Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
"Ah, Nessa!" Ambrose exclaims when I enter. "Perfect timing. We were just about to begin our weapons sabotage briefing."
"Sabotage?"
Mireen gestures me closer to where she's sketching something on a piece of parchment. "We've mapped out the location of Malakai's weapon cache. There's a guard rotation, but we've identified a twenty-minute window tonight when the room should be unattended."
"What's then? Steal them?"
"Too obvious," Beck says, still trapped in Brunhild's hold. "They'd notice immediately, and we'd just confirm their paranoia about traitors."
"We're going to sabotage them instead," Ambrose explains, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Make subtle alterations that won't be immediately apparent but will render the weapons useless when they're needed most."
"Ollie can rust the metal from the inside," Mireen adds. "Create weak points that will snap under pressure. Typhon could help too, if he's willing."
All eyes turn to where Typhon hovers in his flying fish form. I can practically feel his disdain radiating through our tether.
"They expect the ancient heir to the water throne to engage in petty sabotage?"
"They expect you to help keep us alive during the Crucible," I counter. "Unless you'd prefer I die a quick, ignoble death at the hands of Malakai and his goons."
Typhon huffs a plume of steam. "Fine. I will assist. But I do so under protest."
"He'll help," I tell the others. "Assuming we can pull this off without getting caught."
"That's where I come in," Beck says, finally extricating himself from Brunhild's grip. "I'll create a distraction while you, Mireen, and Ambrose handle the weapons."
"What kind of distraction?"
Beck grins. "Let's just say the eastern courtyard will experience some unexpected flooding tonight.”
"And me?" Brunhild asks, crossing her muscular arms. "What is my role?"
"You're our lookout," Mireen says. "No one would question you wandering the halls at night, and if anyone gets suspicious, well..." She gestures to Brunhild's imposing physique.
Brunhild nods, apparently satisfied. "Good plan. But first, training. Come, small one," she says to me. "I teach you northern fighting style now."
I look questioningly at the others, who make shooing motions. "Go ahead," Mireen says. "We’ll meet in the water tower common room at midnight and head out together. See you then.”
Mireen, Beck, and Ambrose say a quick goodbye, leaving me alone with Brunhild. She stands before me, feet planted wide, a mountain of a woman radiating quiet confidence.
"Northern fighting not like Empire style," she explains. "Empire teaches you to be weapon. To channel, to strike, to kill." She shakes her head disapprovingly. "Northern style teaches you to be survivor. To use enemy's strength against them. To turn disadvantage to advantage."
She demonstrates a stance, her massive frame surprisingly fluid as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "You are small. This is good. Small means quick. Means targets on you are small too. Hard to hit."
For the next hour, she drills me relentlessly in techniques designed to use an opponent's momentum against them. How to break holds, escape grapples, to use leverage, and turn a powerful strike into an opportunity to counterattack. It's exhausting but exhilarating, so different from the rigid forms we're taught in official training.
It reminds me most of the way Raith trained me, and I find I'm already fluent in several techniques she expects to have to drill into me.
"Good," she says finally, nodding with approval as I successfully evade her grasp for the third time in a row. "You learn quick. Smart. Your body remembers even when mind forgets."
I wipe sweat from my brow, breathing hard. "Thank you for teaching me this."
She clasps my shoulder, her grip firm but not painful. "They say unbound saved my ancestors during great flood. Used power to hold back waters, to save children when others had abandoned hope." She pokes me in the chest with one thick finger. "You have good heart. Will use power well."
She dips her chin, eyes suddenly fierce. “And you will always protect Beck, yes?”
The question feels like a threat, and I find myself nodding.
A familiar voice cuts through the room.
"I've been looking for you."
Raith approaches, his expression neutral but his eyes alert, scanning Brunhild with barely concealed suspicion.
"Password?" Brunhild asks.
"Sexy bear," Raith says.
I grin. Sexy Bear? That's really the password they chose for today?
Brunhild nods. "Training finished anyway. She learns well. Quick. Strong for small one." She waves to us both before striding away, leaving me alone with Raith.
"Did I interrupt?" he asks, moving closer.
"No, we were done." I hesitate, then add, "I spoke with Bastian earlier."
A muscle ticks in Raith's jaw. "I thought we agreed to approach him together."
"He found me after lunch. It wasn't planned."
Through the thin tether connecting us, I feel jealousy, anger, and a touch of betrayal. His voice is calm and measured despite the feelings I know he's harboring. "What did he say?"
I relay everything Bastian told me—about Voss, the missing students, Malakai's suspected manipulation. Raith listens in silence, his expression growing darker with each revelation.