by Melanie Card
The soul chain heated. “Don’t even think about it.”
“It wasn’t my first option, but we have to get you out of there.”
“You have to go warn the village.”
“I’m not leaving you, and the chain won’t let me get far.”
Metal rattled against stone, and determination swept up the soul chain. “We have to think of something.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I think maybe I can help with that,” Nazarius said. His pale aura emerged from the trees’ shimmering green magic, making him more shadow than man. He let the shadowy form of a man—probably the pirate assigned to guard Ward and Celia—drop, unconscious, to the ground, and crossed his arms. “If I ask what in the Dark Son’s name is going on, will you tell me it’s complicated?”
“Pretty much.” So very, very complicated. Ward squinted at him, trying to keep his eyes open as much as possible, but it wasn’t easy, and he wished there was a way to see—Goddess, he was so stupid. The shade glasses. “You’ve got to free Celia and we have to warn the village.”
“I know. The man in the gold robes is planning on attacking it.” Nazarius’s footsteps strode across the marble.
“Slaughter is more like it,” Celia said.
Ward pulled out the glasses and slid them on. He cracked his eyes open a little more. The light was still bright. Everything pulsed with magic, and sharp spikes cut through the smoky quartz, but it was better than before.
Nazarius handed Celia his dagger, and she opened the lock on her shackle. The metal clattered against the altar, and they rushed across the octagon to Ward. The movement made the magic around him waver, distorting everything, like he was trying to see through water. He squinted, and Celia’s brilliant aura drew closer, the warmth of soul magic and the heat from the soul chain almost too hot to bear.
Ward ground his teeth against the pain. “Which way to the boat?”
“Can you even see?” Nazarius asked.
“These help a bit.”
“They look ridiculous.” Celia took his hand, the touch zinging through him. The desire to consume her had been replaced with the desire to fall at her feet and worship her.
Ward shoved that aside. He stumbled down the steps. At the bottom, Celia pulled him into the underbrush after Nazarius.
“The pirates will be able to see us in our boat heading back to the village,” Nazarius said, his voice low.
“It doesn’t matter. The man in gold is Lauro Allard. He and Stasik are vying for control of the Council of Blood.” Ward slammed his shoulder into a tree trunk. Green sparks of magic showered him, stinging his senses.
“Which means what?” Nazarius asked.
“It means bad things are going to happen to the village if we don’t move,” Celia said.
“But Stasik will kill anyone who leaves,” Nazarius said.
Celia growled, her frustration weeping through the soul chain. “I’m hoping we can kill him before he can make good on that threat. It’s our best option.”
“It’s our only option,” Ward said. The ground sloped sharply beneath his feet. Celia wrenched him back, and he slid down the hill on his rear instead of falling face-first.
Nazarius grabbed the back of Ward’s shirt and hauled him to his feet. “The boat’s five feet to your left.”
“I can see that.” But Ward still didn’t notice a boulder on the bank and slammed his shin against it. Eyes watering, he climbed into the boat and sagged as low as he could, dragging his shirt over his head and shielding his eyes.
“You’re not going to be any use in a fight,” Nazarius said.
“Was I ever?”
Nazarius snorted. “Surprisingly, you’ve had your moments. Particularly since you’ve learned how to do reverse wakes.”
“Well, then pray for clouds.”
“There isn’t a cloud in sight.”
“Unfortunately, you can’t just leave me somewhere. We can’t risk stretching the soul chain.”
Nazarius shoved the boat away from the rocks and hopped in. “This is the worst plan ever.”
“We haven’t even gotten into specifics,” Celia said.
Nazarius barked a laugh. “There are specifics?”
“We hadn’t really gotten that far yet.” The boat surged forward. Wood creaked. Ward concentrated on the speck of light by his foot, trying to acclimate his eyes.
“We’re going to need to think of something,” Nazarius said. “I talked with your cousin—”
“You left the island?” Ice filled Celia’s voice.
Nazarius pulled on the oars, making the boat surge forward again. “I couldn’t get to either of you, and we needed information.”
Ward snorted. While Jared certainly had a strong necromantic ability, he hadn’t been the best student. “I’m sorry you wasted your time.”
“Now you tell me.”
“If you’d asked, I would have told you Jared is not a font of information.” Ward squinted at the back of Nazarius’s head.
“He was helpful enough, in that there’s no way to stop those men with the sangsal and we should get as far away from Vekalmeer as possible.”
“I keep trying to tell him that,” Celia said, jerking her thumb at Ward.
“And it’s still not an option. Stasik and Lauro can’t go unchecked.” Although Ward had no idea how he was going to stop them. Poison hadn’t worked. What he needed was his own army, but even they wouldn’t stand a chance against Stasik’s sangsal-infected pirates…
Unless that army was made of necromancers.
How convenient his grandfather’s hunting party was after him.
“Is Jared still in Maura’s house?”
“Yes,” Nazarius said. “Why?”
“The three of us can’t deal with this mess on our own.”
“And Celia sneaking in to slit some throats isn’t an option?” Nazarius asked.
“Innecroestri are kind of hard to kill,” Celia said, more frustration seeping through the soul chain.
“But my grandfather was part of the last hunt for Innecroestris. He’s faced them before.”
“Does your grandfather know how to deal with Stasik’s sangsal-infected pirates?” Celia asked.
“We’ll have to make sure he understands what’s at stake.” He didn’t want to risk the life of his grandfather or any other necromancer, but they were more capable of dealing with this situation than Ward was.
“Do you think your grandfather is going to believe anything you say?” Nazarius asked. “And that still doesn’t deal with the attack on the village.”
“No. First, we need to evacuate the village. Then we figure out how to convince my grandfather that this island is Vekalmeer, and that there are two Innecroestri on it.”
They landed the boat in Declan’s hidden cove and rushed along the path to the town, Ward fighting to see beyond the blinding light. If he squinted and concentrated, he could make out blurry images of what lay around him.
“Do you see the pirates yet?” Ward asked, unable to distinguish any hint of auras in the village or on the water from the blinding magic in the sunlight. They needed enough time to warn everyone. He didn’t know where they were going to evacuate to, and they’d have to watch out for any pirates who were already on land patrolling.
“Nothing,” Celia said. “No, wait. Is that—?”
Ward squinted. There, on the edge of the horizon, something black and dark. A weight pulled at his hand, and black sangsal veins swept over his wrist then disappeared back into his skin. Goddess, even this far away he could feel the call of the fissure. He shoved his hands behind his back before anyone noticed. Deal with the Innecroestris and the pirates, then deal with the sangsal and everything else.
“Damn it,” Nazarius growled. “Hurry up.”
They ran faster, Ward slamming shoulders and shins into obstacles that he saw too late. Then the foliage parted, revealing the lake in full and the village. Ward leapt forward onto the walkway. An old man, his
arm in a sling, sat up from his perch by his door.
“You need to evacuate,” Nazarius said.
“But the pirates won’t come for at least another couple of days.”
Celia helped the man to his feet. “They’re coming for the whole village. Can you hide in the forest above the village?”
The man shook his head and trembled. A middle-aged woman, her dark hair streaked with white, opened the door. “Leave Pops alone.”
“The village is under attack. You have to leave.” Ward pointed toward Vekalmeer.
Fear leapt across the woman’s aura. “Pops, head to the caves.” She rushed inside and grabbed a toddler, who started to wail.
Nazarius rushed to the next house and threw open the door. A man yelled. Celia grabbed Ward’s hand and tugged him to the next door.
“Going house by house will take too long.” Ward scanned the walkway. There were a dozen houses on this path and a dozen more paths.
A girl opened the door of the next house. Half a dozen more children clustered behind her.
Ward grabbed her arm, shoved his spectacles up and locked his gaze with hers. “Knock on three doors. Tell everyone to get to the caves. Then go to the caves yourself. Do it quickly.”
The girl’s arm trembled in his hand. He pushed with his thoughts, praying, willing her to obey. “Only three, then leave.”
Her trembling stilled, and she nodded.
“Ward?” Celia asked, her tone dark.
He turned his gaze on the other children, all between the ages of ten and five. “Take the youngest with you.”
The girl nodded again.
Ward focused on the remaining children. “Knock on three different doors. Tell everyone to get to the caves, fast. Then go to the caves yourself. Do it quickly.”
Their auras dimmed, his enthrallment of them easing away their fear. They nodded and rushed out onto the pathway, splitting up and knocking madly.
Celia grabbed Ward’s shoulder and jerked him up. “You shouldn’t have done that. And I can’t believe I’m the one pointing out the difference between right and wrong.”
Guilt twisted his gut. “The village might not be very big, but we have to get to Maura’s on the other side and help her evacuate the Seer. We need help.”
“But you enthralled children.”
“If it’d been a house full of adults I would have enthralled them just the same.” He dragged his spectacles back on, dimming the world from blindingly brilliant to just painfully bright.
Celia rushed toward Maura’s house. This was not the Ward she knew. The thought was so clear, she could have been standing beside him saying it.
She was right. He was not the Ward she knew. He was dead. A monster. And he was doing everything in his power to stay human long enough to save these villagers.
More people opened their doors. Celia barked commands at them but didn’t wait to see if they’d listen. Ward didn’t spend the time enthralling anyone else. He’d done what he could for those children. He could only pray the enthrallment kept and they didn’t freeze up.
The walkway split, one way heading to Maura’s house, the other to a dozen more. Red magic from Stasik and Lauro burned in a ball in the center of the lake.
“The pirates are almost here,” Celia said.
“I’ll catch these houses and meet you at Maura’s.” Nazarius raced down the walkway.
Ward turned toward Maura’s house. Celia ran beside him, a cold determination bleeding through the soul chain.
Maura threw open her door, her eyes wide, her aura pulsing. “What’s going on?”
“The pirates are attacking.” Celia slipped past Maura and stepped inside.
“But the—”
“Yes, it’s too soon for the sacrifice. They’re coming to slaughter the village.” Ward squinted as Maura’s aura flared.
She clutched the door frame, her face ashen. Ward grabbed her arm to steady her, but she recoiled. “Don’t touch me.”
His throat tightened, but he pressed past her and strode inside. There was time to feel hurt about that later. “I’ll take the Seer. Can you handle Jared?”
Celia propped a hand on her hip. “Did you just ask me if I could handle Jared?”
“He’ll try to reverse wake you.”
Jared glanced at Ward.
“And then you’ll eat him,” Celia said.
Jared attention leapt back to her.
“Did you just threaten my cousin with me eating him?” Ward couldn’t believe she’d just said that.
Celia flashed a dark smile. “It’s an option.”
“No! It isn’t.”
But Jared’s aura kept trembling. He thought it was an option.
“It’s. Not.” Ward wasn’t going to eat anyone. Ever. The sangsal billowed across his chest, and he turned to face Adolfus, praying Celia didn’t notice. He would die before he consumed anyone’s soul or let the sangsal take him. Of course, he’d already died. Now the question was, what was his second option?
Ward picked up the still unconscious Seer, mindful of his injured face and the reed still in his throat helping him breathe. He turned as Declan rushed through the doorway.
“What’s going on?” Declan asked, his voice cracking.
“Pirates. Help Maura.” Celia untied Jared from the chair but rebound his hands in front of him. “Can you use a dagger, Declan?”
The young man’s gaze dropped to the dagger at his hip. “Yes?” He didn’t sound certain.
“Good, then draw it and let’s go.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Jared said.
“Saving the village?” Celia asked. “I hope to the Goddess and Her two Sons we do. So should you, necromancer. I would be very upset if your wish endangered anyone here.”
“You’re going to feed me to your monster, regardless.”
“For the love of—” Ward bit back a scream of frustration and headed for the door.
“Remind me not to accept any invitations to dinner with your family,” Celia said to Ward.
Outside, a woman screamed. Declan’s eyes flashed wide, and he shoved Maura back inside the hut.
“Wrong direction,” Celia said.
“They’re here.” The dagger shook in Declan’s hand.
Ward shifted Adolfus’s weight. The man was heavier than he looked, and whatever strength he’d possessed to snap the metal shackle at the Abyss had vanished. “That’s why we’re running.”
Maura’s aura flared, but not with fear. This burned darker and stronger. She grabbed her wicker bag of medical supplies, still sitting by the door. “Come on, boy.”
She shoved him back out the door. Ward and Celia followed. Nazarius raced down the walkway toward them. The sail of the pirates’ longboat peeked over the top of the one-story house behind him. Smoke—real smoke—caught in the wind and billowed toward them.
“The village is on fire,” Ward said.
Another woman screamed. A man yelled. Ward hadn’t arrived in time. The villagers hadn’t escaped. They were going to be massacred, and Lauro was going to trap their souls in the Eye.
Celia grabbed Ward’s arm. “We have to move.”
“We can’t leave them.”
“Your hands are full and so are mine. We’ll be lucky if our small group can get out alive.”
A pirate strode around the corner, saw them, and rushed toward them. Nazarius lengthened his stance, but four more pirates noticed them. Nazarius was outnumbered. Blood sparked from the pirates’ clothing. The promise of power, of sustenance—
Of a way out.
Instinct kicked in. Ward yanked at the magic, twisted it into a rough ball, and slammed it into the pirates. Two went down. The rest staggered. Nazarius leapt toward them, his paired blades drawing more blood, more magic.
“Run,” Celia growled. The command shot through him, and he jerked toward her, his legs moving on her will.
Jared stared at him. “How in the Dark Son’s name—? You couldn’t do that before.�
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She shoved him. “Be impressed later. Run.”
He stumbled, caught his balance, then ran. Celia, one hand holding a tether to his bonds, raced beside him. Declan kept pace with Maura, who hobbled with her cane faster than Ward would have thought possible, given how she’d moved earlier.
More pirates ran after them. Ward shot another reverse wake at them. It was weak. He didn’t have the time to concentrate. They staggered but weren’t stunned. He kept running but missed a step and tripped. He yanked himself back, slamming his knees into the walkway to avoid dropping Adolfus.
Nazarius killed two more, but the others were shaking off the effect of the reverse wake. There were too many to fight. The Tracker slashed at the man to his left and kicked another off the walkway into the lake.
“We need a defensible position,” Nazarius said.
Another two pirates rushed toward them. They were surrounded. The pirates didn’t care who they were. Their instructions were to kill everyone in the village to get souls for Lauro. Celia and Jared wrenched to a stop.
Ward dashed to Jared. “You’re stronger at reverse wakes than I am.”
“Not anymore.” Jared’s aura trembled.
“Now is not the time for modesty.”
“I don’t cast with human blood.”
“Today is the perfect day to start.” Nazarius grabbed a dead pirate and tossed him at Jared’s feet. “Celia and I will hold them off.”
“We just need to stun everyone in a ten-foot radius.” Ward knelt, balancing Adolfus in the crook of one arm.
“Just a ten-foot radius,” Jared said with a strained laugh.
“I’ve seen Ward take on the curse of Dulthyne.” Celia kicked Jared in the knees and shoved him to the ground. “If he can do that, you can do this.”
“You what—?”
“Concentrate.” Ward balanced the Seer with one arm against his chest and thigh, swept his hand through the pirate’s blood—fought the temptation to lick it—and slapped Jared’s cheek. Magic snapped around them. It wept into Jared’s flesh, while black veins slid across the back of Ward’s hand and disappeared under his skin.
Jared wrenched back and wiped at the blood, but it was there, melting into him, begging to be commanded by his necromantic ability while the sangsal taunted Ward.
