Chapter 50 #2
With every ounce of strength I have left, I slam the dagger into its chest, clenching and turning my head in anticipation of the blood that I expect to spurt from the wound. But instead, the blade sinks into something that resists like thick tar before giving way completely.
And the Myrkr…? Though I cannot see its face, I know somehow that it smiles.
Then it laughs.
The sound is wrong, a tearing shriek that scrapes at the edges of my mind as it grows louder and louder.
I wrench the blade free and stumble back, clasping my hands to my ears as the creature begins to convulse.
‘Thank you, child of three, child of four,’ it says, the dissonant voice scraping along my nerves.
As it shakes, the darkness sloughs away, the black of its cloak drifting into the ether like … like feathers? As the shroud of darkness yields, drifting up into the air, colour bleeds into its form, and the shadowy form transforms into the solid, bright red fox-stole of the Sannings.
‘Great Mother,’ I breathe, goosebumps covering my skin as I watch on, transfixed as warm blond hair spills from his temples, his forehead marked with the stone of priesthood.
And there, around its neck, a single black feather hangs on a leather cord.
A man. Not a monster, but simply a man? All this time?
‘Child of one, of two, of three, of four …’ The nonsensical words continue to peel from his lips as he laughs again, pure joy ringing out. The sound echoes across the clearing and dread coils tightly in my gut.
I did not aim to kill a priest; I aimed to kill a monster. But the dagger is surely the Gods’ judgement, so priest or not, this thing has been found wanting.
The laughter breaks off in a wet gurgle as he slumps to the ground and his life slips away.
A moment later there is nothing more than fabric sprawled on the withered grass.
The hair on the back of my neck rises. Bodies don’t just disappear. Is it dead? Did it portate?
‘Where … where did it go?’ I stutter, my eyes darting to Kyor, not daring to take my attention from the husk for a moment longer in case the body returns as quickly as it vanished.
‘He was a priest,’ I say in total confusion.
Kyor snorts. ‘Fuck that. If that monster was ever a priest, it was a long, long time ago, Thorn. You made the right choice.’
‘The three vendari,’ Caz breathes. I turn to look at her, but her gaze shifts from the stole upon the ground to Thessa beside her. Her tone is accusing when she speaks. ‘Thessa, I read you the book. You told me the vendari weren’t real.’
‘I did not think they were …’ Thessa admits, eyes wide as she stares at the priest’s ceremonial garb still crumpled on the ground.
‘There’s something you’re not telling me, Thessa. I can feel it.’ I can hear the pain in Caz’s voice. The knowledge that the woman she cares for is hiding things from her is hurting her.
‘These vendari …’ I say, looking at Caz. ‘What are they? You said the word means they’re protectors?’
‘That’s what the name means, but—’
‘Did I kill some kind of fucking protector?’ I hear my voice rising. ‘Caz, what the fuck did I just do?’
‘I … I … don’t know.’ As she shakes her head, Kyor places his hand on my cheek, drawing my head around to face him.
‘Thorn, you killed a fucking Myrkr. Not a priest, not a whatever-the-fuck-vendari. A Myrkr. One of the deadliest siphons to walk the earth. You accomplished something today that is literally the stuff of legends. They’re going to sing songs about this for centuries to come.
You’re a living legend, Thorn. Fucking own it.
’ The look of pride on his face almost undoes me.
As he brushes his fingers down to my jaw, it loosens something within me. ‘We’re alive because of you,’ he breathes. ‘What you did … it took huge courage, and I promise I’ll show you my appreciation later, but for now, we need to get the fuck out of here.’
With a final squeeze of my shoulder, he moves away. Despite his words, the feeling of wrongness still vibrates through me.
Kyor’s right. I did what needed to be done, didn’t I? And it’s not like I knew what the blade would do. It didn’t cause so much as a scratch when it struck me.
And yet the heaviness remains.
All is well, Little Raven, Fen murmurs. You did well. Pride shines through in that simple sentence, and I can feel it in his chest, bursting out of him. His bonded killed a Myrkr.
Thank you. I look around, relief surging through me as I can see that none of my friends are injured. Better yet, the Rottings haven’t just left; they died. They finally stopped. Writhing limbs have stilled, and gnawing jaws are now blissfully motionless.
And us? We’re still living.
In the silence, Fen presses closer to me, his breath a low, steady rhythm I didn’t realise I was matching. My hands are trembling, and I bury them in his fur to hide it.
But I can hide nothing from Fen.
You are safe now. I have you, he reassures me gently.
The words hit deep, in the best way. I lean forward and rest my forehead against the warmth of his neck, and for a heartbeat I let myself be nothing but a body still breathing.
Are you hurt? I ask, wishing the question had come from me sooner, but even as it fills my mind, I know the answer. There is no pain coming from him now.
I am fine.
I’m beginning to think you’re always fine.
Because I am, he shoots back, making me smile. My hide is thick. I am strong.
You are, I agree.
I let his certainty settle around me like a cloak, though my mind refuses to rest. Whatever the Myrkr was before his death, he was once something other than a being of darkness. In fact, what he was looked remarkably familiar.
Silently, I walk over to where Thessa weaves between the dead Rottings, though rather than stopping when she sees me approaching, she continues.
‘Thessa?’ I hasten to catch up with her and begin talking to her back in the hope that she’ll turn around and face me. ‘What was that thing? He was dressed like you … like a Sanning.’
She stops, her back facing me. Slowly, she turns around, her lips pressed together, face solemn. ‘I cannot tell you, The Rose.’
‘A vendari. That means a protector, right? That’s what Caz said. What was he protecting?’
Her lips press further still, tightening to such a thin line that they all but disappear. Then, without a word, the Sanning turns and walks to Stide, leaving me to watch her go.
The two Sannings may not have magic, but they have knowledge.
And right now, they’re keeping it from me.
But not for long. Not while my friends’ lives are on the line.