Chapter 63 #2
The clearing between us was no more than a handful of paces, yet it stretched wider than any ocean. Too much had been said. Too much remained unsaid.
The breeze stirred the dark strands of his hair as we stayed exactly where we were, neither of us daring to move.
That’s how I fell asleep, looking at him from a world away, my heart tight and aching in my chest for what might have been—maybe—but would never be.
Sleep was not gentle.
It dragged me beneath dark waters, into dreams that reeked of death.
Hands emerged first, their flesh gray and swollen, black veins spiderwebbing beneath skin that hung in rotten strips from skeletal fingers.
The smell of rot swept through me, the sickening sweetness of decomposing flesh flooding my lungs.
With it, I could feel the decay spreading through me, worming into my chest, reaching for the magic thrashing to defend itself at my core—
A rough hand clamped over my mouth.
My eyes flew open with a muffled yelp.
Rìan crouched over me, his broad shoulders blotting out the stars above. One hand covered my mouth, the other gripped an iron knife, every muscle in his body taut as a drawn bow.
I drew a calming breath through my nose. The smell from my nightmare didn’t fade.
Not a dream.
I knocked his hand away and surged upright.
Understanding passed silently between us, the memory of the night before swallowed by the suffocating reek of death. We split apart without a word, circling opposite sides of the clearing.
I dropped beside the nearest sleeping Bone Woman and gripped her shoulder. She was awake before I'd fully shaken her, silent and alert. Around the clearing the others stirred almost instantly, rising to their feet, every eye turning to Saskia.
Without hesitation, she raised both hands to her mouth and loosed two long, wavering notes, like a loon's call. Within seconds, the two women on watch slipped back into the clearing.
Saskia made a series of swift gestures with one hand, and at once the Bone Women turned toward the trees.
Rìan's hand closed around my wrist. He pulled me toward the nearest trunk, its bark still bearing the scars of the sickness that had plagued these lands for centuries. More leaves clung to it than most, though they gathered only among the highest branches.
His hands settled around my waist and the ground vanished beneath my feet. I caught the lowest branch with both hands, well beyond my reach had Rìan not lifted me. Pulling myself up, I climbed higher.
The branches spread just far enough apart for hands and boots to find purchase. Rìan hauled himself up behind me, the limbs creaking beneath his weight.
All around us, the Bone Women took to the trees, climbing with ghostly silence until the clearing stood empty, no trace left of where we'd camped.
I climbed until the branches bowed beneath me, bending just enough to warn me against going farther. Rìan settled onto the limb below mine. Pressing myself against the trunk, I tried to make myself as small—and as invisible—as possible.
The forest breathed around us, leaves whispering softly overhead.
Time stretched. One minute. Then another.
Bark dug into my cheek. A bead of sweat trickled down my nose, gathering at the tip, but I didn't dare move to wipe it away.
The smell worsened. Thick. Smothering. The stench of death intensified until it nearly made me gag. Then—
Crack.
A twig snapped somewhere among the trees.
The slow, uneven rhythm of footsteps shuffled through the litter.
More footsteps joined them. Then more. Until the forest itself seemed to fill with the scrape and brush of feet through fallen leaves.
The first figure lurched between the trees.
Moonlight caught the side of a gaunt face where flesh had rotted away entirely, exposing yellowed teeth locked forever in a grotesque grin.
Black veins spread beneath its skin, branching from a vicious bite wound at the base of its throat where thick, tar-dark fluid oozed over its collarbone.
Another stumbled into view.
Then another.
And another.
Within moments they were everywhere.
Men. Women. Children.
Their clothing hung in filthy tatters from bodies in every stage of decay.
Some were little more than skeletons draped in strips of leathery flesh, ribs jutting through collapsed chests.
Others still wore enough of their faces to hint at the people they’d once been, though black veins webbed their sallow skin and clouded eyes stared from ruined faces, mouths snapping open and shut around thick, blackened tongues.
A tide of death spilled silently through the forest.
There were hundreds.
They passed beneath us, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my bone knife until they ached, sweat slicking my shaking palm. I scarcely dared to breathe.
All around us, the Bone Women sat motionless among the branches, their bows drawn and arrows nocked, all pointed down toward the endless horde stumbling below.
If they saw us, we were dead. There were far too many to fight.
One little girl limped past our tree, dragging a rag doll behind her by its matted yarn hair. Black corruption seeped from a bite on her cheek.
I bit my tongue until I tasted blood, searching their faces. Had I known any of these poor souls? Had any of them once been my neighbors? Were they the people from Midland who'd gone missing?
Would I see Laurie stumbling past, his eyes dark, sunken pits, his decomposing body nothing more than a puppet for Tharnyx to wear?
Minutes stretched into an eternity measured only by dragging feet and gnashing teeth, until finally the procession began to thin. One by one, they disappeared into the trees until only the faint scrape of their footsteps remained before fading into silence.
The smell lingered a while longer, clinging stubbornly to the night air as though it had poisoned it. Slowly... mercifully... it too ebbed away.
In the tree across, Saskia lowered two fingers.
As one, every Bone Woman eased the tension from her bowstring.
Not a word was spoken. Not a soul descended.
We remained where we were, balanced upon branches scarcely wide enough to sit upon, backs pressed against the trunks while the hours crawled toward dawn.
Every shifting breeze made me stiffen. Every rustle of leaves sent my pulse skittering before reason returned and reminded me that the horde had passed.
And beneath it all was dread. Guilt. Fear. And grief.
It wasn't fair. These people—who'd lived divided from the rest of Elantis for three hundred years, who’d scraped and starved and fought for survival in a dying land—should have been able to finally share in the renewal the fall of the Veil had brought. The land itself was healing, reclaiming what had been stolen from it. Yet while the forests flourished, humanity had only fallen further. They’d been swept into endless servitude to monsters, neither living nor dead, their corpses shackled to the Bone-Wrought's will, destined to be unleashed upon the very world that had abandoned them.
I bowed my head.
There was a cruel sort of justice in it. The Fae had sealed the Veil and left the humans beyond it to perish, never once looking back. Now those same forsaken people would become the instrument of Elantis's reckoning. But there was no satisfaction in vengeance stolen from the dead.
For the first time in longer than I could remember, I prayed to gods that didn't exist for the souls trapped within those broken bodies—for whatever remained of them, if anything remained at all.
We'd spent centuries waiting for the Veil to fall, believing a return to Elantis would end our suffering. Instead, it had only changed the shape of it.
Humanity had been doomed from the very beginning.
To die.