The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 21: In Dire Straits

Arran and Inna lay paralyzed in the sand, clutching each other until their fingers left bruises on the other's skin. The Amulet burned hot underneath Arran's shirt, as if its metal had just been forged. Inna's chest heaved with quick breaths against his own. Her eyes burned with golden fire as she stared at the sorcerer.

"We stole nothing from you," she hissed. "If you're going to kill us, you may as well do so now. You won't have the Amulet."

Arran shot her a panicked glance. She ignored him. Planting her hands in the sand next to his head, she started pushing herself up. Her mouth grazed his ear, her long hair hiding the movements of her lips from the sorcerer. "Make a wish," she whispered.

He opened his mouth, confused, but she had already jumped to her feet and turned to face the sorcerer. Slowly, he dragged himself upright as well, wincing when his weak right ankle protested.

The sorcerer snorted and crossed their arms. Their comrades appeared from the sandstorm behind them. The middle one raised their arm to create a small clearing inside the whirlwind. Grateful, Arran blinked the remaining grains of sand from his eyelashes.

"You know we can't kill you without drawing out the creature that lives in the Amulet," the first sorcerer continued. They had the audacity to sound bored, as though Arran and Inna were only dragging the moment until they would hand over the Amulet. "So there are only two ways in which things can proceed from here onward: one, you give us the Amulet voluntarily or two, we take you both captive and ... persuade you to give it to us."

Inna drew herself up, bristling. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? I'm Serafina Adelhari, heir to the throne of Primsha—"

"I know who you are, princess," the sorcerer replied, snickering. "And I don't care in the slightest."

Arran took a cautious step backward in an attempt to get back to the flying carpet, but four hoods snapped in his direction, pinning him down with the sheer force of their invisible gazes. He cracked a wolfish grin. "Bold words. I wonder if you'd still be so tough without those cloaks to conceal your faces."

Silence. Inna glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her gaze flitting back and forth between his face and the triangular shape under his shirt. He inhaled, ready to pronounce his second wish under his breath.

The sorcerer tsked. They moved so fast his form blurred for a moment; then they held a heavy, green snake in their hands. Zazi bit at his hood, but they held her at arm's length, at a safe distance from her venomous fangs. Fear blocked the words in Arran's throat at the sight of it.

All color had drained from Inna's face. Stiff as a board, she stared daggers at the sorcerers. Her fists clenched and unclenched as if she imagined squeezing their windpipes shut.

"Such a beauty," the sorcerer observed. Zazi's green scales flickered like emeralds in the sun while she struggled to escape their grip. "Look at those colors. I thought this type of rattlesnake only lived in the Lelian Jungle. Where did you find it?"

"That's none of your business," Inna snapped. "Let her go."

They ignored her. "Her? Hmm." One finger stroked Zazi's head, and she grew limp in their hands, her eyes blank. Mind warping magic. "She had buried herself in the sand to bite me. That's an oddly intelligent move for a snake. I wonder ..." They tightened their grip on Zazi's throat.

Inna cringed. Arran wanted to go to her, to confront the sorcerers together, but he didn't dare move as long as the mind warper held Zazi's mind hostage, ready to crush it at the first sign of hostile magic. He had never been so grateful for Zohra's talisman, otherwise it might have been him trapped under the mind warper's influence.