At that moment, a swirling tug in his chest signaled Switch's distress.
Hunter scrambled away from the table, "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Your father—"
"Is a traitor." She grabbed his hand. "We'll explain everything once you're safe."
Hunter shook his head to clear the confusion, but it stuck there. "What?"
They headed for the door. "They're coming for you," she said.
"Who?"
"The Huntsmen," Dilyn answered as they burst into the front yard.
Hunter barely had time to notice that the courtyard, which had been verdant and flourishing when he'd entered, now looked bleak, on the verge of winter. And then something hissed behind them. They turned to see a white arrow lodged in the doorframe, the feathers sparking blue.
With a mighty whomp, the house burst into flames.
"We're too late."
Chapter 34
The setting sun bathed the walled-in grounds of the distant estate in cherry gold. From Ariana’s view astride the Stoalvenger, it was nothing more than a patch of color amidst the pure white snow. But she was headed in the right direction. She knew it. She could hear it.
Rain.
Faint, familiar, and out of place, the noise was a beacon. The Onyx Vial was near.
She dug her heels into the Stoalvenger’s sides, urging her on. She worked her powerful muscles, her wings cutting through the air like oars through water, each beat spurring them forward.
The estate grew larger as night overtook the sky. The patch of color became a swath of brown and faded green.
She guided the Stoalvenger to the ground in the little clearing. The moment the hooves touched down, the crisp, fresh winter air was overwhelmed by the sickly-sweet scent of dried flowers on the verge of rot. She slid off the Stoalvenger’s back and tried not to gag as she peered down the long, treelined pathway they’d passed over coming in.
There was no obvious sign of danger—no Huntsmen or dead bodies in the road—but the branches reached ominously toward the empty space with long, skeletal fingers. Dagger-sharp icicles hung from the tips like gleaming overgrown nails.
She shuddered and turned toward the hedge-lined gardens.
This view was no less disturbing.
Leafless black vines snaked along the hedge walls, a tangle of tentacles devouring them whole, leaving dark, gaping maws into which she could see only rot and ruin.
Her stomach knotted itself around her heart and she swallowed her panic, listening for the sound of the rain.
It was there. Distant. Somewhere beyond this courtyard. Toward the middle gap. Dried flowers hung limp and frozen from the archway.
Something wasn't right. This place reeked of death. Hunter had come here willingly?
She shook her head, took a deep breath, and proceeded.
But she hadn't taken more than two steps into the corridor when she stopped cold.
A small, rodent-like woman, stood in her way, arms outstretched. She stared at Ariana with wide, vacant eyes—the irises a milky white. Her mouth hung half-open, revealing a pale pink tongue—a garish contrast to her ashen-green skin. Her face was a pantomime of horror, pain, confusion.
She appeared to have been burned alive.
Ariana’s stomach clenched. Bile crept up her throat. Tearing her eyes from the woman’s lifeless face, she turned and ran back through the arch, dropping to her knees beside the Stoalvenger, choking back her urge to retch. But there wasn't time. She had to get herself together.
She forced herself back to her feet. The Vial continued to call to her. It was somewhere close by. Whether that meant Hunter was too, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that if she found him, she might only find a dead body.
As she got a handhold on the Stoalvenger and prepared to mount, a distant scream shattered the looming silence.
Ariana’s blood ran cold. That voice, even without words, was unmistakable.
“Tehya.”
Ariana launched herself onto the Stoalvenger’s back. She jabbed her heels into the horse's sides. She beat her wings and shot into the air.
The sun had set, but the night had yet to slip on its inky black cloak. Taking to the sky was a risk if the Huntsmen were near, but it was the fastest way to find her. She’d just have to hope it was dark enough that she wouldn’t be spotted.
They sailed over the hedge, swiftly gaining altitude.
Ariana scanned the brown hedges and the frozen, withered gardens contained in them. But her eyes quickly found a source of light ahead, nestled in the dark mass of hedge that wove inside and around itself in the centermost section of the leaf-shaped grounds.
As she drew closer, the sounds of the Vial grew to a gale, and she could make out a massive diamond-shaped courtyard, its center alight with flame. Several dark shapes dotted the blue-white light.
Huntsmen.
She guided the Stoalvenger down to a section of path a safe distance from the entrance, leapt off her back, and ran.
She could hardly think for all the noise the Vial made in her head. She stopped at the entrance and peered past a broad arcing set of stone steps that led into the massive courtyard, her eyes on the island in the center of a body of water. Its smooth surface reflected the light of the hungry flames eating away at a house at the far side.
Cast in shadow by the harsh light were more than a dozen figures in some kind of standoff on the island. She squinted, trying to bring them into focus.
Her breath caught.
Hunter stood in the center of the cluster of black-clad Huntsmen. His arm outstretched, he waved the pointed tip of a dagger—its glowing handle she recognized instantly as the Onyx Vial—at the only men who had not given him a wide berth.
But he didn’t fight them. He couldn’t.
They were using Perry, Dilyn and Tehya as human shields.
Something shifted and crunched to her right. Ariana spun out of the archway and pressed her back against the hedge. A Huntsman stalked past.
She stood frozen, bracing for someone to come around the corner, listening.
But after a minute or two of nothing, she eased off the hedge, and crept as far into the threshold as she dared. She peered into the courtyard again, this time her focus on the inside perimeter.
There were Huntsmen backed up to the hedge on every step until the water’s edge. Their bows were drawn, arrows loaded and aimed at the center island. Farther on, in the left and right corners of the courtyard, sprawling trees cast deep, menacing shadows on the islands they crowded.
Ariana had no doubt there were more Huntsmen concealed. But they were cut off from the center island. There was only one other way onto it; a long wooden bridge, easily the length of eight horses in a line, starting from the stone steps.
She stood no chance of crossing unnoticed.
Over the Vial's roaring wind and hammering rain, Ariana heard Hunter yell, “Stay back! I swear I’ll kill anyone who comes near me!”
“Surrender, boy,” snarled a Hunstman. “Or you’ll be dead before you have the chance to strike.”
On the steps, the Huntsmen’s bows drew taut.
“Kill me, and there won’t be a soul to hand it to your King,” Hunter spat.
So he knew the score. Good. At least he wouldn’t do anything foolish.
The Huntsman holding Tehya, one arm wrapped around her body, the other around her neck like a noose, moved forward. Tehya’s mouth opened and shut as she gasped for air. She kicked her legs feebly.
“Then your friends will die in your place,” he announced.
This shouldn't be happening. Tehya shouldn't be here. None of them should.
Her anger redirected from the Huntsmen to her former Instructor.
Bardoc.
His name tasted bitter on her tongue. There was not a word vile enough to accompany his name. So she spewed them all at him under her breath.
Tehya would not die in her mother's place.
She let her senses take over, g
auging the amount of water she had to work with by focusing on her etâme. There was plenty. She could easily douse the flames on the house. And the night’s temperature was cold enough that she could use the air to form ice. But what to do with it?
“You hurt her, I’ll... use it myself,” Hunter challenged.
Ariana grimaced, her focus shattering. “Hunter, you blocker…”
“We can’t have that,” the Huntsman said. Too calmly. His arm lifted.
No. She gritted her teeth as bowstrings creaked under new tension.
“Hold,” she heard one of the archers order. “Wait for the signal.”
She held her breath, her eyes locked on the Huntsman’s raised hand.
If Hunter was killed, the Vial would never be destroyed. He had to surrender. Or at least pretend to until she could find a way to get them out alive.
“No, wait,” Hunter said.
The Hunstman’s fingers twitched.
Ariana’s heart leapt in her throat.
Then both Hunter and the Huntsman lowered their arms, mutually standing down.
Ariana sighed in relief.
She didn't register the twang of the bowstring until she saw Hunter fall, the firelight illuminating the shaft of an arrow in his chest.
Chapter 35
A scream at the island's center voiced the one that lodged in Ariana’s throat.
No.
A Huntsman stalked forward, fingers stretched toward the Onyx Vial. Hunter had barely hit the ground before the man grasped his limp hand still curled around the Vial.
Was that the way around being killed?
His cackle of triumph was cut short as he paled and crumpled, lifeless, to the ground.
Every Huntsman on the island stepped back.
But Ariana rushed forward. I have to get it before his etâme is gone, she thought. She ran hard and fast, trying to connect her etâme to the water, using the air for assistance.
Stay alive, Hunter, she willed him. Hang on long enough for me to reach the Vial.
Just as she felt the cold sting of the connection with the water in her palms, she heard the Huntsmen shouting, “Stop her!”
A twang and flutter followed.
She had already ducked and rolled, ignoring the sharp thump of the stone against her shoulder blades as she hit the ground, pulling strands of water and icy air toward her. As momentum pulled her to her feet again, she threw the water across her back, infusing it with cold air so it froze in a shield like a turtle's shell.
Something glanced off the shield. She felt it crack. She reinforced it quickly, pulling more water into the crack and freezing it as she ran.
Something lit on her right.
Flames rocketed toward her. She turned her body, letting her shield take the brunt of it. But as she did, something dark and massive barreled into her from the left.
The Huntsman slammed her into the ground. The ice shattered under her back, shards cutting through her clothes, lancing her skin. She cried out in pain, but the man’s weight on top of her was too great. Her ribs compressed her lungs as she gasped for air.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, tightening her bond to the water and air as her fight response kicked in. She thought of her scrap with Killian in Bolengard. Immediately, she froze the strands of water in her palms, breaking them off to form six-inch dagger-sharp icicles.
She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Just brought her hands up and plunged the icicles into the Huntsman’s neck.
He bellowed and flailed. She was able to roll out from under him, scramble to her feet and stagger toward the bridge. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
Behind her the Huntsman’s howl petered out with a gurgle. But she didn’t look back. She didn’t want to know.
Her focus turned to her friends fighting their restraints.
Dilyn kicked and squirmed, struggling against the brute that pinned his arms to his sides. He was at a disadvantage as an unmarked Mervais. The water wasn’t within his reach, so he fought with his own strength.
But the Eerdens were able to use their element to fight. Vines twisted around the legs of the Huntsman who held Perry, dividing the man's attention between his captive and the earthy ropes threatening to bind him.
Behind the Huntsman holding Tehya, familiar-looking plants grew with unnatural speed—as tall as the Huntsman. Their pods were visible even from the bridge’s full distance away.
Gorse bushes.
The house fire had now become the fuse of Tehya’s earthy weapon. She'd use the Huntsmen’s strength against them.
Brilliant, Tehya.
As the words formed in Ariana's head, the first pod caught the heat. It swelled, blazing red-hot. Then, with a percussive crack, it burst open, sending a thorn-like seed sailing into the darkness of the tree line.
Calls rang out on the right side island, and a line of Huntsmen emerged from the shadows.
Her stomach dropped.
Another pod flared. Another resounding shot as it burst open.
Then a flame arced from the house to the bush, and the entire plant lit up.
She doubled her speed, trying to outrun the imminent storm of projectiles. But she wasn’t even halfway across the bridge when the flurry of bursting pods erupted, filling the night air with a deafening noise that drowned out even the Vial’s ceaseless gale.
Something caught her ankles. She pitched forward and smacked her chin against the wooden bridge, biting down hard. She tasted blood.
Had she been hit by a seed?
The rough hands that clamped around her wrists told her otherwise. She tried to wriggle free but his knees came down on her calves, rendering her immobile. He held her down until the explosions from the gorse receded. Then he brought her wrists together behind her back and clamped them in one massive hand. He yanked her arms, pulling her to her feet. She yelped in pain, but his meaty palm clamped over her mouth, muffling the sound.
She kicked violently, to no avail. Her captor was too strong.
The man’s breath raked the back of her neck. It was hot, but it made her shiver. “Well aren’t you a fortunate find, Tieren.” His rough voice scratched at her ears, like thunder amidst the Vial’s storm.
Her heart fluttered in fear. She’d given herself away when she fought the other Huntsman.
Her captor removed his hand from her mouth and grabbed her hair.
“Snipe off," she retorted.
He wrenched her head back. Stars erupted in her eyes and a sharp pain stung her scalp as several hairs ripped free.
At this angle, she could see his face. She blanched.
The slope of his nose—like a predatory feline. The narrow slits revealing his brownish-yellow eyes. The sharp angles of his brows. The trunk-like thickness of his neck. This was a man she need only see once for his image to be burned in her memory forever.
The Commander.
“Here I find myself in short supply of carriers, what with that whole arrow mishap,” he said, his voice smooth and deadly.
Ariana cringed.
“And you so kindly volunteer to take the boy’s place.”
Part of her wanted to tell him off and refuse. But the other part knew that maybe—just maybe—if Hunter was alive, or if his etâme had not yet leached out of his lifeless body, she could get her hands on him and the Vial in time to damage it, at least.
It probably wouldn’t work. But she had to try.
She peered down her nose at the island, her eyes straining to see.
There were bodies on the ground, more than a few of them Huntsmen. At the base of the now skeletal gorse bush there was only a heap of black—the Huntsman who’d taken the brunt of the pod explosions.
Perry had gotten free of his captor and was fighting off a pair of the black-clad men attempting to move in on Tehya, who was on the ground beside Hunter, her face close to his.
Ariana closed her eyes, relieving them of the strain for a moment before opening them to look again. This time, she thought she saw t
he glow of the Vial shift with the position of Hunter’s arm.
Her heart skipped.
She pulled her chin down to see clearer. The Commander resisted, resulting in another shot of pain as more hairs tore from her scalp. But she saw what she was looking for.
Hunter moved his arm.
“He’s alive,” she breathed.
“What?” the Commander snapped.
“He’s. Alive,” she repeated, enjoying the small triumph, regardless of what it might mean for her.
A rumble emanated from the Commander’s throat. “We’ll see about that,” he said, and shoved her forward.
But as he did, the storming of the Vial fell silent, and a hush blanketed the courtyard.
The fight on the island ceased. Everyone stilled. Their faces turned toward Ariana and the Commander, who stopped.
For a moment he didn’t move. Neither he nor Ariana even breathed.
Why had the Vial gone silent?
“I dare not believe my eyes.” From behind them came the voice. It was unfamiliar to Ariana, and yet, it was one she intimately recognized.
The Commander turned her around with him. Now it was clear that the attention from the island was not directed at her or the Commander, but at the man in the archway atop the stone stairs.
An icy tendril slithered up her spine.
He had a strong, sculptural face framed by leaden hair. His clothes were immaculate. His boots shone like black water under the moonlight. He stepped forward, flanked by a set of massive, ox-like men. As he moved, she studied his lithe angular frame, and his all-too-familiar gait.
Even the way he held his chin reminded her of Killian.
“My King,” the Commander uttered reverently.
Ariana trembled.
She’d seen his face a thousand times. And now Falken Fyrenn marched toward her.
The Huntsmen flanked the steps had gone still and straight as statues, their bows lowered but still loaded.
“You’ve made quite a mess,” the tyrant observed. His voice carried.
He stopped when he came to the Huntsman Ariana had stabbed, who now lay motionless on the steps in a pile of ice. The King nudged him with his boot, tilting the man’s face to inspect his neck.
The Onyx Vial (Shadows of The Nine Book 1) Page 33
