Wraith King

by Argyle, Amber

  “I’ll go help the others.” Eiryss turned and ran off.

  Larkin turned to find that Tam and Atara had made it back to the dome. Tam held Atara, her head on his chest. Blood soaked his leg. But the lost look in his expression as he stared off into nothing . . .

  Larkin had held Farwin just like that. No. She’s all right. She has to be. Larkin rushed inside and knelt over Atara. But her eyes were wide and staring.

  “Atara!” Larkin cried. “No!”

  “He broke her back with his shield,” Tam said, his voice monotone. “When I grabbed her to turn her over, she died.” He lifted haunted eyes. “How am I ever going to tell Alorica?”

  Armor

  From above, thunder rumbled, shaking even the tree. The dome trembled. Tam stared into nothing, clearly in shock. “I promised Alorica I’d look after her.” He passed a hand down his face. “Light, I think I killed her.”

  If it was anyone’s fault, it was Larkin’s. “She died because I miscalculated Ture’s strength.” Larkin couldn’t think about that now. Tam was losing too much blood. She unbuckled Atara’s skirt armor—she wouldn’t need it anymore—and strapped it tight above Tam’s injury.

  Eiryss stepped inside the dome. “We took care of Vicil. They’re—” Her head whipped around to face the archway. “Get the others back inside.”

  Larkin didn’t need to ask why. Ramass had set foot on the tree. She could feel it. Eiryss set about strengthening the dome. Talox, Denan, and Caelia were tying Vicil up.

  “Get back inside,” Larkin cried.

  There must have been something in her voice because no one questioned her. The three of them abandoned Vicil and sprinted toward the dome. Larkin breathed a little easier when they stepped inside.

  “What is it?” Talox asked.

  “Atara!” Caelia knelt by her side and began searching for signs of life.

  When she didn’t find any, she hauled the woman into her arms and wept bitterly. Atara and Caelia had grown up together. Had been taken from Hamel at the same time.

  Denan and Talox didn’t ask any questions. How she died didn’t matter. Only that she had. And with Tam injured, they were down two soldiers. There would be time for grief later.

  If Larkin was going to see the rest of her friends survive this, she would have to do the same. She forced the loss and guilt back and faced the archway.

  “Caelia!” Denan barked. “See to Tam.”

  Caelia wiped her tears. “Atara was the healer.”

  “Do it,” he ordered.

  Swallowing back her tears, Caelia reached into a pouch tied to Atara’s waist, pulled out bandages with shaking hands, and bandaged Tam’s wound. Lightning flashed in the distance.

  “Why are we hiding?” Talox panted.

  “Hagath is on the tree,” Eiryss said.

  “And Ramass,” Larkin added.

  Talox made a slashing motion with his sword, as if to cut her words in two. “We’ve been dealing with Hagath and Ramass for centuries.”

  Eiryss wove another orb. “The Black Tree has held many things back, waiting for the right time to use them.”

  “Hagath can make orbs,” Larkin guessed.

  “An orb that will break your dome,” Denan said.

  Lips thin, Eiryss nodded.

  “Light and ancestors,” Talox swore.

  Denan glanced up at the gray clouds churning above. “Sunrise isn’t far off.”

  Eiryss pursed her lips. “Not close enough.”

  His wounds nearly closed, Ture dragged himself toward them. Talox rushed out and carried him back. He set him down. Suddenly, Tam was moving, screaming, driving his sword into Ture’s middle.

  Larkin pulsed, sending Tam flying back. He hit the inside of the dome and scrambled back to his feet. Denan stepped in front of him and grabbed his tunic. “Stop!”

  “I didn’t protect her,” Tam cried. “I failed them both.”

  Denan shook him. “You also promised Alorica you’d bring Larkin back. Remember?” Tam rocked back and forth. Denan shook him again. “You can’t break, Tam. Not again. We need you.” Tam stopped shaking, then seemed to waver. Denan shoved him toward Talox, who caught and held him. “Fall into line. Now!”

  Tam’s gaze shifted again to Ture, rage flashing. Denan shoved him again. “You’re a soldier, and you will obey orders!”

  Tam bared his teeth, jerked out of Talox’s grip, and faced the archway. He gripped his hilt, his knuckles white. Blood trickled down his leg. She wasn’t sure how he was standing, let alone not limping. Except, maybe wherever he was now was a place beyond pain. And that place was better than the madness and despair of moments ago.

  Talox and Denan shared a look of profound relief.

  Larkin knew she’d just had a glimpse into the horrors they’d suffered together. The battles they’d won and lost. How they’d kept each other together and alive. The friends who never came home. Was that why Tam rarely slept? Why he clung to banter and jokes to keep himself from falling into despair?

  Light, the horrors these good men had suffered. Were still suffering. It had to end.

  Choking back tears, Caelia closed Atara’s eyes and folded her hands over her middle. Except for her profound stillness, she looked like she was sleeping. The holes in his side closing, Ture rolled over and tried to stand. Fell back.

  Talox set Ture on his feet, but he didn’t let go of his shoulder. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t understand.”

  Talox did. He’d been a monster too.

  Ture shook his head. “I’ve been where he is.” Tears welled in his eyes. “If it makes him feel better, he can stab me all he wants.”

  Nodding, Talox gave Ture his cloak and belt, which Ture used to tie the cloak around his waist.

  What had Talox done while an ardent that Larkin knew nothing about? She decided she didn’t want to know.

  Music, eerie and dark, crept through the platform and tiptoed down Larkin’s spine. Searching for the source, she turned in a slow circle. It seemed to be coming from everywhere.

  And then Hagath and Ramass stepped up the stairs. Hagath played her pipes, drawing streamers of magic from Ramass’s sigils as well as her own. They stopped in the center of the platform, about fifty yards away.

  An arrow flashed down, narrowly missing Ramass. Hagath formed a dome over her and kept working. Ramass flowed up the stairs to his left.

  Tam tried to run after him. Talox held him back. “There’s nothing we can do for him.”

  Larkin wouldn’t abandon West. “I’ll go.” It wasn’t like the wraiths could kill her. Just take her out of the fight for a while. Larkin had only made it two steps when Ramass reappeared, blood dripping from his sword. There was only one reason Ramass would be returning this soon.

  West was already dead, and he’d died alone. Everything inside Larkin stilled.

  Tam beat against the dome. “No!”

  A crackling, tearing sound. Before Hagath’s upraised hands, a churning mass of black, smoking shadows bound with black lightning came into being. A dark orb that grew to the size of a small melon.

  If Eiryss’s orb was enough to burn a hole through a man, how much damage could one ten times that size do?

  Talox forced Tam away from the edge of the dome.

  “The forest take us,” Caelia swore. “They get bigger?”

  “They used to be the size of a house,” Ture said.

  “Light, that would have destroyed a city,” Talox said.

  “It did.” Eiryss maneuvered herself between the group and the orb. “Stay behind me.” Her sigils gleamed silver as she weaved an orb of her own.

  She meant to shield them with her own body. Well, she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t die. Larkin took her place beside her grandmother. Still healing from his wounds, Ture shuffled up to stand beside them.

  Sweat ran with the rain down Eiryss’s face to stain her tunic. Her grandmother was terrified. But not for herself. “They never should have come,” she murmured.

  Fear
felt fuzzy and sharp in Larkin’s gut, like gripping fistfuls of thistle flowers gone to seed. “There has to be something we can do.”

  Eiryss hitched a shoulder and wiped at the damp on her temple. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

  It was clear Eiryss didn’t believe it would be long. There had to be another way. Larkin studied Hagath and Ramass. Or rather, the Black Tree possessing their bodies. Hagath was siphoning off Ramass’s magic while he stood guard over her. If Larkin could distract him—make him use his magic—it might weaken the orb. Her weapons flared, and she moved to leave the dome.

  Denan grabbed her from behind. “Larkin—”

  “I can’t die,” Larkin said.

  “You might if that orb blasts you into a thousand pieces!”

  Larkin opened her mouth to argue when a sound like a clap of thunder had her covering her ears and gasping in pain. Lightning arced across the dome, which reverberated, cracks appearing in the surface, the weave distorting.

  Hagath had thrown the orb and was already forming another. Larkin needed to get out there.

  Denan tightened his grip. “Larkin!”

  Larkin searched her husband’s frantic gaze. “The dome won’t survive another hit.”

  Denan must have understood what she wasn’t saying: that if they didn’t do something, all the Alamantians were going to die.

  Denan released her. “We’ll go together.”

  “You’re not going without me.” Caelia flared her shield as large as it would go. Talox took his place beside her. Tam grinned, a wild, ferocious thing that truly frightened her.

  Larkin’s instinct was to argue—unlike the Valynthians, the Alamantians were vulnerable. But then, if they didn’t stop those wraiths, they’d all be dead.

  “Your best chance of survival is if we all work together,” Ture said.

  “We’ll try to flank them.” Judging by Denan’s grim expression, he clearly didn’t like their chances but knew they didn’t have a choice. He looked them over as if memorizing each of their faces for recall later.

  But maybe some of them will survive, Larkin thought. And then run somewhere far, far away from all this.

  Larkin, Caelia, and Ture formed a shield wall. Denan, Tam, and Talox lined up behind them.

  “The next hit will shatter the dome,” Eiryss said. “After it does, charge. When you’re close enough, pulse. I’ll reform a dome for you to retreat to.”

  The Alamantians looked to Denan. He nodded in agreement.

  “Remember—” Eiryss began.

  An explosion swallowed up whatever she’d meant to say. Larkin managed to keep her feet through the blast. Ashes like burning paper fell around them and mixed with the slashing rain. Larkin, Ture, and Caelia raced forward, their shields before them and the men on their heels.

  “Look out!” Ture shouted.

  Hagath’s orb flew toward them.

  Larkin braced behind her shield. “Pulse!”

  She and Caelia pulsed. A brilliant flash of light. The orb connected. Heat and lightning bit through Larkin’s shield. Tongues of fire licked her hands. She smelled burning hair. A second later, lightning locked teeth around her body. Her jaw clenched. One of her molars cracked in two. But she couldn’t utter a sound.

  When it was finally over, she dropped to a puddle on the ground. Caelia and Ture lay in heaps beside her, their wet clothes steaming.

  Eiryss appeared above them, the dome weave half formed. “Charge them!”

  Denan, Tam, and Talox raced forward. Larkin tried to stand but only managed to brace herself on locked arms. That orb had blasted through most of her magic, but she managed a small shield.

  Another orb swirled above Hagath’s hand. The enchanters were only halfway across the platform. They wouldn’t reach the wraiths in time.

  Then the dome around the wraiths suddenly burst apart in a shower of lightning. Hagath jerked. Her shadowy sigils flickered. She stumbled, revealing a sacred arrow in her back.

  West? Had he somehow survived? But no, the angle was all wrong. This arrow hadn’t come from above but behind.

  Backlit by the coming dawn, Sela stood in the archway, an orb forming in her hand. And, ancestors save them, Garrot stood by her side. He loosed another arrow, which struck Hagath in the throat. Her shadows grew tattered and moth-eaten.

  Ramass sprinted toward them. Sela threw the orb, striking him in the chest. He tipped back his head and roared, the sound raw and grating against Larkin’s ears. A moment later, the Alamantians were on him.

  Always the fastest, even now, Tam slid on his knees under the wraith’s guard, his sword stabbing up and into his guts. Ramass kicked his injured leg and stabbed down, but Denan blocked the blow. Talox hammered into Ramass’s arm, which broke with an audible crack.

  The two men drove the wraith back. Larkin tried to stand, but her body betrayed her, and she fell back into the puddle. Tam made it halfway up before his leg gave out. Hagath screeched, a terrible, insect sound. She rushed Tam.

  Garrot shifted his aim to Hagath, released another arrow. And missed.

  Tam tried to stand again, but his leg wouldn’t bear his weight. With a rabid smile, he spread his arms wide, as if welcoming Hagath.

  Larkin’s cracked molar sealed together with a snap. Swallowing a scream, she pushed clumsily to her feet. She had to help him. Had to save him. Before Larkin could take a step, Hagath brought her sword down.

  “No!” Larkin screamed as the wraith’s sword connected.

  Only the sword didn’t cut Tam.

  Instead, he shimmered with rippling light, the weave glittering with gold and scattered rainbows. He was armored with White Tree magic. In the next second, a sheen of armor settled against Larkin’s skin.

  Sela.

  Sela had armored them all.

  Hagath whipped around and ran half a dozen steps toward Sela. Garrot put an arrow in her thigh. The shadows ripped open, and the true Hagath spilled out. Talox rammed Ramass with his shield and knocked him off his feet.

  He rolled, coming up to run away from them. The enchanters were a half step behind him.

  “Let him go.” Sela’s voice was calm and clear—exactly the opposite of how a five-year-old should sound in this situation.

  Let him go? Why would Sela say such a thing?

  The men ignored her. Larkin staggered to Tam and knelt at his side. He lay, staring up at the sky with that blank look on his face again.

  Ramass rushed up some side stairs and suddenly cried out. The dead sizzled in the sunlight. Flames erupted across his body. Flames that turned to burning orange embers. Those embers fell away, and the true Ramass tumbled down the steps, his body blackened and burned to the bone.

  Denan reached him first, his sword drawn back.

  “Don’t!” Larkin shouted.

  Denan stood over Ramass, his gaze fierce. As if he couldn’t turn off his predator instinct. “He killed West!”

  “The Black Tree killed him,” Larkin cried.

  Talox reached Denan and rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Denan took one reluctant step back and then another. He let out a long breath and pulled a shaking hand through his soaked hair.

  “It’s all right,” Ramass said through ruined lips. “I understand.”

  Shuddering, Denan looked away.

  Caelia had managed to sit up. Her clothes were still steaming, and weeping blisters covered her hands and upper arms. “Everyone all right?”

  Tam lay on the bark, his expression blank. “I guess we won.” He was still bleeding.

  “Hagath!” Larkin cried.

  The woman was the only healer they had left.

  The arrows shuddered out of her. “The font,” she managed.

  Eiryss was already running toward them with a cup full of sap. She pressed it to Tam’s lips. “Drink it all.”

  He stared at her with hatred in his eyes.

  Denan stood over him. “That’s an order.”

  Tam bared his teeth at Denan.

 
; Larkin ran her hand over his damp curls. “Do it for Alorica.”

  Some of the savageness left his eyes, and he drank it. Eiryss took the cup from him and poured the contents on the deep stab wound on his leg. Ture handed another cup to Caelia. “It will help with the burns.”

  Larkin sat down hard and looked around. Four of them had survived the night. Thanks to Sela and Garrot.

  Sela.

  Her baby sister was here.

  White Tree

  Larkin rushed to Sela and lifted her sister into her arms. She pressed her nose to her hair and swore she could smell sunshine and daisies and . . . mud. For all her sister had changed, she still smelled like the little girl Larkin remembered.

  Sela remained stiff, her arms dangling as if she didn’t know what to do with them. She may smell like a little girl, but she wasn’t one. Not anymore. A pang echoed through Larkin’s heart.

  Why was she here? And with Garrot, of all people?

  The Black Druid’s gaze jumped from Ramass to Hagath and back to Ture. Thankfully, Vicil was nowhere to be seen. Garrot was clearly shocked to find humans instead of wraiths, but he didn’t ask any questions.

  Motioning for his Alamantians to hang back, Denan jogged toward Larkin. But it wasn’t Larkin he was looking at. His hard gaze was fixed on Garrot. “I ordered you to return to the others.” He had to be referencing the pipers in the Mulgar Forest, the ones he’d used as a diversion while he and his group had advanced. “So instead you followed us?”

  Denan came toe to toe with Garrot. “Your obedience was the condition upon which you were allowed on this expedition.”

  They must have really needed volunteers.

  “I don’t take orders from you.” Garrot motioned to Sela. “I take orders from her.”

  “How could you bring her? She’s just a child.”

  Garrot’s hands fisted at his side. “The same reason you brought her to the Mulgar Forest: because I had to.”

  Lightning arced across the sky. Denan shifted slightly. Larkin had sparred with her husband enough to know he was about to hit the druid. She released Sela, pushed herself between the two men, and stared Denan down. “Why did you risk her like that?”