32. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Isoria
The night grew unusually cold the closer our carriage drew to Duskmarsh, which was at the edge of the Ivorymist River, tucked upon a lone hill rising out of the boggy earth.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Owen muttered as the jaguars—this time a pair that Cliff called Princess and Chase—padded over a narrow bridge to approach the town. “Something is off in the water, in the air and all around us. It’s heavy and wrong.”
My magic felt the wrongness too, though in a different way.
Gooseflesh rose on my arms and nerves prickled through my body.
Death was so strong in this place, it was almost all I could focus on, nearly crowding out my awareness of my other senses entirely.
The urge to draw on my fire was almost overwhelming, especially with the encroaching shadows.
Cloud cover devoured most of the moonlight, leaving the world in murky darkness that anything could be hiding within, and I longed to dispel it.
Beside me, Archer was uncharacteristically sullen tonight.
His emotions were heavy, practically stifling.
Dread. Despair. Darkness. All the things that he normally masked with charm and laughter and glittering smiles for his people, but didn’t bother to conceal with his friends.
And he couldn’t keep the emotions from me.
It would have been gratifying, but instead I only resented him more, longing for an escape not only from him but also from his crushing emotions.
Suddenly, Princess and Chase snarled, and the carriage jerked to a halt before rocking.
I was slammed to the side, right into Archer’s chest. He caught me as if by instinct before my head smacked against the window, his strong hands cradling me as if I were as small and vulnerable as Onyx.
I glanced over my shoulder, pulling myself upright, and for an instant our gazes locked.
His confusion over his instinct to protect me mirrored my own.
An unearthly sound and Cliff’s shouts of alarm broke the moment.
Lily and Owen had already shoved open the door and leapt onto the bridge, drawing blades and calling upon their magic.
“Revenants!” Lily screamed.
The wall of unnaturally cold air hit me like a physical blow as I scrambled through the open carriage door and dropped onto the bridge. Lily, Owen, Cliff, and his jaguars had formed a semi-circle around the carriage, facing a host of revenants climbing forth from the swamp itself.
As one reached up with bony fingers, most of the flesh already gone, and started to climb the bridge itself, Owen summoned the swamp water, churning it into a vortex that sucked the body back beneath the surface.
Another began to scale the other side, but Lily was prepared with her trap of darkness.
When the body lurched upward, she raised her arms, vanishing behind a wall of black that the revenant fell into, lost in the void.
But she couldn’t trap every revenant without draining herself to the point of collapsing, and the only other way they could permanently stop the revenants was by beheading each one. And there were so many…too many.
My stomach lurched as I took in the endless swarm as decaying body after body surfaced from the murky water, each moving with grace and speed that surpassed that of living fae.
Arms seized me by the waist, and I stifled my cry when I realized it was Archer. Flames don’t hurt them once they become revenants, and you can’t use your magic here anyway. Get back inside the carriage.
Annoyance rippled through me as I struggled against him.
“You can’t help,” he growled. “Healing isn’t magic to be used mid-fight. We learned that the hard way last time.”
“And what if one of you needs to be healed? Shouldn’t I stay close?” I couldn’t help the frantic worry pounding in my chest. Not necessarily for the prince, but for his friends. I couldn’t help but care about them, even if I knew that they would turn on me if they learned what I was.
But that was a healer’s instinct. I didn’t want anyone to die, not when I might be able to stop it. Not even my enemies.
Afraid I’ll get us both killed? I thought, sending it into Archer’s mind. Maybe that’s a better option than living forever tethered to you.
Archer expelled a breath before releasing me.
Wordlessly, he shoved a sheathed dagger into my palm.
I glanced down at its decorative hilt, resplendent with gold detailing and emeralds that reminded me of its owner’s eyes.
“Stay in the carriage, Isa. Use this in an emergency.” He lifted me by the waist, hurling me over one shoulder to turn back toward the carriage.
“I can help,” I protested.
Archer plopped me unceremoniously onto the carriage seat, slamming the door behind him.
I glowered at the shut door, the desire to shift into my phoenix form the most powerful it had been in days.
I could have soared to the town to see what had befallen the citizens and helped heal any wounded.
In my phoenix form, I would have had more strength to sustain my magic a little longer, even with the lack of sunlight.
But instead, all because of the insane lies most of Emberglade believed, because they thought my kind had resurrected these undead to destroy them, fae might die needlessly.
I sucked in a breath, trying to calm myself before I lost control and set something on fire.
But I didn’t have long to stew in my emotions. The carriage rattled and a hand smashed through the window opposite me, sending shards of glass flying. I ducked and covered my head, whirling with my blade already drawn and at the ready.
The stench of death enveloped me so thickly I gagged as I crouched low on the carriage floor.
Overhead, the hand—most of its flesh rotten to reveal large chunks of bone gleaming in the moonlight—swung around as if seeking out its prey.
Something slammed into the opposite side of the carriage, rocking it violently.
I slid and smacked my forehead against the side hard enough to see sparks flash before my eyes and for me to lose my grip on the dagger.
My blood bond with Archer may have granted me his invisibility to the revenants so none sought me out intentionally, but they didn’t know who occupied the carriage.
All they knew was to destroy and attack anything with abandon.
Ironically, that meant the very place he’d left me for my own protection might become the reason for my undoing.
Pain slashed into my back—something sharp slicing into my tunic and biting flesh. The warm trickle of blood along my spine warned me that whatever had struck me had done damage, even if the wound was small.
With it came a sinking dread. Hadn’t Archer said that bloodshed seemed to make the revenants notice him, shattering his magic instantly? Now, even with a shallow wound, I’d be a direct target.
An ear-splitting shriek and the groaning of metal warned me this was true.
The revenant who’d shattered the window was now forcing its way in to get to me.
Panic flared in my chest, a bone-chilling fear as I scrambled for my lost dagger.
My fingers skated along the floor futilely, my mind racing.
How could something have been lost so quickly in this enclosed space?
Shadows coiled around me, thickening tendrils that traced paths along my limbs and wrapped around them. Agony pulsed through me in cold waves, drowning me in darkness. The revenant tumbled into the carriage, all brute force and no grace.
One eye missing and the other half-decayed, it still somehow managed to give me the sense it was peering into my soul.
It leered over me as the shadows wrapped around my throat.
I suffered, muscles spasming in pain. I struggled, unable to pull free of the magic, unable to move my arm to reach for my lost dagger or stagger to my feet to escape the carriage.
Everything inside me rebelled against the darkness, the pain, the reek of rot consuming me.
It was pure instinct that made me summon my flame, my desperation to survive. Solea, I thought as my magic warmed my veins and tongues of fire burst around my fingertips. Burn away the shadow.
I directed the flame toward the revenant. A fiery ball slammed into what had once been its chest, now an empty cavern caged by ribs with small remnants of flesh clinging to them. It didn’t burn it, the creature as unaffected as if it were a phoenix shifter too.
I repressed a shudder.
The revenant lurched forward, its fingers lifting as it sent a blast of air my direction. It slammed me into the side of the carriage, knocking the air from my lungs. My injured back twinged in protest, more blood seeping into the fabric of my tunic.
What’s happening? Archer’s voice was urgent in my mind. Are you all right?
But I didn’t have the strength to focus on sending a thought back to him, not when I needed every ounce to defend myself.
Aloud, I heard Archer shout from somewhere outside the carriage. “Lily! Get to Isa!”
The carriage rocked again, distracting the revenant.
It released me from its magical hold. I collapsed, catching my breath and staggering to my feet.
Reaching behind myself blindly, my fingers caught on the door handle.
I depressed it and tumbled backward out the door, spilling onto the bridge in an awkward heap.
The undead were everywhere, and so were the shadows, chilling my blood, filling my body with pain, and sapping my strength. I could feel my well of magic diminishing, like they were draining me of my power to strengthen themselves and the revenants.
Lily ran to my side as I stumbled to my feet, taking my hand and helping me up. “You’re hurt,” she murmured, her gentle eyes scanning me with worry.
“Not badly,” I insisted.