Chapter 34 #3
The group scattered. Briar felt Eliam's hand grab her arm, pulling her sideways as a tentacle slammed into the ground where she'd been standing. The impact left a crater, the earth hissing and smoking where the corruption touched it.
Karse's fire roared to life, white-blue flames engulfing one of the tentacles. It recoiled, shrieking in that not-laughter-not-crying voice, but two more took its place, growing from the stump like a hydra of wood and rot.
"Don't cut them!" Veroc shouted, but it was too late. One of his warriors had severed a tentacle, and three more sprouted immediately, whipping toward him with renewed fury.
The thing rose higher from the ground, revealing more of its body—a trunk of fused bone and wood, wrapped in something that might have once been fur but now moved like it had a mind of its own.
Eyes opened along its surface, dozens of them, all different sizes, all completely black like the deer's had been.
"What is that?" Sian gasped, water swirling around her in a defensive shield.
"Corruption," Veroc said simply. "Pure corruption."
The creature's tentacles swept toward them again, and this time they moved with purpose, with intelligence. They were being herded, Briar realized. Pushed together, grouped for easier capture.
"It's not trying to kill us," she gasped. "It's trying to trap us."
As if her words were a signal, the tentacles changed tactics. Instead of striking, they began to weave, creating walls of thorned wood around them, cutting off escape routes, forming a cage.
That's when she heard it. Footsteps. Measured, unhurried, approaching through the twisted trees. The pixies' not-laughter grew louder, more excited.
"He's here," Eliam said quietly, his hand finding hers. "Malus is here."
The footsteps stopped just beyond the wall of tentacles, and a familiar voice carried through, pleasant and warm as autumn sunshine.
"Well, well. How convenient to find you all together." Malus's tone held genuine pleasure. "Though I am disappointed. I expected you to get much closer to the seal before I had to intervene. This makes things almost too easy."
The tentacles parted like curtains, and Malus stepped through, dressed in his dark coat, looking perfectly at ease in the corrupted forest. Behind him came others—Forest Court guards, but wrong. Their eyes were solid black like the deer's, and when they moved, it was in perfect synchronization.
"Hello, dear one," Malus said, his eyes finding Briar immediately. "Did you miss me? Because I certainly missed you."
"Get behind me," Eliam said, pulling Briar back, but the movement triggered everything at once.
Veroc roared a battle cry in the Drak tongue, his blade igniting with flames as he charged.
His warriors followed, meeting the corrupted Forest Court guards in a clash of steel and magic.
The creature's tentacles thrashed wildly, no longer coordinated, responding to the sudden violence with violence of its own.
"Bring the girl to me," Malus commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The corrupted guards moved toward Briar with that unnatural synchronization, but Karse's fire blazed between them, a wall of white-blue heat that made them stumble back.
"Run!" Arion shouted, his light magic flaring. "Get her out of here!"
The tentacle creature shrieked, its dozens of eyes focusing on different targets.
One massive appendage swept through their group with devastating force.
Briar felt Eliam's hand torn from hers as the impact sent her spinning.
She hit the ground hard, mud and rot splashing across her face, filling her mouth with the taste of decay.
She pushed herself up, disoriented, ears ringing. Through the chaos she saw Eliam twenty feet away, Thaine pulling him behind an overturned log as tentacles slammed down where they'd been standing. How had she gotten so far from them?
A corrupted guard lunged at her. She scrambled backward on hands and knees, her palms sinking into the spongy ground.
Karse's fire roared overhead, catching the guard and turning him to ash, but the heat and smoke blinded her.
She stumbled to her feet, coughing, eyes streaming, and ran the only direction that seemed clear.
By the time her vision cleared, she'd lost all sense of direction. The battle sounds came from everywhere at once, echoing wrong through the twisted trees. She turned, trying to orient herself, to find her way back, but every path looked the same—dark, twisted, wrong.
Behind her, she heard Malus laugh, low and pleased. "Finally, some sport."
She ran.
Branches tore at her traveling clothes as she crashed through the undergrowth.
The corrupted forest seemed to shift around her, paths appearing and disappearing, roots rising to trip her, thorns reaching for exposed skin.
The warmth in her chest pulled desperately backward, toward where Eliam and Arion fought, but she couldn't stop, couldn't turn back.
She could hear him following. Not running, just walking. His footsteps were steady and patient, like he had all the time in the world and he knew exactly where she would go.
"Running through corrupted woods, dear one?" His voice carried impossibly well through the trees. "That's rather dangerous. So many things here that might hurt you. Better to come back. I promise to be gentle."
She ran harder, lungs burning, the metallic taste of corruption thick in her throat. A root caught her foot and she went down hard, palms scraping against bark that felt wrong, too soft, too warm, almost flesh-like.
When she pushed herself up, he was there.
He stood several feet away, not even breathing hard, looking at her with that mixture of amusement and satisfaction that made her stomach turn.
"Did you miss me?" he asked again, taking a step closer. "Because I've thought about you every day. The way you felt beneath me. The sounds you made."
She scrambled backward, but her back hit a tree—no, not a tree, one of the creature's tentacles, positioned perfectly to stop her retreat. She was trapped.
"There's nowhere to run." He closed the distance between them with casual grace. "Your defenders are busy. The Drak are falling. And you, dear one, are exactly where you're supposed to be."
His hand caught her chin, tilting her face up with deceptive gentleness. The autumn marks at her throat pulsed warm, reaching toward him like flowers toward sun.
"Such a long chase for such a small thing," he murmured, studying her face with the same attention he might give an interesting specimen. "Though I suppose you've grown more intriguing since our last encounter."
She jerked her head away, but his fingers tightened just enough to hold her still. Not painful—he rarely needed pain when control would suffice.
"Let go."
"No, I don't think I will." His thumb traced along her jaw, autumn magic seeping through the touch, making her limbs feel heavy.
"Do you know what the most tedious part of ruling is?
The constant need to appear reasonable. To pretend that violence is a last resort rather than the most efficient solution. "
In the distance, the battle sounds were fading—less clashing, more screaming.
"But here, in these corrupted woods, with no one watching but the twisted trees?" His smile was almost fond. "I can be entirely honest about what I want."
"They'll come for me," she said, hating how her voice shook.
"Oh, undoubtedly. Your collection of would-be saviors is nothing if not persistent." He glanced back toward the battle sounds with mild interest. "Though I wonder how many will survive the enthusiasm of my new pets. The corruption makes them so... thorough."
He looked back at her, and his expression shifted to something almost regretful.
"I had hoped you'd come to me willingly, you know.
After enough time, enough gentle pressure.
But you're remarkably stubborn for someone so breakable.
" His grip shifted from her chin to her arm, fingers closing around her bicep with careful precision.
"So we'll do this the crude way. Disappointing, really. "
Without warning, he yanked her against him, his arm locked around her waist, half-carrying, half-dragging her back towards the fight. She fought, clawing at his arm, trying to dig her heels in, but he was fae-strong and she was just human, just tired, just small against his magic and will.
They emerged into the clearing where the battle had devolved into chaos.
Several of Veroc's warriors were down, their blood staining the corrupted earth.
The creature had wrapped tentacles around Halian, lifting him off the ground.
Sian was trying to free him with water blades while dodging the corrupted guards.
Malus walked into the center of it all, dragging Briar with him, and simply stood there. Waiting.
It took only moments for the others to notice. Eliam turned first, thorns already sprouting from his hands, but Malus's arm had shifted to wrap around Briar's throat from behind, his forearm pressing against her windpipe with practiced precision.
"Careful," Malus said mildly. "I'd hate for my grip to tighten accidentally."
The pressure increased slightly, not enough to cut off air entirely, but enough that breathing became work. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision.
One by one, the others stopped fighting to stare. The corrupted guards stepped back in unison, weapons remaining at the ready. The creature's tentacles stilled, though they kept Halian suspended.
"Much better," Malus continued. "Now then, let's discuss terms. You're all going to lower your weapons and accompany me to the seal.
Willingly. Cooperatively." He paused, his breath warm against Briar's ear.
"Or I'll discover exactly how long a human can survive with a crushed windpipe.
I'm genuinely curious—the texts are contradictory on the subject. "
His arm tightened another fraction. Briar's hands came up instinctively, clawing at his sleeve, but she might as well have been trying to bend iron.
Eliam took a step forward, shadows gathering around him like storm clouds.
"Now, now," Malus chided, and his free hand came up to rest against Briar's throat, his thumb finding her pulse point. A single claw extended, just breaking the skin. A drop of blood welled and ran down her neck.
The scent hit the air, and Malus inhaled deeply, a soft sound of pleasure escaping him.
"Mm, I'd almost forgotten how exquisite you smell when you bleed," he murmured, his voice dropping to an intimate register.
"Like copper and fear and that sweet humanity that makes you so.
.. delectable." His thumb traced through the blood, spreading it.
"I'm looking forward to tasting it again and discovering every flavor you have to offer. "
The promise in his words made her stomach turn. She could see Eliam's entire body had gone rigid, his hands clenched so tight the thorns were drawing his own blood.
"Weapons down," Malus said pleasantly. "All of them. Now."
One by one, they complied. Karse's flames guttered out. Arion's light dimmed to nothing. Even Veroc and his surviving warriors lowered their blades.
"Excellent." Malus's hold on her throat loosened just enough to let her breathe properly. "Now we can all proceed to the seal like civilized beings. Or at least pretend to be."