The Shadow Prince’s Ruin (Dark Companions #2)

Chapter 29

Hawk

W restling an alligator would have been preferable to dealing with the beast chasing us. The truck-sized crocodile has two heads, two tails, sharp black crystals growing out of its back, and madness in its yellow eyes. Algae clings to its dark gray scales as it crawls onto the patch of dry land we’ve just vacated, and its two mouths utter asynchronous hisses that make the birds and frogs go eerily quiet.

I’m about to take Sylvan onto my back and run when Fenren passes us both, dashing back toward the monster. Air is trapped in my throat as I watch our guide toss a black ball toward the water, luring the creature away from a little brown bag he left behind.

I don’t know what could be important enough for him to risk his life like this, but I grab Sylvan’s hand when one pair of the giant’s eyes notices the elf. Like its cousin from my world, the reptile appears heavy and slow, but when it twists its body, snapping its long teeth in the very place Fenren’s left a moment ago, it’s clear we’re all in mortal danger.

Roaring like a failing engine, it charges after the smuggler, but instead of getting cornered by the thick trunk of the willow, Fenren grabs one of the lush vines and climbs the tree with the ease of a monkey. His feet slip when the reptile slams into the tree, but his hands remain tight around the vine, and as he unsheathes the weapon attached to his hip, the beast thrashes under him, attempting to leap up and collect him like a ripe fruit.

Sylvan digs his heels into the mud, refusing to let me lead. “He’s got a blackblade! No… what is this creature doing so close to the Nocturne Court?”

It’s only then that I notice the strange darkness surrounding the long dagger in Fenren’s hand. He stabs at the creature once it rests its front claws on the trunk, but the attack angers rather than frightens the monster.

“Bassals are drawn to shadowcraft!” Sylvan cries, refusing to move, even though the behemoth could reach us within seconds. “Don’t use the dagger!”

I’ve had it with this bullshit, so I grab my boy, sling him over my shoulder, and run .

Ivy’s dusky red cloak flashes close to a lone hill with a thatch of bushes growing at the top. Its side is a steep cliff, as if the slope that previously existed has crumbled long ago enough to allow for the growth of moss and small plants. Eager to hide and wait out the damn… bassal, I run so fast my feet barely touch the dirt. As I dash behind the mound, I hear the monster coming our way.

The ground shakes as though we’re on the verge of an earthquake, and the splashing of water brings to mind a horde of charging elephants, but I do the only thing I can—hold onto Sylvan’s legs and use my three remaining limbs to crawl up the steep incline that might either offer us salvation or leave us even more vulnerable to the beast.

Its thundering cries resonate in my ears by the time I roll onto the overgrown hilltop and cover Sylvan with my body in an attempt to make us both flatter, less noticeable between the grasses and shrubs. But somewhere below, the bassal keeps up its violent thrashing. I open my eyes and spot Ivy curling up behind a fallen tree. She’s tense and covers her mouth with both hands, which prompts me to press my finger to his mouth, to ensure Sylvan’s quiet, and then crawl toward the girl.

She glances my way but seems ready to snap at any moment, and I can’t blame her when I peek through the leaves and see her father leaping away from the giant reptile like a flea. He’s still holding the dagger, and it’s only when I see him against the backdrop of the moon that I notice the dark vapor surrounding the blade. It disperses into a trail of pale dust, and the bassal follows it as if it was a cocaine addict desperate for even the smallest particle of the drug.

“He needs to throw it away. Now,” Sylvan hisses, crawling closer to join us at the vantage point, but neither of us wants to attract the monster’s attention. Still, we all gasp when Fenren stumbles over something hiding below the surface and narrowly avoids the charging animal. He is losing speed, tired of the chase, and as agile and strong as he might be, he has limits like anyone else.

Rolling away over the bright reflection of the moon above, Fenren manages to throw a rock at the bassal, but it just bumps off the armored back.

“It’s the most precious artifact he owns,” Ivy says, but Sylvan shakes his head.

“That creature eats shadowcraft. Fenren’s running around with a lure in hand!”

It might be dark, but I still notice the girl go pale. Her eyes dart between us, then beyond the bushes, but in the end she screams, “It’s after the blade!”

One of the beast’s heads is drawn to the noise, zeroing in on us with its golden eyes, but my initial need to run far, far away is drowned by terror when the other head clamps its jaws around Fenren’s legs.

Ivy shrieks when the cold-blooded monster’s other mouth seizes Fenren’s torso. The heads tug in opposite directions, and in the moonlight, the elf’s body opens and stretches like an accordion of guts.

With a cry of anguish, Ivy rolls away from us, out of the bushes, and toward the back of the hill, where the monster can’t see her. With her father gone, she feels no loyalty to us, nor any responsibility for our survival. It occurs to me that I could do that too—convince Sylvan to use his shadowcraft and run. He’d likely die in the confrontation before he drained enough of my vital power to make me faint, and I’d be free to live out my life in this fantastically terrifying world. But as the girl disappears from sight and both of the bassal’s heads have their fill of meat, I grab Sylvan’s hand.

“We should go,” I whisper, trying my best to not let fear take over and bring me to my knees. I didn’t survive prison and escape the cops all the way to a different world to die in the stomach of a two-headed dragon… thing.

Sylvan nods and crawls toward me, his hand on my shoulder as if he wants to communicate the depth of his trust. Behind him, the monster swallows the blade with a satisfied bellow, but instead of calming down like I expected it to, it turns all four of its eyes toward our hill.

I freeze, ready to turn into a rock and avoid moving until this thing loses interest, but its gaze flashes, and it bolts our way with terrifying speed. The hill is slightly higher than I am tall, and reptilian talons dig into the ground next to my leg moments later.

“Goddamn it,” I shout, capturing Sylvan’s gaze as we both roll away in different directions.

Sylvan is closer to the beast, and I scream in terror when the bassal’s heavy tail slams into him so hard, Sylvan’s thrown several feet away. My focus narrows when I see my fragile prince hold his shoulder, face twisted in pain as he struggles to get up. His eyes dart around, as if he’s lost his sense of direction, and I dash toward him.

I grab him and run up the hill. We will worry about his shoulder if we manage to survive this. As much as I despise the idea of having my energy drained, this is one of those situations that warrants it.

“Use it!” I yell. “Use my shadow!”

The bassal is on our trail, roaring to announce its hunger for flesh and shadow. As the toothy mouths open, blowing out the sharp odor of rot, a pull at the pit of my stomach tells me what’s about to happen. That beast’s gonna rip us to shreds.

Claws shoot from both of Sylvan’s hands and pierce two of the monster’s eyes. The injured head drops down the creature’s chest.

“Get behind me!” Sylvan says, and my world flickers as I follow his command. The air around us trembles and I can only hope he’s creating a shield around us, like he did for me at the tavern.

A feral cry resonates over the marshland and makes my ears ring as if it were a fire alarm. We’re knocked down by a shockwave so powerful that for a moment I worry I may never rise again, but Sylvan is already back on his feet. He between me and the monster, so small and yet so very powerful.

Pride fills my chest alongside guilt when I realize I scolded Sylvan for using a powerful weapon that could have saved Fenren’s life, if used without delay. But this isn’t the time to mourn bad decisions, because the air around the bassal shimmers, and my man sends his sharp claws at the remaining head. I’m ready to cheer our victory, but the dark spikes that so easily cut into the beast’s flesh earlier break as they hit an invisible barrier.

Shock overpowers Sylvan’s features, but the monster shakes, and a black goo reminiscent of the liquid shadow I’ve seen Sylvan play with, oozes from the cracks between its scales. A tentacle shoots from the pool of shadow at our feet and attempts to strike the creature from the back, but it’s all for nothing, as it’s now protected by some kind of force field.

When the bassal jerks up to descend on us with its thick paws, I pull Sylvan back, saving him from talons that could tear through rock. The beast roars, but as the small body in my arms tenses and the shadows around us thicken, the invisible barrier around the reptile jitters, and the tentacle pressing on it from behind penetrates its bounds.

Heat blooms on my face, because this might be our only chance. I’m faint again, but it doesn’t matter. As powerful as my shadow might be, it’s not an unlimited resource, and we need to strike while the iron is hot.

“Kill it,” I shout into Sylvan’s ear as the creature turns its one functional head to see where it’s been injured. “You just need more shadow. Take it!”

His eyes flash in the dusky fog around us. “No! I’ve already taken too much. I can’t—”

I shouldn’t have been so prissy about his mistake. He was drunk and was only taking baby steps in this whole shadow-borrowing business. Now I made him afraid of doing it even in a situation that warrants it.

I’m such a shithead.

“Doesn’t matter!”

The tentacle twists, stabbing at the bassal where it’s penetrating the barrier, and when the creature rolls off the hill with a cry of agony, Sylvan stares at me, pale as a sheet. “We’ll just run and hide.”

My eyes sting. Have I really suspected this boy of manipulating me? He’s so desperate to avoid hurting me again that it’s making breathing near-impossible. But both he and I know there’s no running from the two-headed gator, so I meet his eyes and speak as clearly as possible.

“You know we can’t. Even if I faint—”

“You could die,” Sylvan cries, and a tear rolls from his sapphire eye. I want to kiss it away, but who has time for tenderness in the heat of battle?

“I should still have a few lives left. I want you to survive this, baby. Even if the worst happens, we don’t need to both die.”

He blinks, squeezing my hands. Time stops, and for a beautiful moment we’re just two men who found one another in the unlikeliest of circumstances, but as the bassal shoots up to the hill, roaring with fury, Sylvan shoves me away.

"We don't need to both die," he repeats. Black goo climbs his form, soon covering his entire body. It makes the beast freeze. Hunger shines in its yellow eyes, and the moment Sylvan leaps off the hill, creating tiny steps out of shadow, the creature charges after him, hungry for more shadowcraft.

He’s making himself bait.

It’s like an ice pick stuck in my brain, and as I drag myself to my knees, terrified by the narrow distance between predator and prey, it’s clear to me that I only have two options. I either run away or follow Sylvan, letting the bassal devour me too.

Suddenly, a new thought pops into my head and radiates life all over my body. Because there is one more choice I can make.

My hands shake when I reach under my clothes and pull out the Sunwolf Crown. I now know magic is real, and that it can warp my body beyond recognition, but I’ve already made up my mind. I was dead serious when I put that ring on Sylvan’s finger, and I’ll either protect him, or die trying.

I hear every detail of my last inhale, but then I slam the mask against my face and scream.

It’s like being drizzled with boiling gold.