14
Keltania
Gensted’s offer left no room for interpretation. Get some rest, then get the hell out.
We’re shown to a vacant hut and given several threadbare blankets, as well as a few pieces of mealy fruit. By midnight, the camp is quiet save for the echoing song of crickets in the distance.
“I don’t see how we can prove honorable intentions—especially in less than twenty-four hours.” Valen picks at the corner of his tunic. When he looks up and our gazes meet, there’s frustration in his eyes. I know just how he feels.
“You can’t.” Daroose chomps on something small and black. I swear it has a fucking tail. “Fae aren’t honorable—for the most part. There are exceptions, of course. That pretty one in the kitchen…you know the one that saves me extra tarts?”
Valen leans back against the wall, glaring at him. Several pieces of straw and mud break from the ceiling and fall to the dirt floor. “It’s not like we have spare time to hang around to figure it out, anyway.”
“There’s something else you’re not considering.” Daroose licks his fingers, making a slurping sound that turns my stomach. “Autumn Court magic is fire.”
“So?” Valen asks.
The note. “The time has come for the Omen of Ice to embrace its fire. You don’t think—”
Daroose shrugs. He reaches around, grabs another critter as it scurries across the floor, and takes a bite. “No way to know for sure.”
“It could mean a hundred different things,” Valen says with a sigh. “It could also just be a random thing meant to throw us off her real trail, like Celpin said.”
It means something. I know it does. We just need to figure out what. “So, suggestions?”
“I’m at a loss.” Valen leans back and folds his arms. “The idea that the courts wouldn’t want their magic back never entered my mind.”
“Well, it’s not like—”
A shrill sound—like someone screaming—splits the night. The noise is bone-chilling, and the terror it conveys nearly steals the air from my lungs. Valen and I are on our feet in an instant.
Daroose freezes mid-chew, a long, thin tail hanging from between his lips. “What the hell was that?” he mumbles, his mouth still full.
Valen frowns, then pokes his head from the hut. His body stiffens as he draws back inside. “We might have a small problem.”
I race to the door and peer into the night. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, a cluster of figures comes into view. Tall and skeletally thin, their movements are erratic and violent as they tear through the camp, dragging Fae from their huts.
“Depleted,” I say. “Hurry. We have to help them.”
Daroose spits out the small, half-eaten creature. “Why is it you lot won’t allow me to enjoy one single meal?”
“How did the depleted even get in?” Valen asks.
“We’ll figure it out later.” Gensted’s setup is good, but I doubt it’s impenetrable. Still, it doesn’t matter. “Let’s go!”
We burst from the hut as the nearest monster rips a small child from their mother. She wails and tries to give chase, but the depleted knocks her away as though she’s featherlight. It starts to lumber off with the kid, but Valen springs into action, slipping into his wolf and charging after it.
Daroose shifts as well, into his natural form—a beautiful black stallion with a flowing purple mane—and an otherworldly whinny fills the air. He stomps a massive hoof and barrels off. At first, I assume he’s running away, but he stops and pivots, charging through a throng of depleted cornering a small group of Fae.
Behind me, someone screams. The sound of sheer terror is like a blade to my gut, and when I find the culprit it’s already too late. A young Fae man is torn in half by two depleted as I stand, watching.
“Bastards!” I charge.
In our haste to leave the hut, I left my sword behind—but that doesn’t mean I’m without a blade. As I close the distance, I yank the dagger hidden in my belt and raise it into the air. Leaping at the first depleted, I grip the handle tight and drag it down the thing’s torso as I land, slicing it from neck to navel. It gurgles and twitches, then falls still at my feet.
The other roars and lurches toward me. I leave the blade where it is—poking obscenely from the first one’s stomach—and grab the newcomer by the head. Using the posts from the nearest hut as leverage, I kick up and twist, breaking its neck with a satisfying crack .
“Help me!” someone screams.
I pull my blade from the depleted and start toward an old Fae woman. An unusually large depleted is herding her away from the crowd.
I rush forward, determined to save her—but someone beats me to it.
Gensted emerges from the shadows, a hulking force of destruction and vengeance. He tears the depleted’s head clean off, then ushers the old woman to a nearby crowd.
When he turns, there’s something feral in his eyes. A living spark that’s violent and raw. Part of me feels it to my very core.
He shouts something, but it’s impossible to make out above the chaos. He’s breathing heavy, legs still spread and ready for a fight. There are smears of blood across his face, and his leathers are torn and burned.
Another bunch of the monsters emerges from the trees behind him. He whirls and lifts his weapon.
I race toward him, grabbing a discarded sword on the way. Armed with my dagger and the new blade, I charge forward.
There are Fae running everywhere. Screams fill the night, accompanied by the eerie howl of the depleted. Gensted is holding his own, but it’s clear he’s losing ground. Several more depleted have joined the fray, and he struggles to hold them back.
“Move!” he shouts to a family cowering behind him. They scatter, rushing off into the nearest hut.
I reach him, slamming myself into the nearest depleted. It stumbles off balance and roars, and I swing. Slice. It collapses, headless, to the ground.
“Very nice,” Gensted says, swinging his own blade. Another head rolls, and he laughs. “Quite impressive for a human.”
“Please,” I say, positioning myself at his back as the rest of the creatures surround us. To my left, Valen is taking down a smaller depleted as a group of Fae children flees. “I’m better than most Fae warriors.”
“Yes, well maybe you—” He grunts and jerks back. The action sends me sprawling forward, but I manage to maintain my balance. “Maybe you should do a little less bragging and a bit more proving.”
One of the creatures rushes me. “Gensted!” I shout, then drop to the ground. He twists and swings, cutting the thing in half at the waist. I jump up and lunge for one of the others. It makes a swipe for the Autumn Lord’s arm, but I bring my sword down, severing its hand. It howls and bares its teeth. A second later, it collapses, sliced in half by Gensted’s blade.
To our right, a group of four charges us. Gensted growls and holds out his hand. I take it, and he spins hard, propelling me outward. I tighten my grip on the borrowed weapon.
This…this is what I was trained for. The fight. Protecting those who need me.
With a firm grip, I slice through bodies as I move, cutting down at least four of the creatures. When I land, Gensted nods and rushes to the right to help an older man out from beneath a fallen hut.
Daroose whinnies. He barrels toward me, mowing down several enemies along the way. “You are perfection as always.” His otherworldly voice echoes telepathically inside my head. “Do be careful, though.” He flicks his tail, rears with an eerie nicker, and charges back into the fray.
Valen races past me, charging after a depleted dragging off an older Fae. He leaps, tearing into the thing’s neck. The Fae thanks him before running off, and Valen rounds to find his next victim.
Across the square, Gensted leans against the side of a dilapidated hut to catch his breath. Behind him, another depleted skulks from the shadows. Gensted’s too far away. There’s too much noise.
The scream rises and dies in my throat as I throw myself forward. I drop to the ground and slide in the dirt, slipping between his legs. I manage to get myself upright, between him and the monster, as it goes in for the killing blow…