Chapter 37 #2
I kept low, moving up in the bushes. The priests rushed at him, swords raised.
S?ren blocked their first haphazard strikes, swiping at one of their weapons with the ease of a master.
Within moments, he disarmed one man, then stepped aside and out of range.
Perfect. I rose from my hiding place and hurled a dagger with precision.
It spun end over end until it landed with a sickening thud in the priest’s jugular, blood spilling down his white robes.
Once he was down, I watched S?ren move for the other priest. I lifted my second knife, ready to strike once more.
The priest looked directly at me. And then he disappeared.
I blinked. Shit. Had he teleported away, or was he invisible?
S?ren had stilled, sword at the ready. Every inch of him was tense, like a predator ready to strike. I listened carefully, trying to make out any sound besides the wind. The priests were trained in brute strength, not patience and stealth. If he was invisible, he would out himself soon enough.
S?ren sprung into motion, whirling to his left and bringing his sword up just in time to connect with…
something I couldn’t see. In the next heartbeat I moved, sprinting toward the confrontation.
S?ren kept his movements close and controlled, always on the defense.
Suddenly, he froze, then turned toward me. “Look out!”
I heard the priest right before he struck, the thud, thud, thud of his footfalls alerting me to his presence.
In the split second I had to think, I crouched down and sprang for where I estimated his knees to be.
Sure enough, I connected. Wrapping my arms around his calves, I tackled him to the ground.
He lost hold of his Lurae, flickering back into my vision, and S?ren slit his throat.
Panting, I accepted the Hellbringer’s proffered hand. “I hope no one was watching through the windows,” I said grimly. “If they were, they’ve had plenty of time to escape.”
“The dark might have been enough to keep us concealed. We’ll find out soon.
” He kept his bloodied weapon out and strode toward the doors.
I followed behind him, bending to pull my dagger out of the dead priest’s throat.
I grimaced as I slid it back into its sheath, wiping my hand on my pants before drawing Aloisa.
We took defensive positions and pushed the heavy doors open.
Stillness and silence.
A few lamps flickered in their overindulgent sconces. Doorways led to other parts of the castle. Stairs to my right spiraled up to another floor. But the entryway was empty. No priests surged forward to battle, no Lurae soldiers demanded our surrender, and no gods or queens smote us down.
I remained in my defensive position. “This isn’t right.”
“Of course it isn’t.” Agitation was abundant in S?ren’s voice. “We’ll do a sweep of this floor and then ascend. Agreed?”
Despite it all, having him ask for my opinion was enough to steady me. “Yes. Let’s go.”
The throne room, ballroom, dining room, and kitchens revealed the same as the hall.
Empty. The second floor was as well. My father’s office was devoid of people too, but I spotted unfamiliar papers on the desk that gave me pause.
I grabbed the lamp hanging inside the doorway and brought it over, S?ren standing guard while I did.
“A letter from a Kryllian general,” I told him.
“The army is on their way and should dock in the coastal city in two days.” I shuffled through the rest, finding a map of the Fjordlands.
“No timeline here, but it seems they plan to solidify their claim on Bhorglid, reinforce Kryllian, and then see whether Faste can be convinced to surrender by…” I leaned in, studying the messy handwriting.
A chill ran up my arms as I read aloud, “Using the prince as leverage.”
S?ren swore. “Of course. They have the entire Fjordlands under their thumb.”
“Will the Fastians agree?” I asked tentatively. “They didn’t seem to care much for Volkan when they came to visit originally.”
“Unfortunately, they most definitely will agree.” Even S?ren’s voice was enough for me to know what expression he wore beneath the mask—his mouth set in a grim line. “They’re cruel and callous, and so they view him as an object. A precious gemstone. They don’t want to lose their only heir.”
I cringed just thinking about it. An object. It was exactly how my father had treated me. Only worth his attention when I could benefit him in some way. My heart ached for Volkan.
“Cowards.” I moved the map aside, skimming over the other papers. Nothing else caught my eye. I picked up Aloisa from the desk, smoothing my thumb over the hilt. “Let’s go before we lose our nerve.”
S?ren led the way with a chuckle. “I forget you never really were at war besides those last few days you spent on the front. You’d find with time that the anticipation and nerves eventually turn into boredom.”
I remained alert, following him up the steps, but my mouth curved slightly. I remembered the one real battle I’d fought in for a moment before leaving with Frode. Father had ordered the army to wait for almost an hour before actually attacking. “Lots of waiting for the right moment to strike?”
“Exactly.”
We stepped through the doorway and into the second-floor hall.
The only warning was a slight whoosh through the air before an arrow buried itself in S?ren’s upper arm, managing to find its way right into the gap of his armor.
Neither of us hesitated—when the second arrow darted toward me, I ducked out of its path. It lodged in the wall behind me.
“Hmm,” the Queen of Kryllian said. She stared at us from the other end of the hall. Now she discarded the crossbow she held and drew the golden sword—the Soulcleaver. “Pity.”
“Go,” S?ren said through gritted teeth.
I didn’t hesitate. There was no time to argue that he was injured, so I should take Callum—Arraya—both of them, contained in a single body, on my own now. Our combined battle skills, arrow in the arm notwithstanding, would have to do.
I sprinted across the short distance and swung my blade. Despite the Soulcleaver being far too big for Arraya’s petite frame, she hefted it like it weighed nothing, her parry expertly crafted.
When she laughed, it sounded like two voices instead of one. Her eyes were bloodshot and glowed slightly red, the same color Callum’s soul had been.
“The poor godforsaken,” Arraya tittered, using one hand to block S?ren’s attempt to slice her in half from the other side.
When metal sounded on metal, I realized she wore armored bracers on both arms. Her other hand still gripped the Soulcleaver, holding it steady.
Some of the skin on her fingers was blackened, like it had been burned.
The scorch marks followed the path of her veins—the same paths I knew souls twisted through.
Holding a second soul in her body was destroying her.
I twisted, adjusting my balance and trying to throw her off so I could disarm her, but to no avail. “Did you think killing a god would be easy?” she snarled.
We danced, the speed of our duel faster than the ones I practiced with S?ren most days.
Two opponents against one and yet we were unable to gain any ground.
In fact, I found myself taking a hurried step back as she twirled her blade with unerring precision.
Every strike I barely managed to block with the innate knowledge that a single second of hesitation on my part would have made it deadly.
“You sat on your ass through the entire war,” I managed between clashes.
“How the hell are you suddenly an expert swordswoman?”
Arraya laughed, stepping out of range of my sword and forcing me to follow her. “The godtouch of eternal youth is rare, but not unheard of. I’ve had hundreds of years to perfect my craft—it’s second nature now.”
Her words did nothing but invigorate me. If she was relying on age-old knowledge she hadn’t truly used in years, then she would make mistakes. I could count on it.
“But I,” she continued, her voice changing slightly to take on a lower cadence, “am a god. I nearly conquered the Fjordlands once before. I will not allow two insolent children to stop me now.”
S?ren dove into the fray, renewed. Callum’s voice, coming from Arraya’s mouth, chilled me to the core. Were they balancing control of their shared body? Or was there a struggle going on beneath the flesh we could take advantage of?
I stepped back to catch my breath and assess the situation, knowing S?ren could handle their combined fervor for a moment. If the two were struggling for control, it didn’t show—a chill ran down my spine as I realized suddenly how well and truly fucked we were.
We might not win this.
It felt like the moment in the Trials when I’d understood, the truth a throbbing twin to my heartbeat, that I was going to die.
But just like then, I knew now: I would not go down without a fight.
As I readjusted my grip and moved to jump back in, a grunt of pain echoed through the room.
S?ren. My eyes flew to him, and my heart rushed to my throat.
S?ren’s left arm, the one with the arrow, hung limp at his side as he battled one-handed, desperately trying to keep Callum at bay.
The stranger in Arraya’s body wore eerie calm like armor, every swing pushing S?ren a half step backward.
In the single second I stood still, Callum forced S?ren to parry before sliding his blade closer and closer to the hilt—and the hand—of my Hellbringer.
I rushed back into the battle.
Callum twisted his sword in a skillful move I’d never been able to truly replicate, trying to cut off S?ren’s fingers. But before he got the chance, I lifted Aloisa and swung.
He saw it from the corner of his eye and growled, abandoning his assault to parry. “I will kill you for your insolence,” he spat. “I am your god!”