25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
W hen we reach Lyndhaven, sunset threatens to overtake the skies.
Sparsely settled, the town is dwarfed by Esvelon’s breadth. Small, one-story wooden structures sit far apart with sprawling emerald hills visible in between. There’s a central cobblestone road sprinkled with gaps where stones need replacement, and a small square with a few market stalls. An inn and tavern sit at the corner, the worn grooves in the road where most travelers pass through.
When the tavern door opens, fresh bread and hot stew waft in our direction. Lanterns begin to glow. And though they’re spaced in somewhat even intervals, they’re far enough apart, that as it gets darker, they’ll only provide dim light. Where in Esvelon, the main roads were lined with tightly packed buildings, markets bustling with shopkeepers and shoppers alike, Lyndhaven is a quiet, calm place.
Or so it should be.
There’s nothing here to draw my suspicion, yet something about the air’s unnatural heaviness sets me on edge. I can’t explain how or why, but I know something’s not right.
Something feels wrong.
Unnatural.
“Trust your instincts,” I mutter to myself, remembering Ceren’s words. More than once, my intuition has protected me. Now, more than ever, I must rely on it.
As we approach the center of town, I slide off the back of our horse, and bring my hands to the hilts of my short swords. The others do the same, ready to withdraw their weapons the moment their feet touch the ground.
“Let’s spread out,” I say, in my captain’s tone. How easily I slip back into my former role. So much has happened since I stepped down, that it feels like another lifetime.
“Savell, Ronan,” Asheros commands, effortlessly building upon the foundation I’d started. “Search the west side. Gryska, Kheldryn, take the east.”
“I’ll head north,” I say. “You go south.”
“No,” Asheros says, voice firm. “I’m not leaving you alone. ”
“We need to cover more ground,” I argue, furrowing my brow.
“And we will.” Jaw set, he levels his gaze to mine. “Together.”
A protest forms on my tongue, but I hold back. There’s no use in wasting precious time fighting with him about this, especially when I know he won’t bend.
“Very well,” I surrender. With a wink, I add, “As long as you don’t slow me down.”
Leaning forward, he says, “Are you doubting whether I can keep up with you, Bladesinger?”
I can’t hold back my smirk. “I’m still deciding.”
A hungry haze gleams in Asheros’s eyes, rising to my challenge. “I think you are.”
Savell clears his throat as if to remind us of what we’re here to do.
My demeanor shifts and the amusement falls from my face. To the others, I say, “Be diligent. Leave no stone unturned.”
Kheldryn nods, determination taking hold of her expression. “We will. Don’t worry.”
Taking a breath, I direct my focus to the road ahead. Motioning to Asheros, I creep forward and lower my stance. Angling my head forward, I clear my mind, urging it to be still. Alert.
Ready.
We scan both sides of the street, but there isn’t much to observe. An occasional wagon passing by, or a person walking briskly by us with wary glances. Humans, mostly, notable by their rounded ears.
Whatever’s amiss here, the locals must sense it, too.
There’s a sense of dread lining my stomach, but I can’t place what’s causing it. Continuing farther ahead, we approach the inn and tavern. Laughter spills through the cracks in the building’s stone walls, no doubt the product of liquid courage and hot meals. From what I can see, the tavern’s the busiest place in the entire town, people packed in tightly around worn, wooden tables.
Making for the door, I motion my head toward the building. “In here.”
Close at my heels, Asheros follows.
We don’t know what we’re walking into, or who could be hiding in the tavern in plain sight. If it was anyone else accompanying me, I’d remind them to be on their guard. But with Asheros, there’s no need. He always seems to know what I’m thinking without me having to voice it.
Pushing the door open, I step inside. The warmth of the hearth is first to greet me, followed by the smell of cheap ale. A bard singing a ballad plays a lute in the back corner, adding a pleasant layer to the noise.
A tired-looking woman behind the bar mumbles a “Hello” while rubbing fatigue from her temples. “Can I get you anything?”
Flashing a polite smile, I shake my head. “We’re all right, thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” the woman says. “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
Moving farther into the crowded tavern, unease slithers down my spine, finding its way into my tight abdomen. There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong here, so why is every instinct telling me to leave this place? I’ve never feared tracking a target before. Long ago, under Ceren’s guidance, I’d learned to subdue my fears.
So why won’t they rest?
I scan the tavern’s patrons, most of whom are too busy with their tankards to notice my stare. The ones who do, either look away quickly after meeting my eyes, or suggestively raise their brows. The latter are mostly males. Males desperate for a female’s comfort, if I had to guess.
Holding my gaze, one male rises to his feet to approach me. Then he freezes, swallows, and slowly sits back down.
I glance over my shoulder and catch Asheros’s icy glare. His expression relaxes when he notices me looking at him.
Chuckling softly, I redirect my focus to the sea of people in front of me.
And then I see him .
In the farthest corner from where Asheros and I now stand, is a hooded figure sitting with his back arched over the table. As if wary of being seen, his hands guard his face, and while all the other tables are full, this hooded figure sits alone.
Gesturing two fingers to my left, a silent command, I go right. Carefully, I ease my step with the hopes of not being singled out from the half-drunk crowd until it’s too late. Understanding my wordless signal, Asheros follows my lead, mirroring me on the left side. Parallel to each other, Asheros and I advance, moving in until we block our target on both sides.
The hooded figure’s shoulders tense.
Without turning around or dropping his hood, he knows he’s cornered. My blood thrums in my veins, the thrill of the hunt pounding in my ears.
Surging to his full height, the hooded figure whirls around with incredible speed. He darts between us, but not before I get a glimpse of what I need—those identifiable red eyes. But in the time it takes Asheros and I to react, the male dashes across the tavern and out the door.
The room falls silent all at once, the patrons and staff exchanging intrigued and tired looks, respectively. But the moment is short-lived, and the tavern reverts back to its usual state, as though nothing’s amiss.
Hesitation has never been one of my faults, and it sure as hell isn’t now. Instinct propels me into action, and I’m sprinting out the door without even having to think.
Movement whirrs in the corner of my eye, and like a wolf tracking a scent, I pursue. I push myself to go faster and faster and faster still, my thighs beginning to burn from the physical strain. My surroundings are but a blur, my vision solely trained on my objective .
The hooded figure makes a sharp right turn behind a modest house.
Just seconds behind him, I round the same corner, taking full breaths to fuel my stamina. I pass a sparse wood into a meadow. I have no idea how far we are from the town center, but I don’t dare look back in fear of losing my target.
Glancing over his shoulder, the hooded figure slows his pace. His brows lift, as if he’s surprised that I’m still tailing him. The almost panicked look in those red eyes sends another wave of adrenaline coursing through me.
I’m so close, now.
Almost within range.
He whirls around and waves his hands. Wings materialize at his back.
“Gods-damn it,” I curse, frustration potent in each syllable. Though I’m more than twenty paces away and I likely won’t reach him in time, I surge forward, freeing my blades from their sheaths.
Hovering some distance above the ground, the red-eyed male flaps his black-feathered wings.
When I approach, I slash the air above me, but he’s beyond the reach of my blades. With his back to the low setting sun, that gods-damned hood he wears casts a shadow over his face, obscuring everything but his mouth.
And, as always, he’s too far up for me to get a better look.
“Bladesinger!” Asheros cries, his tone wrought with alarm. “Behind you! ”
I spin toward his voice, my blades raised in front of me in a defensive position.
A mass of black nothingness takes hold in the air in front of me. It moves over itself, writhing like a heap of snakes that have somehow been wound around themselves. The darkness grows, taking shape until a humanoid silhouette stands before me, so dark the light around us seems to bend to its will. It has no features, nothing discernable but a wide, gaping mouth where there should be a face.
And gods-damn me, that horrible mouth curves into a soulless, menacing grin.
Shivers trickle down my spine, and my blood runs cold.
A crepulnai.
Vorr’s murderer just summoned a gods-damned crepulnai.
“Lymseia!” Asheros shouts. “Back away from it. Now!”
I don’t have time to react or wonder how on the god’s green earth this is even possible before the crepulnai swipes a wraithlike hand at my face.
I stagger backward, swiping my blades at its torso. But my swords pass through the crepulnai with no resistance as though I’m slashing through a veiled mist.
The crepulnai swings at me again, and I barely manage to dodge. Still, its sharp nails scrape my cheek, deep enough to draw blood.
How is this even possible? How can a creature be both material and immaterial simultaneously ?
“Lymseia.” Asheros’s panicked yell fills my ears. “Disengage!”
I don’t have time to heed Asheros’s warning before the crepulnai’s long fingers wrap around my neck. With one hand, it lifts me off the ground. My blades plunge into the crepulnai’s murky arms, doing nothing to release me from its iron-tight hold around my throat. Feet dangling, I kick at the air, though it’s no use.
I’m fully at the demon’s mercy.
I try to breathe, to no avail. The crepulnai’s grip on my neck crushes my airway. Panic cleaves through my chest.
Am I going to die here?
Footsteps quicken behind me, pounding the earth. Asheros screams something, his voice sounding ragged.
Lungs burning, I gasp. I squeeze my eyes closed, blinking away the dizzy feeling that’s beginning to set in.
The crepulnai cocks its head with a cold stillness. “He knowss what you endeavor. You will fail.” The demon’s voice comes out as a hiss, forced and unnatural. “There iss no stopping what iss to come.”
Fog clouds my mind and blackness surrounds my vision. Numbness prickles my feet, and my blades slip from my hands.
“You will only find death in Illnamoor, little fae. Hide now, while you sstill can.” The creature gives my throat a violent squeeze and lets me go.
Wheezing, I fall to the ground, hard, my knees taking most of the impact .
The crepulnai lets out a crazed, horrifying laugh before it vanishes into nothingness.
Bracing my palms to the earth below me, I steady myself on my hands and knees. Closing my eyes, I hang my head and inhale deeply, filling my lungs.
“Lymseia.” Asheros slides to his knees beside me and roughly grabs hold of my shoulders, pulling me onto his lap, his eyes wide and frantic. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
I shake my head. “I’m all right.” Pressing my palm to my chest, I inhale deeply. “I can breathe.”
Still gripping my shoulders, he leans back and scans my body for injuries. “Thank the gods,” he says. With one hand to the back of my head, he presses me to his chest, tightly enveloping me in his arms. Holding me, he sways back and forth, clutching onto me as if I’m going to disappear any moment.
“If anything happened to you—” His voice catches in his throat. He doesn’t dare finish that sentence. He just holds me tighter.
Hooves slow to a stop behind us.
Asheros doesn’t pay them any mind. He touches his mouth to my shoulder, taking a deep breath.
“What happened?” Savell demands roughly.
“A crepulnai attacked Lymseia,” Asheros murmurs. His voice is a shell of what it should be.
“A crepulnai?” Kheldryn echoes, fear bleeding through her voice .
I swallow, finding my voice. “Yes. The red-eyed male evoked it.”
“Fuck,” Ronan curses, wiping his mouth.
“It was both corporeal and… not. At the same time.” Furrowing my brow, I still try to make sense of what happened. “It could touch me, hurt me, but I couldn’t do the same to it. And it….” I try to suppress a shudder but judging by the concern pooling in Asheros’s pale gaze, I’m not successful. “It spoke to me.”
Savell’s brows shoot up. “It spoke to you?”
I nod. “It said that I would ‘only find death in Illnamoor.’”
“The demon knows of our plans?” Gryska asks.
“So it would seem,” Asheros says quietly. “This changes things.”
“No,” I counter, my voice sharp. “This changes nothing.”
Asheros opens his mouth to protest, but I don’t let him. “If death is in Illnamoor, then my mother’s life is threatened, just as we suspected. It’s imperative we get there before he does.”
“I agree.”
Wide-eyed, I turn to Savell. Out of all of us, he’s the one I’d least expect to agree with me.
Shifting his weight, Savell crosses his arms. “We now have evidence the red-eyed male plans to do something in Illnamoor, and we know he’s hell-bent on turning the Courts against each other.”
Scowling, Gryska balls her hands into fists. “I’m going to make that sorry excuse of a male regret the very day he sprang forth from the womb.”
“Make that two of us,” Ronan adds.
The firm edge to Kheldryn’s mouth tells me she shares Gryska and Ronan’s sentiments.
“Still,” Asheros says slowly, his voice sounding unsteady. “The crepulnai could have eliminated Lymseia right here. But it didn’t. It could have stopped her from going to Illnamoor, but instead, it merely warned her not to.”
He pauses, shifting closer to me. “I can’t help but wonder—”
I don’t even have time to take a breath before screams ring out from the town square behind us. What little light remains from the setting sun seems to be bent into submission, an unnatural darkness taking hold in the places where light should still live.
Shooting to my feet, blades back in my hands, my mind goes utterly still. All I can do is survey the perimeter, alert for any signs of the threat.
Then I see them.
“Oh, gods,” I murmur, horror taking hold.
At least a dozen crepulnai, barely visible in the darkness, seep from a shadowy pit suspended above the town square. Like dark phantoms, they move with unnatural swiftness, as if the very air itself crumbled to their will.
“To the horses!” Asheros commands. “Now! ”
“What?” My voice rings out like the crack of a whip. “No! We have to help the townspeople.”
The others look to Asheros, their expressions void of color.
“We can’t leave,” I say, my tone firm.
“You’re in no position to fight,” he counters. “I can see the crepulnai’s touch drained you.”
“I’m fine,” I grind out, masking the heaviness that bears down on my limbs.
“You’re not fine. We’re leaving.” Asheros’s tone matches the hardness at his jaw. His diamond irises pierce mine, sharper than any sword. Unyielding. “If you attempt to fight them, you will die, Lymseia.”
My anger rises to my cheeks. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to run away with my tail between my legs.”
“ We are not prepared to survive this,” he tells me, imploring me to consider his words. “I will not—I cannot let you act on a death wish.”
“We’re all these people have,” I shout. “How can you even think about leaving innocents to be slaughtered?”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Bladesinger.” Before I can react, Asheros bends down, takes me in his arms, and throws me over his shoulder.
Chaos erupts around us, the streets a flurried mess of panicked people. Crepulnai whirr around them, striking down the ones who aren’t fast enough.
“Put me down!” I demand, banging my fists to his back .
He moves quickly, dodging humans and crepulnai. The others follow close behind us, their grave, hurried demeanors igniting the spark in my chest.
“Asheros,” I scream, yelling until my voice runs ragged. “Let go of me!”
Asheros pays me no mind. The tension in his shoulders is proof he’s utterly focused on our surroundings. I resist his hold. Gripping me tightly, he hesitates for a moment and then sprints forward.
When he stops, he swings me off his shoulder and onto the back of our horse in one fluid motion. In an instant, he’s up behind me, arms caging me in from both sides. Tugging harshly at the reins, he spins us around.
Our horse breaks into a gallop.
Keeping his gaze trained ahead, Asheros maneuvers us through the pandemonium. I writhe against him, but the wall of hard muscle behind me and at my sides holds me in place. I give up once we break through the tree line some distance away where the dense forest grants us refuge.
Even this far away, the screams reach us.
I can’t bear to listen.
But the sound of Lyndhaven’s cries take no mercy on me, left only for the gods to hear.