Chapter Twenty-Five #2
When Hauth saw his brother, the green in his eyes was eclipsed by red. His neck bulged, his uninjured hand locked in a fist. “What—”
Elm sucked his teeth. “Too far, brother. Even for you, this is too far.”
The Physicians cowered, offering Elm a wide berth. I pushed through the tightly knit crowd, the Nightmare spurring my steps. I kept my eyes on the boy, who still stood at the tip of Orithe’s brutal claw.
Red versus red, the Princes faced off in front of their kingdom.
Elm stood a head above his brother, lean and sly, his unruffled demeanor stark in contrast to Hauth’s, who burned with anger enough for the both of them.
“It is within my right to sentence criminals,” Hauth barked. “Withdraw your Scythe. Now. ”
Elm shot his brother a smile. A challenge. “I don’t think I will.”
Linden stood at Hauth’s shoulder, hand on his hilt. He lunged for Elm. But before he could land a blow, Elm’s green eyes shot to him, focus honed. He held out a hand between himself and Linden, fingers splayed, muttering words I could not hear.
Linden stopped midstep, then, with a bloodcurdling shriek, fell to the ground at Elm’s feet. Elm looked down at him, lips curling, a drop of blood slipping from his nostrils.
The Scythe was taking its toll on him.
The Nightmare laughed, pitiless. Be wary the red, be wary the blade. Be wary the pain, for a price will be paid. Command what you can, death waits for no man. Be wary the pain, for a price will be paid.
Hauth glared down at Linden, then back at the prisoners. They were still frozen, mere paces from the mist. I slunk closer to the Physicians—the boy. I had no plan, only the beat of blood in my ears as the Nightmare’s clicking claws drove me forward.
Hauth opened his mouth, his entire body cued for violence. But before he could speak, a ripple moved through the crowd, the flurry of color parted by two figures, both dressed in all black, hands on the hilts of their swords.
Ravyn and Jespyr Yew.
And it was all the distraction Hauth needed. He slammed his elbow into his brother’s face, knocking Elm back a step, shattering his focus.
A cry ripped through the boy’s parents, their feet moving once again, propelling them toward the mist. The boy tugged against the Physicians, a desperate cry escaping his lips.
I put a hand to my mouth, my eyes burning as I watched the boy’s father slip beyond sight, consumed by the blanket of gray, his mother disappearing into the mist a moment after him.
But their voices remained, wordless cries growing more and more frantic as the salt in the air twisted their minds.
Someone was shouting commands—Ravyn. Destriers dropped from their horses, most of them joining Ravyn and Jespyr, a few rallying behind Hauth.
I heard the ring of steel. But I did not turn to face it.
My gaze was on the boy caught between the men in white robes.
I was close now—so close I could see the sweat on his brow, melding with his tears.
I felt an enormous push. The crowd erupted in pandemonium.
No longer commanded to bear witness, men and women ran in every direction, desperate to get away from the Destriers and their infighting.
A woman knocked into me, colliding with my broken wrist. I saw stars, the pain white-hot.
But my legs kept going. I ran, crying out for the monster I so desperately needed.
Help me!
My veins burned. The Nightmare sprang forward, shrouding my mind in darkness. My steps quickened and my eyes locked on Orithe Willow, who turned as if summoned.
We collided at full tilt. He was larger than me—broader, heavier. But he was not stronger than the Nightmare. His head hit the ground with a thud, his eyes wide, his mouth slack. He swiped at me with his grotesque claw, but the steel fingers did not find me—I was already slipping away.
A hand pulled at me from behind—a second Physician.
I sent an elbow into his diaphragm, and he fell onto dead grass with a violent cough, knocking the boy down with him.
The third Physician did not approach, his eyes widened, hands shaking.
He turned on his heel and ran, joining the crowd’s torrid mayhem.
The boy lay at the lip of the road. He tried to get up, but before he could find his feet, metal flashed through the air.
The boy screamed, Orithe Willow’s claw catching the hem of his tunic, holding him in place. I don’t remember leaping forward. Darkness clouded my eyes, and the next moment, I was standing over Orithe, the heel of my shoe sure as it collided with the Physician’s jaw, knocking him back to the ground.
The boy’s tunic ripped free. He stumbled a few steps. When his gaze rose to me, his spine straightened.
“Come with me,” I panted, reaching for him.
The boy’s eyes narrowed, straining to see my face beneath my mask. A moment later his gaze shifted over my shoulder. When I looked back, I saw the third Physician. He’d brought a Destrier with him, his Black Horse a flurry of darkness, his eyes fixed on me.
Linden.
“Fuck,” I said just as the boy took my hand. I did not look back—not for Orithe or Ravyn. There was no time. Before Linden could reach us, the boy and I darted headfirst into the mist.
Heat ripped up and down my arms, the Nightmare’s presence all around me, like a second skin. I took a deep breath and coughed, the salt in the air thick. I dug frantically in my skirt pocket, my fingers snagging on the charm I no longer needed, and doubled our pace.
Linden entered the mist behind us, the dense air contorting the sound of his approach, his steps near and far at once.
We hurried through a meadow, the grass dampening the hem of my dress. When the ground sloped, my feet caught me up, but I did not fall, faster and surer than I had ever been. Behind me the boy was panting, every ounce of his strength summoned to keep my pace.
The salt in the air clung to me, stinging my eyes.
My vision blurred with tears. When I rubbed them away, the world around me disappeared.
The sky was suddenly black, daylight smothered into nothingness.
I was no longer in the meadow between town and the wood, but somewhere else.
Somewhere full of long, flickering shadows, a strange orange light reflected on my golden armor.
I whipped my head around. Flames licked the sky behind me, the walls of an enormous castle engulfed in an inferno. The boy was still behind me, only now he wasn’t alone. More children hurried behind us, their frightened faces illuminated by the flames.
Words formed on my tongue, but I did not speak them.
All I knew was a deep, debilitating fear and an impulse to continue on—to save the children from the fire and the danger that awaited us if we did not flee.
That’s when I noticed it—waiting at the edge of the flames, resting beneath the shadow of an ancient yew tree.
A chamber at the edge of the meadow, its one dark window, black and infinite, beckoning me forward.
“Miss!”
I tripped on the hem of my dress and fell onto the grass.
I coughed, choking on air. When I looked up, the sky was gray once again, hidden beneath the green tops of the wood.
Gone was the chamber—the fire—the smoke in the air.
All that was left was the boy, wide-eyed as he looked down at me. “I can hear them, miss.”
I clawed inside my mind for the Nightmare. But his jaw was sealed, his pointed ears perking, listening. There , he said. Do you hear it?
I did. Shouting—a man and a woman’s voice, deep within the mist. But they were not alone. The tread of heavy footfall sounded from whence we’d come—the clang of metal—the sinister darkness of a Black Horse Providence Card.
He’s close , the Nightmare warned. You cannot outrun him. Not with the boy.
I scurried to my feet, pressing my charm into the boy’s hand. “Take this charm for your parents,” I said. “They’ll have to share it, but it should wake them.”
The boy blinked down at the crow’s foot. “But you won’t have one.”
“I don’t need it,” I said. “The Spirit does not harm people like us.” I checked my mask was secure, Linden’s steps drawing near. “Go,” I said, releasing the boy.
His footfalls sounded like bird wings as he fled through the trees. I did not watch him go. My back was hunched, my ears perked to the sound of the Destrier. The Nightmare’s hiss ran up my spine, stunning me, the world around me blurring.
Linden came out of the mist, his sword aimed directly at my neck.
I dodged him. When I stood straight, my fingers curled, my eyes narrowing.
My legs sprang forward, my steps powerful as I closed the distance between myself and the King’s soldier.
I saw the fear in his eyes—confusion and panic.
But I did not care. I was lost to the magic—the Nightmare’s wrath enveloping me.
I struck him in the jaw, then the ribs. He fell to the ground, his sword reckless as he slashed at me.
But he might as well have been slashing at a ghost. The Nightmare moved like lightning, twisting my body.
My foot collided with the Destrier’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground and knocking his sword free.
I leaned over him, my hand poised like a claw. Salt prickled my nose and my arms burned. For a moment, my mind clouded. I forgot where I was, why I’d come. All I could see was darkness.
Bloodcurdling screams brought me back. Stop! I cried, but it was too late. Linden lay on the ground, his hands held up to his neck, blood oozing through his fingers.
I jerked away, trapped by a bitter rage. My thoughts hammered against the Nightmare’s wrath, confusion and dread leaching into my mind. What did you do? I cried.
The Nightmare did not answer. But he did not have to.
A scream caught in my throat. I tore from the wood, my feet unsteady, the dark shadow of the Destrier’s Black Horse growing smaller and smaller as I pelted through the mist.
I did not see the second Destrier until I’d already crashed into him.
I shouted and pushed against the chest of his black tunic, but he caught me along the arms. He said my name, but I hardly heard him, my mind caught in a riptide, the Nightmare’s presence so strong it stupefied me.
The Destrier pulled me to him. When I looked up, I saw gray eyes behind his mask.
Ravyn Yew’s chest heaved against mine. When he spoke, his voice was ragged. “Elspeth—Elspeth, can you hear me?”
I gasped, my breath coming in rapid, violent swells. Tears fell down my cheeks, the salt in my eyes and the magic in my veins white-hot.
“Breathe,” Ravyn said, reaching for my face. “You’re safe now. Just breathe.”
I blinked, the flames of the Nightmare’s wrath still licking my mind. My voice hitched, my breath shallow and uneven. “The boy—the Destrier—my magic. I… I don’t know what happened.”
Ravyn leaned into me, his forehead resting against mine, his breath on my face. “Your eyes are yellow.”
I snapped my eyelids shut. Please go away , I begged the Nightmare, knowing all too well there was nowhere for him to go. I heard the echo of his laugh, his steps slow—his claws painful—as he stalked through my thoughts into darkness.
I let out a breath, and Ravyn reached for me. But no sooner had his fingers touched mine than the Captain recoiled, his gaze frozen on my hands.
When I looked down, my hands were curled like claws. My fingers, long and pale, were covered in blood.