41. Mare
Mare
As a child, I’d listened to the priests describe the world beyond the wall, eyes squeezed shut in fear.
A veil separates our land from the shadow. Solathair blessed the world of light, but the evil in men’s hearts brought forth darkest night. At the wall, we halted the growing tide.
But the land beyond had never been recovered.
Monsters lurked in a land of shadow, all jagged teeth and lethal claws. Marshes of the dead and rivers of blood flowed through a cursed land of dried rock and infinite darkness.
They spoke true, on one account. An entirely different world lay beyond the veil.
But, saints, it was beautiful.
“Bruthine’s cinders,” Brighid cursed, standing by my side. “This is incredible.”
Jagged rocks hung in the sky, floating obelisks frozen in time. Knee-high grass rose from the plains around us, silver and soft. Far above, motes of white light danced through the black sky, like fireflies during a summer’s night.
Kneeling, I brushed a hand along the grass, cupping a blooming flower. Its petals glowed with soft, phosphorescent light. Violet. The same shade as Tirnanog’s tree.
“Here.” Brighid had walked a few paces away. She pointed to a rough footprint buried in the grass. “Luckily for you, I know a thing or two about rolling around in the mud.”
Holding Cierthine before me, I scanned the area. “And how does a lady like you know about that?”
“Bláth taught me,” Brighid said. “She thought it might come in handy, should I choose to run away.”
“Did you?”
“Not until that insufferable fae showed up on my doorstep.” She paused. “What was that?”
A faint rumble tore through the earth. Light appeared in the distance, growing in size.
And the tremors intensified with it.
A jagged rock rose from the ground nearby, a match for the ones floating above. Grabbing Brighid’s arm, I pulled her behind the rock as the source of the light came into view.
A creature as tall as a castle strolled across the plain, weaving between the floating obelisks. The light emanated from its hide—specks of starlight patterned its dark fur. Gazing upon its flank felt like looking up into the vast sea above.
Enormous antlers sprouted from its doe-like head, and its hooves left heavy impressions where it walked.
It was not alone. A herd followed behind, a few pausing to graze, while some pranced with the energy of youth.
A herd of deer, patterned by stars with antlers that reached to brush the firmament.
“Ash and cinder,” Brighid breathed, leaning around our cover. “Look at them.”
Wonder and joy bloomed on Brighid’s face. My fear melted away.
This woman could match my heresy—perhaps even surpass it.
Should an Inquisitor learn of me, it would not be from Brighid's lips.
“Come on.” She rose. “I don’t think they’ll hurt us.”
“Nothing here wants to hurt me,” I said, following her. “Though, I suppose you know that.”
“Yes, I . . . I don’t know why.” Brighid found Liam’s trail again and set off toward the south
I craned my neck, watching the majestic creatures. One looked in our direction, eyes glowing in the darkness.
It huffed, making a sound not unlike one of Aenir’s elks. Then, it returned to grazing.
Had my brother not been in the worst danger imaginable, I might have smiled.
“Shit,” Brighid cursed, spinning.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve lost the trail. The ground’s firmer here.” She pulled her hair back. “I can’t see a thing, either.”
The world behind the wall was dark, but I could see everything around us—every rock, every blade of grass.
Brighid stepped closer to me. “Your bird. Call it.”
“I didn’t get the impression he answered to me.”
“Has he not arrived to alert you to danger? Mine has aided me many times.”
Lifting my eyes toward the sky, I envisioned the strange crow with a missing talon. No one else had seen him. The bird was a phantom, arrived to haunt my world the day before it fell.
I cared more for my brother’s life than my own. If the phantom bird was truly my intuition—or something else watching over me—I needed it now.
A faint clack drew my eyes up. The crow perched on one of the floating obelisks, peering down.
Brighid paid him no heed, oblivious to his presence. With a flap, the bird took off, deeper south.
“This way.” I chased after him. Lifting her skirts, Brighid followed me.
My fingers trembled, and my chest ached. What had come over my brother?
Nobody knew anything about this place. Travel past the wall was forbidden.
What would I find?
A thick wall of trees rose to meet us, and I dove through their boughs. Pinpricks of mist danced through their branches like sprites, their touch cold as ice. I could hear water running somewhere nearby, a brook or stream.
Then, light. White and pure, just ahead. Fire.
I skidded to a stop at the edge of a deep chasm. My boot kicked a pebble into the gorge, and I heard it tumble into the deep. Brighid doubled over beside me, catching her breath. Her eyes focused on something to our right.
“Man-made,” she whispered.
I followed her gaze. A bridge extended across the chasm, built from onyx stone. The fire I’d seen burned at the top of its supporting pillars, where iron-wrought lanterns housed white flame.
Running a hand along the ancient stone, I gazed into the white fire.
People. There were people out here—or at least, there had been, once upon a time.
“We don’t have time to loiter.” I retracted my hand and tested the bridge. It felt sturdy.
And even were it not, I had little choice. The crow had flown to its other side.
My boots thudded on the bridge, hollow and dull. Silence wrapped the chasm in its embrace. Each step was louder than the last.
Blood rushed through my ears like a warning. The crow swooped around and flew to my side. Warning me.
A thunderclap exploded beneath me—an enormous pair of wings beat, lifting a dragon through the darkness below. Its wings hugged its black-scaled body, then expanded as it circled around to land on the other side of the bridge.
The ground quaked beneath its feet, its talons dug gouges through the dirt. Eyes dark as the night glared at me.
My fingers curled around Cierthine’s hilt.
“I don’t like its look,” Brighid whispered, eyes wide. “Will this one bow its head, too?”
The dragon lowered its head, sniffing the air. Its motions were different from those of the other beasts. Some had run around me, like I was invisible. Others had taken in my scent and turned the other way.
This one acted no differently from a wolf that lived north of the wall. Defensive. Hostile.
It took a step forward, claws wrapping around the broken pillar flanking the bridge’s other side.
I doubted I was ready to fight a dragon. But if it insisted on standing between Liam and me, then I had little choice. Raising Cierthine, I held my breath.
The dragon tilted its head, watching me. Intelligence gleamed within its onyx eyes.
White teeth broke up the darkness as it snarled—not like a defensive wolf fending off danger, but a man toying with its prey.
A song rose through the air, haunting and inhuman.
I recognized it instantly—a scáde.
The humming crescendoed as a much smaller dragon soared from the east and landed on the dragon’s other side. Beautiful pink colors shaded its underwings, twin pairs attached to its back. Thin antlers rose from its eyeless head, and its throat warbled with song.
The dragon whirled around, snapping at it. Backing out of its reach, the scáde heightened its song.
And others answered.
From the south to the west. Faint and distant, scádes joined their voices together in an eerie harmony. My bones vibrated with their voice, and Brighid grabbed her head and fell to her knees.
The dragon backed away, shaking its head. Its eyes glazed over, turning milky white. Wind swept over us, nearly knocking me down as it spread its wings and took flight—diving back into the abyss from which it had come.
Grabbing Brighid’s arm, I pulled her the rest of the way across the bridge. The scáde bounded away from us, diving into the woods.
“Wait!” I called.
The scáde froze. Its long neck curled around, and it regarded me with its eyeless face.
My breath caught. I recognized it. This was the same creature from the glade by Tsuyan—the scáde I’d begged to flee, lest I be forced to slay it.
Brighid recognized him, too. “This is the same one, isn’t it?” She extended a cautious hand toward its head.
The scáde looked toward me, as though seeking approval. I nodded, and it relaxed.
A thought turned in my stomach. Maybe it was not the monsters of the dark that spared my life. Maybe it had only ever been the scáde—for the beasts of the shadows had been under its command.
But why?
“Will you help me find my brother?” I asked, searching its body, wondering how it could see me.
Releasing an eerie hum, the scáde turned and trotted through the trees, wings folded at its side.
Brighid hummed. "I think it understood you." Hiking up her skirt, she marched after it.
Hefting my sword, I followed.
Fog rolled over the ground, growing thicker as the trees thinned. A mountain painted the distance black, but a strange halo outlined its silhouette. The fog rose like a wall beyond the forest’s end, glowing with unseen light.
A man’s silhouette stood out against the mist. Liam.
He wasn’t alone. A creature emerged from the shadows, though I could make little of it out. Wings, torn and jagged, extended from its back, and it moved with an unnatural gait. It reached toward him, with clawed fingers.
I moved without thinking. Taking three dancing steps forward, I threw myself at it. Lightning enveloped me as it had in Tsuyan, ferrying me to my brother in a blink of electric light.
Static shock rippled around my body as I leaped from the spell and brought Cierthine down on the creature’s head. It reared out of the way with unnatural speed, and I caught a glimpse of its face.
It was a woman, pallid and gaunt. Like a corpse.
Then she was gone. The mist enveloped her and parted to reveal only silence.
My heart hammered against my chest. What was that thing?
Liam crumpled to his knees, and I dropped to his side. That horrible fog shrouded his irises, trapping him in its spell. Grabbing his shoulders, I shook him.
“Liam!” I hissed. “I . . . I’ve threatened to kill you for far less than this. You’d best have a damn good explanation.”
He shook his head, as though trying to escape from a dream. “It was calling me. I had to . . . ” One trembling hand lifted and reached under his coat.
When he pulled it out, his palm was slick with blood.
Gasping, I ripped his cloak back to see a tear running across his right shoulder, crossing his chest, and ripping across his upper arm.
Light flared beside me as Brighid summoned a flame in her palm. “That’s a fresh wound.” She stepped back, looking around. “Whatever did this must have been scared off by the scáde song. But it can’t have gotten far.”
All was mist. Anything could emerge and catch us unawares. Distant sounds traveled through the fog—the unearthly calls of some other beast.
A low, nervous rumble echoed in the scáde’s throat.
Brighid caught my arm. “I know a safe place. If your friend will let us borrow his wings.”
“A safe place?” I balked. “Back over the wall? Reese will—”
“I am not talking about Reese,” she hissed. “It is time you learned why I sought you out. Why Bláth was waiting for you in Gwynford, that day. I’d tell you to trust me, but you have little choice.”
Tearing off my cloak, I shoved it into her hands. “Try to stop the bleeding.” Glancing back at my dazed brother, I approached the scáde, hand held out.
It lowered its head, pressing its cold, smooth scales to my palm. The hum quaking through its throat shook my bones.
“May I borrow your wings?” I asked quietly.
The scáde raised its head, and something clicked into place. A warmth in my breast that had not been there before. A feeling that told me this was right.
I heard something—the thud of feet and claws against the earth. Spinning around, I pointed Cierthine toward the wall of mist.
A shardwolf pounded into view, its eyes at height with mine. Frigid veins of ice pulsed down its thick fur, and horns rose from behind its ears. One was broken in half.
The scáde nudged me, placing itself between the beast and me. To my surprise, the shardwolf backed up and sat, head tilted behind it—like a dog awaiting its master.
Light pierced the fog as a man holding a lantern stepped into view.
My grip on Cierthine tightened. Platinum blond hair tumbled past his shoulders, and yellow eyes like those of a cat flicked around our group. An ebony suit of armor hid beneath his black cloak.
This was the man from Tsuyan. Quinn—Reese’s old friend. One of the men responsible for the refugees’ deaths.
My lips curled into a snarl.
“Looks like you were right, girl.” Quinn tossed the shardwolf a dried hunk of meat. “We aren’t alone out here.”
Brighid wrapped an arm around Liam and helped him up. “You must be Quinn—Bláth mentioned you had awful hair.”
“Lady Brighid.” Quinn glowered at her. “Bláth mentioned you had a sharp tongue.” He lifted his chin, noticing Liam.
Moving around the scáde, I pointed Cierthine at the Solheart. “If you so much as twitch in his direction . . . ”
Quinn’s yellow eyes observed the scene before settling on me. “You aren’t in a position to make threats. That wound looks nasty—and I don’t recommend you return to your Paragon.” He whistled, and the scáde lowered its head and wings—offering us to mount. “Come with me—and I’ll get him to a healer.”
“Where would you take us?" I demanded.
“Where else?” Quinn smirked. “To the haven of your enemies. Because no one else will help you.”