Reign of the Fallen

by Sarah Glenn Marsh

  “She’d kill us before the Shades even had a chance,” Simeon adds. “Jax would be the first to go.”

  Jax elbows him, and I choke back a laugh despite the hulking shadow rising up in front of me. If Evander were here, he’d be the one holding the chain, standing between me and the snarling bear.

  “Lysander,” I call sweetly, slowly extending my free hand. I hope the cause of my sudden shaking has everything to do with the bear’s immense size and nothing to do with my need for another potion fix. There wasn’t time to go back for them once I remembered, halfway up the slope to Noble Park.

  “He’s worried about Meredy,” Elibeth says tensely, reminding me that while she’s bonded to her hounds, her Sight shows her all animals’ emotions, including the bear’s. “And he’s confused. Give him a moment to get used to you.”

  Jax and I exchange a look before I edge deeper into the cellar.

  Scuffling footsteps behind me elicit a growl from Lysander that’s so deep, it shakes my bones. Jax puts a hand on my back, then lights a torch, revealing the bear’s open mouth and stained teeth glistening with drool inches from my face.

  If this bear is semi-tame, I’d hate to meet one that’s truly wild.

  My vision blurs at the corners. Peeking out from behind the bear, a Shade’s bony arm stretches toward me. Its fingers, all white bone and no flesh, caress the bear’s fur, taunting me. Daring me to make a fool of myself by drawing my sword and slicing at a creature no one else can see.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, painfully aware of each of my five fingers still stretched in offering toward the bear. If there was ever a bad time to hallucinate, it’s now. I fix an image of the wounded peacock in my mind. The mangled feathers and the blood, hoping that somehow my guilt will be a talisman to ward off imaginary monsters.

  “Sparrow. Look.” Jax’s voice is low and urgent.

  I don’t need to open my eyes to know the bear is sniffing my fingers. Swallowing hard, I force my tongue to work. “Remember me, Lysander?” I croak. “We sort of met the other day. Your master Meredy is, uh, a friend of mine.”

  I press my lips together to hold in a whimper as the bear’s hot breath warms my hand. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but it was my idea, so there’s no turning back.

  “He’s calming down.” Elibeth sounds hopeful. “Keep talking!”

  “Meredy’s in trouble,” I continue at last, trying to steady my voice. “We want to save her, but we could really use your help. You don’t want to lose her, surely.”

  Lysander roars, splattering my face with bear spit.

  There’s a whine as Jax draws his sword. And a muttered curse as he nearly loses his grip on the torch.

  “Don’t!” Elibeth cries, chilling my blood.

  “Jax, don’t,” I add through gritted teeth. “Put it away.” I wipe the bear spit off my face with my sleeve, my hands shaking. I think the bear is upset by what’s happening to his master, not about Jax and me intruding in his home. I stare straight into the bear’s amber-brown eyes as he tilts his head, sizing me up. “The Deadlands are vast. You can track Meredy for us, can’t you?”

  Lysander lunges toward me. Jax grabs my arm, but I shrug him off and stand my ground even as my heart bangs a warning against my ribs. The bear opens his mouth again, and this time, a pink tongue lolls out and swipes my outstretched hand.

  It’s wet and sticky and disgusting—but there’s no mistaking the gesture for anything but friendly.

  “You’ve found your second calling as a beast master,” Jax declares, a smile in his voice.

  I shake my head, wiping my hand on my trousers. “I’m just lucky he understands me.”

  “You can use the chain now. He trusts you enough,” Elibeth says, no doubt peering into the cellar. Unlike the other Crowther women, she can’t disguise the worry in her voice.

  A long shadow darkens the floor as Simeon pokes his head in. “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he mutters as I hold up the chain for Lysander to inspect. He grumbles deep in his chest, making Simeon flinch.

  “This is just so we don’t lose each other in the Deadlands,” I whisper, leaning forward so Lysander will know my words are only for him. “But we really need to hurry.”

  With a sigh that blows the hair back from my face and reeks of dead fish, the grizzly lowers his great shaggy head before me. I slip the chain around his neck, and thinking of the wounded bird again, I slip my fingers between metal and fur to make sure it isn’t too tight.

  As I rub his neck, his scent tickles my nose. It’s a strangely familiar combination of cedar chips and vanilla, and something I can only describe as bear musk.

  “Let’s go,” I murmur in the bear’s ear. He’s quivering all over, powerful muscles bunching like he’s dying to burst out of the cellar. “Soon as we’re in the Deadlands, we’ll let you lead the way.”

  I’m definitely no beast master. My last words are completely lost on Lysander, who tears out of the cellar like he’s on fire, yanking me with him as I cling to the end of the chain.

  Jax dashes after us, swearing. Simeon and Elibeth leap back, pressing themselves against the walls as we pass. I whisper a hasty prayer to Vaia that Meredy will stay alive long enough for us to reach her.

  Two smashed urns and a ruined rug later, we’re charging into the night.

  XVII

  I’m not sure if anyone saw three necromancers and one huge bear leap into a gateway in the middle of a baron’s lawn by moonlight. Everything was a blur from the time we burst out of the Crowthers’ manor to the moment we arrived in the tunnel and Lysander slowed his pace enough to allow Jax and Simeon to jog briskly alongside us.

  “So, about this Tabathy person,” I whisper, flashing Jax a teasing grin in the dimness of the tunnel. We won’t be able to say much once we’re in the Deadlands, unless we want the Shade-baiters to hear us coming. “The best six weeks of your life sounds pretty serious, even if it was secret. What happened?”

  Jax shrugs. “She didn’t make me laugh. And she was leaving Grenwyr anyway, once she finished her training. She went home to Elsinor so she and her owl could take a position in the personal guard of some countess.” He scratches the back of his neck and looks away.

  “You ever write to her?” I’m not quite sure why I’m suddenly curious, but I can’t suppress the urge to pry a little.

  “Once or twice. I write to a lot of girls.” He winks. “I’m a man of many words. Maybe I’ll write to you one day, if you’re lucky.”

  Simeon snickers under his breath, but I keep my attention on Jax.

  I wish he’d hold my gaze a little longer so I could search his eyes. Maybe this bantering means things haven’t changed between us the way I thought they had. Vaia knows I’ve endured enough change lately to give King Wylding a fit.

  Keeping a tight hold on Lysander’s chain with one hand, I use my other to touch Jax’s arm. “Any girl would be lucky to get a letter from you, dummy. Me included.”

  “That so?” He looks my way. The sea in his eyes is restless, but after Simeon tosses us a curious glance, Jax keeps his tone light. “You don’t think, given recent events, that my time would be better spent writing to someone else?”

  “Maybe. But your friends appreciate letters, too. We care, like it or not.” I smile. I’m not ready to give up my place in his bed, my only escape, just yet. I recall his earlier words and murmur, “Remember, some of us still need you, brother . . .”

  “Just like we need you, Sparrow,” Jax whispers. Louder, he adds, “Who else would I write to about all my flaws and insecurities?” He grins, and a silent understanding passes between us. Even though we kissed, we’re already slipping back into our familiar roles as family. Just the way I like it.

  “I want a letter from Jax of Lorness, too!” Simeon calls, amusement in his voice. “Assuming we all leave here alive, I’m going to need to hea
r more about whatever you two are really saying here.” He waves a dagger, eyeing us both. “One way or another.”

  I roll my eyes and fall silent as the twilit glow on the horizon grows larger, signaling the start of the Deadlands.

  Time moves differently here than in our world, so if we’re quick enough, there’s a chance Meredy might still be alive.

  Lysander continues to strain against his collar, lending an extra quickness to my steps, but making me stumble so often that Simeon offers to take the chain for a while.

  Lysander’s movements are sure and swift, carrying us across a stream where we have to jump from bank to bank, then through a grove of silver maples.

  After some stretch of time has passed, immeasurable by the Deadlands’ frozen moon, the bear’s pace begins to lag. We cross the same stream again, and the same maple grove, and I thank Death that the landscape hasn’t changed on us yet.

  “We’re going in circles,” Jax grumbles as he takes the bear’s chain from Simeon. “I’m starving. It’s probably morning back in Karthia. And our maiden in distress is probably dead by now.” He shakes his head. “If she was anyone but Evander’s sister, I’d say it was time to give up.”

  I blink at him, stunned, but it’s Simeon who voices my thoughts. “Jax, you haven’t said his name since—”

  Lysander’s moan drowns out Simeon’s words. The bear halts in the middle of an overgrown flower field and hangs his head. He moans again, higher than before, and it raises the hair on my arms.

  “Death be damned,” I say softly. “We’re too late.” My heart sinks as I gaze around the field and imagine the disappointment in Evander’s eyes. In Elibeth’s.

  I wade deeper into the field, kicking flowers out of my path. It reminds me of the field I stood in yesterday, and as I’m busy scanning the ground for the charred remains of the three Shades, I don’t notice the spirit of a solemn, willowy girl until she’s right in front of me.

  Her hair is shoulder-length and pale, her face heart shaped and undeniably beautiful, cold and distant as a midwinter moon. But what’s even more remarkable is the long arrow sticking out of her middle, as filmy as the rest of her.

  “Firiel?” I call softly over Lysander’s moans and the sound of my heart racing. It just might be her, Meredy’s girlfriend. The ghastly wound in her stomach certainly looks like the result of a hunting accident.

  “Who’s she?” Simeon demands, frowning at the spirit.

  I hold up a hand, telling him and Jax to wait a moment. When the spirit blinks at me, acknowledging her name, I ask, “Where’s Meredy? Is she still alive?”

  Firiel nods, then raises a transparent arm and points north several times, to the trees beyond the field. Her eyes are pleading, her mouth sad.

  “See that? We have to hurry!” I turn to glance at the others, and to my relief, Jax, Simeon, and Lysander are already running in the direction she pointed. The bear’s chain twinkles in the faint starlight as he bounds ahead, seeming to have found new reason to hope.

  “Let’s go save your girl,” I say to Firiel, extending a hand.

  Quick as a blink, Firiel plucks a perfect lily and drops it in the palm of my shaking hand, then turns as if to leave.

  “Wait! Once we find Meredy, we can fetch your body and perform the ritual to bring you back.”

  She faces me but shakes her head, her frown as deep as Grenwyr’s western river.

  And suddenly, I understand. “You want to stay here. You don’t want to be raised and live a second life behind a shroud.” When Firiel nods, I swallow hard and make another guess. “But you don’t want Meredy to die just because you’re here.”

  Firiel gives me a sad smile, and I get the strange feeling I’m letting Meredy down. I nod a farewell to Firiel and dash after my friends. I wonder if she’ll stay in the Deadlands long, or if she’ll be one of those who quickly lets the river carry her away to the mysterious place beyond.

  I hope Evander’s found his way there, too, somehow. I hope he can see me now, doing what I think he would, so that he knows in some small way, he still lives on while I do.

  Up ahead, Jax and Simeon have stopped, crouching behind a broad tree. Jax’s arms strain as he struggles to keep Lysander from charging through the brush at the three figures in the clearing beyond.

  Two men and one woman, just like Jax said.

  And on the ground at their feet, bleeding from several stab wounds on her arms and back, is Meredy. Her eyes are open and glassy, like Evander’s were the last time I ever saw him. But unlike Evander, Meredy is still breathing.

  Silently as possible, Simeon draws his sword. He’s going to try to get a jump on the necromancers before Jax unleashes the bear. And while Simeon isn’t the swordsman Evander was, he could be deadly with a moment of surprise on his side.

  Lysander rears up despite Jax’s efforts, knocking him backward. The bear roars a battle cry that makes my teeth clack together.

  So much for surprise.

  “We have company!” the female Shade-baiter shouts, pointing to our hiding place.

  The taller of the two men whips his bald head around and locks eyes with me despite the curtain of branches between us, and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes aren’t like any other necromancer’s I’ve seen. They’re the palest shade of blue, misty as a riverbank on a chill autumn morning.

  He’s blind, yet somehow he still seems to know exactly where I’m standing. His keen awareness makes me shiver.

  Lysander crashes through the trees, blazing a trail straight to Meredy’s side.

  Simeon, Jax, and I run after him, as Lysander nuzzles Meredy’s neck and growls softly.

  The female necromancer raises an age-blackened sword, and I scream a warning as I run. Lysander’s too focused on Meredy to react. The necromancer lunges, her blade aimed at the bear’s ribs. With a casual swipe of his massive paw, he knocks her clean across the clearing and into a tree, never taking his eyes off his fallen master.

  As we reach the clearing and surround them, the male necromancers raise their daggers. The woman struggles to recover her sword with a bloody arm, breathing hard as she drags herself toward her blade.

  Jax swings his sword at her, but she lifts hers with a strangled shout at the last possible moment. The screech of steel on steel cuts into my thoughts as I rush at the shorter man with my sword drawn, Simeon at my side. I hesitate to attack the taller man—it seems wrong, somehow, since he may not see me coming. But then, he can surely sense me. I get the feeling I shouldn’t underestimate him.

  I catch sight of Meredy out of the corner of my eye. Lysander’s licking the many wounds that gape like sad red mouths on her pale skin. A thin trail of scarlet leaks from her lips and pools on the ground.

  “Vane, do it now!” the female necromancer shouts as she clashes with Jax. “Call your Shade!”

  I don’t know what she means, but the tall Shade-baiter with the misty blue eyes—Vane—nods in understanding. Whatever he’s planning, he’s not going to get very far, because he’s about to feel the bite of my blade. He deserves a taste of the pain he’s caused, and Simeon can handle the other man on his own.

  I sprint toward Vane as he rasps, “Come here, my pet!”

  As if on command, a Shade staggers from the shadows on the opposite side of the clearing, its bony arms dragging on the ground, its dark eye sockets fixed on me. Drool cascades over its pointed teeth—it’s hungry, always hungry—yet it doesn’t charge.

  A chill envelops me as I narrow my eyes at the monster that seems to be following the rogue necromancer’s orders.

  But necromancers can’t control Shades. That’s impossible.

  Or so I thought.

  It’s a young Shade, newly made, which means it has more flesh on its bones, more wisps of hair clinging to its skull, and its mouth can’t yet stretch wide enough to swallow a deer or a cow. But it co
uld still do plenty of damage.

  Vane raises a hand and cries, “Now! Time to feed!”

  Grabbing a vial of liquid fire from my belt, I leap between the Shade and Meredy. I hesitate with the potion held aloft, trying to gauge which way the Shade will move when I toss it. I only have a few vials, so there’s little room for mistakes.

  I’m still close enough to stab Vane with my other hand. I swing my sword, but he must hear it coming. He stumbles back, daring me to move with him. To give the Shade a clear path toward Meredy, assuming it doesn’t go for me instead. Shades aren’t picky, just hungry. I stand my ground and snarl at the man just out of my blade’s reach.

  Behind me, someone shrieks a piercing death note. If I take my eyes off the Shade a second time to see who just died, it could be the last thing I do. “Everyone all right?” I shout instead, trying to control my racing heart.

  Vane turns and flees into the dark woods. I spit at the spot where he stood. It’s no surprise a murderous rat like him would abandon his companions the moment he knew they were losing this fight.

  Simeon calls out a breathless, “They’re getting away!”

  “Stay and help Sparrow!” Jax growls. “This should be quick.” Dead branches crack under his weight as he chases after the wounded Shade-baiter.

  “Jax! Get back here!” I scream. I need my friend where I can see him, or at least hear him. Not out in the dark woods with two armed rogue necromancers who can summon a Shade on command.

  If anything happens to either Jax or Si, I won’t be able to live with myself.

  But Jax doesn’t heed my call, and the Shade across the clearing doesn’t seem compelled to follow its master into the woods. It throws back its head and releases a cry loud enough to strip the leaves from the trees.

  Fury at the rogue necromancers and every Shade that’s ever roamed the Deadlands sizzles in my blood. I throw a vial of fire potion at the Shade right as it darts forward on all fours, and it collides with the glass vial a moment later. It must be even younger than I thought, one of the Dead turned into a monster just today, to be moving so slowly.