Young Writers Society

Chapter 8: Into the Fire

Alexander moved rapidly, but he didn't topple over. Instead, he reached for something on his chest. James's eyes went wide as he saw the throw happen mid-motion.

James rolled to the side as something whizzed through the air, landing on the ground beside him with a shk, a mere foot from his head.

A knife?

So much for being wanted alive. No one seemed to care about that, did they?

If James had hit Alexander, it didn't make a difference. James jumped to his feet.

Alexander was already on the ground, barreling towards him. Alexander flicked his hand again. Instinctively, James dodged.

Something whizzed by him, but he saw nothing.

Darts, he guessed. Alexander wouldn't want to waste losing them all to the grass.

James sent a shot toward Alexander, but he missed. The shot rang out, echoing through the valley.

Alexander swooped in.

Swing. Dodge. Miss.

For a few seconds, neither of them made any contact with one another other. In rapid succession, every hit or attempt to grab the other was met with empty air as they dodged every blow.

Alexander's arm swung overhead. James ducked.

As he sprung back up, he could feel something drip down his back.

Blood.

His shoulder was bleeding again. The pain would register later.

Alexander reached into his jacket. James shot again.

The brief flash from the gun made his vision go white for a second too long. What he saw next was the quiver of Alexander's leg for a split second before he was reeling backward.

Alexander swiped a dagger through the air.

James dove to the side. As Alex brought his arm down, James shot upward again.

At the sight of his gun, Alexander leaned back. But James hit.

At least, he thought so.

Alexander dropped his dagger but quickly spun around James. James's feet were fast, and he followed so that Alex never got behind him.

But now that he was facing the other direction, he saw something behind Alexander.

A shadow.

A rider.

A horse.

Only a second of hesitation.

Alexander grabbed James's wrist and ripped him forward, popping the gun out of his hand. It disappeared into the grass.

James shot his free hand upward and punched Alexander's chin.

His teeth cracked together, and Alexander stumbled backward. James threw himself forward, and with all of his weight pushed Alexander to the ground. But as Alexander bounced back off of James's shoulders, he shot his hands out and propelled himself back to his feet.

But James was ready.

Before Alexander could stand to his full height, James grabbed his head with both hands. He held Alexander's head steady as he slammed his forward.

Forehead met forehead. Skull met skull. Alexander grunted and stumbled back again, catching himself as he fell.

James clenched his bloodied fist, ready to go in for another hit. But then Alexander glanced behind him.

Alexander backpedaled and ran out of the way. When James looked up to see what Alexander saw, he found himself staring into a ball of fire flying through the air.

James's eyes went wide.

He dropped to the ground.

The fire narrowly missed him. He could feel the blazing heat singe his skin as the flames brushed past his face and hit the ground.

Instantly, the grass caught fire.

"Sorry!" Clandestine's voice carried over the sound of flames crackling.

No. No.

James sprung to his feet. The flames were already crawling closer, eating at the space between him and Alexander.

There was a wall of fire. It separated him and the bounty hunter, but Clandestine also stood on the other side of the wall. His heart began to race as the flames eagerly jumped from blade to blade, and further down the creek, the wild horses begin to stir and flee the scene.

Alexander was back on his feet. He rushed towards Clandestine.

James ran.

Clandestine readied another ball of fire in her palm. Alexander flicked his hand toward her before he even closed the distance, and Clandestine flinched.

"Hey!" she shouted, the fire in her hands dissipating as she touched her arm. Grabbing something.

"What's... what is this?" she sputtered.

She stumbled backward as Alexander pulled out a knife and she fell, scrambling away.

"What did you--?" Clandestine sputtered again. Her movements were slowed.

James cut through the fire, jumping over the growing flames. The heat licked at his ankles, but he flew through it, speeding ahead.

His heart beat inside his skull, and a high-pitched ringing pierced his ears, drowning out the noise around him.

He was fixated.

The glint of moonlight on Alexander's dagger. Clandestine, now prone. Alexander, standing over Clandestine like a shadow. A shadow of every killer and every consequence that had followed James since he left the kingdom.

Alexander barely turned his head to see James coming.

They collided.

They both flew through the air and hit the ground with a grunt. They bounced off of each other and James caught himself while Alexander rolled to the side, back turned to him.

Alexander's dagger glinted in the flattened grass beside him, and James shot his hand out, wrapping his fingers around the hilt. His ears were still ringing. He didn't hear Alexander move. It was only when Alexander flung himself at him that he realized what was happening.

Alexander was on top of him.

James lifted the dagger. Alexander grabbed his wrist before he could make contact.

James shot out his other hand and grabbed Alexander's opposite wrist, but it wasn't until he caught it that he realized what kind of weapon Alexander had pulled.

A syringe.

For a moment, James stared at the sheer size of it.

The sun was setting. The light was fading. Somewhere, in the distance, the sun had dipped behind the hill and all that remained was the residual light in the darkening sky and the light of the growing flames eating away at the grass, ever inching toward them.

The firelight danced off the glass of the syringe, piercing through the semi-transparent liquid of a purple hue. The needle seemed hauntingly long as it hovered over James's shoulder as if it were trying to reach him while they stayed there, hands interlocked with wrists, each keeping the other from piercing through the skin.

James knew what he was staring at.

The syringe was filled with lumshade. It had to have been what Alexander laced his darts with as well. It was the chosen weapon of the kingdom and their mage hunters - known for its ability to temporarily neutralize magic and knock out an opponent within seconds with even a small dosage.

And he was staring at a whole syringe full of it.

His bleeding shoulder finally began to register pain as Alexander applied all of his strength and body weight to push against James's grasp. Naturally, the arm keeping the syringe from stabbing him was the same one connected to that shoulder.

Pain shot up to his hand. He tightened his grip.

This stalemate wouldn't last forever. The fire was growing. Clandestine was unconscious. James could feel his arms beginning to tremble. Such was the disadvantage of being underneath his opponent.

"I see we're both right-handed," James said through grit teeth. "Otherwise, this wouldn't--"

"Who's the girl?" Alexander cut in.

His gaze was piercing.

James tried to think of a way out of this.

"I know the kingdom sent you," James hissed.

The heat of the fire drew closer. Clandestine was just outside its reach.

Alexander let out a laugh, and for a moment, the two of them pushed against one another's strength. Both of their hands were growing sweaty, and James knew it had to be the heat of the fire adding to the shine on Alexander's brow.

Pain shot up James's arm again. He clenched his teeth, knowing he couldn't hold this forever.

"You know," Alexander said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Carter's been getting anxious. You haven't been home in six years."

Carter. So it was true. Alexander wasn't just the king's hunter. He was the army's hunting dog, too.

But if Alexander was referring to Carter by his first name... that meant they were friends.

Or Alexander believed them to be friends.

"Glad to know that someone still misses me," James said through grit teeth.

He could feel his shoulder growing wet along with the ground beneath him.

"Funny how after all this time," Alexander said, his voice growing quieter. "He still wants you back alive."

Alexander's voice fell to a whisper.

"So he can kill you himself."

Alexander's attention was locked onto James's expression.

This was his window.

James held eye contact.

"If that's what he really wanted," James said, feeling his strength wane. "Then why isn't he here?"

Alexander started to laugh. Then James relented.

What happened next was in quick succession.

First, the long needle of the syringe pushed into James's shoulder with the power of Alexander's full weight and all of the pent-up pressure behind it.

Less than a second after, James lost the dagger in his hand as Alexander ripped it away.

But at the same moment, James's left hand was free.

And Alexander was right-handed.

And Alexander had a gun. On his right hip.

While Alexander was preoccupied with emptying the full contents of the syringe into James's system, James reached for Alexander's holster and ripped the gun out of its cage. Without even seeing it, he knew by touch alone that it was a six-shooter, similar to his own.

He flipped off the safety. His finger found the trigger. He pointed it into Alexander's side.

The impact of the gunshot felt like a burst of energy between them.

Alexander let out a cry of pain. James pushed him off with all of his might remaining and began to run, already feeling his body entering the precious few seconds between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The world around him was on fire. His hands were slick with sweat. The syringe remained stuck in his shoulder like an arrow, swaying with each step.

When had his ears stopped ringing?

Alexander let out a strangled cry behind him.

James stumbled up to Clandestine, whose body lay mere inches from the fire.

Steeling himself, he reached down and brought his arms under hers.

The world around him was beginning to spin.

What about Elliot? He was tied to a tree. He couldn't run away. What about Clandestine's horse? Who was going to put out the fire? What if it spread out of control? When would the town of Bone spot it? Would they even be able to contain it?

What about Alexander?

James dragged Clandestine through the grass as quickly as his legs would take him. He was starting to lose feeling in his arms, at first. Then his legs. For a moment, they still moved without sensation.

Then they started to give out. First, it was his left arm. Then his left leg.

Just a little further.

He fell to the ground, crawling. Dragging Clandestine beside him.

We just have to get to the water.

He could hear the creek. The faint sloshing of slow-moving water felt all the more distant with the increasing heat of the fire encroaching upon them.

His body gave out when his hand touched dirt. He couldn't move anymore. His breaths were ragged.

James looked down at Clandestine.

In the flickering light of the fire, he could make out her face. Unconscious. Unaware of the fate to befall them both.

She came all this way to have died for nothing.

As darkness crept in around him and the cold grip of drug-induced slumber pulled him under, the last thing he saw was Clandestine's eyes flutter open.