“Let us take the lead,” Cassian whispered back.
Rayna and Channon backed against the wall, allowing the Maenorens to take the front position.
They strode forward in their stolen Kyrean armor, purposefully making noise.
Channon and Rayna formed, padding silently as wolves hidden behind Daveed and Cassian.
“Halt!” The closest Kyrean called as they approached. “Did you men get separated? Your captain only just came through here. Wait, whose blood is that—”
Their captain? Rayna swallowed the lump in her throat. Garrison was the captain of the Council Guard. Did that mean he was there?
Cassian and Daveed did not bother to continue the lie. They attacked as they entered the wider vestibule.
Rayna and Channon jumped out from behind them.
Their four surprised opponents did not stand a chance.
Rayna rose from her latest kill—the third man she'd slain that day. Blood dripped from her snout. She formed, wiping her mouth.
Cassian jangled a set of keys he'd taken from one of the fallen men. He tried a few before finding the one that unlocked the door to the cell block.
“Two of us should hold back,” Daveed said. He gestured to the entrance from which they had come, as well as a closed door to the left. “In case any more come.”
Cassian handed Rayna the keys. “Get as many as you can. We’ll be waiting here.”
She and Channon entered the sickly-smelling hall. Cells lined both sides of the corridor. The first several they passed were empty, but voices and scents signaled the presence of many prisoners not far away.
A few more paces and several faces appeared behind the bars, straining to see who was coming.
From their scents and the black swirl tattoos coating their bodies, Rayna recognized the prisoners as Sylrian. She counted sixteen.
“Rayna?” An elderly woman gripped the bars of a nearby cell.
Rayna did not at first recognize her beneath the matted hair and rags. But she remembered her stern voice.
“Violette?” Rayna rushed to the healer from Lonian’s tribe who had once saved her life. “Thank the gods you’re alive.”
“What are you doing here, girl?”
“Rescuing you. Where are the other Sylrians?” Rayna began trying keys.
“Sold or dead,” Violette spat. “We're all that's left.”
The door clicked open, and Rayna helped Violette and her cellmates into the corridor.
Channon took over the unlocking as Rayna embraced Violette.
“What’s the plan?” Violette asked as she patted Rayna’s arm.
“All we have to do is get out of the building. My friends will take it from there. You can swim, right?”
Violette gave a slow nod.
Soon sixteen freed Sylrians filled the corridor.
Channon returned from the cell block’s other end with the captured Maenoren crewmen, but there was no sign of Kellan.
“Violette—” Rayna began.
“He isn’t here.” Violette shook her head. “They kept Lonian and Kellan in some other part of the prison.”
The news hit Rayna like a punch to the gut. They had come so far, and still, Kellan was out of reach. The gods had shown her his face when everything else had been clouded. That had to mean something. She could not leave without him.
“Come on,” Channon said. “We need to get these people out.”
Rayna led the way out of the block.
Cassian and Daveed waited outside, two more dead sentries at their feet.
“Daveed, Cassian,” said Rayna. “Get these people to the exit. We only have a quarter hour left to reach the courtyard.”
“What about you?” Cassian asked as he counted the Sylrians and Maenorens.
To Rayna’s surprise, Channon answered. “We have to find Kellan.”
Rayna turned to him, shocked.
“You won’t leave without at least trying, so neither will I.” He nodded to Cassian and Daveed. “Go, we’ll join you when we can.”
Daveed and Cassian obeyed, leading the prisoners, back down the stone corridor.
Channon glanced at her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugged with her unwounded shoulder. “I’ll be all right.” She scented the air around the only other exit from the vestibule, a door that must have led toward the prison’s western block. She caught a whiff of something familiar—snow and mountain ash.
“Kellan’s this way, but…” she paused, taking in the other scents growing stronger alongside Kellan’s.
Kyreans.
Boot-steps echoed down the hall.
Rayna and Channon backed against the opposite stone wall. They crouched, teeth and claws extended.
The door slammed open and the vestibule filled with soldiers bearing the Council Guard crest.
Last of all, Captain Gabriel Garrison entered, dragging Kellan’s limp body.
Katrine's heart pounded. Blood roared against her eardrums. Wolf-formed, she pressed herself against the harsh gravel cliff side. The spicy scent of cliff-roses burned her nostrils. She waited in the shrub's shadow for the approaching riders to reach striking distance.
A few tail-lengths away, Mina sucked in a harsh breath. “It's him,” she whispered. “Terayan's riding at front.”
Katrine translated Mina's warning for Gar and Pike beside her.
How did he come so quickly? Gar growled. We did not see any riders or falcons.
The Kyreans must've had some other way to warn him. Katrine's claws pressed into the rocky soil. She was afraid, but the fear did not paralyze her. Instead, she was electrified. It took all her strength to keep from jumping out from their vantage point too early. They were about five tail-lengths up the cliff. A single leap and she could land upon any of the riders—including Terayan—when they passed beneath them.
Be careful. Pike nudged her. We don't want to fall off the side.
The Kyreans cantered down the road two-across, with Terayan riding point.
From the hushed way Rayna, Channon, and Mina spoke about the Kyrean councilor, Katrine had pictured an imposing beast of a man.
But Terayan was no beast. There was nothing imposing about his average build, sandy hair, and bright, courtly clothing. He wore no armor and carried no shield.
A growl rumbled deep in Katrine's throat. All the magic in the world would not save Terayan if she tore out his throat before he saw her coming.
“Get ready,” Roxen whispered. He shifted into his massive auburn wolf form.
Terayan and the dozen men riding behind him were nearly beneath them.
Katrine could almost taste the Councilor's blood.
Terayan raised his left arm. “Halt!” He pulled his stallion's reins with other free hand. The soldiers behind him obeyed.
Katrine cursed in her mind. Did he know they were there? How could he?
“Come out now,” Terayan's surprisingly deep voice boomed. He turned to his right, scanning the cliff side. “I can sense you're there.”
Gar, Pike, Katrine, stay here, Roxen growled. We don't know if he knows our number. Roxen took his human form.
Roxen and Mina stood, arms raised above their heads.
Katrine winced at the sound of scraping metal and creaking crossbows.
“Mignonette Tsanclar,” Terayan greeted Mina as she and Roxen walked down the steep hill. “I thought it was you. My watch-sensing spell allowed me to feel those muddy eyes of yours staring at me. Who's your friend?”
Roxen and Mina stood in front of Terayan's whinnying horse.
Roxen lifted his chin. “I am Roxen Dament, Beta of the Southern Densite and second-in-command to Alphena Silverine Eliona.”
“I see. You're unnecessary—”
Roxen formed. He jumped over Terayan's horse's head and smashed into the Councilor.
The stallion reared and screamed, knocking Roxen and Terayan off in a jumble of silk and fur.
They landed at the road's edge.
Unable to get past without trampling their lord, the soldiers dismounted, running toward the chaos.
Mina unsheathed her daggers and met the nearest man in combat.
Panicked horses whirled and ran. Most turned and galloped back the way they had come, but others fell off the cliff into the roaring ocean far below, knocking a few unlucky Kyreans down with them.
Now! Katrine fell upon a soldier. She knocked the blade from his hand. Her teeth into his neck. She ignored the bile building in her throat. It was the first time she'd tasted human blood.
A blast of wind knocked her backward. Katrine hit the ground hard, reverting to human on impact. Her skull jarred against the road. Her eyes watered. She struggled to raise her upper body. All around her, the combatants had been blasted to the ground as she had.
Only a bloodied Terayan was left standing. The Councilor pressed his sword into Roxen's side.
“Enough!” Blood poured from Terayan's left ear. Roxen must have just missed the artery. At first Katrine could not understand why Roxen did not fight back. He was double Terayan's weight at least. Why did he not try and push Terayan backward off the cliff?
But then, Katrine saw the veins pulsing in Roxen's biceps. His arms were pinned behind him by some unseen force. He could not move a muscle, save for those around his frantic, darting eyes.
“All of you savages, drop your weapons and take your human forms.”
Katrine struggled to her feet, arms raised in surrender.
Mina walked to her side.
“I said change form!” Terayan roared at Gar and Pike as he pushed the sword harder against Roxen's midsection.
“They can't!” Katrine shouted. “They're True Wolves, not Fenearens!”
“Fine.” Terayan spat blood. “Tell them to stand with you two.”
Katrine called Pike and Gar to her.
Terayan nodded to his remaining men—eight in all.
“There,” said Mina as two men tied her hands behind her back. “We've done what you asked. Let Roxen go.”
Another soldier, tall with pale blue eyes, approached Katrine. He reached into a bag and removed a black metallic band.
Katrine could not stop a panicked whimper at the sight of the Monil.
“As you wish,” said Terayan. He thrust his sword beneath Roxen's ribs.
“No!” Mina screamed.
Roxen slid off the blade, and plummeted off the cliff.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rayna and Channon backed against the wall. Rayna stared at Kellan’s unmoving form, searching for some sign that he still lived.
Garrison tossed him to the floor.
To Rayna's relief, Kellan groaned.
“Rayna.” Garrison moved his boot over Kellan’s neck. “How lovely to see you.”
Rayna opened her mouth to speak, but Garrison wagged a finger.
“Did I say you could speak? One false move and I crush Kemar’s windpipe.”
Rayna’s hands shook. Coer’s knife was a familiar weight by her side, but looking at Garrison, all she could feel was the pain of it slicing into her skin.
“You’re Garrison?” Channon asked.
In her confusion and panic, Rayna had almost forgotten he was there.
“You’ve told your lover about me? Rayna, my darling, I’m touched.” He laughed, but it was a cruel, hollow sound. “Channon Lyallt, I presume?”
Channon did not answer. His claws extended.
The last time Rayna had crossed paths with Garrison, she'd been defenseless. But that was not true this time. She and Channon might be able to fight their way out—but if they tried, Garrison would surely kill Kellan.
They could surrender, but Rayna did not trust Garrison. He'd likely kill them anyway. There had to be another way.
Rayna knew Garrison. He was sadistic. He went far beyond the realm of necessary violence, to the point of gratuitous cruelty. Garrison didn't want to just kill her. He wanted to hurt her. Rayna could use that.
As if confirming her point, Garrison's pale eyes fell to Coer’s knife. “I’ll be needing that.” He pushed his foot harder against Kellan, eliciting another senseless groan.
Swallowing her fear, Rayna unhitched Coer’s knife from her belt. She tossed it between her and Garrison.
Channon tensed at her side. He thought she was surrendering.
One of the guards picked the knife up, handing it to Garrison.
“Yes,” Garrison said. “This will do nicely to finish what I started.”
Follow my lead, Rayna growled to Channon under her breath. To a non-Fenearen, it would be nothing but a noise of frustration.
Channon sheathed his claws.
The guards started toward them, but Kellan must have been acting, too.
Kellan twisted Garrison’s leg. The captain hit the ground as Kellan leaped to his feet, taking up Coer’s knife.
The guards facing Rayna and Channon turned to see what was going on.
Rayna and Channon did not waste the opportunity. They pounced on one each.
Garrison had regained his feet and sparred with Kellan.
More of his men converged on Channon and Rayna.
Rayna fought her way back to Kellan. He may not have been as weak as he appeared, but he was still no match for Garrison.
Garrison disarmed him.
He raised his sword to slash Kellan’s throat, but Rayna barreled into him.
Garrison knocked her back before she could make the killing blow.
Rayna stood up beside Channon and Kellan.
They ran toward the door leading to the prison’s front, but more guards blocked it.
Kellan stumbled, partially supported between Channon and Rayna.
“Get them!” Garrison roared as he rose.
Rayna and her friends darted down the hall from which Garrison had come.
Garrison and his men thundered after them.
Kellan somehow managed to keep up as Rayna led the way through the dark maze. Countless doors and twisting corridors took them to a storage chamber. Broken tables, chairs, threadbare rugs, and one large cracked gargoyle greeted them.
The gargoyle’s three eyes watched as they entered, but Rayna feared the monsters not made of stone. Several heartbeats passed in silence.
“Do you think we lost them?” Channon asked. “We need to try and get to the entrance.”
Rayna opened her mouth to speak but closed it before any sound came out. She shook her head.
Garrison was coming, and he was singing:
“I saw you bathing in the sun
Oh lady, gentle lady
Shimmering locks of crimson
Please take pity on me
Your humble and loyal dog”
The eerie song trailed off to a whistle, accompanied by iron-toed boot-steps
“You shouldn’t have come.” Kellan coughed.
Channon threw his hand over Kellan’s mouth, quieting him.
Rayna hid behind the gargoyle. She gestured the others over.
Channon squeezed Rayna’s hand as the boots stopped at the room's entrance.
“Oh come now, Rayna!” Garrison called.
She bit her lip.
Garrison continued. “Hide and seek? I expected more from you, now that you’re a legend.”
Garrison snapped his fingers.
His men obediently fanned out, tossing over tables and tearing down curtains.
“Come out, come out wherever you are, Kellan! I know you’re in here. Don’t you want to look the man who had your uncle killed in the eyes, dog?”
Kellan touched her wrist. “I’ll fight them, and you two run.”
Rayna reached to pull Kellan back, but it was too late.
The moment the Sylrian rose, six swords pointed his way.
Channon and Rayna shared a knowing gaze. They would not abandon him.
Rayna and Channon stood behind Kellan.
“You know.”
Garrison tossed a golden apple between his palms. “At first I didn’t believe it. I heard the Wolf Witch was spotted in the city, accompanied by a comely archer and wolves, but I couldn't believe you could be this brainless. Rescuing the Sylrian who saved you, how very sweet.”
He paused, and took a bite from the apple. The crack reverberated through the stone room. Spit and flecks of fruit splattered on the floor.
“Then you turn up here, in the very prison your kind scarred me. How’s the little cut I gave you healing, by the way? I wish I could have gotten a little further, but then, I’m a patient man.”
He reached into his cloak pocket, and removed a silver knife. Garrison sliced a piece off his apple. “Look at me Rayna.”
She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in her eyes.
They were trapped. There were no exits, besides the doorway that Garrison blocked.
“Look at me, girl!” Garrison motioned for his men to attack.
Rayna transformed and hit the first Kyrean’s chest with a thud.
He collapsed, slamming his head into the marble floor.
With a snarl, Rayna moved onto the next.
Her opponent thrust his sword.
She curved out of the way, and morphed into her two-legged form. Claws still extended, she rammed them into the Kyrean’s jugular.
He fell to the ground, blood flowing, as Rayna searched for her next target.
Instead, she found Kellan and Channon, each with a sword to their throat.
Garrison stepped out from behind Kellan and his captor. “Move, and they both die. Now sheath those claws.”
“Rayna what are you doing? Kill the bastard! Kill all of them.” A heavy fist to the jaw silenced Channon.
Rayna stared into Garrison’s flashing gray eyes, trembling with uncertainty.
“You Fenearens have few weaknesses, but it seems I know yours.”
“Rayna, no! I’m not worth it,” Kellan said. “Save yourself, please. I’m begging you.”
“I’m sorry.” Rayna gulped as one of the men removed a thin metal band from his cloak. She would not—could not—abandon them to die.
A moment later, the Monil clicked around her throat with a freezing hiss. She groaned as she fell to the floor. Her only advantage was gone.
Twice Blessed Page 24
