28
When I finally step out of the underground, my knees buckle. I close my eyes against the burning light and finally breathe in fresh air after the staleness of below.
Raker’s a few steps ahead, but I don’t even acknowledge him. Not after — No. I won’t think about it. He’s right. It wasn’t real. Raker is incapable of wanting anyone, least of all me, someone with traitorous secrets across her skin. If only the head of the king’s guard, a knight trained to kill or capture anything silver, knew what he had been touching.
Even in the dark … that was reckless. Stupid.
On the other side of the gates, I don’t doubt a glimpse at my bare skin would have him dragging me straight to the king himself, which might as
well be a death sentence.
Yes.
Fuck. Him.
Finally, I get to my feet, eyes on the horizon, dread curling in my gut.
The land in front of us has been razed. There’s no green. Just an empty crater sits where a lake once must have.
My eyes burn. I would cry if I had the liquid to spare.
I expect Raker to stalk off ahead, but he waits, back toward me, until I’m closer, and then he takes off, a wall of metal.
When dusk falls, we can’t find a cave with water, so we make camp by the remnants of a stream, no more than a few puddles of misty water we lay in the middle of. It’s not ideal. Not even a little bit. But I would sleep on a bed of nails right now.
I collapse against the ground, and I don’t even have the energy to dream.
We take off at the first sign of sunrise. We don’t speak, and I’m grateful.
Anger and hurt still churn in my chest. I’d be happy if we spent the rest of this journey in silence.
It’s been more than two days without food or water. My heart is beating too quickly, like a last burst of life, a final, desperate push. Nausea roils through me. It’s an effort to take every step, but my body moves anyway, knowing very well that I will die if I stay still.
It’s not just me that’s affected. Raker is moving slower than he ever has. I want to suggest he take off the armor, leave it behind, but after having said those words underground—in a desperate plea—in very different circumstances … I decide to keep my mouth shut.
The land slopes like it’s melting. I ready myself for more desolation, for more thirst.
But there’s something green ahead. A forest? Hope surges through me
until we reach the putrid waters.
A bog.
A scraping sound escapes the back of my throat, a weak little noise that Raker ignores.
My veins feel dry. My breaths are shallow. I can’t keep going. I must keep going.
Because there is clean water close by. If this journey has taught me anything, it’s that there is always an end to the turmoil. Always an end to the rot, and the mists, and the darkness.
I just have to keep walking.
Thick trees abound, half rotted and wrapped in vines covered in thick barbs. The waters are various shades of murky gray. There’s no way around,
only through.
One moment of frustration.
Then I follow Raker into the water.
It reaches his knees. At my height, it reaches my waist. I keep my distance, watching him move, to make sure the water doesn’t deepen.
It doesn’t. It’s still and steady, and it smells disgusting. My body lurches with a retch, but there’s nothing in my stomach to vomit.
Insects buzz around us, the sound spiraling through my mind. Thick, black moss covers sections of the water. I push through it, frowning at its
grittiness. I slide my feet against the ground, kicking hard objects out of my way. Strange. My mouth opens when I feel something new. A caress against my leg, like a piece of fabric.
I pause. In front of me, Raker keeps going, parting the waters with his broad body. My voice is hardly more than a rasp as I finally break our silence. “Do you—”
I’m pulled beneath the swamp’s surface before the rest of the words reach my lips.
This time, I don’t gasp. I don’t fill my lungs. I’ve learned that much. My eyes open instead, stinging in the acidic water, and my body goes rigid.
Glinting metal. Everywhere. The bottom of this bog is covered in swords, and chalices, and other priceless prizes.
And bodies with shriveled skin that have somehow been preserved in this stinging water.
Not all of them are dead. My throat constricts as the creature that pulled me under finally comes into view. It has the pale face of a man, but it—it doesn’t have a mouth. Its eyes are milk-white. Sharp bones erupt from its skull in a crown; each spire covered in ashen flesh. Tattered rags with gold stitching hang off its bony limbs, a glowing spot of crimson in the center of its chest is visible even through the fabric. Terror spikes through me.
Skelmire.
It was in the book. Legend has it they were once royalty consumed by their greed. Now they keep everything that stumbles into their bogs. I should have remembered before I stepped foot in one.
Fuck.
The skelmire leans forward, and its flesh … it begins to peel off its limbs in long ribbons, leaving behind only bone. A spindly hand reaches toward me— In a flash, those ribbons of flesh uncurl, pinning me to the bottom like shackles.
I thrash beneath its hold, lungs constricting. Everywhere it’s touching me burns.
It bows its head, so I’m only facing its crown of flesh. It gets closer, as if it’s about to stab those bone-sharp spires through my skull— Before it can, it’s gone. I’m freed.
I crash through the surface, sputtering, head pounding, only to see the creature standing right in front of Raker. Without a head. But it’s still lifting
a sword.
“Its gem!” I sputter out, remembering the book.
“What?” Raker demands.
“There’s a gemstone inside its chest. It keeps them alive even after death.
You have to—you have to take it out to kill them!”
Raker’s fist busts through the skelmire’s rib cage, cracking right through bone. I swallow at that raw strength. His hand emerges holding a glimmering ruby.
The creature breaks apart, bones scattering before sinking into the bog.
Raker looks back at me, and by the tilt of his head … he almost looks
impressed.
Not pathetic. Not nothing.
That’s what I say through my glare as I pant, relief settling my blood.
But before my heart can return to a normal cadence, the still gray water all around us breaks. And dozens of skelmires slowly emerge from its depths. All holding swords they must have fished from the bottom of the
swamp.
Raker and I share a look.
We’re surrounded. I’m exhausted. I want to sink to the bottom of this bog and give up. I want to let this swamp win.
But just that look … I can’t see his face, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s like a promise. We will fight. We are tired, and fading fast, and I fucking hate him right now, but we will fight. “Keep that elbow up,” he says, voice like ground stone.
I nod. I unsheathe my sword. It glimmers.
The skelmires lunge forward.
My blade swings widely, cutting off three heads at once. And I do manage to keep my elbow up. Energy pounds through my dehydrated veins, every last shred of strength rising, fighting. I can’t break their bones with my fists, not like Raker can, but when they stand still, I plunge my blade through their chests, cutting the precious stones out.
Rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds all spill into the water as the skelmires go down, one by one.
Each body that drops is soon replaced. Ancient swords shatter against my own, but the skelmires reach down and get new ones.
I turn, fighting them off, and catch a glimpse of him.
For a moment, I forget myself, I forget I’m surrounded by swamp creatures, I forget my thirst. I just stand, unable to do anything but watch as Raker’s blade carves through the air in perfect arcs, every movement precise, like he and the sword are one.
One hand holds his weapon, and the other keeps breaking into ribcages, over and over, splitting bone like snapping twigs. He takes down ten creatures in mere seconds.
A dagger glints in the side of my vision, and I barely turn in time, distracted. I cut another creature down, then steal its stone. “Is that all you have?” I growl.
As if they understand me, two of the skelmires slowly drift closer. Closer.
Until they’re touching. Until the bones within them begin mingling, cracking, reforming, and they merge to create a beast double the size, with four arms. Two weapons. Two gems.
“Fuck,” I say, watching helplessly as skelmire after skelmire emerges, uniting into one monstrous beast now wielding a dozen weapons.
“Run,” I breathe. I turn and sprint, before I hear the creature following, upending the bog, a torrent forming from the force of it, nearly pulling me under.
The skelmire horde is faster. Its ribbons of skin shoot out. Sheets of flesh wrap around my arm, dragging me back.
I scream, my body roaring in pain where it’s touching me, like my bones are melting beneath my skin.
I see the flash of metal right above me, a blade coming down, and I bring my sword up at the last moment, just barely blocking it.
The weapon shatters, and I cut the flesh around my arm, but another thick ribbon of skin replaces it. Another. Until the creature is lifting me out of the water. I gasp then choke as one wraps around my neck.
A dozen faces study me, flesh pulled thin over smothered screams. My strength has nearly left me. My legs are numb. I’m tired. So tired.
But with one last flash of resolve, I cut the skin holding me up in one smooth motion.
I drop into the swamp, my head banging on the bottom, the water barely cushioning my fall. The back of my head pulses. If I’d landed on a chalice, or a weapon, I would likely be dead.
Vision spinning, I rush to my feet. When I rise, I don’t see Raker. I blink away the blurriness, searching wildly.
I’m still looking when the horde lunges forward, right at me.
I raise my sword, knowing it will do little against this thunderous beast, especially when it wields several swords, and my knees are already ready to buckle. Even so, I stay firm.
Both hands curl tightly around the hilt. I clench my teeth, waiting for the impact.
But before the horde can reach me, Raker emerges right beneath it, his sword flying out of his grip, soaring, cutting right through the creature, through every gnarled bone and sheet of flesh that lashes out, until it is
halved.
For a moment, there’s just silence.
Then, a dozen gemstones fall around Raker, spilling into the water. And there are two thunderous splashes as both halves fall on either side of him.
His sword is still in the air, floating, glimmering. He reaches toward it.
Right behind him, another skelmire silently rises from the depths of the pale water, ancient sword gripped high. It swings right for Raker’s head.
I throw my blade through the air with all my power, and it buries itself right through its glow, knocking the stone out of its chest. It goes still.
Raker turns to see the blade half an inch from his neck. He looks from it to me.
The skelmire collapses into a pile of bones, and we just stand there, staring at each other. Chests heaving.
Slowly, I take a step forward, and he doesn’t stop looking at me. Not as I bend into the water and retrieve my blade. Not as I sheath it. We’re both panting, wrung out, and exhausted.
“Not nothing, after all,” I say, before turning my back on him and the bog.
The bog turns into woods. The trees are hardly standing. The forest is bare, like it’s been ransacked. There are no streams. No berries. No mushrooms.
Nothing.
It’s been too long without water, without food, without rest. Fighting the creatures took too much energy, which we didn’t have to spare, and something about that bog still sticks like a film to my skin.
Poison.
I try to deny it, but the cold slowly sliding through my veins becomes too noticeable to ignore. This was left out of the book, but I can feel its effects.
Raker must feel it too. Their skin touched his when he defeated the horde.
Our steps slow. We don’t speak. My eyes open, then close, and I have to catch myself from falling multiple times.
There’s nothing to do but keep walking, hoping somehow our starved bodies are able to fight this.
Sun rains down through the sparse trees, but I barely feel its warmth. My body has gone numb and cold.
The gray is ending, I think. Just a little longer. I grip that hope and will it to keep me moving, knowing that all bad places end, but—if there is a good place after the bad, I don’t think I’m strong enough to reach it.
“Raker,” I say, the word just a whisper.
I’m fading, it says. I can’t keep going.
“Aris,” he says, and it’s ridiculous that my body still has the energy to form a chill. The word is quiet but filled with a strength I don’t currently possess. Filled with keep going. Filled with don’t fucking quit now.
I stumble on a vine, and a hand reaches out to steady me. His fingers wrap around my arm, keeping me upright. His hand doesn’t drop, as if he knows that if he lets go then I’ll go down.
My legs are boneless. My thoughts become muddled. My feet drag against the increasingly fertile ground, pulling me forward.
Just a little longer— No matter how badly I want to keep going, to swallow down the pain and just keep moving, I can’t.
Flashes of green and brown and fading sunlight blur together until I hit the ground. It’s cool and soft beneath my cheek. There’s no movement. No one next to me. It’s only then that I realize Raker must have already fallen.
Or he left me.
If I close my eyes now, they’ll never open again. I know that. Body quivering with the effort, I turn onto my back so that I can see the sky.
One last try.
With a final scrap of energy, my fingers crawl into my pocket. There, I grab something I stole from the bottom of the bog. An emerald, large as my palm.
I hold it up to the sky, arm shaking. “Eat,” I say, the word a croak. “Come to me. Come to eat. Please.”
I repeat the words until they are just rasps.
Then my arm drops. My eyes close.
The moment they do, something gleams above me, so bright I can see it through my eyelids. It’s getting closer and closer, like a falling star.
It feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I force my eyes open, just to see it, just to know what’s so bright that I can see it with my eyes
closed.
My dragon?
No. A woman with a crown of stars, in a silver dress, the fabric glowing, liquid, curling behind her. A woman with golden hair floating right above me like a cloud.
She looks like an illusion, but no. There’s a force around her, an energy.
My sword hums against my spine.
I blink away the darkness as she turns her head, studying me so carefully, it’s like she sees through me. She frowns.
Then she reaches a gleaming finger toward me. I use every last piece of myself to reach back. Between our hands, something like a star forms, blinding me.
When I can see again, she’s gone. My hand drops against the dirt, spent, and from the finger she touched, silver roots spiral across the ground, through the forest.
Somehow, I know it’s a road. I know it’s a gift from this mysterious woman. She won’t save me … but she’ll show me the way.
Just when I think I’ve reached my limit, there is more. More strength waiting.
Slowly, knees shaking, I get to my feet. I take one step. Another. Raker.
He didn’t leave me. He’s just a few steps behind, sprawled out on the dirt.
Only poison could have brought him down.
“Get up,” I say roughly, the way he did to me not so long ago.
He doesn’t move.
I reach for his mask, and his hand stops mine just an inch away.
“Get up,” I say again. “I know the way.”
Raker doesn’t question the silver. Maybe he can’t see it. But I can, and I follow it, with desperation scraped from the very bottom of my soul.
And he follows me.
My body is aching. It’s pushing beyond itself. But I never, not once, doubt the silver stranger. For the first time on this quest, hope and peace
bloom in my heart. This path is leading somewhere, I know it. I just have to be strong and patient enough to reach the end of it.
I stumble through the forest, fluttering through memories, my mind not strong enough to smother them.
I see my parents. My mother, with her long, brown hair and freckles across her cheeks, and her lips red as cherries. Her dark blue eyes she gave me. I see my father, with his wide smile and the lines around his eyes, because he smiled with his whole face, and laughter poured from him like
song.
I remember.
“I remember you,” I whisper to the forest, which might be listening. “I remember, and because of that, you’re not dead yet. You’re with me.”
You’re with me.
I feel them here, helping me take every step. Pushing me forward, like I’m being carried by a wind of all our memories. My mind plays the ones I have left, and they’re alive in my head. Always.
My eyes burn, my limbs are trembling, but I keep going, for them. For them all. For Stellan, on the floorboards.
For my sister.
For my parents, who never left, never gave up trying to save us.
Until the forest begins to twist together.
It starts with the roots. They join like ribbons. Then the branches. They unite in embraces across the forest floor. It keeps going until the woods tangle into a knot that ends at an arched set of gates, twisted from the trees.
Raker falls.
I try to last one more step, for the both of us. My arm reaches toward the doors.
But as I fall, my fingers don’t even brush the lock.