Chapter 52
he morning starts well. Elska caught some sort of creature Kyor refuses to name but which tastes good enough.T Ruben’s fire powers falter after lighting the morning fire, so I give him an extra-large power jolt, and then he goes around giving everyone their morning hugs.
Kyor clears his throat. ‘I’ll take one.’
Ruben blinks. ‘One what?’ ‘Don’t make me say it.’ ‘What?’ Ruben repeats, appearing baffled.
Kyor huffs. ‘A hug. Give me a Godsdamn hug.’ Ruben doesn’t mock Kyor, doesn’t tease him. He just walks up to him and enfolds the Prince of Morathka in his arms. ‘Is this warm enough?’ Ruben asks softly.
Kyor nods tightly. ‘It’s nice.’ He stays in Ruben’s arms, and Ruben carefully lays his hand over Kyor’s injured shoulder, easing the stiffness there. ‘Thank you,’ the prince says as he draws away, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kyor looks around and freezes as he sees all eyes are on him. ‘What are
you all staring at?’ Benny smiles beatifically. ‘Progress.’ ‘Pack up,’ Kyor grunts. ‘It’s time to move out.’ We do as he requests, and before long we’re on the road. We skirt further west to find a path that Kyor promises will take us north, and the further we travel, the more the land changes.
The forest thins and then disappears. The wild open, dotted only with a sparse tree or two, feels raw and vulnerable after so much time under the dense canopy, the air sharper as the undergrowth grows sparse.
Even the birds are quieter here. Watching. Waiting.
The tension in Kyor’s face tells us all that we’re deep into disputed territory. This is exactly why he wanted us to ride east, but we chose west, and so here we are – filled with tension and an unceasing itch between my
shoulder blades.
I’m being watched. I’m sure of it.
We ride on, and the feeling worsens. I feel Fen’s hackles rise. We are not alone, Little Raven.
I know, I think back. I can feel them too.
The sensation is familiar now – that press against the edge of my mind.
Feelings rising that are not my own. Almost as if I am bonded to more than one wolf.
I could have believed the sensations were Fen’s were I not able to feel him so clearly now. Besides, the main emotion rolling off whoever is following us is very different to what I feel from my bond: outrage, disgust, and under it all, anticipation and patience.
It doesn’t take a genius to guess who is stalking us: Torailians. Whether we’re in their territory or not is certainly debatable, although I suspect they’d beg to differ. Hopefully, they’re just watching us to ensure we don’t go further towards their land.
And hopefully Kyor knows enough about the terrain to ensure we don’t.
Before I can warn the others, Benny speaks. ‘We’re being followed,’ he mutters, hand drifting casually to rest on his sword’s hilt.
Kyor doesn’t bother to deny it, and it’s clear Benny’s comment is not new information to him, as evidenced by his rigid shoulders and the way his gaze
scans the horizon with precision. ‘How many?’ Ruben asks tightly.
Kyor and Benny hesitate simultaneously, and both by just a fraction too long.
That hesitation lands like a stone in my gut. Too many. That’s the answer. ‘Enough,’ Kyor says finally. Enough to be dangerous.
My mind shifts back to what I’ve heard about the warriors before … about the way they attack in their thousands. If attacking is what they decide
to do, there’s no way we can survive numbers like that, even with dire wolves on our side.
I’m twisting my neck, scanning the area for any sign of them, when the first arrow whistles past Kyor’s ear.
Elska surges sideways before he can fully react, her movement smooth and instinctive. Another arrow sings through the air, piercing the space where Kyor’s head was a heartbeat before. My own heart stutters at how close he came to dying. ‘Down!’ Kyor shouts, but he makes no move to duck.
His arrogance riles the fear out of me. I’d hoped his shoulder wound would have taught him that he’s not fucking invincible, but clearly not. ‘They’re everywhere!’ Caz cries out as our attackers spring up out of the dusty earth. ‘We’re surrounded!’ She’s right. There was no charging, no yelling of orders to get into place, and yet they appeared instantly as one, as if they portated there. But they have no magic, so that’s not possible.
Sandy-clad figures face us on all fronts with their weapons raised, all with garnet eyes that gleam unnaturally bright against their warm skin.
Torailians.
Not thousands – not even hundreds, thankfully – but with the synchronicity of their attack, it would be easy to believe there were ten times more than the two dozen that are now spread around us in a perfect circle.
How though? How did they do it?
I may not know how they achieved such a feat, but I know I was wrong about one thing: they weren’t tracking us at all, weren’t watching to see if we headed away. They were waiting. Patient. Ready.
And we walked straight into their snare. ‘Square!’ Kyor snaps at us, like we are his soldiers to command and obey.
But we were not drilled for hours as a team. We’re just a ragged group of friends surviving by our wits, the grace of the Gods, and sheer, dumb luck.
I don’t even know what the fucking command means. Square up to our attackers? Form a square? Square dance?
Fen snarls, low and thunderous, his body angling to shield me without waiting for a command.
But the Torailians don’t aim for my wolf; they aim for me.
Nets – not arrows – fly towards me, but Fen dodges, sweeping to the side as he leaps towards the boundary of their ring. And it’s one hell of a fucking
leap.
I knew dire wolves could jump, but the way he springs from the ground lifts us high enough that we could have cleared my and Kay’s home in the slums. My stomach swoops as I flatten against his body, and as we vault over the armed Torailians, one of them reaches up and grabs my ankle, trying to yank me from Fen. ‘No!’ I scream out as pain sears through me.
Not a chance, Fen growls as his head snaps around to snarl at the woman, his teeth only millimetres away from her flesh. Whether he misses her through choice or restraint, I cannot tell, but she releases me all the same.
A burning remains in my skull, and words echo in my head, the voice never touching my ears.
Take her alive! Take her alive. The rest are expendable.
Telepathy. The fucking Torailians have telepathy. No magic, my arse!
As lightning flashes in the air above us, the pain I felt only moments ago is gone, replaced by outright fury.
None of us are expendable, and whichever fucking woman just thought those words is about to learn that lesson real damn fast.
A flash of ice blasts out from beneath me, but rather than heading towards the Torailian in a manner that is helpful, it fires backward, knocking Benny off his feet. ‘Fuck!’ I say. Panic surges through me, but Fen’s mind is there to calm me.
He’s fine, Little Raven. The fire weaver has him.
A single glance behind me is all it takes to see he’s right. Benny is back on his feet, charging, blade flashing, while Ruben’s fire ignites, not in a wild burst but a controlled arc that forces three of the Torailians back. It’s oddly nice to hear Fen call him a fire weaver, when his whole life Ruben has ‘just’ been a furnace.
I’m absurdly grateful that I gave Ruben a decent power boost this morning.
Stide and Thessa don’t hesitate. The Quiet Ones fight together. The two women are silent and move with brutal precision and a synchronicity that tells of years of companionship, but always Stide has half an eye on protecting Thessa.
Caz is there too, battling one-on-one and winning. Arrows are great from a distance, but you’re fucked if your opponents reach you before you’re
ready, as Caz’s adversary is finding out.
As the speared tips fly through the air, I can’t help but think of William.
This is what he asked me to bring back for him. Not a cure for the affliction that threatens to destroy his life, but a Torailian arrow. And I plan on keeping my promise. I just have to stay alive long enough to snag one – and hopefully not with my body.
From the outside of the ring, it’s easier to disrupt their lines, but whereas we are forced to anticipate each of their moves, for them it’s like this has all been rehearsed, like a dance. No orders are shouted aloud, no directions given, and yet they regroup almost instantly, the majority of them once again encircling Fen and me.
Hold on, Little Raven, Fen tells me as he lunges back and forth, leaping and clawing at the Torailians as lightning continues to pelt the earth. My body moves and rolls with his movement. This isn’t like the fight with the Rottings, where he knew we were safest separate. He saw the nets and knows they’re trying to entrap me, and keeping me on him is the best way, in his eyes, to ensure I remain safe. ‘Kyor! Enough!’ I yell at him, worried about him burning himself out.
His injury is already sapping his energy, and if he doesn’t stop he could drain himself without even realising. One last crash of thunder ricochets through the air just as a Torailian leaps towards Fen, as if meeting the wolf in mid-air may help him win. He ducks under the wolf’s claws an instant before contact is made, almost as if he knew which paw Fen was going to use to rip his limbs from his body.
Frustration crackles along the bond between Fen and me. Fen does not miss. Not when he has a target in mind, and yet somehow the Torailian can anticipate our every move.
Disgusting. A woman’s voice cuts through my thoughts the same way Fen’s so often has. She should feel ashamed, bound to a beast.
Beast?
Fen’s outrage rolls through me, but it is nothing compared to the roar of my own. ‘He is not a beast,’ I snarl aloud, my voice carrying further than it should. ‘And of all the things I deserve to feel shame over, he will never be one of
them.’ A laugh cracks in my skull.
One of ours, defiling yourself in such a manner. Maybe we should kill you
now. ‘I am not one of yours.’ Laughter again ripples, but this time it’s not in my head and it’s not just one woman. All of them offer the same sharp, mocking snigger as they encircle me. ‘You ride an animal,’ she replies aloud, drawing my attention to exactly which of the Torailians it is who infiltrated my mind. Though now that I know, it is a wonder I didn’t work it out for myself.
Taller than Caz, her movements are economical as she slings her bow across her back. ‘You let an animal inside your mind. Bonded with an animal. You are a disgrace to your power and your heritage.’ Heritage.
The way she spits the word makes my skin crawl, as if I am beholden to
it, to them.
Fen bares his teeth.
Say the word, Little Raven, and I’ll happily rip them to shreds.
Not yet, I respond, praying he can’t hear the doubt in my voice. After all, we’ve just spent this entire fight trying to rip them to shreds. Yet they evaded us. Sank into my mind and knew our every move.
If I’m right, then the only way to defeat them will be to separate the bond between Fen and me, and right now, that’s not something I’m willing to do.
Not when I already know they consider him disposable.
Instead, I meet the woman’s gaze. Her garnet eyes cause a ghost of a memory to flicker somewhere in the back of my mind. ‘You don’t get to decide what I am,’ I spit.
She scoffs as she tilts her head to the side. ‘No, your blood does. Your Torailian blood.’ The words hit like a strike between my ribs.
To my right, a crash of thunder bellows through the air, and I twist to find Kyor there, well within hearing distance as he battles two Torailians at once – although they seem to be striking him more to distract than to kill.
Or perhaps they are just poorly trained. Though that hardly fits with what William believed about their arrows that never miss, or the professional manner in which they surrounded us.
You carry our blood, she continues directly in my mind, as her face twists in a moue of distaste. A quarter Torailian, I suspect. It is enough. Enough to matter. Enough to be our responsibility.
‘No,’ I snarl aloud. ‘I don’t belong to you.’ ‘Belonging is not a choice,’ she replies. ‘It is a fact.’ Something ugly and furious coils in my chest. No, it’s not. I belonged more in the slums than I ever did in the High Hold, despite being born there.
And in the Retterheld there were plenty who thought I didn’t belong there either.
And yet it is their powers that were returned to Mortidem. Not mine. ‘Then try it,’ I say softly, meeting her gaze. ‘Try to take me.’ She smiles. She doesn’t raise her hand or call out, and yet in the same instant that her lips rise, the fighting explodes.
Another two dozen Torailian soldiers appear from the weathered landscape, moving seamlessly, covering one another and rotating positions without hesitation. Every strike is countered, every flame dodged. They know where we’re going before we do.
So much for the fallacy that the Torailians do not have magic. It might not be demonstrable or seen or felt with the senses, but that makes it even more dangerous.
Sickness curdles within me. They can read our minds, anticipate our moves, sense our feelings. Just like I sensed the kraken’s emotions in the Retterheld.
Just like I felt Fen’s distress long before I saw him.
Just like my father took on a grief heavier than that of one person when
Florian died.
Goosebumps rise.
Fen is still leading and twisting as he evades the nets, yet I can barely even feel him as my mind struggles to accept the truth.
If she’s right, I’m not just part Issen – I’m part Torailian, too.
You’re an abomination! the leader spits into my head, there even now, reading the thoughts the moment they form.
FUCK YOU! I scream at her with all that I have, and for the first time I see an effect as she flinches, recoiling away from me as she holds her head.
Despite my warning, the lightning has started again. Kyor raises bolts from the ground, drawing on the charge within the earth and air as his blade continues to blur from one strike to the next.
He fights them like he knows what to do.
Because he does.
He has fought the Torailians before. He must have. But when and why?
We are at war with the Issen, but never the Torailians. Or at least, that was what I believed.
But everything I believed is falling into ash around me.
As my gaze shifts towards the other bonded pair, Fen takes an arrow to the shoulder. Yet rather than retreating, he winces once, then pushes any pain down before he tears through their line with brutal grace.
We need to think less and act more, Little Raven. For a moment his words make no sense. After all, we are fighting for all we are worth to evade these fucking nets and stop any of the others taking an arrow to the chest. But then, it clicks. Of course! If I can’t anticipate what is going to happen, then neither can the Torailians.
It is not like when I channelled the vines to grow to secure Fen or when I wrapped them around the Rottings’ ankles before the Myrkr siphoned my powers. This time is unlike any time I have ever used my magic before.
All restraint is gone, and in its place there is only rampant recklessness.
I tear at the ground and roots snap up, throwing the Torailians off balance. Then I will the weeds to explode with bristling thorns that twist this way and that, without reason or direction. Such randomness ruptures the earth, taking even me by surprise, and that’s a good thing. Because if I don’t know where the plants are coming from, then they don’t either. ‘Shit!’ Ruben yells as a blade skims his ribs.
Benny is there instantly, back-to-back with him. ‘They’re trying to box us in!’ Caz shouts.
Kyor fires back and a thin streak of lightning bisects the sky. But it’s too thin. He’s running out of energy and needs to stop. ‘Rose,’ he shouts. ‘They want you. But they’re not here to kill you.’ ‘Really? I hadn’t noticed,’ I shout back drily. ‘They want to take you.’ He looks across at me, eyes fiery with passion.
‘I won’t let them.’ Nor, I think, will I.
A Torailian lunges for me, but Fen intercepts, jaws closing inches from her throat. She stumbles back, horror etched across her face. They have never touched him, I realise, a flicker of hope sparking in me. They have shot arrows at him, tried to pull me off him, but never touched him physically or mentally. As if to touch his mind directly and not access his thoughts through my knowledge is something that they cannot or will not do.
Whichever it is, it doesn’t matter.
The wolves are our advantage. ‘You sullied yourself for such a foul creature,’ the woman snarls at me, but I don’t dignify her with a response.
I’m going to disconnect from you, I warn Fen, so they can’t read your intent through me, through our bond.
I feel his chagrin. I should have done so already, he says gruffly. My apologies.
It’s hardly the best situation within which to disentangle my mind. Steady breaths are never easy to take mounted on a moving dire wolf, but definitely not one that is moving as erratically as he is. But this is it. This is our only chance. I don’t have a choice.
Trusting that he will keep me safe, I close my eyes, draw in the earthy aroma of the air around us, and disentangle my mind from Fen’s.
I bury my hands into his fur and strengthen the grip of my legs around his body. ‘Attack them, Fen!’ I say aloud to my wolf.
He needs no further command. He surges forward, causing my body to lurch and slam into his back.
Without the connection, staying astride is a thousand times harder.
There’s no way of knowing where his paws will land or which direction he will twist his body in, but I cling on with determination as Fen tears into our attackers with malicious glee. And they, unable to anticipate his moves through me, fall.
Blood drips from his maw as he launches himself through them. The random turbulence is almost fluid, as if he too has fought them before – with Zelle. ‘Give me space!’ Kyor shouts from where he slices a sword through a Torailian just seconds before it fires at Caz. ‘I need space.’ ‘No, you —’ ‘I’ve got this, Thorn. Trust me,’ he yells.
Fear grips me. If he overuses his magic, he’ll be drained. Permanently.
Unless I can stop that from happening.
I don’t give myself a chance to think. To second-guess. Instead, I pull at the magic which lingers there in the twisted plant roots that burst through the earth. I drag it upwards, freeing it from its confines before I push the magical energy into Kyor. I don’t want to do too much – he’s already got so much power that giving him more could be just as detrimental – but just enough.
Enough to stop him from draining himself. Because if he burns himself out, there’ll be no coming back from it. No getting his power back, ever. And even though I’ve given him a boost, with the huge amount of energy he’s about to release there’s still the chance that he could drain himself dry. But he didn’t hesitate when I asked him to trust me with the Myrkr, and I owe him
the same level of trust now.
My silence, he knows, is my acceptance.
Kyor detonates.
