21. Mare
Mare
Awall of fire set the fields south of Gwynford aflame and rose toward the heavens. Shrieking beasts fell from the sky, wreathed in fire. One thudded into the ground at my elk's feet, grotesque scales twisted by the flame.
My steed reared, bucking me from the saddle. I hit the ground and felt the breath flee my lungs. Coughing on the plumes of smoke, I crawled to my feet.
The horde of monsters pouring in from the gap in the wall charged into the fire. Their burning bodies illuminated the night.
Such was their need to destroy the village, they ignored Reese's barrier entirely. Far too many beasts to count or stop flew past us in tides of shadow.
Into the village. Toward the defenseless people who remained.
Was Ferris' theory right? Had the scáde wrested control of their minds with but a song, directing them to ignore the flames that would otherwise draw their gaze?
The giant black dragon leading the assault shrugged off the flames—they licked his scales, but left no mark. With great, powerful strides, it cleared the walls and stalked across the burning field toward Reese.
Yellow eyes piercing the shadows like beacons, the dragon reared back its head. Every muscle in my body tensed as its jaw opened and snapped down at Reese.
He spun his rapier and thrust it upward as the dragon bit down. Fire erupted in its mouth as a spear of molten lava tore through its maw. Black blood poured from the wound.
Thundering steps dragged my attention away from the Paragon. One of those black-vined creatures was lumbering toward me, vertical mouth opening as it saw me.
I flinched, but it passed me by. A second followed, pausing only long enough to glance in my direction.
Galasvar had not been a fluke. They would not attack me.
A shrill hum rose over the crackling flames and roars. The scáde—that was its song.
It was coming from somewhere just beyond the wall.
If nothing would touch me . . .
I could reach the scáde and kill it.
Adrenaline burst through my lungs. Tightening my grip on Cierthine's hilt, I sprinted toward the hole in the wall.
A pack of shardwolves dashed past me, streaks of icy mist following in their wake. One clipped my side, sending frigid shivers through my body. Stumbling, I slipped between a pair of vined horrors and felt one's thorned appendage slide across my cheek, drawing blood.
Searing light illuminated the darkness. Radiant arrows shot from Reese and rose into the sky, where they elongated into golden blades. Whirling through the sky like birds in flight, they sought out enemies and ran them through.
Two thudded through the maws of the horrors behind me and ripped out the back of their mouths.
I flinched and instinctively raised my hands as blood showered across my back. But the radiant blades avoided me, soaring past my sides to seek a wyvern above my head. The beast spun, trying to escape the swords' path.
Radiant beams clipped its wings. Losing balance, it tumbled from the sky. Throwing myself forward, I landed face down in the mud. I heard—and felt—the wyvern crash behind me.
The great black dragon stumbled back as one of Reese's blades found a chink in its neck scales. It shifted, enormous claws lifting from the muddy wetlands.
Scrambling to my feet, I ducked out of the way as its massive leg landed nearby, gouging the earth and sending tremors through the world.
Amidst the chaos, I found a brief respite. The tide of monsters surging through the wall stopped.
Nothing blocked me from reaching it now.
I sprinted toward the wall and threw myself into the gap.
I landed on chunks of broken stone and scrambled over the rubble.
Into the world of shadow beyond.
Darkness engulfed my vision, turning all to black.
Then, shapes and outlines appeared in the dark—a ground beneath my feet, a sky above.
Water poured from above and plunged into an endless chasm. The faint outlines of jagged rock flanked it.
Another blink, and the haze cleared. I stood in another world.
The waterfall gleamed electric blue and tumbled from a floating island. Jagged rocks hung in the air, frozen and unmoving. A field of swaying flowers covered in a fine powder of snow stretched before me. Each petal shone with silver light.
They drew my attention, guiding my eyes like beacons toward the dragon sitting across the field.
Far smaller than the beast attacking Reese, this dragon had two pairs of shadow-webbed wings. Though it had no eyes, its head snapped in my direction.
The scáde lifted its neck, displaying its warbling throat. Rising from its bed of flowers, it trotted toward me.
This was the same beast that had nuzzled me in Galasvar.
My adrenaline and conviction died as the dragon reached my side and lowered its head to caress me again.
I gasped as its cool scales ran across my neck, my face.
Worse still was the fire that ignited in my gut—like the fond affection I felt when a stray cat rubbed against my legs.
Stepping back, the dragon regarded me. Its throat trembled, singing the war song.
I had not noticed in Galasvar the stunning butterfly patterns painting the underside of its wings.
Why? Why could I walk among them, unharmed?
Welcomed?
A giant bird landed on the floating rocks above and peered down at us. Glassy, frightening eyes crowned the end of a long, pale neck. It spread its black wings, preparing to take off.
Paragon Killian had cut one of those in half with Cierthine. But this one could fly right past Reese, toward the villagers.
Toward Liam.
Rock crumbled from the floating island as the vulture soared north. Snapped from my trance, I drew Cierthine and pointed it toward the scáde.
Would it turn on me if I harmed it?
Noticing the blade, the scáde took a step back.
If I gave it the chance to attack, I was dead. And so was everyone else.
My hands trembled on the hilt. Though it must have known my intent, the scáde did not flee, did not attack.
I took a breath to steady myself for what must be done. But the intake of it pained me.
Lunging forward, I followed the steps I knew by heart. Three quick movements, a spin, then lifting the blade overhead to bring down on the beast's neck.
Magic surged within me and coursed through Cierthine as my catalyst ignited.
But it was not lightning. The violet light Cierthine exuded vanished beneath a layer of impenetrable black.
Shadows roiled around my blade, like living flame, like those cast by dancers in a theatre.
Cierthine slammed down on the scáde's neck, breaking its scales and cutting deep. The shadows flew from the blade to wrap around the wound, tearing it open.
Shrieking, I staggered back.
The scáde screamed in pain, and the song in its throat changed. A haunting wail pierced the night.
Something in the distance answered, with a mournful cry.
The shadows cut through the rest of the scáde's neck, spilling blood onto the ground. It slumped forward, crashing into the grass, lifeless.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a new song began far, in the distance.
It was different from the war song. Quieter. More gentle.
Frenzied movement followed.
The dragon burst through the veil, bloodied wings spreading as it took flight, diving into the shadowlands to escape Reese. A horde of monsters followed.
Fleeing from Gwynford.
They acted as animals should: eyes alive and aware, movement erratic and unordered.
Ferris had been right. These scádes controlled them all: commanding them to attack, and to flee.
Dropping Cierthine, I slumped to my knees. Raising my hands, I stared at my palms.
Where had those shadows come from?
I was Stormborn. Lightning and wind should have answered my call.
No one had ever cast shadows before. No one.
Unless this was the black tide, and I was its harbinger.
Shaking, I looked back at the scáde's corpse. Shadows rose from its severed neck, merging with the sky. Black lines danced across my palms and faded away.
A drake swooped overhead, and shardwolves frantically fled past me, returning to their dark devoured home. Even in retreat, they avoided stepping on me, harming me.
Golden light infected the shadowlands, and I heard someone call my name.
"Mare!"
Reese ran to my side and dropped to his knees before me. Fear tore through my throat and paralyzed my limbs when his golden eyes met mine.
"Are you alright?" He grabbed both sides of my face, checking me for injury.
I couldn't speak. Reese's right hand burned my cheek. The hand he'd refused to show at the inn. The hand that had seared my skin during training.
The light from his eyes, from his rapier . . . They no longer felt comforting.
Reese wore the white of Forlaith. Of the Solhearts. Of those sworn to Solathair, god of the lost sun, who vowed to destroy the shadows and everything within them.
If Reese learned what I'd done . . . What I was . . .
"Mare?" His thumb stroked my cheek, his eyes searched my face.
They both burned.
I managed a slight nod, for I could not find my voice.
"God, that was stupid," Reese said, exasperated. "What were you thinking?"
I stared at him blankly. Unable to move, or think, or speak.
His face changed, softening. Grabbing Cierthine, he placed its hilt into my hand. "Hey, it's okay. You did it." He curled my fingers around the hilt.
Cierthine hummed in my grip, but it did little to comfort me.
Wrapping his arms around me, Reese pulled me into a hug.
Leaning on his shoulder, I stared past him, at the dead scáde. At the beast I'd murdered in cold blood.
With the very shadows it called home.
"What did I tell you?" Reese whispered. "Paragon weapons don't choose wrong."
The words sank a knife into my gut.
"We can't stay here. Hold on," he said. Without waiting for an answer, he swept his other arm under my legs and picked me up.
I clung to his collar, gripping Cierthine in a white-knuckle clutch.
Part of me wanted to drop it, to fling myself from his arms.
This was where I belonged, wasn't it?
With the monsters.
I remained lost in a trance until I saw the bodies lying on the road. Panic jump-started my heart and warmed my limbs. Tearing myself out of Reese's arms, I raced down the muddy road.
"Mare!" Reese called.
Everything else was a blur. I had one name, one person on my mind.
Leaping over a tangle of charred black vines, I searched the bleak scene for my brother.
Two wagons lay in piles of blood and splinters. The rest were gone; only one remained intact. Two of its horses were dead. The other reared and screamed, trying to escape.
Bodies of guards, villagers, and monsters alike lay across the ground or slumped against buildings. The vulture I'd seen peer down at me had been killed.
Its corpse nearly matched the buildings in size.
An emerald dragon caught my eye, its wings feathered like a bird's. It hovered in the air above a steel-haired boy, body crackling with lightning.
Ferris looked up and caught my eye. He knelt beside a body wrapped in a black cloak.
A hint of red stuck out from the dark fabric—Liam's crimson vest.
Tripping over myself, I rushed to his side and dropped beside him.
"He's alive," Ferris said, breathing heavily. "I'm not sure what's wrong."
A warm hand touched my shoulder. "Let me see," Reese urged.
Standing, I let the Paragon kneel beside my brother. He laid a hand on Liam's chest, eyes closing in concentration. Light emanated from his fingertips, bathing Liam in its glow.
That was healing magic. I'd never seen anyone use it before. Only Solhearts could wield it, and I'd heard the talent was exceptionally rare.
Reese retracted his hand. "He's fine. No injuries."
I breathed out, shoulders slumping.
Bláth ran toward us, blonde curls darkened with blood. "Reese!" She called, visibly relieved. "I need you over here."
I looked past her. A young man was slumped against the wagon, blood pouring from a wound on his leg. An older man sat beside him, putting pressure on the gash.
Reese rushed to the wounded man's side. Bláth didn't follow him. She took a few steps back, like she was nervous, or . . . or afraid of the Paragon. Turning away, she approached me.
"Did you kill it?"
I nodded.
Ferris looked up. "So I was right?" His brow furrowed. "This doesn't make any sense. Scádes have never attacked anyone before. They're normally docile."
"Yes, well," I said, finding my voice. "Now they're leading armies against us."
"Are they?" Bláth questioned, arms folded tightly across her chest. "Why did they suddenly decide to attack?"
"You think something else is behind it?" Ferris asked.
"What else?" I said, listless. "The black tide is here."
"The black tide means end times.” Ferris tried to rise, and winced when he put pressure on his bleeding leg. "Where we either bring back Solathair or all perish. I'm not nearly religious enough to be a part of it."
"Neither am I," Liam muttered.
I gasped, grabbing both his shoulders as he sat up. "Are you okay?"
"Mhm.” He nodded wearily. "Are we dead?"
"Not yet," I said, releasing him.
Liam ran a hand across his eyes and opened them. Fog swirled across his irises, concealing their color.
"Liam?" I cupped his cheek and turned his face toward mine.
He stared past me, oblivious. Then, he blinked, and his eyes returned to normal—a gentle pale-green.
Bláth stared down at us, fingers clenched around her arms. Her eyes flicked over Liam’s face, searching.
She’d noticed.
The last thing I needed was a Solheart thinking my brother was some kind of heretic. Leaping to my feet, I stepped between them.
“Should we bury the dead?” I lifted my chin, forcing my voice to steady. “Or should we lead the survivors to safety?”
Bláth's face fell. A young man collapsed in front of a guard's body, sobbing. Little remained of the corpse. He’d been torn in half.
“We should bury the dead,” Bláth decided. “We need time to find mounts that bolted, tend to injuries. And rest.” She took a few steps away, then stopped. “Liam?” She called. “During the battle, you . . . ”
Liam stood, dusting himself off. “Did nothing, I know. My catalyst . . . doesn't work at night.”
“Ah.” Bláth’s golden eyes flicked over him again before she turned away.
Ferris lifted his boot, eyeing the blood-stained leather. “I guess I should get Reese to look at this."
"Yes, you should," I said. "The king will kill me if his son dies of infection on my watch."
Ferris met my gaze, brow furrowed. He opened his mouth twice before finally forming a single word. “Mare?”
“Yes?” I asked stiffly.
“You . . . you look the picture of a Tirnanog Myrmidon. It suits you.” He touched his chest in an Aenir salute, then limped away.
Liam swallowed, eyes flicking to me. My fingernails dug into my arm, biting through my shirt.
This no longer felt like a gathering of allies, standing against the tide.
It felt like a group of foes who did not yet know they should strike.