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CHAPTER TWO
COOL AIR SLAPPED the nymph’s face. Isiilde Jaal’Yasine dangled over a broad shoulder, staring at moving boots and the ground far below. The ferns and earth were bathed in blue. She craned her neck, gazing at the Runic Gateway. One step from crushing stone to open air, but where had they stepped into?
The twin pillars of the Gateway swirled with chaotic runes. She blinked against the light, twisting her body to take in the view. A forest of ancient sequoia stretched towards the sky. Silver moonlight pierced the distant canopy, caressing a maze of ruin and a toppled tower. Wherever they were, the tangle of stone and vine mixed with shadow did not look hospitable.
As if sensing her thoughts, the portal snapped out of existence, plunging her into darkness. The nymph dropped her head. She did not care if the darkness swallowed her, but she did care for another.
She struggled on her perch, shifting weakly. Oenghus helped her down, lowering her some seven feet to the earth. Her guardian’s sapphire eyes glinted in the night, and his hand steadied her until her legs stopped wobbling.
A shadow fought with a fern on the ground. Moonlight touched a cascade of luminous white hair, and Isiilde rushed to her Bonded. His hands were crushed, bound in hasty bandages, and utterly useless. She could feel his pain as if it were a dim memory, lurking beyond the veil that he had forged between their intertwined spirits.
Weak with exhaustion, she stumbled on a root, and fell to her knees. Something stirred in the shadows, but her eyes were fixed on the rangy seer. Her heart was numb, it had been frozen and shattered, then stitched back together with his light. The battered organ gave a frantic lurch.
“Marsais,” she breathed. He wheezed her name in return, climbing to his knees. Isiilde looked to her giant guardian, who stood on a fallen pillar. “Heal him, Oen.”
The towering Nuthaanian quieted her with a gesture. And then she heard it—a soft scrape and a click, followed by another in the pattern of a predatory gait.
The Runic Gateway pulsed, the runes flared to life, and the air between pillars rippled. With a squeal of delight, a flapping fiend flew out of the portal, fleeing into the night. Luccub the Imp was free.
The Gateway pulsed once, and died. Shadows shifted in the ruins. A flash of ice blinked and disappeared. Marsais’ head snapped towards the flash. His long, lean body tensed.
“I can’t heal him here,” Oenghus growled, backing off the pillar. “It’s too dangerous.” He summoned the Lore, weaving a rune of light around his shield. White light replaced the fading blue, pushing at the shadows, but it failed to pierce their depths.
The Gateway activated, the air between the standing stones distorted again, and Knight Captain Acacia Mael stepped out of the portal. She took in the forest, the ruins, and the night, and moved beside the nymph, shield and sword held at the ready.
“We’re not alone,” Oenghus warned the new arrival. He shifted hammer to shield arm, and yanked the seer to his feet. Isiilde put a shoulder under Marsais’ arm, but he was heavy and she was weak, and she was not sure who supported whom.
Power gathered again, and the world exhaled, spewing two more paladins into the land: one young and smooth and the other seasoned and scarred.
A hiss rose with the wind. The shadows beyond the light writhed like a pit of snakes. Clicks and scrapes and a sibilant chorus whispered between trees.
Isiilde froze. “What is that?”
“Reapers,” the seasoned warrior spat. Lucas Cutter and Rivan moved into a defensive position, forming up around their captain. The single word clutched Isiilde’s throat. Fear trickled down her spine. Voidspawn. Creatures of nightmare with a thirst for fresh blood.
Isiilde wanted to stop time, to halt the moment and run back through the portal, but Marsais’ arm circled her neck protectively, pressing her back against his chest, rooting her in place.
The Runic Gateway flared to life, signaling another arrival—an unwanted one. Oenghus twisted, and swung as an Isle Guard stepped through the portal. The startled guard caught the steel fist with his face. Blood and bone and brain misted the night. The guard fell at the Gateway’s threshold.
A hundred eyes snapped open, burning with icy hunger. Blood was in the air. And the darkness exploded…
King’s Folly (Legends of Fyrsta: Volume Two)
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