Chapter 26 #2
My boots pounded across the rubble-strewn cavern.
Blood roared in my ears and my heartbeat slowed, sharpening into razor focus.
I let that beast out, that feral thing inside me baying for blood, snapping its fangs.
I exploded through the enemy ranks, wrathful blades whirling, hacking down anything in my path.
Silas raced toward me on a chilling collision course, his sword swinging in an eager arc, amber firelight dancing across the vicious blade.
And then the strangest thing happened.
A storm erupted from one of the tunnels.
Impossible. Extraordinary. Beautiful.
Silver clouds rolled through the gloomy cavern, lit with fire. They hovered near the lofty ceiling, their ethereal forms folding and shifting.
I skidded to a halt, my combat boots scattering loose stones.
Those silvery clouds, the harbingers of death, tore apart.
Metallic strands lanced downward.
Stabbing.
Spearing.
Whiplashing around warriors’ arms and flinging them into cavern walls.
Smashing them against unyielding stone, driving them over and over until bodies burst into clouds of dust. Limbs tore.
Bodies pummeled. Tar-dark blood splashed in filthy arcs.
Ash erupted everywhere, as if a gigantic hearth had been tipped from above, sweeping over us in dirty billows, coating us in a thick, gritty dust.
The taste of them clogged my mouth and chalked my teeth.
As the dust settled, the untouched warriors stilled and turned as one toward a point in the darkness beyond.
I twisted around to see what they were staring at.
And blinked in surprise.
Sirro.
The Children of the Harbinger vanished quickly, swifting away, except for one.
Silas, coated in grimy remains, glared across the space at me. He leveled his sword, pointing it as if marking me for death.
Widening my stance, I rested the flat of my sword over my shoulder and marked him for death right back, stabbing my middle finger in the air and flipping the fucker off.
On a snarl, Silas vanished.
My shoulders shuddered with a manic laugh that rumbled in my chest. I dragged a hand through my dusty hair, grinning like a lunatic.
Gods, I never thought I’d ever be so glad to see Sirro.
The Horned God stormed toward us.
I stiffened. Sirro didn’t look good. He was hobbling slightly, his loose clothing torn in several places.
Thick layers of silvery might wrapped around his Familiar like a cocoon, protecting her, I assumed, from whatever he’d faced while he’d been gone from our sides.
His forearms were slick with black blood, as if he’d fought his way here with his bare hands.
Sirro kept up his furious march. He didn’t speak to any of us as we parted hastily to let him through our shattered ranks. Dark power swirled around him like a ferocious storm, and his eyes glowed fiercely, a crazed gleam burning in their golden depths.
His might whiplashed outward and punched Yezekael right in the chest, ripping him from Jiao’s grip and sending him tumbling across the ground. Yezekael cried out in pain as he skidded to an ungainly halt. “I yield, Sirro!”
But Sirro’s anger didn’t diminish. His lips peeled back in a vicious snarl.
Silver threads snapped around Yezekael’s chest, lifting him onto his claw-toed feet and dragging him to Sirro.
“You tell me everything now! Who sold you the information?!” A nasty cut split his cheek, bruises blooming beneath the skin.
I shoved through soldiers and hunters, coming to a breathless stop near Yezekael. Mela drew even closer. I stared at the lesser creature, desperate for what he was about to reveal.
Sirro’s jaw was locked so tight I thought it might crack. He looked wild, unhinged, as if he’d lost his fucking mind. “WHO SOLD YOU THE INFORMATION?!”
Yezekael cowered, hands raised as if he could ward off Sirro’s wrath. “She sought me out in the Hemmlok Forest.”
The words meant nothing to me—but everything to Sirro. Astonishment flickered across the Horned God’s face, his eyes glassing over as his mind spiraled inward.
And then Nelle hit me.
She hit me hard.
A cyclone of emotion exploded. The intensity roaring through me like a waterfall crashing into a deep pool. The world darkened to an abyss of emptiness, vast and black and endless, and for a brief moment, I was blind.
All I could do was feel.
Her terror screamed inside my skull, hollowing out my mind, knifing down my spine. I couldn’t feel anything of me, nothing remained. Not my essence, not a single part of my body.
Only Nelle.
Fierce pride and callous arrogance. Furious rage and bleak sorrow. Bone-crushing terror.
It all blended and rushed beneath my skin.
She needs me! Now!
Fright strangled my thoughts. It was an icy hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing so hard until I couldn’t breathe. The ground swayed beneath me, no longer solid. As if I were falling and gasping for breath. Dying.
No, no, no… fuck no!
Fiery need blazed through my veins. I needed to get to her. I needed to find whoever dared to harm her and end them brutally. A low growl ripped from my throat, an animalistic roar rattling inside my head.
I spun in the direction where I felt Nelle calling, taking a step forward.
Behind me, Mela spoke. “Gray?”
A whizzing rush of air skimmed my armor.
A startled inhale.
A THUD.
A shocked grunt.
The sound of a body crumpling and hitting the ground.
A second one.
But my mind was fixed on Nelle.
It was the ear-shattering scream of outrage exploding through the cavern that finally tore me back to the present.
The bond between Nelle and me tugged, pulling at me to find her… save her…
But the furious scream cleaving through the smoke-lit dark forced me to twist back around.
Sirro’s eyes bulged, cheeks blotched red with rage as he heaved for breath. Both fists shook furiously at his sides. His exposed skin rippled as if something inside him strained to break free. He stared down at his feet, his gaze locked on a crumpled creature.
Yezekael.
A bolt jutted from his chest. Feathers had blown free and fluttered in the air around his corpse. His eyes were glazed and unfocused in death.
Despair fell through me.
I was never going to find out who sold my mother’s secret.
Where the bolt struck him, right in the heart, the wound was a grotesque mess of blackened, putrid flesh
I took an unconscious step closer to the creature—and tripped. I flung my arms out to steady myself. And my heart almost gave out altogether when I glanced downward, my mind faltering as I tried to make sense of it.
Mela had collapsed, her hand clamped around her neck, where sickly purple veins spiderwebbed outward. She shook uncontrollably, gasping for breath.
“Mela?”
Froth flecked with blood bubbled at the corners of her mouth. Her body convulsed, spine bowing, teeth clamping shut.
Yezekael had been standing directly behind me. When I moved, Mela stepped into the space I’d been standing. I had no doubt that this bolt was intended for me. It grazed her as it shot past and struck Yezekael, both of them simply collateral in the attempt to kill me.
“Gr-Gr-Gray?” Mela rasped, air whistling from her lungs, terror shining in her bloodshot eyes.
My heart stumbled an awful beat as I realized what kind of bolt had been fired.
Oh gods.
A Gestelt bolt stuck out of Yezekael’s chest.