45. Death Toll
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Death Toll
Agony. Such agony. Tears stung my eyes, but I could not allow myself to cry.
I squeezed my stomach and used every bit of force to push my legs up to kick his calves. He buckled and suddenly straddled me. He stared down at me, chest heaving, and a thread of spittle at the corner of his mouth. Copper hair fell slicked with sweat over his temples.
I slapped at his chest, pushing at the ground, but all I managed to do was exhaust myself even more.
His hands wound around my throat, and he pinned me. He brought his mouth close to my neck and inhaled sharply.
“If I had more time, I would fuck you into submission like that Warlord of yours did.” His hot and sour breath, so unlike how Egan had smelled to me before, seared my nose.
He poised the knife over my chest. “Thank your Saints that I need your heart for the Sanguine Stone to get to Oro before the thresholds close. If I had not lost the one I made with that redblood bitch that belonged to Volcan, this would be going differently.”
“All these lies. Why?” I hissed.
“Control the cage, and the mice will be easy to corral.” He pressed down and sank the blade into my skin.
“No!” I screamed, squeezing his wrists. “Please, Egan!” My voice cracked.
Vaner hesitated, his expression stricken. “You truly owned his heart,” he croaked in disgust.
The hesitation offered me the smidgen of space I needed.
I pulled my knee to the side and managed to confuse him enough that his grip on the blade slipped.
I slammed my fist between his legs. He shouted, falling to his side.
I kicked out with both feet. Vaner toppled over, falling upon the jagged stones around the cenote.
He screamed as I shoved to my feet. While he thrashed, I brought my foot down on his face.
One of the stones sliced into the side of his neck.
Blue blood bubbled to his lips. He twitched, scrabbling and clawing.
He spat blood, and it dribbled from the corner of his lips.
I backed away, searching for the blade still lodged inside Volcan.
Carefully navigating around the rocks, I grabbed the hilt and carefully pulled it free.
Vaner stared up at me from Egan’s gaze. My heart pinched at the sight of my friend’s body so close to death.
No, this was the man who caused it.
Gritting my teeth, I brought down the blade in an arc.
The edge slammed into his throat, laying open the pink flesh.
Blue dripped from the slice. I lifted it and brought it down with more force.
Hacking through his neck was easier than doing it to the Hollow.
His head rolled away from his body. My lip trembled.
Egan had not deserved how he ended. I let out an unsteady breath and tossed the sword.
Numbly, I walked out of the cave, limping.
Vaner was gone. That was all that circled through my head other than a searing urge to return to Cassiel. I craved sinking into his arms. Tears trickled from the corners of my eyes as I descended from the path. Only darkness surrounded me.
In the face of greeting death, my only regret had been Cassiel. The attachment I had formed toward him transcended any bond. Him, the lonely, angry Warlord, was what I . . . cared about.
When he had shielded me with his body, receiving the lashing for me. When he hid the withering. His reaction in the fog. I could not deny that he cared for me and I for him. We had lived through much, and I wanted to experience much more with him.
A tremble shook the ground. Formidable enough that I had to brace against a boulder. Something was terribly wrong, as if something in the ground had turned in its sleep, preparing to wake.
A piercing howl rent the air. I quickened my pace to escape this odd, magickal place. A faint glow wound upwards at the base of a tree. So thin that it seemed to bleed under the scales of the bark. It formed a rounded arch as it connected to another tree.
Another tremble rocked the ground.
A threshold that the Sanguine Stone would have opened if I had it. I lost my balance as the ground shook again with a loud, booming tremble.
The glow filtering through the trees guttered, the way I imagined the thresholds beginning to seal had looked when Isot and Jalixo were lost.
The deterioration of this threshold meant Oro would be sealed next.
I hugged myself, running. The force of the explosion came from behind me, sending me flying through the air. I landed on my side. My ears rang.
The trees no longer glowed. Shrill screeches echoed. A clawed arm exploded from the ground. It slammed against the dirt and began to emerge.
Leathery skin, a thick bulging arm. Another arm shoved out. Then another. Hollows.
They were coming out of nothing. I scrambled to my feet, running at full force. Chittering and hissing swelled behind me.
I ran with everything in me. I ran for Cassiel. For what could be.
Tears streamed from my eyes from the extent of pain wracking my frame. I would not last long.
I smacked branches and leaves from my path. I was still in The Barren. My heart would give in soon. I collided with something hard, and I choked on my cry.
Comforting cold rested at my breastbone.
Panic made it difficult to hear.
‘It is me!’
I went limp against Cassiel. “I killed him.” It was a rush of words that ran into each other. “I killed Vaner.” I could not stop trembling. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear a word over my harsh breathing.
He wound his arm around my waist and pulled me over his shoulder. I dangled, flopping against his back as he ran with a stilted gait.
“I killed Egan,” I said. Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes and dripped toward my temples. Another screech echoed. Danger continued to lurk, so I could not falter to my sadness.
Not with Cassiel so weakened.
Hollows screeched from behind us. He cursed and skidded to the side.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
‘Wait.’ He inhaled audibly, then turned to the left. He fled from The Barren, moving toward where the horses had drunk from the pond. ‘Hold your breath.’ He pulled me into his arms so I no longer dangled. Walking into the pond, he dipped both of us under. ‘Hollows smell blood well.’
Cassiel stepped out, water dripping from both of us as he strode near the side of a mountain near the pond. He shoved foliage out of the way and entered a small cave.
As soon as we were inside, he staggered and carefully set me down. I landed on my feet. Cassiel’s knees buckled and he spat blood. Withering stretched up his neck, reaching his face.
“Cassiel,” I cried, dropping beside him. I could hardly see him under the moonlight spearing through the foliage.
He shivered and collapsed on his side. ‘I could not get to you sooner.’
“No,” I whispered, taking his wet face. I ran my fingertips over the dark lines crawling up his jaw.