Chapter Twenty-two
WILDER
C lutching Thea to him, Wilder tried to cushion their fall through shadow and air, through darkness and ice. They hit the ground hard, the woodlands frosted beneath them, far beyond the floating domes of Vios.
In the night sky above, the eclipse was frozen in time, blocking out the moonlight and casting an unending darkness across the realms.
Thea groaned, but he clapped a hand over her mouth, drawing a single finger to his own lips before pointing to what he had spotted beyond the treeline.
Illuminated by torches and campfires was an enemy unit. Shadow wraiths, cursed men and a variety of other creatures who seemed to leak darkness into the night. They were armed, blades gleaming, and though Wilder couldn’t make out their words, he knew that violence was on the horizon.
Thea was still trying to catch her breath, but she looked at him in a panic. ‘Cal and Kipp…’ She struggled against his hold. ‘Torj. Everyone – we have to get back. We must fight —’
‘They’ll be fine. There’s a plan. Torj knows where to take them —’
‘But Anya, her arachne, they’ll —’
‘Anya won’t hurt them,’ Wilder tried to tell her. ‘And the arachne is no ally of hers. But she’ll see it slain. And Cal and Kipp will be safe.’ Though he knew the next part sounded stupid given the past year, he added: ‘I promise.’
There were a thousand questions in her eyes, yet somehow the words seemed to calm her, and Thea followed his stare, taking in the ominous sight before them. ‘She sent us here to die,’ she managed, turning back to him, horror etched on that beautiful face.
‘No,’ he told her. ‘She sent us here to see .’
He pointed again, this time to the two figures at the heart of the operation below.
He waited as Thea tensed beside him, her mouth falling open as she processed what was plain as day before them.
‘That’s the Harenth dungeon master…’ she murmured, her breath clouding. ‘I recognise the jewellery.’
‘I believe he calls himself an inquisitor.’ It was hard to miss a gemstone nasal piercing and a dozen bronze bangles on each wrist in a war camp. ‘Do you notice anything else?’
Thea scanned the campsite, chewing her lower lip. ‘Their sigils… They’re… wings. The same as the one I pulled from those enemy forces off the coast of Thezmarr last year.’
‘The very same,’ Wilder agreed. ‘And what about the power radiating around us? Do you feel it?’ he said quietly, watching her face for any signs of recognition. Her eyes grew wide with realisation as the familiar warmth of magic hummed out towards them.
‘That’s…’ Thea took a ragged breath. ‘That’s empath magic I feel, isn’t it?’
‘You tell me… You’ve felt it before, haven’t you?’
Slowly, Thea nodded, returning her gaze to the enemy force below. ‘Artos… It’s Artos’ magic.’
Wilder dipped his head.
‘How can this be?’ Thea gaped, her eyes roaming over the Harenth dungeon master as he moved across the campsite. ‘I… I don’t understand.’
‘We think he’s been using his empath ability to get others to do his bidding for some time now, and framing Anya for their work.’
Thea whipped around to face him. ‘Framing her? You saw what she is.’
‘A master of shadow, yes – but who was she attacking in that ballroom, Thea?’
Slowly, a crease formed between Thea’s brows, her features slackening as she visibly swallowed. ‘Artos.’
‘Artos,’ Wilder agreed, flinching as an elongated shadow was cast across the campsite below. ‘Look on the northern side,’ he told Thea, not daring to take his eyes off the reaper he saw there.
She let out a muffled cry as she saw it too, watching as its sinewy body stalked towards a pen of prisoners chained together.
‘Wilder,’ she breathed, gripping his arm and starting forward.
But he held her back. There was no saving these people, not now. Time and time again he had tried himself, but to no avail.
Frozen in horror, Wilder and Thea watched as the king of wraiths reached into a villager’s chest, darkness spreading like a disease around them, the smell of burnt hair permeating the air.
A lump formed in Wilder’s throat as he warred with his instinct to pull Thea away from this nightmare, but she needed to see it for herself, needed to see what Artos was capable of, what he was doing to their world.
In silence, they watched as the reaper wrought its curse upon the innocent prisoner. Ribbons of darkness dancing around the campsite, screams piercing the night.
‘Is this how the shadow-touched are made?’ Thea whispered, her face pale. ‘Is this what you meant?’
‘A shadow-touched person is the result of a failed attempt at what they’re trying to do here,’ Wilder replied slowly, trying to keep his own memories from overwhelming him.
‘This is something worse… See the creatures created here? They are not of the same ilk as shadow-touched folk. They are mutilated with shadow from inside, not out… They are cursed experiments, blindly carrying out the will of their master. He has a hold over them.’
‘And you’re sure it’s Artos?’ she asked with resignation.
‘He’s the most powerful empath in history,’ Wilder said, clenching his jaw. ‘Do you remember that mercenary attack in Harenth? The prices on our heads?’ It had been a shameful moment of weakness for Wilder, but a pivotal moment in Thea’s warrior education.
‘How could I forget that? I killed eleven men that day.’
Wilder remembered it well. ‘It was Artos. Artos put out the hit. My sources confirmed it a few weeks ago.’
Thea was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. ‘He seemed so outraged…’
‘A fine actor, apparently,’ Wilder allowed.
‘If all this is true… What does he have planned?’
‘Artos collects people and power,’ Wilder told her quietly, his skin prickling at the proximity to the horrors below. ‘We have no idea who is under his control. We can’t know who he’s influencing, not when he’s so strong.’
‘He used his power on me in Harenth…’
‘He did.’
Thea’s throat bobbed. ‘I didn’t even know it was happening until you intervened. He used it to comfort me, to make me feel… at ease.’
‘Therein lies the danger.’
Thea made to stand, but Wilder yanked her back down to the forest floor.
She shot him a look of disbelief. ‘We need to help them,’ she said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.
Regret laced Wilder’s words. ‘We can’t help them on our own…’
‘We can, we’ve beaten worse odds —’
Wilder sighed heavily and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She was trembling, whether with cold or rage, he didn’t know. ‘Sometimes being a Warsword is not only about fighting, but learning when to live to fight another day.’
‘Wilder…’ she implored.
But he shook his head. ‘We need to leave. We need to rejoin the others.’
He thought she was going to argue more, but instead, she gave a stiff nod and reached for the swords in the dirt. His swords.
With trembling hands, she offered them to him.
‘You won them,’ he said. ‘You captured me. That was the deal you made with Osiris, wasn’t it? They made a point of telling me that in the ice cell.’ He tried and failed to keep the note of bitterness from his voice.
Thea pressed the weight of the weapons more firmly into his hands.
‘I don’t need yours,’ she told him, sounding steadier than he expected. ‘I’m going to earn my own.’
Wilder stared at her for a moment, taking in the ruined remains of her gown, the scratches and bruises across her exposed skin. She must be freezing.
‘I have never doubted that for a second,’ he told her, and accepted his blades, strapping them to his back, revelling in their weight once more.
She met his gaze. ‘I know that now.’
Wilder’s hand twitched at his side as he considered lacing his fingers through hers, but something stopped him. Alert as ever, Thea noted his hesitation, but said nothing, her expression unreadable.
Wilder steeled himself, squaring his shoulders and starting away from the horrors unfolding in the campsite below. ‘Come on.’
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, stepping in sync beside him. ‘To find Cal and Kipp?’
‘Soon, but not yet,’ he told her. ‘It’s time you met the shadow-touched, Princess.’