CHAPTER 22 TYCHO
TYCHO
Wind blasts through the woods behind us, an icy kiss on the back of my neck as we gallop north. A piercing shriek splits the night air, and Mercy spooks a little underneath me, skittering sideways on the trail, colliding with Jax’s horse and nearly unseating us both.
I swear and check the reins, straightening her out. Her ears flatten back, and her tail lashes, showing her agitation, but she obeys.
“Are you all right?” I call to him.
“Yeah,” Jax calls back, but his fingers are wound into his horse’s mane, gripping for dear life. Luckily Teddy is older, and so steady that a scraver could probably land directly on his back and he wouldn’t break pace.
Another shriek splits the air overhead, and behind me, Sephran swears— or maybe it’s Leo. I can barely hear over the sound of the scraver and Mercy’s hoofbeats.
Wind rushes through the woods like a hurricane, causing branches to crack and fall.
Mercy spooks again, but this time I’ve got a tighter grip on the reins and she can’t go far.
Jax glances over, his eyes full of determination, his hair streaming out behind him.
His fear is evident, though: his jaw is clenched, and his knuckles have turned white.
“Don’t let up!” Malin calls from somewhere behind us. “They aren’t far behind!”
My heart skips, and Mercy jerks against my hold as if she understands him. “Steady,” I murmur to her, but I’m not just talking to the horse. I’m talking to Jax, too. Hell, I’m talking to myself.
Because we might be able to outrun whoever is behind us, but we can’t outrun a flying scraver.
I don’t even know if there are more than one.
Right now, our only advantage is the dense tree cover, but that won’t last forever, and it’s as hazardous as it is protective.
One wrong step and we could slam right into a tree.
A voice speaks to my mind. — I can follow you, magesmith.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
— Your horses can’t run forever, he adds.
No kidding.
“He’s right,” Sephran calls from behind us. “What’s the plan?”
I have no idea, but I do know I’m not going to shout it into the air. “He’ll hear anything you say,” I call over my shoulder. At some point I’m going to have to reckon with everything that just happened between Sephran and Malin, but this is not that point. “So shut up.”
Mostly because I need to think.
A snap and whistle sounds from behind me, followed by a crack of wood. A second later, it happens again.
“Silver hell!” Leo snaps. “Was that a crossbow?”
It happens a third time, and one of them cries out behind me.
If we stop, we’re dead. “Who’s hit?” I shout.
“Clipped me,” Sephran calls back.
Good, I think. “Stay low!” I snap. “They can’t see in the dark.”
The scraver’s voice comes from above. — I can.
I grit my teeth and fight for a plan— but I’ve got nothing.
Jax glances over again. “We’re going to run out of woods,” he says.
He’s already breathing hard from the exertion— another reminder that he’s not a soldier.
He might have been training with them in his free time, but that doesn’t mean he was ready for days of riding without a break.
It doesn’t mean he was ready for us to run for our lives.
I wish I knew how many were following us, and how many guards and soldiers are among them— though it might not matter. Violence has long been glorified on the other side of the mountain. Even the wealthiest noble knows how to fight.
As if we could fight off a crowd of that size either way. There are only five of us, and there were dozens of them.
Then Jax looks over again. “Magic?” he calls.
I don’t know what he means, but then he flicks his eyes skyward before glancing back at me. “He already knows you used it.”
Meaning I could use it again.
Aside from the one time Alek tried to kill me, I’ve never used magic in battle.
I know Grey can repel an enemy when fighting one- on- one, and he once made an entire courtyard full of people collapse at once.
I don’t know how much power or focus it would take to accomplish either option— and I’ve never tried.
But I do know how to start a fire.
“Hold the line,” I call to Jax. “Straight out— don’t stop.”
Then I don’t wait for a response. I simply sit deep in the saddle, brace with my heels, and cue Mercy to whirl.
We’re galloping hard, but we run drills often, and she drops her haunches to slow, skidding in the dirt.
Behind me, Malin and Sephran shout and swear as they veer to avoid us, but I can’t worry about them now.
We’ve got too many people behind us and a scraver overhead.
Before Mercy even comes to a stop, I’m swinging down from the saddle, grabbing hold of her breastplate, and landing in a run to absorb the impact.
As soon as I’m on the ground, Mercy prances in a tight circle around me, clearly done with these maneuvers.
Fifty yards back, horses are crashing through the woods, and I know I only have seconds.
Sparks and stars are already flaring in my vision.
I’m so used to tamping them down, rejecting any hint of magic to keep it all hidden.
This time, I let it flare like a bonfire. The magic surges in my blood, light filling my eyes until it’s nearly impossible to see.
Calling a flame was one of the first skills Grey ever taught me. The intent was for basic survival— a fire can keep you warm and cook a meal.
But fire can also repel an enemy. It worked on Alek once, and I feel rather certain it’ll work on everyone following us.
I drop to touch the dried underbrush around my feet and let the magic surge. Fire bursts around my feet, and Mercy blows hard through her nostrils, jerking back to the end of the reins.
“Steady,” I say, more confident now, touching another spot and pouring more magic into the ground, this time willing it out, in a line through the trees.
For an instant, I don’t think it’ll be enough. My heartbeat keeps pounding, and I feel like I can’t catch my breath. Magic always seems reluctant when I need it most, and I try to force myself to relax.
— Found you, the scraver says, just as he sounds an earsplitting screech that makes every hair on my skin stand up. I’m not going to be fast enough.
A man shouts from the other side of the flames. “He’s there! The magesmith!”
Silver hell. I think of Jax and the others. If this doesn’t work, they’re dead.
I close my eyes and try to shake off the panic.
But then the magic finally gives, sudden flames bursting off the ground, surging high and wide, a wall of flame jetting off in two directions.
Mercy spooks again, dragging me back. I dig in my heels and gasp, trying to hold fast, but the rein snaps, and her bridle gives.
Her hooves dig into the turf as she bolts away, and I can feel my magic lurch as she leaves me.
Flames surround me, filling the air with smoke that instantly obscures the stars and makes it hard to breathe.
Now it’s more than just a wall. From the other side of the flames, men and women shout.
Horses scream and whinny as they encounter the fire, and I cringe— then cough, as smoke fills my lungs.
The fire is suddenly everywhere, as if the entire forest is on fire.
The heat is intense, and sweat drips into my eyes. I blink and I’m surrounded.
I turn and run, though it’s like the fire wants to follow. Flames lick around my boots, rushing through the underbrush as I sprint through the smoke- filled woods. My lungs are screaming now, and I’ve somehow lost the path.
And I’m alone.
Oh, Mercy. I need you.
But at the same time, I’m glad I sent the others to safety. I’m glad my mare ran. They’re safe.
And the human Truthbringers are panicked, though some are finding a way around the flames. Hopefully I’ve created enough of a distraction that my soldiers can gain distance to get to safety.
Fire grabs for my boots, for my trousers. I can’t remember the last time I could draw a good breath. I’m disoriented, and I’m suddenly worried I’ve turned around, that I’m heading back into the flames.
Without warning, a cold wind swoops between the trees, making the flames flicker and spread farther. The scraver shrieks overhead, and then his voice comes right to my ears.
— I’m not afraid of your fire, little magesmith.
Another blast of wind blows the smoke back and away from me, bringing immediate relief— until I realize that the scraver is swooping down through the trees, claws and fangs bared.
My eyes are still burning, and I can barely see, but his wings are wide and such a rich red they’d match the color of the flames.
My right hand finds my sword automatically, my left hand drawing a dagger without thought— though I’m not going to be fast enough.
At least I can try to take him out before he rips me apart.
I swing my blades up and brace for impact.
But then his body jerks midair, and the resulting screech isn’t one of warning, it’s pain and rage. His flight cuts short, and he crashes into the smoldering underbrush fifteen feet away.
Swip. Swip.
I hear the arrows before I see the archer. The scraver screams again. Somewhere behind me, men are shouting, finding a way around the flames that are surging in the absence of the scraver’s magic. Smoke fills the air again, and I cough.
“Tycho!”
Jax’s voice. I whip around, but I can barely see him through the haze. I can’t tell if my eyes are blurry from the fires or if I’ve inhaled so much smoke that everything is dizzy.
Then something hits my left shoulder, hard.
It feels like a punch, with a burn like acid.
I stumble to my knees, and my dagger goes skipping into the fiery underbrush.
I’m so dazed by the smoke and the pain that my head cracks into a tree.
I fight for equilibrium, trying to whirl, to face this new assailant.
But there’s no one.
The crossbows. I’ve been hit.