Endless Knight: The Arcana Chronicles

by Kresley Cole

  I hurried in, the shock of the cold water hitting me like a blizzard’s blast. At the drop-off, I treaded water, startled by how much my clothes and pack weighed me down.

  I aimed my light back at the shore, saw Jack dragging Matthew’s lanky frame into the water. After maneuvering the boy onto his back, Jack looped one arm around Matthew’s chest and started after me. “Doan look back and doan wait for me! Just get to the other side.”

  Teeth clattering, I started across, holding the light with one hand. Farther out, the water was rougher, waves battering me. The chill temperature numbed my limbs, but I was able to make headway.

  Jack was determinedly following.

  The quakes continued, rocks falling. A softball-size one struck me square on the head. Pain erupted, faintness almost overwhelming me. I’ll heal, keep swimming! I breathed in water, coughing on it.

  The mine rocked harder than ever before. Boulders began plummeting from the ceiling, roof trusses stabbing down into the water. “Jack!” I shrieked.

  “Keep on, Evie—”

  An entire shelf of rock landed behind me with so much force, the percussion was a punch to my stomach. A wave surged, whipping me up and toward the opposite shore. I felt weightless for a brief moment. . . .

  “Ahhh!” I slammed into the shallowing water, the force flinging me forward, far into the shaft. The ground was a washboard of grit and rock scouring my face.

  Over my heaving breaths and coughs, I heard Jack yelling from what sounded like miles away. The wave must’ve hurled him and Matthew in the other direction. The quakes kept rumbling. So dizzy. Wait, where was Lark?

  —I’LL MAKE A FEAST OF YOUR BONES!—

  Ogen’s call. Close. Panicked, I scrambled up; my arm bent at a weird angle. Broken? I collapsed right onto my wasted face.

  Selena screamed, “Evie, they’re here! Watch your six!” To Finn, she snapped, “Light it up now, Magician, or she’s done!”

  With a yell, Finn threw a beam of light from the opposite shore, illuminating the shaft in front of me. . . .

  Death.

  He was just there, terrifying in full black armor. I shrank back from him, knowing these were my last moments alive. His tableau—the mounted Reaper wielding a scythe—looked less horrific than his actual appearance.

  Selena launched a volley of arrows, one after the other, what must have been an entire quiver.

  He batted them away like flies. “Come with me, Empress, if you want them to live,” he said, his starry eyes aglow behind his visor. “Ogen’s striking the mountain, you see.” The Devil was causing the quakes? “If I do not stay him, this mine will collapse.”

  I gazed over my shoulder. Jack had just caught sight of Death through the falling debris and spraying water.

  “Nooo!” he bellowed, desperately trying to reach me while keeping Matthew’s head above water.

  In a bored tone, Death said, “Sooner or later, the mortal will leave the Fool to drown. Anything to save you.”

  I choked out, “What d-do you want?” Behind Death, I could see a cloudy dawn light streaming into the shaft. We’d been so close. Had he already murdered Lark?

  “Come with me.” He offered his gloved hand. “And my allies and I will leave your . . . friends to their fates. Take my hand, and I vow they won’t be killed.”

  Jack was getting closer. “Evie, goddamn it, doan you dare!”

  I gazed into Jack’s tormented eyes. Rocks struck like missiles all around him. He was still swimming, but had to realize he’d never get to me in time. When a boulder nearly took him and Matthew both down into the depths, I knew I had to end this.

  Even if it meant ending myself.

  “Make the choice,” Death said. “Bend your will to mine. What wouldn’t you sacrifice for them to live?”

  My right arm was broken. I had no poison, no arsenal. Didn’t matter. With my good arm, I reached for Death.

  Even over the rumble of the quakes, I thought I heard Jack rasp, “Bébé? ” Then louder: “Doan you do this!”

  I gasped out, “T-take care of him, Jack—”

  Death yanked me to him, sweeping me up in his arms. I fought him with any strength I had left, hyperventilating, dulling my claws on his armor, not even scratching it.

  Death just laughed. When he turned to stride toward the light, Jack gave an agonized yell. Selena’s last arrow struck Death square in the back of his armor, shattering into splinters.

  “Evie! EVIE!” Jack’s bellows grew fainter as the light brightened. “I’m comin’ for you! You know I will!”

  We exited the mountain into pouring rain. Even the stormy day blinded me.

  Nausea churned as Death carried me to his pale, red-eyed steed. I was shivering uncontrollably even before I saw the Reaper’s fearsome scythe in a saddle holster.

  With me secured in his arms, he mounted. Why not just kill me?

  “Wh-what did you do to Lark . . . ?” I trailed off, blinking in disbelief.

  Lark, that bitch, was on a horse beside Death’s. And she was all smiles.

  I cried, “H-how could you?”

  “You’re too damn trusting, Evie.” The girl adjusted her conductor’s hat. “And now you’re looking at me like it’s my fault that I’m taking advantage of your failing?” Her falcon had returned to her; it perched on her shoulder, dining on one of the rats.

  Her same three wolves surrounded her. Back from the dead? Familiars.

  Off to the side stood monstrous Ogen, his body gigantic, over a dozen feet tall. His mottled torso was bared. Huge tattered pants were cinched at his waist.

  Like Death, his tableau—a goat-man ogre leading tethered slaves—was less terrifying than his actual appearance.

  His uneven horns twisted up from his misshapen head. What should have been the whites of his eyes were red and webbed with thick greenish-yellow veins, his black pupils slitted. With a grotesque smile, he pounded his meaty fists even harder against the mountain, rocking it.

  “No!” I screamed, striking Death’s armor. Ogen would level the entire mine! “You swore you’d leave them alone! You swore.”

  Death reined his mount around. “I’ll keep my vows to you as well as you did to me.”

  “Wh-what does that mean?” My voice sounded so distant. Exhaustion was overwhelming me, but I struggled to remain conscious.

  “Doesn’t this feel familiar, creature? You, injured in my arms, as I ride. Our history repeats itself.” When he removed his spiked glove, tears welled, then streamed from my eyes.

  I tried to break free, the effort sending me closer to blacking out. “Don’t touch me!”

  His fingers brushed along my cheek, his skin burning hot against mine. He shuddered from the slight touch; I braced for pain. This was it, then.

  My eyes rolled back in my head.

  Death’s hand inches ever closer to my face. Closer . . .

  Contact. This is my end. His skin is surprisingly hot. My lids slide shut. Scarcely conscious, I await more grueling pain.

  Heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.

  I crack open my eyes.

  I feel nothing but the continued agony of his sword. Brows drawn, he yanks off his other glove, laying both hands against my face, then running his palms down my arms.

  His starry eyes glow brighter; as if in response, my glyphs shiver, awakening.

  Voice gone hoarse, he says, “None of the others survived my touch. No one.” He strokes my cheeks, my neck, my lips.

  When was the last time he held a living person this long?

  I sense something wicked beginning to seethe inside him. With a lustful gaze, he leans in to press his lips to my bloody ones. I am too stunned to react. His kiss is ardent but unsure, as if he’s never done it before.

  Once he draws back, he licks the blood from his lips and groans, “So sweet.”

  “I-I don’t understand.” Am I immune to him?

  “I am Death—and you are Life. You were made for me alone.” He grips the hilt of his sword, yanki
ng it free from my body. As I scream with pain, he catches me with his other arm. “You will heal.” Under his breath, he says, “You must.”

  Cradling me to his chest, he mounts his steed. “I will protect you, and you will forgive me this. I will see you well.”

  “L-let me go.”

  “Never, creature.” He gazes down at me. The most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. “I will never let you go.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He frowns, as if the answer should be obvious. “To my bed, Empress . . .”

  20

  DAY 258 A.F.

  SOMEWHERE IN THE SOUTHEAST

  When I woke, I was still on a horse, still held by Death. As in my dream/memory.

  But this time, I was astride the saddle, with my back to his front, my cheek resting against his armor. Instead of sizzling desert sands, we rode through pouring rain.

  How long had I been out? My broken arm was healed?

  That dream of Death merged into my present reality. He could touch my skin! I was the only one he could touch without killing.

  And he’d been attracted to me.

  Not this time around. My wrists were so securely cuffed together even I couldn’t slice my way out. At some point he must have peeled off my parka and pack, leaving me in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. To keep me cold and weak?

  “She wakes,” Death intoned from behind me.

  I stiffened, sitting up in the saddle. His voice brought other memories rushing into my consciousness. Oh, God. Ogen had battered the side of the mountain with even more force after we’d emerged. We’d been seconds from dying down there before—how could Jack and Matthew have lived through another wave of quakes? If the mine had collapsed . . .

  Matthew, please answer me!

  Nothing. Maybe they were trapped. Or just asleep.

  Sweetheart, I need to know you’re okay! PLEASE TALK TO ME!

  Silence answered. And emptiness—as if the comforting presence I’d felt since before the Flash had been uprooted from me. Even Death’s presence in my head was utterly gone.

  Because the switchboard was no more? If Matthew had . . . died, then Jack would have as well. Selena and Finn too? “Y-you killed them.”

  “As I always do,” Death said in an amused tone. “Ogen flattened that mountain like a sandcastle.”

  Grief engulfing me, I stared down at Death’s spiked gloves. In a voice I barely recognized, I said, “You wear their icons?”

  “Apparently I was closest to them. Earning icons that way isn’t as satisfying as a direct kill, but we do what we can.”

  Fury began overwhelming my grief. With each of his taunting words, it burned hotter, breath on an ember. My claws began to sharpen. I would slice Death’s marked skin right off his hands—or slay him and earn them.

  Death murmured, “Try to tap your powers”—cold steel made contact with my neck—“and I will shove this blade into your temple. I’ll keep you like that, brain-dead, unable to move. Or to die.”

  “Sink the blade!” Ogen hissed from our left. Though in a more human form, he still sported those monstrous features. His cloven feet plodded through mud; one of his black horns jutted higher than the other. When he skirted a rising retention pond with a wary expression, he looked younger. Maybe fifteen.

  On our right side, Lark spurred her horse to match our pace. “You should make this last, boss,” she told Death. “Torment her a little. You’re gonna have to wait centuries for the next opportunity to cap her ass.” Even in this weather, Lark looked snug and comfortable in her camo coat. “Making her suffer will be so much better—trust me.”

  I glared at the little bitch, promising vengeance. I blamed her as much as these other two. More even.

  In a thick voice, I asked Death, “Why not kill me now?”

  He whispered in my ear, “Because a part of you wants me to.”

  Chills broke out over my drenched skin. I wanted to deny his words, but didn’t know if I could. In the last nine months, I’d lost everyone. My high school boyfriend, my best friend Mel. My mother. Now four more people had entered my life for such a short time and had perished much too soon. The boy I loved . . . gone.

  “Kill her NOW!” Ogen’s fangs dripped slime, his veiny eyes crazed. “A feast of her bones! Now, now!”

  Death snapped something to the Devil in a foreign language, and Ogen quieted like an obedient dog.

  The raw winds buffeted us, driving the rain sideways, but I was too dazed to perceive it. Hypothermia? My thoughts were as numb as my body.

  My friends are dead. Jack is dead. What did I have to live for?

  Revenge.

  When we reached a hill that was covered with banks of sliding mud, Death sheathed his blade, wrapped one arm around me, and spurred his mount. The stallion seemed to gallop in place until it got purchase, finally vaulting over the edge onto a paved street. Ogen and Lark followed.

  Once we were on flat ground, I told Death, “Let me off this horse.” My teeth were clattering.

  “Silence.”

  “Let me off! Let me off!” I thrashed against him, spooking his mount. “LET ME OFF!” I shrieked.

  “I can be obliging.” Death plucked me up and discarded me over the side of his stallion. My legs must have fallen asleep in the saddle; they couldn’t support me. I staggered for few feet before collapsing into the gutter. Unable to catch myself quickly enough with my bound hands, I smashed my forehead on the edge of the curb.

  Pain seared along my split skin. Blood coursed down my face, dripping off my chin and jaw. Just as it had in the barn when I’d first discovered I could bring plants to life.

  Ogen laughed at my fall. Lark muttered, “Dumb-ass.”

  Drip, drip, drip.

  Too weak to move, I stayed in that position, on my knees in the gutter, face-planted, as if the curb were my pillow. With my back to the three, I watched runoff race around me, draining into a nearby opening.

  “Get up,” Lark said. “Stop dicking around.”

  Hadn’t we passed a retention pond just moments ago? One with charred trees and dead reeds all around it? My blood was probably rushing toward that pond even now.

  “More cannibals are coming, Evie.” Lark huffed with impatience. “They’re hot on our trail, because you’re ‘unclean’ or something. Surely we’re better than they were.”

  No. No, you’re not. At least the cannibals were loyal to their own. Lark was a two-faced betrayer. Because of her, my Jack and my Matthew had died horribly.

  That ember of fury was flaring into a wildfire, so hot I almost missed a telltale electric tingle pricking my skin. Something nearby was coming to life, unfurling for me. Rising from the dead. Seconds later, I detected tree trunks fattening with life, new limbs splaying.

  Bleeding, kneeling like a victim, I smiled. Because I was about to kill this trio. My army was silently stretching to the sky, slithering along that muddy slope, sneaking up behind these Arcana. I’d show them unclean.

  There was no reason to quell the heat of battle now. I would give myself up to it.

  To fight, I needed to get free. The cuffs around my wrists were welded together, preventing me from reaching a claw down to slice the metal open. If I could just work one hand through the tight circle . . .

  I strained to twist my smaller left hand free, but my thumb got in the way. The heat of battle was like a growing thing within me. I knew what the red witch would do in this situation. Hatred scalding me inside, I gazed down at my thumb.

  Pitilessly.

  I couldn’t reach the metal, but I could reach my own flesh. Didn’t know how long it’d take me to regenerate, didn’t care.

  With an undertone of disquiet in his voice, Death ordered, “Empress, rise.”

  Oh, I’m about to. The Empress didn’t get caged or collared—or captured.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I used the claw of my right forefinger to slice halfway through my left thumb. A nerve there sang, the pain dizzying, but rage blunte
d the shock of what I was doing. Blood spurted into the rushing water. More fuel for my growing fire.

  Death’s stallion stamped its sharpened hooves on the street, sensing the building threat. Lark’s wolves growled and raised their snouts to sniff the air. They’d scent nothing out of the ordinary.

  Death commanded, “Rise, Empress, or Fauna will send her familiars in for a bite.” I heard him dismount, his spurs spinning.

  With another swipe and a stifled scream, I severed my thumb. Out of the corner of my eye I watched the water sweep it away. My mutilated left hand slipped through the cuff with ease. The right cuff was no match for my claws.

  Freed.

  I was a marionette, and hatred pulled the strings. Finally, I was ready to rise.

  21

  I turned to them, my face a mask of blood, my reddening hair whipping in the wind.

  Death’s eyes glowed behind his helmet grille just before he twisted around, drawing his swords.

  A wall of murderous green towered above him like a tidal wave. He craned his head up and up.

  I commanded the swell to break over this embankment, to swamp them all. With a yell, Death flashed out his swords. But he was not yet my focus—I had a plan for him. I tried to ignore the pain as he slashed through my battalion.

  Lark sicced her wolves on me. If they caught me, they’d rip me to shreds, as they had those Bagmen. It would be my legs cracking beneath their fangs. Before they could reach me, vines snatched their paws, trapping the beasts upside down. Whimpers, howls. They couldn’t be killed until I took out Lark.

  All in good time.

  Ogen bellowed, leaping for me; a cypress crashed down on him. Pinned, he punched the trunk with fists like anvils. Agony racked my body. So I punished him with a larger toppling tree. His yell was cut short. Another tree, and another. To combat his strength, I sent poisoned thorn stalks to bind and kill him. Just to be safe, I ordered roots to suck him into the earth, wrenching him down.

  Other plants were at work on a more insidious task. . . .

  Eyes wide with horror, Lark abandoned her wolves, sprinting a retreat. My vines seized her, suspending her upside down as well, like the Hanging Man. As she dangled and screeched, I waved for her to be brought closer, until our faces were inches apart. “You’re worse than they are,” I murmured, canting my head at her. “We trusted you.”