Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
“Well done, old woman.” Yata’s thin, birdlike frame cast a long shadow over the crumpled form of her Unit Leader.
Gran Hesta stood stiffly, avoiding Fenn’s prone body. “We struck a bargain.” Her eyes fixed on the ground as if the weight of her guilt would become too heavy if she dared look at him. “I’ve delivered the Hollow-born as promised. Now, honor your word and release my kin. They are all I have left.”
“No!” Bran gasped beside Rynna. His body tensed as if ready to spring into action.
Without hesitation, Rynna grabbed the boy by his collar and yanked him down hard, her knee pressing firmly into his back. She was already masking their presence, including the massive pulse of elemental power swirling around Bran. She knew any sound would give them away.
Wait, she mouthed, holding him steady.
As she kept Bran pinned, one of the other rogues stepped from the shadows and approached Fenn.
He bent his knees, checking the man’s pulse with two fingers.
Then, he pried one of the eyelids open, scanning the unfocused pupil, his movements methodical.
After that, he bent each of Fenn's limbs one by one, watching for any reflexive twitch or resistance.
“He’s definitely under the Veilroot,” the man confirmed, marking something in his notebook.
“As I said.” Gran Hesta crossed her arms. “I’ve upheld my end of the deal.” Her eyes darted briefly to Fenn, but she quickly looked away.
Yata clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head slightly. “Not quite, Granny.”
“What do you mean?” Gran Hesta's voice wavered as she stepped forward, her arms stiff at her sides. “You wanted a Hollow-born. You now have the Crimson Wolf. What more is there?”
Yata turned slowly to face the other man. “Cain, test him. He’s no good to us just sitting there drooling.”
Bran swatted impatiently at Rynna’s leg.
Let me up! he signed. I’ll follow your lead. I promise.
Rynna hesitated, her eyes fixed on Fenn’s unmoving form, her heart sinking. She prayed he wasn’t too far gone. She lifted her knee off Bran’s back with a reluctant nod, but her focus never wavered from the Unit Leader.
Cain stepped forward, raised his hand, and traced a series of arcane symbols in the air, the same ones Rynna had seen him use back at the estate. Then, he pressed two fingers to his forehead with a practiced touch.
Rynna squinted, trying desperately to follow the flow of Source power, searching for any weak points she could exploit, but it moved too quickly, slipping through her mental grasp like water.
One moment, Fenn was inert on the ground.
The next, he was on his feet, moving with the grace of a predator, bowing slightly to Yata.
The small man clapped his hands together, a gleeful giggle escaping him as his eyes lit with twisted joy. “Oh my. Oh my, my my. That is just perfect. Well done, my friend. You’ve perfected Kaelith’s formula.”
Rynna felt a jolt run through her at the mention of the name. She hadn’t heard it before, but something about it tightened her chest.
It doesn’t matter where they got the formula, she thought, shaking off the strange feeling.
Cain shrugged, examining Fenn with a casual indifference. “He was nearly there already. I can’t imagine why he abandoned his research.”
Gran Hesta, her patience clearly fraying, took another step toward Yata. “There. Well done. Now just give me my family back.”
Frowning at the interruption, he slowly turned toward her. “You’re ready to rejoin your family then?”
“Yes!” Gran Hesta stomped her foot. “Just give me the antidote, and we’ll be on our way. You can keep the village and do whatever you want to the Reaches. I just want my family.”
They’re going to kill her, Bran signed, gesturing toward the scene.
Rynna barely shrugged, her eyes locked on Fenn.
We have to save her. Bran grabbed her sleeve, his expression pleading.
Fuck that, she mouthed back.
I’m going, whether you come or not! Bran’s eyes burned. We can’t just let them kill her! He moved to slip past her, but she grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back.
Fine, fine. She raised her hands in surrender, palms up.
Yata’s cackle pierced the air, full of malice. “Who said anything about an antidote? You want to reunite with your family? We could always use another set of hands. It’s the perfect solution.”
Gran Hesta’s mouth parted, and she stepped back as if the air had been knocked from her. “What?” She backed further away, her feet dragging in the dirt. “But my family—”
“Too far gone.” Cain’s voice was cold as he looked up. “No antidote would work on them now.”
“No!” The old woman’s legs gave out beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground. “No.”
Go in, distract them. I’ll drag the traitor away, Rynna signed swiftly. They had no time to waste.
Bran nodded, inhaled sharply, and then dove out of the bushes, charging headlong into the clearing.
“Hey! Assholes!” he shouted, and Rynna stifled a groan, questioning if she should be setting a better example with her language as she darted toward Gran Hesta.
The two rogues barely flinched, their faces more irritated than alarmed.
“One of the pups?” Cain muttered, uninterested.
Rynna slipped her arms under Gran Hesta’s armpits and dragged her back toward the bushes where she and Bran had been hiding.
“Stay here,” she ordered.
“Why are you helping me?” Gran Hesta sobbed. “I betrayed you!”
Rynna didn’t respond, but her eyes looked toward the clearing, her heartbeat quickening as Yata’s crackling voice sounded again.
“Show me what he can do,” the man said. “Kill the boy first. Then we’ll see how creative he can get with the females.”
“Fuck!” Rynna spun around, panic rising as she heard the Crimson Wolf being unleashed.
“For nothing!” Gran Hesta clutched her face.
“You can thank Bran for your life,” Rynna spat. “I’d slit your throat without a second thought.” She whirled, slamming her fist into the nearest tree, splinters exploding in every direction. “I still might if we can’t fix him.”
Her glare burned into the woman one last time, rage barely contained, before she bolted out of the bushes, just in time to see Fenn advancing on Bran, death gleaming in his eyes.
“Guide Fenn?” Bran stammered, shaking as he backed away. “Boss?”
But Fenn didn’t blink. He blurred forward, blades raised.
The boy would’ve been dead, but Rynna moved faster.
She threw herself between them, barely deflecting Fenn’s first strike with a raised knife, the force of it reverberating through her bones.
Fenn’s eyes were cold and unrecognizable as his blows came down harder and faster than anything she’d ever faced from him before.
Each strike was lethal and filled with a raw, terrifying power.
He’s actually trying to kill me, she thought, heart hammering in panic, before ducking beneath a deadly arc of his knives.
He came at her again, too fast to see, feinting left then jabbing right. She barely blocked him, her own counterattacks glancing off him as he twisted out of reach, relentless in his pursuit of Bran.
“Why isn’t he using the Source?” Yata’s voice came from above, where he perched on a nearby tree branch like a vulture overseeing a massacre.
“He’s resisting,” Cain grunted, holding two fingers to his temple. “The Veilroot hasn’t fully saturated his blood yet.”
“That’s disappointing.” Yata sighed. “Do what you can to speed it up. I want to see what he can do.”
“You’re welcome to get down here and do it yourself, Crow.” Cain flinched, eyes narrowing as Fenn’s attacks became fiercer. “Ah! There we go. Show me your power, Vessel.”
“Kill the girl first.” Yata swung down from the tree. “She’s surprisingly nimble for a Novice.”
Oh, fuck.
Rynna barely noticed Bran moving around the wide perimeter, likely targeting the rogue leader, when a swelling of Source power caught her attention. She turned just in time to see a lance of sharpened air tearing toward her.
Wind scythe! She dove out of the way as it sliced through the space where she’d stood, cutting a tree clean in two behind her.
“Rynna!” Bran called, whipping around.
“I’m fine!” she barked, bouncing quickly back to her feet. “Don’t worry about me!” She couldn’t afford any distractions. If Fenn started using his specialized Source attacks, it would take every ounce of her focus just to survive. She didn’t know if she could protect Bran at the same time.
Yata’s cackling filled the clearing. “How beautiful! Again! Again!” He clapped his hands with manic delight.
Fenn moved his hands, and the air around them grew heavy before the ground beneath her feet cracked and buckled, sending jagged spikes of earth shooting up like spears. She rolled to the side just as one tore through her loose trousers, rending a deep gash in her leg.
She knew he was good, but utilizing multiple elements like that all at once…it was damned impressive. If only he wasn’t using it to freaking kill me!
Meanwhile, Bran darted toward Yata, throwing knives in his direction.
A gust of wind intercepted each projectile summoned with a casual flick of Yata’s wrist. Laughing, the rogue snapped his fingers, sending smaller wind scythes toward Bran.
The boy barely dodged the sharp gusts grazing his skin, leaving cuts along his arms.
“Is that the best you can do?” Yata scoffed in contempt as Bran moved further around. “Come on, boy! They gave you the Crimson Wolf!” He gestured to Fenn with both hands. “Show me you are worthy and not a sign of early retirement for the legend!”
Rynna barely had time to process the insult before Fenn moved again, and the ground beneath him rose in a wall of stone.
The wall crumbled immediately into hundreds of sharp, dagger-like shards that he sent hurtling toward her.
She vaulted over a fallen log, rolling just in time to avoid being skewered.