Dragon wings stretched skyward then swept down, pushing the air underneath them and sending debris mushrooming off the forest floor as it lifted off, tucking sharp clawed feet underneath its body.
“How many?” Balen shouted to the War Raven, pulling me back into the shadows. He shoved me down, his hand hard on my shoulder. Just as I looked up, dragon’s breath lit up the night sky. Horses shrieked in terror, a sound that sent shivers up my spine.
I didn’t hear an answer to Balen’s question, but he must have heard because he cursed roughly before grabbing my hand and running through the forest, going deeper and deeper into the thick darkness where the moonlight couldn’t penetrate the treetops.
He stopped beneath the limbs of a tall tree. “Up here. Hurry.” He gripped my waist in both hands and launched me into the tree.
I gasped, my arms flailing as I flew upwards. I missed two high branches, but managed to grab onto a lower one as I fell back down. Balen’s hands shoved the soles of my feet, pushing me higher until I was able to pull myself up. When I gained my balance, straddling the limb, I reached for his hand.
He didn’t take it.
Fire danced in his eyes, and in the darkness it was a bright and terrifying thing; they blazed with determination and a warrior’s anticipation. “Climb, Deira. Don’t come down until I return.” His tone deepened with warning. “Whatever you do, don’t make a sound. If they come, use your power. Let your instinct take over. Don’t be afraid of it. Don’t hold back.”
My pulse thundered through my ears. “The Fallen have no life for me to take,” I said desperately.
“They have a small spark. It’s what reanimates them. You take it and they’ll fall.”
But I didn’t know how…
“You do and you can,” he said, reading my expression. “You can if your life depends on it. Remember what I said. Climb high. No sound.”
He wouldn’t leave until I promised. Unable to speak, I dipped my head sharply. He gave a curt nod and then jogged away, his tall, dark form swallowed up by the forest.
CHAPTER 8
I climbed, careful and slow, terrified of falling and trying not to think of just how high I was going. With each limb, my muscles tired, but still I went higher until the branches above me grew too thin to hold my weight. Finally, I settled against the rough bark, straddling a limb while looping my left arm around a smaller branch sticking out near my side. It was a good place to wait, a good place to keep my balance.
With the back of one hand, I wiped the sweat from my brow. Screams and steel echoed from the forest floor. From my vantage point, I could see flashes of the battle through the trees whenever the War Raven breathed its fire or Balen delivered a blow.
I prayed to Anu.
Since we had camped on the outer perimeter of the forest, I could still see the wide expanse of Grasslands to my left. It was there that Balen finally drew them. He’d found his mount and was galloping bareback until he was far enough away from my location before stopping and waiting.
At least thirty Fallen appeared.
My fingernails dug into the bark. “No. What are you doing?”
Balen’s horse sidestepped, as anxious as Balen to fight. Then the dragon landed next to them and folded its great wings behind its back. It stuck out its neck and let out an angry roar. Still, was it enough?
How did one kill the undead?
The Fallen charged. Balen dismounted and slapped his horse on the rump. Standing alone now with the dragon, he rolled one shoulder then the next, flexed his neck, and rotated his sword wrist a few times.
He was mad, crazy to dismount and face them like that.
Icy despair swept through my veins, gathering in my stomach and twisting into a tight frozen knot.
The enemy circled them.
I nearly lost my grip on the limb when the War Raven unfurled its wings and flew away, deserting Balen. A cry of protest rose, but I restrained it, knowing it would be foolish to call out now.
Denial after denial resounded in my mind.
The creature had just . . . left.
Rage melted the frozen knot in my gut as tears pricked my eyes. I’d kill that creature if I had the chance. I’d suck the life right out of it until it was nothing more than a husk of black leather.
A glint of metal caught my eye. Blue flame inched up Balen’s sword. The Fallen closed in and the battle began. I did not blink. My heart, lungs, everything seemed to still.
There was beauty and grace in Balen’s movements, and the end he brought to the Fallen was swift and confident. His sword flashed in a wide arc, sailing, slicing, separating, incinerating bone and turning it to ash. So fast, the movements. One after one.
They swamped him many times. And many times I thought it would be his last, his part of the foretelling fulfilled. And then he would prevail.
He never tired. His movements never slowed.
Now I understood the difference between a warrior and a champion.
The chaotic scene grew hazy. I blinked, but the haze continued, the fight becoming slow, colors and movements blending together.
He will die for you.
It was not my voice, but another. Deep and haunting. Sorrow rippled through my body and a hot tear slid down my face.
Come now, Deira. The voice echoed in a tone both gentle and intimate. Don't cry. You can save him.
A low chuckle wrapped me in warmth. I squeezed my eyelids tight, trying to bring back the clarity I had lost. My heart began a slow heavy beat.
So young... You desire so much yet understand so little. You have no power, no strength, Deira. You cannot save him on your own.
The words rang true. Another tear followed the path of the first. “Who are you? Go away.”
He laughed again. This night, he will win, but he cannot stand against an army, for that is what I will send, day after day, night after night. There is nowhere to run that I will not follow.
Nox.
The King of Annwn was inside my head.
I rested my forehead against the bark of the tree feeling drained and unbalance, and . . . shocked.
He comes, the voice said and immediately I swiped at my tears and searched the Grasslands, my vision becoming clearer.
I saw Balen mount up, saw armor and weapons and ash littering the ground around him. Relief surged from me with a great sob.
A low, knowing chuckle filled my mind. The Lia Fail is lost, Deira. He will die for nothing, for a lost cause, unless you choose.
“Choose,” I rasped out. “Choose what?”
A cold, gentle wind rustled the leaves and blew the drowsiness away.
Nox was gone.
I climbed down the tree one painstaking limb at a time. My entire body shook like one of the brittle leaves that fell from the trees. My concentration kept wavering, kept returning to the voice, the words. Was it real? Had the King of Annwn communicated with me?
But even as I questioned my sanity, I knew he had. I felt it in the way my mind’s defenses had been waylaid; the warm, slumberous fog he’d created so that I couldn’t repel him from my thoughts.
As I went down, my hands became scratched and raw against the cold, rough bark. How was I supposed to defend myself? How did I fight that kind of magic? He’d used me. He’d invaded my mind with such ease. How much had he seen there? Had he seen all my weakness, my thoughts, or could he only speak to me and guess at the rest ?
By the time I reached the last limb, Balen approached on horseback at a slow canter, and I was fighting a full blown fit of rage. At Nox. At the War Raven. I threw a grim glance over my shoulder, blowing a strand of hair from my eyes, and seeing that Balen led my mount as well.
I dropped from the limb, brushed off my torn leggings and tunic, threw my braid over my shoulder, and waited. I squeezed my hands into fists, welcoming the burn of my raw and cut skin.
And where was that damned War Raven now? I thought, looking up at the night sky. The coward.
The horses slid to a stop in front of me. Balen held out the reins. “Hurry.”
He was breathing heavily, his hair wet with sweat, his face dirty and hardened, streaked with blood that must’ve come from the Fallen’s horses or perhaps a hound or two. Perhaps his own.
My legs were shaky as I stepped forward and took the reins. I clutched a fistful of the horse’s mane and hauled myself into the saddle. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” He kicked his horse ahead of mine and headed into the forest.
I adjusted the strap to my satchel, which still hung diagonally across my chest, and followed him.
For nearly an hour we rode in silence, save for the hooves thudding rhythmically on the soft forest floor, and the jingle of tack and Balen’s armor. We picked up a path that eventually paralleled a wide river, and passed tall oak trees so old and massive it would take eight or nine grown males holding hands to circle the great trunks. The hoot of owls sounded occasionally and, hovering in the darkness, tiny fireflies blinked their soft yellow light.
These were things I remembered, things which should’ve brought back pleasant memories. But I was still angry over Nox’s invasion, the raven’s desertion, and I was worried about Balen. I knew why he had drawn the Fallen away, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that he would’ve sacrificed himself for me.
A splash brought me out of my thoughts. Balen’s horse was crossing the river. I guided my horse down and then across the knee-deep water, went up the bank, then settled into a slow walk beside Balen, searching for something to say.
“We’ll make camp soon and then head for Falias,” he told me, exhaustion staining his words.
“Is it safe to stop?”
“Aye. That attack was simply a warning.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If he wanted us dead, he would’ve sent more. He’s toying with us.”
I thought of Nox’s words, his threat to hunt us down. “Even so, are you certain we should stop?”
“There are some places the undead cannot go. This forest is one of them. There used to be markers at the edge of forest, preventing the Fallen from entering. They’ve been moved back. We passed one shortly before we crossed the river.” He glanced over and saw my question before I could ask it. “The markers are wards, protection against Nox’s dark power. Their power must be weakening. It must be why they were moved inward, closer to Falias, to regain strength over a smaller area of the forest.”