a tad disappointed that Kalaia wouldn’t be fighting at her side, but then the demigoddess pulled a dagger from a hidden pocket in her trousers. She cut through Clara’s bonds and handed the weapon to Clara. “The other weapons of the prisoners are being held three tents down and fourteen to the left. The guards are asleep, and they won’t be awake until tomorrow morning.” 

Good. Clara assumed it was about evening at the time, so that gave her plenty of time to get the weapons and find Titus and Bones. 

“Are there … others?” she asked quietly. 

“Two,” Kalaia confirmed. “My one friend is faster than a blink of the eye. The other is rather … moody, and has a way of changing her environment.” 

So a demigoddess of speed and of storms. That proved an interesting mix, but Clara wasn’t one to question. She thanked Kalaia once before pretending to knock her out just in case someone was watching through the thin tent walls. 

She gripped her dagger tightly before slipping out into the open. 

Torrential downpour and fierce winds whipped the trees around the camp wildly. Uris had been kind enough to stop in a forest, so the pine needles that were torn off the trees pounded against the soldiers forced to sit outside. 

Clara wondered if perhaps Gollare was watching out for her, because the darkness practically leapt from the clouds and surrounded her. 

The hilt of her dagger was slick with sweat as she crept towards the tent with the weapons. Three down, fourteen to the left. Just as Kalaia had “guessed”, the soldiers were asleep. Clara didn’t have the heart to kill them. 

She slipped inside the tent, the rain proving a good cover for her movements. 

Inside was a vast storage of swords, daggers, bows, and even a few spears. Clara didn’t have time to find specific ones, so she grabbed the two sharpest she could find and sheathed them around her waist. 

“What do you think you’re doing, missy?” someone interrupted from the front of the tent. Clara jumped nearly a foot in the air, spinning around to see another soldier in silver. “Not expecting to see patrols? Uris will be furious when I-” 

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence because Clara thrust her dagger forwards. The blood always made her squeamish, so she turned away and yanked her dagger with her, ignoring the guilt pulsing through her veins. Please, Dixral, don’t send him to where the bad people go. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

The rain was dropping harder now, but Clara didn’t feel so much as a light drizzle. 

As the sky grew darker and night approached, the air had a definite chill to it. Clara wished she had a cloak, but she forced the thought away. 

The soldiers didn’t seem to notice her, but a good many of them were dozing off. Clara wondered if this was one of Kalaia’s friend’s doing. It didn’t matter, as long as they stayed asleep long enough for Clara to find Bones and Titus. 

The task was daunting at first, but then Clara found a map. She had to stifle a laugh as she saw it on the ground under one of the guard’s chairs. The parchment was soaked through, but the tents were labelled in the hierarchy of prisoners. Titus and Bones would be located in the middle, back near where Clara’s tent was to prevent them from escaping as easily. 

She pocketed the map, hoping it would prove useful in the future as well. 

Her feet padded softly across the muddy ground and she was grateful for the shadows that hid her. 

Titus and Bones weren’t being held in the same tent as an attempt to keep plotters separated. Also posing a challenge for Clara was the fact that both of their guards were awake. She pondered a solution for only a moment before sneaking to the back of the tents. 

Bones first, Clara decided. He would come in handy in a fight more than Titus would, plus he was her commander and more likely to leave her side in the case of an actual fight. 

Using her dagger, she slit a large hole in the fabric of Bone’s tent. The canvas was thicker than she had anticipated - probably to keep prisoners from escaping as easily. Out popped Bones’s head, his eyes sunken. 

When he saw her, his face lit up. Clara pressed a finger to her lips and Bones nodded. He had to squeeze through the gap, which took a bit more time than Clara wanted to. 

She handed him one of the swords, gave him the map, and then pointed to Titus’s tent. He gave a nod of recognition and approval before darting away. Clara made her way to Titus’s tent next. 

She slit the canvas like she had with Bones’s tent, but instead of Titus, a meaty fist grabbed Clara’s ankles and yanked her inside the tent. 

Uris grinned devilishly as Clara trashed to escape. Titus was unconscious a few feet away, his head bleeding from a large gash. Clara sucked in a breath and kicked even harder at Uris. She managed to make contact with the woman’s head, knocking her away. 

Uris was quick, however, and leapt to her feet before Clara could completely recover. Like a snake, she lunged forwards and grasped the sword at Clara’s side, yanking it off and sending Clara careening to the ground. A dagger versus a sword, how unfair of a fight, Clara’s brain protested as she rolled away. 

“You really thought you could escape?” Uris scoffed. “I knew the little girl was a liar - and I’ll make good on my promise to slay her after I’m done here.” 

Clara didn’t let her fear show, but adrenaline pumped through her veins. 

She was trained as a Sprite Hunter, she could handle a weapon far better than this woman could ever hope to. And with that in mind, Clara attacked. 

Through a series of complex twists and turns, Clara managed to get Uris out of breath. Memories surfaced in Clara’s mind and she fought them back while also defending herself from Uris’s surprisingly strong blows. 

Johnny saying that fighting was like dancing after he and Clara were locked into a mini battle. 

Clara fighting for her freedom before after being captured in the tower ruins of Layene, and then fighting in Viridi. 

The lion monsters. The big birds. 

Dazed from the stupid flashbacks, Clara struggled to avoid another near fatal hit from Uris. The woman wasn’t tiring as quickly now. 

Clara was so distracted by the battle that she didn’t notice Titus was awake until a fiery shape emerged from his palms. The flames took the shape of another Clara, this one slightly smaller but deadlier than ever. Uris seemed shocked by this unanticipated twist, giving Clara the needed moment to catch her breath before whirling into battle again. 

Clara and Fire Clara - Flara - launched into battle simultaneously. Clara realized that Titus was making Flara perform the exact same attacks as she was to throw Uris off guard, and it was working. 

If Uris turned her back to Clara, the girl would whip into a frenzy, attacking with precision rather than power. If Uris focused on the healer, she would be burnt in attacks from Flara. Just when it seemed that they were getting the upper hand, Titus fell limp again and Flara disappeared with a small gasp. 

Uris wheeled on Clara, blade at the ready. 

Clara blocked the first blow with her dagger and the second barely missed her due to an intricate dodge. Their battle began no more than the clashing of blades. 

Uris wasn’t weakening, but Clara was learning the woman’s fighting style. The demigoddess preferred rash attacks. When Clara lunged for an attack, Uris would perform a dodge that left her on offensive again. 

That led Clara to try a new strategy. She switched her tactic to force Uris onto defense. 

Uris sped towards her like a bull. Clara leapt aside and sliced her dagger across Uris’s back, causing the woman to howl. Clara took the opportunity to attack again, stabbing her blade into Uris’s shoulder. 

The woman turned to Clara again, her eyes furious with pain. 

Clara inhaled, holding her dagger tightly. She lined up her aim and threw her weapon. It spun in the air, faster and faster until… 

Uris crumpled, her legs turning to dust underneath her. In her dying fury, she threw her sword. Clara gasped as the sword burst into millions of tiny pieces of shrapnel against her skin, splintering in midair. 

Was she… was she glowing? Clara didn’t have time to register the thought as her knees gave out beneath her, plunging her into yet another flashback. 

Clara was older now. Six? Eight? Maybe older or younger, but it was hard to tell. Her face had thinned out and she seemed healthier now, her hair shiner and her eyes brighter. 

But maybe that was just because Johnny was sitting beside her. He always seemed to bring a smile to her face, even when she was feeling especially negative. Gwen said that there was a bond between the two of them that couldn’t be broken. 

About twenty of the Sprite Hunters were gathered around the wooden tables in the dining hall. Most of the time, they ate on mats on the floor, so the tables confused Clara slightly. 

The majority of the Hunters gathered around the tables were also young. Hunters ranged from ages four to thirty, and most of the ones gathered at the table were on the lower part of that scale. Clara and Johnny were among the youngest at the meeting. 

Gwen looked especially worried, her face painted with worry lines. Clara had never seen the older girl quite like the before. “I have some … news for you.” 

“Good news or bad news?” a girl asked. At the time, Clara didn’t know who the girl was but she had dark hair and silvery blue eyes. She had heard Gwen refer to the girl as Coral previously. “Cause there’s a big difference.” 

“Bad news,” Gwen sighed. Clara was glad for Gwen’s bluntness, it meant less worry over what was being withheld from her. 

“Spill it,” a dark haired boy beside Coral grumbled. Clara was pretty sure his name was Forrest, and there were rumors going around that he had beat the military generals at sword fights in his youth. Clara didn’t believe that for a second. 

Gwen inhaled before speaking. “The soldiers found our location. You guys are the last to know, but the older Hunters have already begun packing. I suggest you run along to help, in case we’re forced to move. So far, the soldiers are being peaceful.” Gwen finished quickly, staring at the dark wood of the table. Clara could only guess how she felt. 

Fear tore through Clara like a pack of wolves, but it wasn’t fear for her own life. She wasn’t scared of the soldiers, she knew her dagger skills were probably on par with most of them. 

But the Sprite Hunter’s lair had become, well, it had become her home, just as it had with Gwen and Johnny and everyone else. Gwen dismissed the Hunters at the table, making it clear that her order was to be taken seriously. 

Clara sought out Johnny among the chaos. He looked brave and not at all scared like Clara was. But when she took his hands and he pulled her away, she could feel his pulse racing under her fingertips. His eyes found the flower braided into her hair, the flower he had given her. “It’s all going to be fine,” he whispered. “The soldiers can’t keep us out forever. But we have to pack everything just in case.” 

Clara gave a weak nod and Johnny disappeared. Adrenaline pumped through Clara’s veins as she hurried down one of the hallways into the girl’s dormitory. Frantic girls searched for the belongings, shoving everything into tiny bags. 

Clara didn’t own much. She had her clothes and that was about it, besides a few little knick knacks that had accumulated over the years. 

Gwen’s panicked voice rang through the corridors, urging everyone to move faster. Clara finished with her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and stopping to help a little blonde girl struggling to pack. She didn’t know the girl’s name, but she knew they were all in danger. Her hands worked faster than Clara could register and soon the girl hurried away, bulging back on her back. 

Clara realized she was the last one in the dorm and ran to the door where Gwen was waiting. “Hurry!” Gwen urged, beckoning for Clara. 

Clara ran as fast as her tiny legs could carry her, stumbling over the roots and rocks in the dirt floor. Voices echoed through the cavernous corridors. She didn’t recognize a lot of them and wondered if maybe the soldiers were catching up. 

Clara tripped. She landed on the ground with a hard flop, knocking the breath from her lungs. She scrambled to her feet just as Gwen and roughly a dozen soldiers were approaching. 

Gwen saw Clara on the ground and froze. In a split second decision, Gwen slammed her shoulder against the wall before lunging for Clara. The older girl yanked Clara to her feet and slung her over her shoulder like just another bag. The ceiling began to shake and crack. Gwen only ran faster. 

Clara could feel the fear creeping up her spine, but admiration for Gwen overwhelmed the fear. 

The memory began to pick up speed, and Clara could barely register a blur of color racing through her dreams. As the flashback came to an end, she saw Gwen deposit a younger Clara into the waiting arms of Johnny. A deep, longing filled her stomach for the boy who was gone because of her. And with that, Clara cried herself into a deeper sleep.