CHAPTER 115: SERAKAI OR TAHRAKA (5)

Although they’d joked, the pair ran into the battle, and were taught just how much the Elite warriors of Silver Feather were not to be taken lightly. Aiyana and Atia hadn’t had much battle experience besides training and fighting each other, and helping Yoa occasionally, but it had never required them to fight other tribes.

They were ready, just not experienced like some of the other warriors. The more they fought beside each other though, the more it was clear they were stronger together, covering each other’s backs. Many stayed clear of them, the Oncari included, though many watched in awe at the lethal dance of the pair. A shimmering, golden light of stardust surrounded Atia and Aiyana as they fought. It was like a circle shielding them, making others wary to step forward.

On the other side of Soluma, Yoa chased, not defended, chased after fleeing eagles who saw their fate flash before their eyes beneath his fatal attacks. Yet, the Silver Feather warriors came in waves, non stop, and yet, Atia sensed they were holding back. Why? What was the point in the attack if their goal wasn’t to kill? Many wounded, or dragged their fights out.

A woman’s cry pierced through the air, one Atia knew immediately, he glanced at Aiyana, but she was fine.

"Go!" Aiyana urged, pushing him away as she swiped her blade out to a new foe.

Atia rushed to his mother’s side, twin blades instantly striking through the heart of her opponent. She was a tough woman, but there were four of them against a lone woman, warrior or not. "How honourable," Atia clipped to those now circling them both.

"Go back to Aiyana!" Orima tapped her fist once on her son’s shoulder behind her as she kept two of their foe in front of her.

"And leave you to have all this fun?" Atia tried to lighten the mood, but unlike his father, Orima was stern. Calm and loving, but stern.

She gave him a look, but couldn’t comment as all four warriors attacked at once. Mother and son fought together, Orima proving her skills greater from experience than Atia.

A smile lit Atia’s face as he fought alongside his mother, revelling in her agility and ferocity. Nearby, Aiyana growled in frustration, tripping over the long ceremonial robe that could have cost her a fatal blow. But she was too quick.

She blocked a knife aimed at her face, glaring at the Elite warrior hovering above her, his wings flapping languidly. The blade glinted viciously as it struck the earth, its handle quivering. She snatched it up and, in one fluid motion, hurled it back, striking between the warrior’s eyebrows. The warrior instantly dropped to the ground.

She barely had time to kneel, and slice open each side of her robe, creating twin slits along her thighs, freeing her legs, before she found herself surrounded.Everyone else was locked in their own battles, unable to come to her aid. Did she need it? No. She would prove why the Chief’s daughter needed no man.

And prove it she did. She fought hard, weaving between their combined strikes and answering with her own. Every time one man fell, another stepped in. It was clear now who their target was. Her.

But why? And why now?

Sweat slid down her neck and across her brow as she moved without pause, blood spattering the robes meant for a joyous day. Yet, she didn’t seem to mind. In truth, it felt almost fitting to fight on this day. After all, she had her own worth to prove.

Excitement shot through her veins but she was beginning to tire, unable to keep up with the constant attacks by multiple opponents at once. She grunted lowly when her blade blocked one of those deadly hidden blades at their feet, and sliced through their calf where no armour protected them. The female warrior cried out, tumbling to the ground, clutching her leg. It was the bottom of her foot, and the sound of the injury shot through the jungle like a misplaced step or heartbeat.

Aiyana noted the slash and wrinkled her nose. She’d torn her Achilles. Oops.

That momentary distraction, however, cost her. Her breath caught when her weapon was struck and it flung from her hand, a pain rippling along her bone from the impact. She fell on her side from the towering warrior above her. She swiped out her leg to trip him, but he didn’t budge. The other leg followed, hitting hard behind his knees.

Still, he did not fall, and only smirked at her before grabbing reaching down to grab her hair. Aiyana didn’t make it easy. She fought, her claws shredding through his armbands and skin. He roared in pain, and struck her face.

"Yana!" Atia roared somewhere past the Elite warriors crowding her.

The warrior tugged her head back by her braids, his legs pinning hers down beneath his hefty weight, and he pulled his Wing Blade free, a crescent shaped weapon that glinted before her eyes, promising pain.

"You truly are beautiful," the man said, his other hand reaching out to stroke her cheek. A shiver of disgust rippled through her. She knocked his hand aside, which seemed to amuse him as he smirked. "It is a shame. But orders are orders."

Aiyana narrowed her eyes at him. "You kill me, and the Oncari will wipe the Silver Feather flock off this island," she hissed, glaring at him with all the fire she could muster.

He chuckled, bringing the sharp blade towards her face. "Who said anything about killing you?" He took her wrists in one hand and slammed them hard into the dirt above her, pinning her down.

Her heart thudded more wildly as her gaze moved from this experienced warrior to the curved blade above her face.

"What...? Then..." Aiyana trailed off, watching as that blade drew closer to her eye, then her brushed along her lip.

A chill erupted along her skin as her eyes locked with his, watching the gleam of delight in his eyes, the cruelty. It disgusted her. They disgusted her. They’d closed the circle around them. Another row of warriors acting as a shield around the first ring watching this man on top of her, cheering and hooting.

After all of her training, she couldn’t get out of this position? Her chest heaved, fire burning bright in her eyes. This right here was the failure every warrior feared—the moment their body betrayed them. It is clear this attack was well planned, solely focusing on wearing her down.

Shame and loathing twisted in her gut. Once she got out of this, she would roast this chicken to dust!

But as that thought flashed across her mind, white-hot pain slashed across her face. Her breath whooshed past her lips in a cry, her vision darkening for a moment before rage consumed her more than the pain.

This was no assassination. This was humiliation.

Blood, sticky and warm, poured down her face from across her cheeks and nose, coating her skin and lips until the metallic tang consumed her senses.

Aiyana roared and headbutted him in the nose, grinning when his nose broke and blood spurted everywhere. "You bit-"

The man was tackled to the ground, a fist slamming into his face over and over again. The circle of warriors were either fighting or slain, lying dead on the ground by the Chief and his close guard.

"Atia?" Aiyana sat up, hands trembling as she watched him, chest heaving as he made the man’s face a bloody mess. Atia paused at the sound of his name, the man beneath him unbreathing.

"Yana... I’m so sorry..." He watched her with a sorrowful expression, one that twisted something in her gut. She lifted her chin higher, ignoring the sharp pain and blood trickling down her face.

"What for?" She reached for him, growling, "Let’s end this."

Atia grinned, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "Be careful..." He trailed off as she arched her brow, though the facial movement almost made her sight black out again.

Instead of showing his concern, and self-loathing, Atia handed her Firstmark before clasping her free hand and pulling her to her feet. At that moment, two Elite warriors broke free from the fray and attacked Atia and Aiyana at the same time.

Both swivelled, their hands still connected, and struck out just as golden fragments of light swarmed around their joined grip like a ribbon, tightening as they each killed their opponent.

Their heads snapped back to where the golden light poured from their fingertips, watching as it inked into their skin and lit up the jungle for all to see.

Aiyana gaped at the markings forming on their wrists, mirroring each other as heat bloomed in her chest. Her eyes flicked to his golden-green ones. "Atia..." She whispered in awe.

ink forming on their wrists as heat warmed in her chest, her eyes flicking to his golden-green ones. "Atia..."

He frowned, confusion knitting his brows as he stared back at her. Slowly, the golden stardust shimmered across the cut on her nose, knitting the fibres together, though not completely, before the light dimmed, leaving the jungle in a hushed silence.

"Tahraka..."

"Tahraka..."

"Tahraka..."

Over and over, others muttered the word that was well-known, but rarely used on Isla de Tayun.

"We’re—" Aiyana broke off mid-sentence, hurling Firstmark at a warrior slipping away. The blade struck true, right between his shoulder blades.

"Bonded... as warriors..." Atia finished, his voice solemn, carrying a heaviness she couldn’t quite name.

Aiyana straightened and looked up at him. Why did it seem like he hated the idea?