The woman, with a startle, scurried into the shadows, a desperate, animalistic terror in her eyes. The three of them looked at her, then at each other. The scuffle they had heard was not a struggle with a captor. It was a struggle to escape.
Katarina, with a natural grace, took a step forward. Her light, airy movements guided her feet across the floor. She held out a hand, her movements soft and slow, her smile gentle.
"It's alright," Katarina said, her voice a low and soothing, as if she were speaking to a frightened animal. "We're not going to hurt you." The woman's eyes were wide as she watched Katarina. She flinched as Katarina knelt before her, but she didn't run.
"I... I saw it," the woman stammered, her voice a low, horrified whisper. "I was on my way to the market. I saw him... dragging a woman."
Doren felt his blood run cold. "Where?" he asked, his voice filled with desperation. "Where did he take her?"
"He was pulling her on the ground," the woman stammered, her eyes filled with a new, fresh terror. "She was fighting him. She was so strong. I ran to help her. I thought I could stop him, but he just... looked at me. He just looked at me with those cold, cold eyes. And then his companion came out of nowhere. I don't even know where she came from. The two of them... they took us both. They threw me down here, and they took her... they took her to the shed."
"Meko, Doren," Katarina said, her voice a low, urgent murmur. "A shed. Out back."
Without a word, Meko and Doren turned and ran, their feet heavy. Doren and Meko ran toward the back of the house, their hearts pounding against his ribs.
As Meko and Doren charged toward the shed, Katarina, knelt to help the girl. With soft hands and a calming voice, she worked on the rusted shackles. The girl's eyes still wide with fear, watched as the iron lock yielded to Katarina's touch. The shackles fell away with a soft thud, and Katarina helped the small woman to her feet. "Come on," she whispered, her voice a low. "Let's get out of here… Whatever your name is."
The girl, with a new, quiet determination, followed her, her feet moving with a sense of purpose. They moved away from the house, toward the safety of the main street, as the two men charged into the shed.
"It's Anya." She whispered.
Meko, with a bellow of a war cry, threw the door open, the sound echoing. He charged in, Doren close behind. A massive blast of water, a solid, powerful wall, erupted from the shed. It hit Meko first, a crushing blow that threw him back. Doren was hit next, the sheer force of the water sending him sprawling.
From the dark, cramped space of the shed, a figure emerged. He was a shorter man with a long, graying mustache and a bald head, his hand held in front of him. His eyes were a pale, cold blue.
"I knew you would come," he said, his voice coarse. The words hung. "She kept saying you would come save her. Such trust for someone you just met." He smiled, opening his arms. "And I have been waiting. My name is Waterloo," he said, his gaze fixed on Doren. "And you, little man, are exactly where I want you to be."
Meko recovered in a flash, his eyes filled with fury. He slammed his large hands on the ground, the sound a low, hollow thud. The earth obeyed him as the ground beneath Waterloo's feet bubbled and swirled, turning to a pit of viscous mud.
Waterloo, with a cruel sneer, launched himself into the air. He avoided the quicksand with a series of agile, controlled movements. He landed with a soft splash on solid ground, his eyes fixed on Meko. A sudden burst of water erupted from his palms, a solid, concussive wave that crashed into Meko and sent him sprawling back.
While Waterloo was focused on Meko, Doren was not idle. He reached down and scooped a handful of small stones from the ground. He held them in his hand for a second, a quiet, almost-unnoticed act. With a flick of his thumb, he sent a single, small stone flying through the air. It was not a throw; it was a launch, an act of pure, focused power. The stone was a blur of gray against the pale morning light, a quiet projectile with a deadly purpose. It struck Waterloo in the leg with a sickening crunch. It burrowed into his flesh, a small, painful wound that was enough to make the short man lose his balance. Waterloo, with a grunt of pain and surprise, crumpled to the ground.
Meko didn't waste a moment. As Waterloo's gaze remained fixed on Doren, Meko surged forward. With a swift and brutal swing, he drove his boot into Waterloo's jaw. The impact knocked him to the ground, a grunt of pain escaping his lips.
The fight was not over, but the tables had turned. Meko, his face grim, stood over the fallen elementalist. But Waterloo was not defeated. With a snarl, he sent a sudden burst of water from his hands, a solid, concussive wave that crashed into Meko and sent him flying. Doren held his ground.
Meko used his raw, physical earth power to keep Waterloo on the defensive, his hands slamming into the ground, sending waves of stone and dirt toward the water elementalist. Doren, on the other hand, was a force of subtle, focused power, as he launched small, precise stones that flew with a quiet, deadly force.
Waterloo, with a snarl of frustration, was forced to use all of his power to defend himself, his hands a blur of motion as he created shields of water and sent powerful jets of liquid toward his opponents.
Finally, with a grunt of frustration, Meko managed to come around him and get a hold on Waterloo, hands gripping the man's shoulders. Doren, with a final, desperate burst of power, created a small, intricate cage of stone that surrounded Waterloo's legs, a beautiful, deadly trap that held him in place. Waterloo, with a snarl of frustrated fury, was trapped.
With a subtle exertion of his will, Doren made the intricate stone cage around Waterloo's legs tightened. The raw rock groaned, a low, grinding sound, and the small man's face contorted in a grimace of pain and frustrated fury. He was caught, a predator trapped by his prey.
Meko knelt, his large hands gripping Waterloo's shoulders. The quiet patience of the earth elementalist was gone, replaced by a fierce, protective anger. "Where is she?" Meko demanded, his voice a low, steady rumble. "Where is Varen?"
Waterloo, his pale blue eyes fixed on Doren, let out a thin, humorless laugh. The sound was a cold, chilling thing. "You think it's that easy, little boy?" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You think I'm going to tell you where the girl is just because you've managed to corner me?" He then looked at Meko, a flicker of something cold and calculating in his eyes. "You're a fool. All of you are."
A chilling, cold silence permeated the air, thick with unspoken threats and a building tension. The sound of their heavy breathing and the faint groan of the stone was a stark counterpoint to the quiet, still fury that was radiating from Meko.
Doren's voice was a low, steady sound. "I'll check the shed," he said, and with that, he walked away from the captured elementalist.
Meko's jaw was clenched, his fists so tight his knuckles were white, but he did not follow. He was the anchor, the grounded force that held Waterloo in place.
Doren pushed the shed door open and stepped inside. The air was cold. The single, golden light from his hand cut through the darkness once again, illuminating the small, cramped space. In the center of the room, tied up and bound, her mouth covered with a gag, was Varen.
Relief, so powerful and overwhelming it almost brought him to his knees, washed over him. She was alive. She was here. He rushed to her side, his heart pounding in his chest. Her eyes, once filled with fear, widened as she saw him. He knelt, his hands working to untie the ropes that bound her. The ropes were coarse, cutting into her skin and his hands, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting her free.
Doren moved with a newfound speed. He knelt before Varen, his hands reaching for the ropes that bound her. He placed a single hand on the rough, woven fibers. A cold, dark energy flowed from his palm, and the ropes, with a faint, hissing sound, instantly disintegrated into dust, falling away to reveal the raw, chafed skin beneath.
Varen, her mouth now free, let out a deep, shaking breath. Her eyes were fixed on him.
"We have to go," he said, his voice a low whisper. He took her hand, and together, they left the shed.
Meko still had Waterloo trapped, his massive hands gripping the shorter man's shoulders, his strength keeping him pinned to the ground. Waterloo continued to struggle.
As Doren and Varen emerged from the shed, Waterloo's head snapped up. His pale blue eyes, filled with a chilling malice, found Doren's.
"You will never get a night's rest, Mercer," he spat, his voice laced with a cold venom. "We've been waiting for you." His gaze dropped to Doren's hand. "I saw it in the house, that golden light? And I felt the earth in that stone. You have a Powerhart."
The word hit Doren like a physical blow. A cold wave of dread washed over him, a deep-seated fear that had nothing to do with the man trapped at Meko's feet but all of a sudden had everything to do with him. He remembered the journal, the looping script of his father's handwriting, the pages filled with detailed notes about a forbidden, incredible power. His power.
Varen looked at Doren, then back at the captured elementalist, confusion etched on her face. Meko's gaze, a quiet, grounded presence, shifted between them, his eyes asking a silent question that Doren had no answer for.