Chapter 23
REDVYR
I charged on all fours, Bezaliel and our wolves right beside me. Enraged that these creatures dared to come into our camp, my fury turned into raw fear when I saw Jessamine being lifted off the ground by one of the grimlocks.
My roar shook the loose rocks from the mountains. The grimlocks screeched but didn’t deter from their targets. Using all of my strength, I burst into full speed and launched myself into the air right as Jessamine reached back and grabbed one of the creature’s pointed horns.
Colliding with them, I pulled us all to the ground, one arm around Jessamine’s waist, my other hand wrapped around the grimlock’s throat.
When we tumbled to the snow, I embedded my claws into its green-gray skin and ripped out its throat, its crimson eyes rounding wide as it died.
Foul blood spilled into the snow, the grimlock dead before I stood to my full height.
Lifting Jessamine to her feet, I gave her an urgent shove toward Wolf. “Take her to safety!” Then to her, “Go, Jessamine!”
She didn’t hesitate, climbing onto Wolf who then launched into a gallop back toward the camp, while my clansmen and their wolves charged out into the field toward us.
Tessa screamed, she and her baby being carried off by two grimlocks.
Bezaliel launched into the air, high enough to grab hold of Tessa’s ankles.
He roared and pulled. Tessa fell free as Mishka snarled and leaped, clamping her jaws over the grimlocks head, but the other creature snatched the babe, making a delighted screech before speeding off in flight toward the woods.
“Noooo!” Bezaliel bellowed as I ran after the creature with him, charging across the snowy field.
A shrill squeal rent the air and a zip of blue light darted toward the grimlock carrying Saralyn. It was Hallizel, circling and pecking the creature. It did not slow him as he reached out with a clawed hand and batted her to the ground.
“Bes!” Sorka screamed, running across the clearing toward the woods on our right.
Two more grimlocks carried Bes—kicking and screaming—too high for us to reach her, too fast for us to follow.
“After them!” I called, tearing off toward Wyken Woods.
Bezaliel fell in beside me as did the rest of my warriors, all of us charging at full speed after the monsters who’d stolen two of our children. One of them was the sweet infant of my dearest friend.
The air in Wyken Woods was oppressive, the bare trees with bony, craggy branches standing like sentinels to the underworld.
This forest wasn’t dead, for the trees were tall and strong, even if they bore no leaves.
But never had we caught game here for our winter meals.
As if woodland creatures sensed there was something wrong in the atmosphere, something unwelcoming.
“This way!” yelled Brohm, bending close to the ground, examining a knotty root jutting across the path.
As I passed, I noticed a drop of bright blue blood on the bark, the smell of Bes on the wind. She had been injured when they took her. My gut clenched. Two of the most vulnerable members of the clan had been taken, one of them wounded.
We hurdled on, the woods darkening the farther we went.
We only ever came here for kindling, and we never ventured too deep into these woods.
The trees’ spindly, naked branches reached up, tangling with their brethren overhead, creating a lattice of interlaced fingers.
I never sensed dryads or naiads or sprites, not any of faekind, living here. It was a barren place that we avoided.
A baby’s cry echoed in the distance.
“Saralyn,” groaned Bezaliel, chasing in the direction of the sound.
We followed, helplessly. The next time we heard her cry, it was much farther away. Still, we ran on, going deeper into Wyken Woods than we had ever been, the coldness of this place seeping into my bones.
We ran until the gray sky peeking through the trees turned dark. Until we were all exhausted from our fruitless chase, the moon beaming through the branches above us.
Fungus grew along the base of some of the trees this deep in the forest, the snow piled in sparse patches against the knotted roots.
We came to a clearing and Bezaliel stopped, as did I.
The others circled around us. We all stopped and listened.
I inhaled deep, seeking our enemy. The grimlock scent was faint.
A hard gust of wind rattled the branches above us like bones in a mass grave.
“She’s gone.” Bezaliel’s voice broke with agony. “My child.” He thrust his hands into his hair and roared up at the half-moon peeking through the canopy of bare branches, as if it was watching our helpless despair.
I remained still, smelling the air, trying to find a trace of them. This time, even the scent of the grimlocks was gone. There was no sound of a baby’s cry or Bes’s whimpers on the wind.
Meeting my friend at the center of the clearing, I put a hand on his shoulder. “We must go back.”
“No! We can find her. We must find her.” He shook his head, agony in his eyes. “I can’t go back to Tessa without her.”
I hauled him to face me, both my hands on his shoulders, holding his terrified gaze which made my gut clench. “This is black magick. We need help. We are no match for this without those who wield magick also.”
It galled me to admit it, but there was one thing we could not fight alone. And that was this sorcerer who wielded the grimlocks with his magick.
“I can’t leave her,” he choked out, swallowing hard against the pain building inside him.
My heart ached at the grief and anger tearing him apart.
“We aren’t leaving her,” I assured him, mustering all the confidence that I could. “We will find someone to help us bring her back.” I shook him to make him look at me again, his gaze wandering toward the darkness beyond my shoulder. “Then we will kill them all.”
“Tessa,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “She won’t survive this.”
“She is a strong woman. You know this.” I squeezed his shoulders to get his attention, despair engulfing him. “Let’s return to them. We’ll get the help we need and hunt them down when we have it.”
He wrenched free of me and roared to the skies. “I will find you!” His voice was malevolent. “I will kill you all!”
His rage echoed through the woods. But no answer echoed back to us. Nothing but silence and the wind.
He fell to his knees, finally giving into his fear and grief. When his shoulders shook, I strode to him and pulled my chief to his feet.
“Do not despair,” I commanded him in my kingly voice. “This isn’t the end. We must go to Tessa. It’s time for action.”
He swiped his arm over his eyes, his face set in tight, grim lines. “You’re right. We need a plan.”
The other warriors remained silent, knowing there was nothing they could say to ease Bezaliel’s pain. They simply corralled closer in silent support.
Finally, we raced back home—empty-handed.
As we always did when there was danger—like that year a blizzard had broken through the Sisters and dumped six feet of snow in Ghasta Vale—the entire clan gathered in the communal cave. Instantly, I found Jessamine kneeling at Dayn’s side, wiping his brow.
I strode straight to them as Bezaliel charged toward Tessa and hauled her, crying, into his arms. Lorelyn had her arms around Sorka who sat on a bench near Dayn, whispering words of comfort in her ear.
Sorka held Hallizel in her cupped hands.
Though it was dim, she still illuminated a pale blue light. Thank the gods, she had survived.
Jessamine stood when I came to her, her gaze sweeping over me to look for injury. She pressed a hand to my chest and closed her eyes, sighing in relief. Taking her hand in mine, I kissed her palm.
“How is Dayn?”
“The injury is bad. But he is strong. He’ll make it, Tessa says.”
His vest had been removed, revealing two deep claw marks over his heart and the reddened sutures that Tessa must’ve stitched. Even in her worry and grief for her daughter and mate, our healer had taken care of our own.
Dayn lay unconscious, which concerned me. We weren’t the fainting sort due to pain or injury.
“Shearah made him a sleeping draught of tea.” Jessamine seemed to read my mind. “He kept trying to stand and go after all of you into the woods. But I made him drink it all so that we could tend his wounds. He bled quite a lot.”
“Good. Smart thinking.”
My gaze fell to the back of the cave where a white cloth covered one of my warriors.
“Breygar didn’t make it.”
“No, he did not,” said Lorelyn, standing beside us now. “Lord Redvyr, you must speak to the council and the clan. They are afraid. We must all know what is to be done.”
Giving Jessamine’s hand a squeeze, I left her to march over to the fire, then turned to face the clan spread about the cave. The benches were completely full and many stood, with some clansmen huddled on furs spread on the floor for sleeping. No one would leave this cave tonight.
“Tell us,” said Wyzel, her somber eyes already grieving the news I brought.
“We did not recover Bes and Saralyn.”
Sorka sobbed while Tessa stared, her face grim, her eyes haunted.
“Why have these creatures come to us?” Melgar, one of the elderly council members, stood from the bench. “The shadow fae said they’ve not been this far south before, did they not?”
“They did.” I paused. “We don’t know why they’ve come, only that we must find them to get our loved ones back.”
“Perhaps the gods are angry with us.” It was Pavlok, Velga’s father. “Because our king has taken an outsider to his bed.”
He was lashing out at me for humiliating his daughter in front of the clan. So he thought to bring the rumor out into the open, to challenge where I stood, and try to humiliate me.
“Have the sins of the father been passed onto the son?” Melgar asked, the accusation that I had taken a woman who wasn’t meant to be mine clear in his voice. That I might shame our clan by forcing them to take a queen who did not belong, who the gods had not chosen.