Chapter 46
Wielders—both alive and resurrected—crash together in an epic battle of bloodshed and desperation.
The sound of metal clangs into the air, and sparks fly, like thousands of bolts of lightning striking the ground.
I stay close to Silas, wielding my magic and axes as if they were an extension of me.
The exhaustion I once felt has vanished, and I tear down every creature that steps in my path, but they keep coming.
I glance over my shoulder to see Oak and Larkin remaining close.
One always has the other’s back, fighting like trained warriors.
The warriors of Andorwood swarm the pier, attempting to push any creatures into the choppy sea below.
Screams echo into the night sky, and I lose myself in rage.
My darkness swells, and I can feel magic leaking from everyone around me—as if the masses are drunk on power and fury—seeping into the air like a dense fog that clouds over the moon.
I feel like I’m moving in slow motion as I turn and swirl my axes around me. I continue to move, never stopping, as I’ve been instructed. I don’t dare look at the faces of the once-living Wielders I strike down.
From the beginning, there’s been a fear that I may recognize one of the resurrected Wielders, and I know that would cause everything in my system to beg me to stop—to try to save them, knowing they can’t be saved.
I take a break from my axes, sending a surge of power forward that knocks three to the ground in a tangled mess.
Oak takes the opportunity to drive his jeweled sword into the necks of the fallen.
As many as we kill, more continue to pour off the ship, like a disease spreading across the land. The creatures push with all their power to get past us on the pier, and with every passing second, our line of Wielders weakens.
Rotting teeth snap in my face as I’m pushed backward toward the cobblestone street. A few creatures race past me on all fours, disappearing into the alleyways of the kingdom.
“They are too strong,” I shout toward Silas.
“Has anyone seen Cyrus?” Larkin shouts over the chaos.
Silas spins, taking down one of the creatures, narrowly missing its long claw.
“No, no one’s seen him,” he responds, and continues to slash through the grey, rotting creatures that cover the land.
“Fucking coward,” Larkin shouts as he sends a blast of light into the chest of a creature.
Silas and Oak’s faces now look similar to mine—coated in blood and sweat—but they continue to fight, exhaustion not an option.
Silas slices a creature in two and turns to sprint in my direction, never allowing too much distance to separate us.
He quickly fills the gap, assisting me in taking down anything that steps in our path.
Oak and Larkin continue to fight alongside the Andorwood civilians.
The ground is scattered with bodies, and I blink past the horrors that fill my eyes.
Images of creatures, Wielders, and resurrected Wielders burn once more into my mind, and I fight back the urge to spill my stomach.
A loud scream pulls my gaze, and I see creatures begin to climb over the heads of Wielders, their swords no match for the deadly things recently released from the depths of the ship.
“Tighten up,” Silas commands.
The people of Andorwood come together in a human wall, attempting to keep the creatures from passing and disappearing into the alleyways.
“We need to go into the city and fight the ones that have made it past; we can’t let them overrun the streets,” Silas yells to Larkin and Oak. “Dozens have gone by already.”
They nod, signaling for someone to cover their spots quickly, and race toward us.
We unite as a front and dash down the cobblestone streets, deeper into the heart of the kingdom. Screams echo through each alleyway, and as I round each corner, I flinch in anticipation of what lurks in the darkness.
Claws scrape against the stones, and I hear feet shuffling in every direction. The narrow passages grow disorienting as I continue to follow closely behind Silas, Oak, and Larkin, bringing up the rear.
“They are looking for Fen,” I shout ahead, and Silas turns left into a thin pocket of shadows, allowing us to rest for a moment.
We huddle close, each of us gasping for air, and Oak rests his hand on his knees momentarily. My lungs burn as they expand, desperate for a deep breath in this thick, musty air.
“I haven’t seen Warrick,” I say.
“He took Fen to the house,” Silas breathes.
“So, she’s safe?” Oak asks.
The color drains from my face when the thought hits me. I turn to Silas, and his brows narrow.
“What?” Silas snaps. “What is that face for?”
“Carobon will feel her pull. She may not be able to resist Rohhit since he’s this close.” I gasp for breath before continuing. “She may not be strong enough to control the pull, yet.”
“Fuck,” Silas shouts, and drives his fist into a nearby stone wall.
The rock shatters under his hand as if it were made of glass, and the heavy rubble falls to the ground in a dusty mess. Silas stills and looks at his hand, the rage taking over his body completely.
He swings his other fist, crumbling the wall further.
“Nastronde,” Oak says, stepping back. “How the fuck did you do that?”
“Is your hand alright?” I reach for him, and he pulls his hand back.
“He’s going to go to the house,” Silas says, stumbling away from the crushed stone.
“You’re right. She won’t be able to resist him, Briar.
She will go to Rohhit.” His eyes fill with rage and tears, but shine the brightest green I’ve ever seen.
“I know that feeling, the pull. She won’t be able to stay hidden. She will go willingly.”
My legs quake, and I hold onto the nearby wall. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my temples.
“We have to go,” Silas says.
“What about the creatures? We’ll lead them directly there,” I demand.
“They all have one common goal, and it’s to find the book and Fen,” he says. “They will eventually go to the house, anyway.”
“Alright,” I agree, apprehensively.
“Stay close,” Silas orders.
He peers around the corner of the alleyway where we stand and motions for us to move forward.
He takes off in a sprint, and we follow behind him, our footsteps pounding on the stone streets.
The kingdom is still intact, but many buildings are damaged, with either their windows blown out, their doors ripped off the hinges, or both.
From what I can tell, the creatures received orders to ransack every shop in search of the book and Fenmore.
My legs sting from the continuous movement, but we don’t slow down. Silas leads the pack, followed by Oak, then me, and finally Larkin. From behind, Larkin continues to speak to me, urging me to keep moving, keep my head up, and not to worry about the alleyways.
I do my best to listen, but the urge to scan the fallen Wielders and creatures for anyone familiar tugs at me.
We leap over bodies, blood kicking up behind us as we move faster than we ever have toward Silas’s house.
I burrow deeper into my magic and sense a slight simmer of darkness mixing with the remaining light.
Still, the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion makes shifting nearly impossible, and I can only imagine the others feel the same.
Each step brings us closer to the edge of the kingdom, allowing us to head toward the house.
Nerves twist in my gut at the thought of the open space that awaits us, the narrow alleyways no longer able to conceal us.
We will be fully exposed to the elements, and I pray that we can muster up some magic by then to make the final distance.
In the area surrounding us, I hear footsteps followed by the sound of claws scraping against the stone ground.
I stay close behind Oak and Silas, catching their glances occasionally to ensure Larkin and I are still with them.
I glance over my shoulder and see that Larkin has fallen back a bit, but he wields a new sword that he grabbed from a fallen Wielder.
The beautiful piece of metal is gripped tightly in his left hand—the hilt black and decorated with bright auburn jewels—the handle molding perfectly to his large hand.
I roll my eyes and push forward.
He’ll catch up.
As we near the last few alleyways, Silas continues forward, like a black streak of lightning leading the pack.
I can’t help but glance down the narrow passageway ahead, and my entire body tingles with fear.
At least six creatures—taller than small trees—stand hunched over something in the darkness—a young female Wielder with dark black hair, fallen and motionless on the ground.
The creatures snap their heads up at the sound of our approach, and I hear Silas curse from ahead.
“Don’t stop,” Silas shouts.
Their terrifying growls echo as they prepare to chase us by widening their long stances.
Fear propels me forward, and we clear the passage, our feet sounding like an army of horses barreling down the street.
I glance back over my shoulder and see that Larkin is further behind, not yet past the passage.
Terror causes my body to freeze as one of the creatures peers its long neck around the corner to spot Larkin, the lone Wielder, rushing in their direction.
My feet dig into the stone as my body comes to a complete stop.
I immediately clutch my axe tighter and try motioning to Larkin without too much attention being drawn to us.
It doesn’t take long for Silas and Oak to realize something has happened and come to a stop ahead.
Larkin races forward, unaware of what lurks in the upcoming passage.
I lift my axe in the air and wave it in his direction.
His eyes hit mine, understanding dawning that something that requires his full attention is coming up.