Chapter 43
Huntyr
I’m no stranger to the idea of moving in tactical formations, of maneuvering as a group, organizing players based on their strengths or what you’re trying to protect.
The members of the League of Assassins work alone or in pairs more often than not, but when a group of us worked together, we were often required to move in this kind of strategic way.
I was not, however, used to being the valuable thing locked in the center of the tactical formation.
Derian prowls in front of me while Roland is to my back left and Caldren is to my back right.
All three of the Fae warriors brandish their swords as we walk.
They’d taken up the triangle around me without any orders being given, as if they’d all naturally come to the conclusion that I was the weakest link and therefore needed protection.
I think the uncomfortable feeling swarming in my chest might be that of being offended.
Still, I don’t dare say anything against the formation as we walk. I’m very aware that another word out of me will have Derian turning back into a feral Fae bastard. He’d probably drag me kicking and screaming out of these woods.
I can’t let that happen.
I need to lay my own eyes on whatever killed that man, on whatever monster had left his corpse the exact way my father’s had been left.
Derian insisted it wasn’t a Fae who was responsible, but I would be the judge of that myself.
His magic is stifling in the air around us, humidity bearing down on me and making the leather on my skin feel too tight. The tree cover leaves his clouds out of sight, but I have no doubt they are there.
Also out of sight?
This supposed Velkai.
We’ve been walking for what feels like an hour, and not even an animal scurries by our feet.
“This is starting to feel like a waste of time,” I grumble, moving to sheath my dagger back into the belt on my hips.
Caldren moves so quickly I don’t even notice until his fingers are wrapped around my wrist, stopping me, a clear warning on his face. Don’t.
Then I feel it.
A sudden iciness deep in my chest, unnatural and incredibly wrong.
It’s strange enough to cause my steps to stumble. Derian hears the misstep and glances back at me, just in time to see me rubbing a hand across my chest.
“What is it?” he asks, voice low.
I haven’t the slightest idea how to answer that in a way that doesn’t sound completely crazy. How can I possibly begin to explain a building sensation of doom growing within me with no identifiable cause?
“What luck, sisters.”
I jolt, turning in time with the men to look at the woman now appearing on light feet from behind a massive oak trunk.
She holds onto the tree with one arm, swaying slightly. Her dark dress is worn, ripped around the hem and stained in blood. The dark hair shorn at her shoulders is in sharp contrast to her impossibly pale skin, also flecked with blood.
Biting her lip, she grins at Derian.
“The prince has come into our woods.”
She’s not alone. Sure enough, two other women emerge, practically identical to the first in every way, right down to the unnerving smile.
“The Mother will be so pleased,” the one on the left says.
Derian stiffens. It’s so subtle it’s almost imperceptible. I notice, though.
I watch his hands flex on the sword in his hands. The tree cover above us is going to significantly limit his power. Lightning risks setting the whole woods on fire, and a tornado could very well kill us all.
It’s not that I doubt his skill with that blade. I’d just feel somewhat better if he could end all of this with three expertly aimed electric strikes.
“What a surprise it is to see you beasts all back together again,” Derian says, his voice carrying that razor-sharp edge it had when he killed those warriors who had taken me from my bed.
The woman to the left steps forward with a wild grin. “Yes, we’re all together again, prince. We prepare for the Mother.”
“The Mother is dead,” he growls.
The woman in the middle waggles her fingers. “No, no, no. She waits. She waits for an offering strong enough to wake her.”
“She’ll be happy to know we have brought you for her,” sing-songs the one on the right.
They’re all speaking so fast, their voices so high-pitched and identical that it’s nearly impossible to distinguish who’s speaking, let alone understand what they’re saying.
Subtly, Roland steps closer to me as Caldren steps aside. I receive the message clearly. When the fighting breaks out, stay with Roland.
The women are stepping forward, all in time, all in the same slow, jerking motions, all staring at Derian as they do.
Until…
The one on the left pauses, inhales deeply, and looks sharply towards me.
“What have you brought us?”
I swallow the sudden fear that lurches through me as all three women suddenly level their attention exclusively on me.
“Who’s your pet?”
“What’s her name?”
“What can she do?”
“Can we play with her?”
“The Mother would like her, too.”
“We shall take you both.”
They’re rotating sentences between them, talking so quickly each word flows effortlessly into the next, as if it all comes from a single mind instead of three.
Those three women are all I can see. The woods are dark behind them, shadows covering every inch of the ground beneath their feet.
“You’re not touching her,” Derian growls.
They seem oblivious to him, though; their eyes are all bearing down on me as the three simultaneously tilt their heads at an odd angle.
“Don’t you want to come with us?” the woman in the center asks me.
“Yes, help us kill them,” croons the one to her left.
“The Mother will be grateful to you,” finishes the one to the right.
I don’t know what I did to deserve the undivided attention of these three monsters, but I’m seriously regretting telling Kaia to stay with Ulna and Taric.
“I can come,” she insists in my head.
“You won’t get here in time.”
She won’t, that much is clear, as the one in the center takes her final few steps forward. Derian’s blade is lifted, its point now pressed into the hollow of her throat. Without moving, her eyes flash down at it.
And she laughs.
They all laugh, the sounds blending together into an eerie screech.
She lifts her hands and darkness…
I gawk as darkness rises from her fingertips.
Inky shadows fly from her fingers and wrap around the blade of Derian’s sword, tugging it aside as if it weighs nothing, as if the Fae who holds it has no strength.
I barely have time to blink before the other two have disappeared into misty darkness. There one second, then gone the next. Only to suddenly reappear. One directly in front of Roland. The other in front of Caldren. Both still focused entirely on me.
Time suddenly speeds up.
Roland snakes a hand behind his back, grasping onto my waist and planting me directly behind him as vines burst from the ground, wrap around the woman in front of Caldren, and pull her dramatically away from our group. A blast of wind does the same to the woman in front of Derian.
They’re drawing them away from me.
Based on the way the women look at me as they rise, they realize that, and they’re not happy about it.
The fighting breaks out in full force, Derian, Roland, and Caldren all fighting against the women who are able to easily change their bodies into nothing but mist.
They evade every slash of metal, their laughter echoing as their bodies come in and out of existence.
Eventually, those shadows around them rise, forming solid blades that they wield effortlessly.
To their credit, the men around me all seem to expect their impossible movements. They wield their magic and steel in time, clearly anticipating where they will blink into existence.
And through it all, I’m standing in the middle, staring, struggling to track what’s happening.
Caldren hisses to my right as the shadow blade of his attacker slices through the leather cuff of his bicep. She dances around his side, sprinting towards me, and I lift my dagger to meet her blade, driving my second up towards her gut.
She mists into shadow before my blade can strike home, appearing at my side.
“Why do you fight us?” she asks softly, as Cal’s vines wrap around her waist and rip her back towards him.
“Huntress!” I hear Derian yell. “Now’s a good time to run.”
The woman fighting Roland lurches past him towards me just as Derian gives his command, and she grasps onto my wrist with an iron clasp.
The pain is immediate, worse than anything I felt in that damned arena. It’s like my very soul is being sucked forcefully out of my body. My knees buckle and I fall heavily, crashing onto the ground and biting down on my lip to stop from screaming and distracting the others.
I can’t stop the whimper though.
“You’re very strange,” the woman muses, tilting her head at me again.
Roland slashes his sword across her back, pulling her attention from me as she turns wildly towards him.
“Don’t let them touch you!” he cries, meeting her shadow blade with his steel.
They’re evenly matched. He’s stronger, but she’s faster. He’s calculated, but she’s violent.
He pivots, drawing her in front of him and putting me behind his back once again. Still, she’s only focused on me. Desperate to get to me. They all are.
“Huntyr, run! Now.”
Derian’s voice is full of desperation, and it’s not that I’m purposefully avoiding his command.
I just can't move.
I’m still on my knees on the ground, my body locked up and tense—entirely frozen—even as I will myself to stand. I’m suddenly too hot, a panting, sweating mess as heat rolls over me in steady waves.
I know I need to stand. I either need to flee as Derian instructed, or I need to fight. To help these three men, who are so clearly evenly matched with whatever these women are. Either way, I need to stand, but I can’t.
I’m stuck because something is slowly building inside of me, rising to a suffocating crescendo, and I’m entirely helpless against it. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
“Huntyr!” Kaia’s voice sounds far away.
The fight sounds far away.