Ronan was forced roughly to his feet by the two hooded men. Ronan scoffed and asked, "Surely this is some mistake."Lord Wallace raised his nose to the air."There is no mistake," he declared, "that from the moment you arrived at the temple, horrific monsters followed with you."Maritza headbutted Wallace in his pompous nose, and he recoiled both hands to his face."Ronan has nothing to do with the Hellsworn," she shouted. Wallace's blood dripped from the edges of her blonde bangs and onto her forehead. Wallace shuddered, collected himself, then wheezed, "Seize her! Tie her slanderous mouth shut if you need to."Ronan wrestled with the hooded figures, but one stuck a scythe to his neck while the other approached Maritza with a bundle of rope."You can't silence me," Maritza yelled with a scowl. "I'm a Master. I outrank you, Wallace! You'll be killed for this."Ronan's forearm panged with heat, and he wondered if he might be able to burn the ropes off his wrist. "Not yet,"
As Wallace swung the scythe, Ronan roared and shot black flames from the palms of his tied hands. The fire caught Wallace's legs and feet, and he danced as the flames burned viciously. They crackled with such strength that Ronan couldn't hear Wallace's anguished cries of pain. Ronan sprung from the chopping block and thrusted his foot to Wallace's chest, pushing him into a filthy puddle in the alley. Still, even rolling about and screaming in the water, the fires climbed up Wallace's legs and to his torso. With his hands still strapped behind his back, Ronan ran over to Maritza and the two purple-cloaked Nightblades. Maritza kicked one between the legs, and in a deep cough he was lifted several inches off the ground. As he regained his footing, Maritza bit the lobe off the man's ear. He shoved her away then wildily barreled his scythe towards her, but she spun around, held out her hands, and allowed the scythe to tear through her rope bindings. Before the second Nightblade could
Habbot stood on the edge of the roof, chewing a lit cigar between his few remaining teeth. "Ay, gents, drop the load!" he shouted with a fierce wave of his hand. From every roof they could, townsfolk of Augustate slums carried great big blankets, aprons, and shirts full of baking flour. "What are they planning?" Ike asked, watching the townspeople swing their bundles of flour into the air. Soon, the huge amounts of flour hung in the air like dust. The running guards paused, coughing and hacking and swatting at the air as flour filled their lungs and blocked their sights. Clove handed over a traveling bag to Ike, and the both of them followed Ronan and Maritza as they ran for the gate at the edge of town. The group of four Nightblades pumped their hands back and forth as each of them sprinted beside the other. In the distance and back on the rooftops, Habbot called out to the once shoeless girl and said, "Alright lass, give it here!" She handed Habbot a quarter filled bottle
After thirty minutes of rest by a dying fire, Ronan stomped the embers out. Clove covered the charred sticks and kindling with torn thistle and brush, and Ike swept the leaves of a large branch over their footprints.Insects buzzed in the bushes, and the four heard no signs that they were being pursued. But they also knew that could change at any second.Maritza boarded the white horse, and this time Ike mounted the beige. "I'll lead us through Butcher's Bog," Maritza said, lacking the stern tone her voice usually carried. "There, our tracks should be hidden by the low waters.""And then," Ronan added with the map in his hand, positioning himself on the white horse behind Maritza, "We should take the tough trail of Loner's Crag, and cross around to the merchant path near Lover's Lake."Clove joined Ike and put her hands on his hips. He jolted with joy at her touch."At that point," Clove said, "We'll be near the Temple of the Seahorse, if it still stands to this day.""Or if
The four awoke to a cold, bitter morning with little sunlight.Clove was the first to sit up while the rest rubbed their eyes. She shivered, bundled her traveling blanket over her shoulders, and hung a small cast-iron cooking plate on the tallest sticks that made the fire pit. After Clove gave a few quick, breathy blows on the smoldering embers, the fire smoked back up and ignited the remaining kindling.Ike set a few more branches they'd found in the crag over the fire, along with some thin roots he plucked from weeds along the trail. He was about to comment on how sleeping near moss and on a bed of rocks did wonders for his back, and how he felt like a kid again, but he saw Clove's frown, and how she shook off the night's aches and pains, then decided against it. Not everybody was as accustomed to the woods as him, and finally Ike was feeling as if he was in his proper element, away from expensive, impractical clothing. He also felt like nothing helped to flip a frown to a smile
The three laughed as Ronan chewed like he had glass in his gums. After swallowing, Ronan perked up and said, "Wow, that's actually amazing. It's like pork rib!" Ike gave a small bow, and the group all shared a laugh. Green Essence surrounded Ike, and it entered his shoulder, filling the progress bar under his Mark of the Butterfly. The ladies enjoyed their cakes, and the men ate their skewers, and the horses hounded down a second pot of Ike's concoction. When they were fully restored, the group saddled up, and made their way down the rest of Loner's Crag. For a day, they traveled at a brisk pace, staying slow enough to not tire the horses, and fast enough to feel as though they were avoiding the Butterfly Nightblades, who they all believed had stopped pursuing them. It was the dead of night when the group reached Lover's Lake and felt the pangs of hunger in their stomachs once more. The Lake was huge and sparkled from the starlight, and small shadows could be seen swimming
The Lance landed upright with a thud in the grass as Ronan backflipped out of harm's way. His Mark of the Butterfly activated, and smoke billowed from his forearm. "Not bad," Scindo said with a big grin. "And it looks like those markings on your arm are the real thing. Aren't they, Black Serpent?"Ronan cocked a brow. "What did you call me?"He'd only ever been referred to by such a name inside The Temple of the Butterfly. Scindo's indigo hair swayed beneath his tricorn hat as he responded, "I've dreamt of this day for months now. I see you and the Black Butterfly, and I hear The Shroud's demonic voices." He approached the lance and tugged it from the dirt, whipping it and the packed-on soil to his side. "That's what The Shroud calls you both," Scindo continued, his slur disappearing, and a thick set of black Runes spreading from his shin and up to his face, " The Shroud calls you The Black Serpent and The Black Butterfly."Maritza stepped between Scindo and Ronan with her a
Scindo slammed his lance to the dirt, and a geyser of sparkling water shot up in front of him. For a second, wind billowed in every direction as the vortex of white fire collided against the geyser until, finally, the two both dissipated. Scindo grinned for only a second before he raised the shaft of his lance horizontally by his chest, blocking the swing of Ronan's sword. Then, the two took off in a flurry of footwork that stomped the bushy grass beneath them flat. Scindo thrusted both blunt edges of his lance at Ronan, twirling his staff left and right. Ronan positioned himself sideways in a fencing stance he'd learned from Maritza at The Temple of the Butterfly. He kept his swordhand outright to hold Scindo at bay, and Ronan hacked away each of Scindo's attacks. Scindo taunted Ronan and said, "That Mark of the Butterfly keeps you moving quickly, huh?"Smoke from Ronan's markings plumed in Scindo's face, and Ronan's pace quickened. The sound of wood thudding against metal rang t