Chapter 38
—Danek—
A wrongness leaked from Baila as she danced along the bridge.
Her bright red braid hung over her shoulders and dipped into her battle armor.
She wore metal like the soldiers of River Storm, but it clung to her form better than anyone else.
The blade twirled in her hands, swinging around black smoke.
Behind her were two dark, shadowed creatures.
Almost like Umbrin, but more human. Their veins coursed with black; their eyes darkened with no filter of light.
Danek tried to put names to their faces.
He could have sworn he’d seen them in River Storm before.
“Baila, stop!” Danek halted short of the bridge, scanning the edge to decipher how much room he had left to walk before triggering the trap.
Baila held her hand up and turned to the two men behind her, whispering something he couldn’t hear.
She turned back to Danek and smiled. “We weren’t sure if the city was set up with any contraptions.
Thanks for that.” She kneeled, gently brushing her fingers over the bridge.
She found the traps easily. Her hand lit in a soft green, lifting the magical rune from the cold metal and floating it to the side of the bridge with confidence.
The freckles on her face scattered like green moss, her eyes glowing.
“You look good, Danek.” She laughed, flicking her braid.
Danek’s hand hovered above the hilt in his belt. “It’s time to stop this madness. There are innocent people in this city.”
She tilted her head, then lifted another rune in front of her, pushing that to the side of the bridge as she sauntered toward Danek. “Do they bow to the King of River Storm?”
Danek sighed. “You know they don’t.”
“Don’t worry, Danek, this will be quick.
” Baila moved at a faster speed now, the runes moving out of her way as she did.
She leapt in the air at a height unnatural for even the Elvish.
Danek ripped out his blade in time to block as she crashed in front of him with her own sword.
The shadows around the weapon whispered.
Baila pressed her sword with immense strength. Danek battled to hold her. He stepped forward and slung his blade across hers to release the pressure. She slammed it back in front of him. He ducked and shoved his shoulder into her core.
Baila stumbled back and smiled. “You won’t stop us, Danek. You’re only wasting your energy.”
“I don’t care,” he panted, repositioning himself to get a better angle. “There’s nothing you can say that will make what’s behind you any better. I will stop you.”
“Good luck.” Baila leapt again, slicing her shadow blade against his sword. Danek’s weapon shattered on impact, the shadows ripping into the broken metal.
Danek released it immediately, the thought of shadows coming near his hands again nearly paralyzing him.
He still needed Baila’s blade. She couldn’t get into the city with it.
Danek summoned the wind. It stirred first as a breeze, then swelled into a gust so fierce the pieces of the bridge splintered.
He hurled himself into the air, and with a call of magic, a bow formed in his hands.
An arrow shot through the sky, borne on the torrent.
Danek caught it mid-flight and nocked it onto the string.
Turning his body, he faced Baila and drew the arrow.
He only had one shot. They wouldn’t be able to get another arrow to him in time before the army crossing the hills from the Malintale hit the city.
Danek released the string, and the arrow flew at Baila’s hand.
It hit the blade’s handle, right where her hand kissed the hilt.
Baila gasped, and the sword fell, a sizzling whisper calling out into the night. Before she could reach to retrieve it, Danek dove from the air and caught Baila. They tumbled to the ground and away from the weapon. Baila sat and crawled toward it.
Danek pulled her foot before she could, dragging her away. “Let it go, Baila!”
She shot a green mist from her hands, stinging Danek’s eyes.
He closed them tightly to pinpoint what she sprayed.
He didn’t have time. Through the sting, he opened his eyes again and conjured up the image of King Vaerin.
He towered over Baila as she reached for the blade, his eyes red and domineering. He growled.
Baila’s breath hitched. She took a few steps back from the image, giving Danek enough time to grab her armor from behind.
He yanked her to the ground. She reacted quickly and clutched his leg as she hit the grass.
Now that they were in the weeds, Danek knew he was in trouble.
The grass towered over him, then wrapped around his body like vines, squeezing until the breath in his lungs grew shallow.
Hovering over him, Baila stared into his eyes. “I’m impressed by your strength. That image you conjured was by far the best I’ve ever seen.” She leaned into his face and planted a kiss on his lips.
Danek pulled away, clawing at the grass to release him.
Each time he broke free, another wave coursed over him.
Baila’s expression remained still. She sat next to him, holding him captive in the grass.
Anger flooded Danek’s body. He fought a leviathan, dammit!
But he couldn’t even fight against the grass.
Baila was also far stronger than she’d ever been.
The energy King Vaerin had spent feeding all five Guardians was now reserved for one.
She barely looked fazed. The breeze blew her hair, and the sound of marching metal clanked in the background.
River Storm soldiers were nearing. They halted outside the newly formed barrier.
Baila remained fixed on them. Guttural growls echoed by the bridge.
The army of the dead. That was the army that held the advantage.
Danek stopped fighting the grass. “What does the King of River Storm offer that’s worth fighting for?”
“Power.” Baila said it so nonchalantly that Danek had to check her face.
She didn’t reveal any hints of evil within the statement.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
The green of her freckles dimmed to their regular brown specks.
“I was created from his power. He is the literal source of my life.”
The grass released Danek’s wrists. He flexed his arms to regain blood flow throughout his body and sat. “Do you believe in this?”
She huffed a laugh. “Too late for that, Danek. Stand up, now.”
He raised a brow.
Baila stood and palmed her blade, the shadows curling near her fingers. Danek watched them, the memories of pain curling like inflammation in his own hands. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Freed from the grips of the viny grass, Danek stood with a smirk.
“You’ll regret letting me go.” He twisted the wind again, spinning Baila’s body around until Danek flung her forward, the wind pulling her into the river.
She lashed out, flinging wild magic that had no connection to any of the elements she normally used.
Whatever that was, it harbored chaos in the world.
The dead army on the bridge howled, deep growls overcoming the senses.
Baila turned, sucking the wind into her free hand and flooding it into the dirt. The earth scattered under Danek’s feet, blowing chunks of mud and grass through the air. The wind whipped and dragged him down until the earth covered him to his knees.
“Enough!” Baila screamed.
Danek couldn’t move the lower half of his body.
She held her blade to his neck, staring at him with a flicker of pain. “You won’t escape the war, and Kienna won’t escape my army.” Baila exhaled sharply, lowering her sword. “My soldiers won’t touch you while we pass.” With that, she planted a softer kiss on his cheek. “Be well, Danek.”
Baila strode past him, the sickly creatures of the bridge marching forward.
Froth spilled from the Vorthakai’s gaping maws and dripped onto the ground.
The Umbrin passed quietly with precision.
Danek writhed in the dirt, then slammed his palms against his forehead.
His hands were free. Light illuminated his palms as he shaped the colossal image of a leviathan tearing through the Elvish barrier.
The soldiers faltered and stepped back, giving Danek the opening he needed.
He drove a violent gust outward, wind roaring as half the army crashed to the ground.
In one motion, he hurled himself skyward, ripping free of the earth’s grip.
When he landed, Baila was gone.
The undead reformed with River Storm soldiers behind him. Danek cleared his throat. “See you on the other side, I guess.”
Wind catapulted him into the air. He rode the waves of the breeze into the barrier. Danek needed to find Baila before her shadow weapon could do any damage.
—Tristian—
The traps on the bridge never went off, but they heard the soldiers.
Tristian tightened his fingers against his palms. Near the hills, bombs exploded.
It wasn’t enough. Their first line of defense failed.
Now they relied on the outer ridge of the city in hopes that they could dwindle the army enough to gain the upper hand.
Flickers of light waved around them. The barrier formed by the Ironbinders rumbled like lightning in the sky, threatening to break at any moment.
Commander Brennic stood rigid beside Tristian, his ink-black hair spilling over his shoulders.
Harsh lines cut across his face, the curve of his Elvish ears barely visible through the dark strands.
His tunic, black as midnight, gleamed with dragon scale leather.
He tightened his grip on his Elvish blade, its glowing runes pulsing like fire under his fingers.
While Brennic loved the flair of a magical blade, Tristian preferred his own strength to that of a forged weapon.
The Elvish weapons only made them lazy and drew out too much of the power that he needed to keep hidden.
His hand wrapped around the hilt of his own sword.
A wave of air tore through the city. The barrier crumbled, and arrows shot across the sky. Between Connak and Jayel’ric, their voices carried with the wind. The command: “Rain it down!”
Grunts of men amplified through the crystals of Serenya’s army. The archers fired again, followed by the Hollow Blades leaping from the roofs and into the city streets. Animalistic gurgles echoed through the crystals.
River Storm was officially in the city.
Soldiers moved about, a harsh clatter of steel joints grinding and plates ringing with every step. They’d hit the Emberreign battalion next.
Tristian nodded to Brennic. “Commander.”
“May the Eternal Mother know our names by nightfall,” Brennic said.
Fire erupted ahead of them. They could see the soldiers now, charging full force. The men of the enemy were slowed substantially, but the Umbrin pushed by with ease, slicing through their forces without a second glance.
Crackling energy pulsed beneath the surface of Tristian’s skin enough for strength, but nothing more. The heat bled into his fingers as he pulled his blade. The Vorthakai leapt off walls in the alleyway, crawling unnaturally forward. They’d die tonight by his blade. He’d make sure of it.
Brennic lifted his sword in the air. “Blades high!”
The Thornclad soldiers behind them lifted their own swords.
“Forward!” Tristian yelled.
The army charged through the streets, and their blades met the dead.