“I’m not sure yet,” Tarina admitted, grabbing the newborn’s giant fangs and wrenching them away from her neck. “But that’s my problem. My people made these beasts.”
“Luzia helped,” Biana argued.
“She might’ve helped with some of the others. But not with this batch,” Tarina insisted. “The hive was sealed on your side.”
“Yeah, until my brother and his creepy friends opened it,” Fitz reminded her. “And now they’re hiding under their little shield like cowards.”
“This is not our fight,” Vespera said. “And this is not your fight either. If you had any sense of survival, you would flee.”
That settled it for Sophie. “I’m not going anywhere,” she told her friends. “But if you guys want to leave—”
“I’m staying,” Keefe interrupted, and Dex, Tam, Linh, and Wylie agreed.
Marella hesitated a second before she added, “Pretty sure you guys are going to need to fight these things with fire, so I’m in.”
“Me too,” Biana added.
Fitz nodded. “Today I’m starting a new Vacker legacy!”
“A legacy of fools who get themselves slaughtered while trying to be heroes,” Gethen noted.
“Seriously,” Ruy added. “You guys haven’t even noticed that one of the newborns ran off already, heading who knows where.”
They all whipped around, squinting through the darkness beyond the clearing, to where Sophie had last heard the newborn feasting on the fallen ogre—and found nothing but silence and shadows.
“The other ogres must’ve gone after it,” Linh said—and she was probably right. Cadfael and his remaining soldiers were nowhere to be seen either.
“Just to be safe,” Wylie added, “we need to make sure we’re each focusing on different directions. This clearing is big, and this property is even bigger, so if we divide up where we’re keeping lookout—”
“You can watch the beast as it devours you,” Ruy finished for him. “Genius plan!”
“You’re right!” Tam snapped. “It’s way smarter to send them after you.” He whispered something in a dark shadowy language, and a spiral of shadowflux blasted out of his palms, slamming into the Neverseen’s force field so hard that the glowing energy exploded in a shower of sparks.
Ruy raised his arms to form another, but Tam was faster, binding Ruy’s wrists in unnaturally black shadows that seeped under his skin, turning his fingers as dark as the shadowflux itself. And when Ruy waved his blackened hands . . .
Nothing.
Not even a flicker of power.
“Interesting,” Gethen said. “You’ve trained far harder than I realized.”
“I have,” Tam snarled—though Sophie could tell by the pitch of his voice that he was a little stunned by what he’d just pulled off. “And now you can fight like the rest of us! We’ll see how long you last!”
The beast attacking Umber’s shield seemed eager to take on that challenge, pivoting toward the three newly exposed members of the Neverseen and charging full speed ahead.
“I told you, this is not our fight,” Vespera said, grabbing hold of Ruy as Gethen raised a crystal up to the moonlight. None of them so much as looked Umber’s way as they left their injured Shade behind to save themselves.
The newborn roared and pivoted again, lunging for Tam, like it held him responsible for its lost prey.
Linh slammed it with a blast of water, but the beast shook itself dry and kept right on charging.
“Flame time?” Marella asked.
“Not unless we can herd them all a lot closer,” Sophie told her, reaching for one of her throwing stars. She checked her aim twice before letting the star fly and . . .
. . . nailed the beast right in one of its orange eyes—hard.
The newborn went down even harder, clawing at its injured face—and its agonized wails caught the other newborn’s attention. With a rage-filled screech, the final newborn shoved Tarina aside and raced after Sophie with furious speed.
Sophie flung a throwing star at its head—her last throwing star—but it ducked the strike easily, leaving her with only a tiny dagger left in her arsenal. She hurled that, too, remembering Sandor’s lecture about the importance of holding on to at least one weapon only after the beast dodged that blade and she had zero options left—except to turn and flee.
“HEY, NEWBIE, OVER HERE! I’LL BE WAY MORE FUN TO EAT!!!” Keefe shouted—but the newborn stayed fixated on Sophie as she sprinted away from the glow of the one remaining force field, hoping to lose the beast in the darkness beyond.
She channeled every single drop of energy into her sprint, knowing she’d never be fast enough to outrun the bloodthirsty beast, but hoping she could at least lure it far enough away from her friends that they’d have time to seal the hive and flee to safety. Her muscles burned and her lungs screamed for air, but still she kept pushing, pushing, pushing, barreling through the darkness with no idea where she was going, turning down any path she spotted. But no matter which way she went, she could still hear the newborn gaining on her—and it was so much more terrifying than the mental monster she’d been battling for so many weeks. Until finally, the beast was close enough to leap. She braced for impact, hoping it would finish her quickly and—
—a mass of gray tackled the newborn away, both creatures tumbling into the trees with a snarl and a screech.
“That was close!” Ro shouted, and Sophie spun around, squinting through the shadows until she picked out the shapes of Ro and three goblins running toward her down a moonlit path. The light was too dim to see that it was Grizel, Lovise, and Woltzer until they were much closer. And Sophie was glad they were safe—and grateful for the backup—but . . .
She hated knowing that all the crunching and snarling in the trees was happening to Sandor. And if he ended up like that ogre . . .
“Aim for its eyes!” she shouted. “That’s the only place they seem to be vulnerable.”
“Actually, it’s better to rip out their teeth and stab them with the fangs,” Cadfael informed her as he crawled silently out of a gap in the ground and held up a huge bloody tooth in his badly shredded hand. “Apparently the only thing that can kill them is themselves.”
“It’s fine,” Ro said as Sophie stumbled back. “He’s on our side—for now, at least.”
“I’m on whatever side is ending these beasts,” Cadfael agreed.
Sophie nodded, wondering if the fact that Cadfael was alone meant the other ogres were . . .
Probably better not to think about it. Especially with all the grunting and screeching still going on in the trees.
Cadfael didn’t look so great. His swords were gone, as were both of his shin guards. And he had deep gouges running down each of his legs.
“Did you kill the newborn you went after?” she asked.
He nodded grimly, staring at the bloody fang in his hand. “I’ve never fought anything like that—and I’ve fought many trolls in my day. Whatever the trolls are doing in that hive violates all of the treaties.”
Sophie was sure it did. But they’d have to deal with that after they got the hive sealed up again.
“Should someone go help Sandor?” she had to ask as a gut-wrenching screech rang through the air, followed by a series of gruesome cracks.
“He’s got this,” Grizel insisted, and Sophie tried to tell herself that if Grizel wasn’t worried, she shouldn’t be either.
But she didn’t really breathe again until Sandor shouted, “Another one down!”
He stumbled out of the tree line a minute later, holding out his arm—which looked like it had been chewed up and spit out a few times—and showing off the two newborn fangs in his palm.
“Cadfael said there were only three newborns,” Grizel said as she took a fang from Sandor. “So only one more to go, right?”
“Yeah,” Sophie said. “And I already took out one of its eyes.”
“Then let’s finish this.” Sandor ordered her to stay behind him as they charg
ed toward the clearing, and Sophie was surprised to realize how far she’d run in her desperate sprint. It took several excruciating minutes to make it back to the hive. And when they got there . . .
“So much for only one left,” Cadfael muttered.
Sophie could only nod and count.
One newborn grappling with Tarina.
One newborn screeching at Marella as she waved it back with her flaming hands.
One newborn trapped in a bubble of water by Linh—and it didn’t seem to be drowning.
One newborn that Wylie kept blasting with bolts of light.
Four, total—and none of them had a damaged eye. So there might actually be five.
And the entrance to the hive was still wide open. More could hatch any second—though Tam was over there doing something with inky black shadows, so hopefully that meant he was working on an actual plan.
“THERE YOU ARE!” Keefe shouted, racing over from a different path—and nearly knocking Sophie over with his hug. “Sorry,” he said as she fumbled to regain her balance. “I was just starting to think . . . I mean . . . I knew you could handle yourself . . . but . . .”
His voice cracked, and he squeezed her even tighter.
She hugged him back, feeling like she could breathe for the first time in a while. “It’s okay—I’m fine. How’s everyone else?”
“Still fighting,” he promised. “But . . . it’s been pretty rough in there since the new batch attacked.” He ended their hug and stepped back—and Sophie noticed bits of red splattered across his neck and cheek. “Please tell me those fangs you’re holding mean you’ve found a way to kill these beasts,” he begged the bodyguards.
“We have,” Cadfael answered for them—and if Keefe was surprised to see the ogre with their group, he didn’t show it.
“Does the injured one still breathe?” Sandor asked.
Keefe nodded. “I’ve been trying to find it. But it’s hard to follow the trail in the dark.”
“On it,” Ro said, pointing to a patch of shadows between two gnarled trees and telling Keefe, “Wait there.”
“You too,” Sandor told Sophie, waving Grizel, Woltzer, and Lovise forward. Cadfael joined them as well. “We’ll call for you when everything’s clear.”
“You’re sure you don’t need our help?” Sophie had to ask, even though she was totally good sitting back and letting the bodyguards take over. Some problems screamed Let the big muscly warriors handle this—and killer mutant newborn trolls was definitely one of them.
Sandor assured her they’d be fine, and Sophie slumped against one of the trees, trying not to let herself feel too relieved. This was far from over, and there were so many things that could still go wrong.
“Have you guys figured out a plan for sealing the hive?” she asked. “Is that what Tam’s doing over there?”
“I think so,” Keefe told her. “But I’ve been newborn hunting for the last few minutes—and looking for you. So I don’t know if anything’s changed since Tam dismantled the force field and they pulled the door off Umber’s body.”
“Body?” Sophie repeated, standing up straight again. “She’s . . . dead?”
He squirmed a little as he nodded. “It looked like she died pretty quickly—which I guess makes sense, between the door falling on her and the newborns trampling on top of it. But . . . yeah. She’s definitely gone.”
Sophie wrapped her arms around herself, trying to figure out what to do with that information.
“I know,” Keefe said, scooting closer, letting her lean on him. “I don’t know what to feel either. I mean . . . after what she did to you—and what she did today—she deserved it. But . . . it was weird to see her all crushed like that.”
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to picture it. But she could feel bile rising up her throat anyway.
Time for a quick subject change.
“Think we should go down there and try to get the door back on the hive?” she asked. “I know Sandor and Ro told us to wait here, but every second we leave the hive open, more newborns could hatch.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean?”
He chewed his lip. “I should probably let Fitz be the one to explain.”
The name pinched her heart, jolting her awake.
Keefe had said everyone was still fighting, but when she checked the clearing again, she realized Fitz and Biana were missing—and she kind of hated herself for not realizing that sooner.
“They’re safe,” Keefe promised. “It’s just . . . kind of complicated.”
“Complicated,” Sophie repeated, hating how ominous that sounded. Injuries could be complicated. Especially serious ones.
“They’re safe,” Keefe assured her again. “They’re just . . . in the hive—which isn’t as scary as it sounds.”
“Uh—there are still five unhatched newborns in there, ready to hatch any second!” Sophie argued.
“Actually, there aren’t. It’s still the middle of the night. They won’t hatch until the morning.”
“Maybe that’s what Tarina says, but since seven of them have already hatched, I’m thinking—”
“Only three,” Keefe corrected. “Three hatched early. The other four were freed.”
“Freed.” She knew she needed to stop repeating what he said—but it’d been a long day and her brain was having trouble computing.
Keefe blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll give you the short version and let Fitz fill in the details. It turns out . . . Alvar snuck into the hive while we were fighting and slashed four more membranes.”
“Alvar’s still here?” She’d assumed he’d been the first to flee when everything turned scary and deadly—though maybe that was foolish, since the Warden wouldn’t let him leave the property.
“Sorta. Like I said . . . it’s complicated. I’ll take you to Fitz as soon as we get the all clear, and then it’ll make a lot more sense—I swear.”
Sophie really wasn’t in the mood to wait—but Keefe wouldn’t tell her anything else. So when Cadfael finally finished off the last newborn, she all but sprinted into the clearing, trying not to look at all the carnage as she ran. But she still caught a glimpse of Umber’s mangled body, half pressed into the ground outside the hive.
Umber’s hood still mostly covered her face—but the part she could see was so misshapen that she had a feeling the skull had been crushed so badly that they’d never be able to figure out what she looked like.
Not that it mattered anyway.
Umber was dead.
Like, really dead—definitely no coming back from what happened.
One enemy down.
It should’ve made her feel better, but . . . mostly she just wanted to vomit.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” Cadfael asked, and Sophie jumped, wondering how long he’d been standing there.
She had to clear her throat several times to get her voice to work. “Well, it’s a dead body. . . .”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. They left her here. With all the power and tricks they have. They just left her here to rot. One of their own. It’s disgusting. I’m not leaving here without my soldiers—even if there’s not much left of them.”
Sophie was tempted to point out that when a band of ogres attacked Havenfield, they’d left bodies behind as well.
But maybe Cadfael hadn’t been a part of that.
“These are the people you’re choosing to serve, Cad,” Ro said as she joined them.
“I’m not serving anyone,” he snapped. “I pick and choose my assignments.”
Ro crossed her arms. “How’s that working out for you?”
He gritted his teeth, flashing all the jagged points, but said nothing as he stalked away.
Ro followed, and for a second Sophie thought she was alone, until she realized Keefe was standing quietly beside her—which reminded her where she was supposed to be heading.
“Maybe you should get a little fresh air before you go ins
ide the hive,” he suggested. “ ’Cause if you’re this queasy now, it’s only going to get worse.”
He had a point. She could already smell the rancid stench waiting for her inside—and she definitely wasn’t looking forward to seeing that drippy honeycomb of milky-membraned cubbies now that she knew exactly what was growing in that amber-colored goo.
But . . . Fitz and Biana were waiting in there—and she needed to know why.
“I’ll be fine,” she promised, heading for the door.
“I’ll be right here,” Keefe told her, offering a weak smile as she peered inside, half expecting to spot more blinking orange eyes.
But the hive looked mostly like she remembered it—just with more empty cubbies. And two familiar figures standing off to the side with their backs facing away from her.
When nothing jumped out to murder her, she took one last breath of somewhat fresh-smelling air before she forced her legs to carry her into the hot, stinky hive. Her footsteps clanged down the metal stairs and were somehow even louder as she crossed the floor, but Fitz and Biana didn’t respond. They didn’t even acknowledge her when she stopped right behind them, peering over their shoulders and trying to figure out why the cubby they were staring at had captured their attention.
It was a little different than the others—filled with a thicker, darker orange goo that didn’t have any glowing bubbles mixed in to illuminate it. And instead of a milky membrane, the cubby was sealed by a sheet of smooth glass.
Sophie squinted and squinted and squinted, and she was one step away from admitting that she had no idea what she was looking at.
And then . . . the shadows parted and she spotted a face—and not one of the monstrous newborn beasts she’d been expecting.
That might’ve been easier than looking at the still, floating form of Alvar.
His eyes were closed, his expression so calm that he almost looked like he was sleeping.
But no one could sleep in thick orange goo—at least not for long.
“I wasn’t planning to kill him this time,” Fitz whispered, making Sophie jump. “I was just trying to trap him, so he couldn’t get away or let out any more newborns. And Biana had shoved him into that cubby, so I started hitting buttons on the panel to see if there was a way to lock him in and . . . next thing I knew, the glass lowered and the goop started pouring in and . . .”
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 59
