It was light enough that Larkin could make out the shredded leaves littering the platform. The hail eased, intermixing with a dribbling rain. She was covered in bruises and welts from the cursed stuff.
“They’re not doing much damage,” Eiryss whispered. “But that larger dome is going to need all the strength it can get when Hagath gets here. It would help if I could let release this smaller dome.”
“Stop it!” Larkin called to them. “Denan, it’s me.”
“Don’t listen,” Denan panted. “She is just like an ardent. You can’t trust a word she says.”
“If I wanted to hurt you,” Eiryss said dryly, “you’d already be dead.”
Denan stormed toward them, his eyes black and empty in a way she’d never seen before. His face was haggard, his hair filthy and matted. He looked thinner too. And when he finally turned his attention on her, there was hatred in his gaze.
He stabbed at her, would have killed her again, had Eiryss’s smaller dome not been there.
Larkin flinched and backed away.
He paced before her like a caged animal. “If you mean us no harm, then let us go!” Denan never panicked. He truly believed he’d led his friends into a trap. That they were all going to die if he didn’t get them out.
“The wraiths are coming,” she cried. “The big dome is protecting you. Stop trying to destroy it!”
“The wraiths are coming?” he echoed in disbelief. He laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “You are a wraith!”
He thought his wife dead. That she was the monster who had killed her. His words shouldn’t hurt, but they cut to the bone.
Tears welled in her eyes. “Stop it.” A hurt, frustrated tear slipped down her cheek, quickly followed by another. “Listen to me.”
His eyes darkened with loathing. “Don’t you dare pretend to cry. Don’t you dare use her to manipulate me.”
How could she get through to him? She reached for her connection to the shadows again. The wraiths had just crossed into Valynthia.
Larkin dropped to her knees. “Please, you have to listen,” she begged.
Eiryss stepped between Larkin and Denan. Above her hand floated a ball that looked like molten lava wrapped in lightning. Larkin had never seen one before, but she’d seen the damage wreaked by one when Sela had used it on an ardent. This had to be an orb.
Eiryss’s gaze fixed on the archway. “The wraiths will come through there.” She pointed. “Get behind me.”
“What makes you think I’d believe a word you say?” Denan asked.
Eiryss shot him a withering look and held out the orb. “If we were wraiths, you’d be dead by now.”
He bared his teeth, seemed about to say something else, and then marched to the others, who huddled into a tight formation right by the archway. They all held their weapons at the ready, as if they expected Larkin and Eiryss to yank a cloak of shadows into being and attack.
They weren’t watching the archway at all.
“Will the larger dome protect them?”
“Depends on how the wraiths attack,” Eiryss said, the orb casting eerie shadows on her face. “Before you ask,” Eiryss said under her breath to Larkin, “I can’t make an orb big enough to destroy the tree. The big ones took an entire unit of enchantresses and enchanters from my time.”
“Let the smaller dome down,” Larkin said. “I’ll try to draw them away from the archway.”
“Not a chance.”
Larkin glanced into the shadowed boughs, searching for the archer hidden somewhere up above. Was Sela with them? Larkin hoped against hope she wasn’t.
Denan didn’t bother answering. It was light enough now that Larkin could make out the other’s faces even with their cloaks up. Denan, Tam, Atara, Caelia, and—
Larkin gasped. “Talox!”
Her friend stiffened and slowly shifted to look at her, his brow furrowed. The wicked cut cleaving his bottom lip had been stitched.
She choked on a sob. “You survived.” The man who had become a monster to save her life. And now he was risking it again. Who else had come back from being a mulgar? “Venna?”
He hesitated before nodding once.
Larkin had held Venna while the humanity had drained out of her. Watched as her sweet demeanor had shifted to a savage, animal hunger for the death of all mankind. Had witnessed Talox’s pain and guilt at her death. And now, he had her back.
Her voice broke. “My papa?”
She hadn’t called him Papa since he’d abandoned them for another family. But he really had been trying to change.
Again, Talox hesitated. Then he shook his head.
“He’s dead?” She had to hear it. Had to know for certain.
Talox wet his lips. “He didn’t survive his wounds.”
Light. Her last words with her papa had been sharp, cold ones. She’d been too hard on him. Expected too much. She tried to shove the knowledge into her frozen lake, but the ice was still broken and jagged. Her legs cut out beneath her. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed hard, gut-wrenching sobs.
Talox walked toward her. Denan grabbed his arm.
“One of us has to,” Talox said.
“Then let it be me,” Denan said.
Talox rested his hand on his friend’s. “I was one of them. I know how they lie.”
Denan hesitated before releasing Talox.
“Denan,” Tam said. “You can’t.”
Denan ignored him. Talox came right up to the smaller dome, crouched before her, and scrutinized her. There was a heaviness to his gaze—a heaviness that reflected in her own eyes. No words were spoken, but in that moment, the pain of being used for evil linked them together.
“I remember everything,” he whispered. “I remember capturing you. Turning you over to Ramass.”
She shook her head. “That wasn’t you.” Any more than embedding a thorn into the White Tree was Larkin, but that didn’t take away the guilt.
He rose to his feet, his gaze on Eiryss as he removed his weapons. “Let me through. I won’t hurt her.”
“The forest take you, Talox,” Tam said. “We just got you back! What about Venna? Are you going to leave her again?”
Talox ignored him. Denan watched with a fierceness that took Larkin’s breath away.
Eiryss studied him. “If you’re not an enemy, the magic will know and let you through.”
“Denan.” Tam rounded on him. “You have to stop him.”
But Denan stood so still she wasn’t sure he was breathing.
Talox stepped through. He waited, as if to see if Eiryss would attack him. When she only watched him blandly, he knelt beside Larkin and gathered her into his arms.
She melted into his embrace, this man who’d been like the big brother she’d never had. “I’m so glad you got her back,” she wailed.
He rubbed her arm. “You saved us both.”
She cried even harder, so hard she couldn’t see through the tears. Moments later, arms came around her, pulling her from Talox’s embrace and into his lap.
She held on tight. “Denan.”
Denan pulled her hair out of her face and kissed her temple. “Shh, my love. I’m here. I’m here.”
Orbs
Larkin was shocked at how much Denan had changed. His cheeks were hollow, his skin ashen, his eyes bloodshot. This is what her leaving had done to him. She clutched his rain-soaked tunic; she was so desperately afraid he would leave her again. “I won’t hurt you. Please believe me.”
He tucked her head under his chin. “I do.”
Caelia came next, though she hung back. “Is it really you?”
Caelia should not have come. She had three little children—one an infant—who depended on her. None of them should have come.
“At first light,” Larkin said, “you must leave this place. Run south and never look back.” Ramass had said the world was wide. Maybe they could find a place far away from here. A place so far away even the Black Tree and his shadows couldn’t reach them.
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Atara stepped up next to Caelia and said dryly, “Not going to happen.”
Denan held her tighter; his voice turned to steel. “I’m never leaving you again.”
“I’m not leaving you either,” Tam said, his arms crossed.
“You don’t under—” she began.
“Larkin,” Eiryss said sharply.
The intensity in her gaze made Larkin sit up straight. She felt it then. The wraiths had reached the tree. “They’re coming.”
“Who?” Tam asked.
“The other wraiths,” Eiryss said. “Call down your archer.”
“I’ll get him,” Tam said and ran out before any of them could stop him.
Larkin hoped they had time to return before the others came.
“Follow me,” Eiryss said. As she walked, she banished the smaller dome and drew the larger dome closer still. It rippled as the raindrops scattered across its surface. They ended up standing just before the font, a good eighty feet from the archway.
Talox stepped back from the edge. “What are you doing?”
“Easier to defend a smaller space than a larger one, and now I have a clear field of view.” The dome was only about a dozen paces across now. “All of you, light your sigils.” The Alamantians obeyed, and Eiryss siphoned some of their magic into her weave. “Light, your magic is so slight.”
Atara’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Then don’t use it.”
“Didn’t mean offense,” Eiryss said with an apologetic look. She tossed the weave up where it melded with the dome, which flashed before going transparent.
“They can break through?” Denan asked.
“Ramass or Hagath can,” Eiryss said.
Atara started on the straps of her chest armor. “Caelia, help me.”
Caelia moved to obey.
“What?” Talox asked, his eyes wide. “Why?”
“Because I have the longest tunic,” Atara said.
The women had seen Larkin’s need for clothing and taken care of it without even consulting each other. Larkin felt an intense sisterhood, a love for her fellow women and their intuition.
The two enchantresses busied themselves getting Atara out of her armor. She had on a quilted gambeson. Under that was her tunic. Her back to them, Atara tugged her tunic out from under her belted skirt and tossed it to Larkin.
As Atara and Caelia replaced the gambeson and armor, Denan held the cloak while Larkin pulled Atara’s tunic on. His gaze caught on her embedding sites. Judging by the fear in his gaze, he knew what they were and where she’d gotten them.
“Larkin—” Denan began.
“It’s all right.” Larkin wrung rainwater out of her hair.
He eventually nodded; he clearly didn’t like it, but he trusted her. Besides, they didn’t have time for full explanations. The tunic went down to her knees. She was so relieved to be covered, she didn’t even mind that it was damp with someone else’s sweat.
Tam came back, bursting into the dome and bracing against his knees. “He won’t come. Says we still need an archer.”
“Who is it?” Larkin asked.
“West,” Talox said grimly.
The forest take him. Always determined to protect her, no matter what. “The Black Tree knows where he is, and so will the wraiths.”
Denan cupped his hands. “West, get—”
Before he could finish, a wraith shot up from the stairs and streaked toward them.
Eiryss smacked Denan to get his attention. “Too late now. He’s better off staying where he is.”
Denan bared his teeth, his grip tightening on his sword. Larkin knew he wanted to go after the man.
“Which one?” Talox asked.
“Ture,” Eiryss said grimly.
Seeing him this way, knowing what she knew, changed everything for Larkin. Instead of seeing a monster, she saw the tortured shadows cloaking him. The soul-sucking sensation she felt upon looking at his face originated from the Black Tree that controlled him. Twisting him. Instead of horror, she felt pity.
“Took them long enough,” Tam growled, clearly itching for a fight.
Eiryss frowned. “The shadows can’t bring them back unless they’re dead.”
“They had to run back?” Atara asked.
Eiryss nodded.
Ture thrust at the dome repeatedly. Each time, it rippled, and a sliver of the weave became visible. An arrow cut through his shadow cloak and embedded on the other side of him.
He raised his shield and kept on cutting.
In an instant, Denan’s face became that of a commander. “How long before the barrier breaks?”
“It’s called a dome,” Eiryss supplied. “Depends on when Hagath arrives.”
Another hit, the dome shuddering with impact.
Eiryss’s quick fingers tugged at the lights from her sigils. All the times the White Tree had shown her the weave, Larkin hadn’t paid attention. She paid attention now. If the Black Tree’s thorns took root and she gained control of this magic of Eiryss’s, she’d need to know how to use it.
Another orb spun over Eiryss’s palm.
“What is that thing?” Tam edged closer and reached toward the crackling orb. “Can I have one?”
Eiryss batted his hand away. “It’s an orb, and no. Larkin, distract Ture. I’ll try to hit him with this.” She motioned the group. “The rest of you, stay here.”
“Why?” Denan demanded.
“Because we can’t die,” Larkin shot back.
Denan stiffened in affront. “We’ve been battling wraiths our entire lives.”
Atara, Tam, Caelia, and Talox lined up, their gazes set.
“We don’t need nearly seven people to deal with one wraith,” Eiryss said.
She’d no sooner said it than Vicil reached the top of the stairs, his shield over his head, and shot toward them.
“Not anymore,” Atara said.
Eiryss made an exasperated noise as the second wraith attacked the barrier opposite Ture.
“Tam and Atara, stay behind me,” Larkin said. “The rest of you take Vicil. If you get in trouble, return to the dome.”
Not looking convinced, Tam lined up beside her. Caelia and Talox moved into position.
Larkin turned to go. A hand pulled her back.
Denan pressed a quick kiss on her mouth. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
He would be the one leaving her; she’d make sure of that. She wanted him as far away from the Valynthians as he could get before night fell. But she couldn’t think about that now. She pushed him toward Talox and Caelia. “Stay alive.”
Atara and Tam took up position behind her as Larkin flared her weapons. The wraiths had centuries of experience and unnatural speed and strength. She would have to strike swift and sure.
She dove through the dome into the rain and flared at the same moment Ture did. A thunderous bang. His wraith pulse slammed through hers, the percussions throwing her against the dome. Something cracked in her back. She slid down, unable to breathe or move.
Tam and Atara charged Ture. They fought, driving him back. Larkin’s vision darkened, and she faded into unconsciousness. She woke when something snapped into place on her back. On the ground, Atara dragged herself toward the dome; determination lined her face. Tam positioned himself between her and the wraith.
Even as Larkin watched, the wraith’s sword skidded off Tam’s shield and drove into his thigh. Tam cried out and staggered back. Larkin’s friend was about to die because she’d underestimated the strength of the Valynthians’ superior magic.
She hauled herself up, forcing her feet to move. Something else snapped into place in her back, sending a bolt of pain up and down her spine. Suddenly, she could run.
She sprinted, jumping over Tam as he fell. Ture battered away her thrust and swung the top of his shield up toward her chin. She blocked its edge with her own shield, turning to drive his momentum down, which left his middle open. She whipped her sword up and into his chest. Black blood burst from Ture’s
wound, wetting her knees. The move would have killed a normal man.
Instead, his shadows flickered.
Two more hits. She tried to pull back, but her blade was stuck in his ribs. He lifted his sword for a killing stroke. She released her sword and grabbed his wrist, holding him with all her strength.
Ture stepped into her guard. She jerked back, but not before he headbutted her. He missed her forehead, instead connecting with her nose. Blood gushed, filling her mouth and staining her borrowed tunic. Pain flared, but it was distant, unreachable.
She’d managed to keep her hold on his wrist, but he was slowly driving her arms down. Overpowering her. She spat blood in his eyes and kneed his groin. He turned at the last moment, and she connected with his thigh instead. But his feet skidded on the soaked bark. His hands lost their grip enough that she was able to twist away. She called for her sword just in time to block a horizontal swipe.
He tried to draw his sword inward to slice the front of her legs. She dipped the point of her sword into the bark at their feet. He drew back for a thrust. She lifted her shield to block. Her sword was stuck. She released and flared it again. His sword slammed into her shield, his superior strength again overpowering her. He kicked her in the chest again. She fell back, ribs broken, unable to draw breath or move.
Thunder grumbled behind him as he stood victorious above her. She’d lost this fight. He would kill Tam and Atara.
He lifted his sword, and an arrow slammed into his chest.
Thank you, West.
Ture staggered back, shadows fading. And then he regained his footing and came at her again. This time, an orb hit him square in the chest, leaving a hole the size of her fist straight through him. Lightning flickered over his body. He convulsed and dropped. The dead boiled out of him and back into the tree, leaving him naked, mortally wounded, dumb, and blind.
Larkin winced at the pain he must be in. “Sorry, Ture.” Hopefully, he heard.
Eiryss stepped into sight, grabbed Larkin’s nose, and yanked it back into place with a pop. Her eyes watering, Larkin let loose a string of curses.
Wraith King Page 37
