She watched in shock as Vidarr picked up the nearest human and tore him in half like a phonebook.
Gallons of blood exploded, painting the snow and the other Blood Eagles nearby, and chaos erupted.
Daschla looked just as shocked as Edie was, watching her men attack Vidarr. Some of them neglected their weapons to try and dogpile him. Some were able to squeeze off a few panicked rounds, but they learned their lesson quickly as the bullets ricocheted off him and became friendly fire instead.
The Silent God was unmoved. One by one, he tore the humans off him like they were mere nuisances, crushing several skulls in the process. The Mare Isle defenders pushed through the front line to slam down their massive shields, but the scuffle was surprisingly short. The god of vengeance stepped onto the ice and turned toward the Blood Eagles, but only a few lackluster rounds followed him.
Edie raised her head a bit, squinting over one of the defenders' shields to look at the mob. It swam with discord, louder than ever. Toward the back, she could see a handful of men scattering and fleeing toward the Mall.
"Seems your Blood Eagles aren't as brave or loyal as you thought they were," Satara said, her voice carrying over the din despite her steady tone.
Daschla turned, whipping her head back and forth as she scanned the terrace, watching her men desert one by one. When she turned back, her eyes were blown wide, her teeth gritted, chest rising and falling quickly. If she'd had steam coming out of her ears, she'd have looked like a Looney Tune.
She struggled to hide her expression, holding her hands over her Blood Eagles again. "It's just as well, isn't it, brothers and sisters?" she boomed, not quite convincing in her breathlessness. "Those of you left are the true warriors. You're the real chosen ones. You would never see one of your brothers slaughtered and run away! You're the ones who actually deserve the gift I'm going to give you! Shall I give you the gift?"
The crowd's enthusiasm had been waning dramatically, but her words rallied them. They screamed for her, those who weren't wearing the skull masks practically foaming at the mouth.
"When I was a little girl," Daschla began, beginning to weave a sickly blue magic between her fingers, "we owned chickens. Every spring, the chicks would hatch, and every autumn, we culled them. It could hardly be called cruelty ... we used the meat to feed ourselves and sustain our village. But their entire existence, before they were even born, was already decided. They were born to be fed from."
She stretched her wings out, beating the air until she was hovering several feet above their heads. The magic in her hands was growing larger the more she wove it, resembling a scarf as it wound around her body.
"Of course, to a child, these things seemed so unfair—that the animals I cultivated had to be killed on my behalf. But you learn the facts of life quickly as a farm girl. The chickens were livestock, not friends. They had served me well, and they'd continue to do so after death. Their deaths allowed me to thrive..."
The magic flowed out from her now, like tendrils, reaching across the entire crowd. She raised her arms, and the energy floated higher into the air, the flows reminding Edie of a spider's web. The web began to settle gently over the blood-red mob.
Her heart thudded hard, then skipped a beat in her chest as she realized what was about to happen.
"You want to fight for me," Daschla said, looking down at them. "But the truth is … you're simply not good enough. You have so little power, and glory comes at a very, very high price." She leveled her gaze at the Reach. Edie felt like she was staring straight into her soul. "All the living are prisoners of Fate. And so, I release you."
She raised a hand swiftly toward the sky, spreading her fingers. The web jerked, trying to follow her movement, but it was as though it was stuck to the crowd of Blood Eagles. In fact, the more she tugged, the lower it seemed to sink over them like a hazy blue net.
Still, she continued, chanting softly, closing her eyes. As the web closed in on the mob, cries of pain and terror surged, a wave of misery that washed over the terrace and the lake and shook Edie to her core. But the Blood Eagles couldn't move—they seemed bound where they stood.
"Autumn is here; the twilight’s so close," Daschla cried earnestly, face screwing up as she concentrated on pulling her web. "It's time for the harvest. I have to feed. I have to be strong…"
The screams rose and rose until they were practically deafening—and then, nearly all at once, they stopped. One by one, the Blood Eagles collapsed under the weight of the psychic net, falling like marionettes whose strings had been cut. Their masks, weapons, and banners clattered to the brick of the terrace.
A darker part of Edie might have been thankful Daschla did their work for them, but there was no moment of relief, only mounting horror. Standing where the Blood Eagles had once stood, one for every fallen body, were ghostly apparitions.
They looked like they had stepped out of a movie, dressed head to toe in lamellar armor and chainmail. The visors of their helmets were fashioned into human likenesses, but the eyes were hollow and empty. They stood with shields at the ready, prepared to kill for their queen.
When Daschla grinned, it hit Edie like a ton of bricks. This had always been the Blood Eagles’ purpose. From the first moment they had started supporting this movement, the Gloaming had had ulterior plans for these people.
Their purpose had always been to die and create an army of unholy, unstoppable warriors.
But ... I have to feed. I have to be strong. What did that part mean?
"My god," Basile whispered, reaching to grab Edie's shoulder. "My god. She's going to—"
Before he could finish his thought, Daschla unleashed a bone-shaking shriek. Her body burst with purple light, braids flying in an unearthly wind.
The unholy army roared in response and drove forward, charging the Reach's front line.
Chapter Forty
As the unholy warriors sprinted forward with preternatural speed, the Mare Isle defenders dug their heels and their shields into the icy snow.
For a second, Edie wondered if they would even hold the spirits back—the spirits seemed too insubstantial, like spiders' silk in the wind. The next moment, she got her answer: they hit the shields with force, just as any solid man would.
They crashed into the ranks, some of them managing to breach the line and lash out with their unearthly weapons. Necrotic fire raged up Edie's arms as she watched a few Reach fall to them.
"Flank them!" Satara called out.
A squad of valkyir lifted off with shieldmaidens in tow, soaring over the ghostly mob, narrowly dodging flying spears and arrows.
"People on this side, press them! Get off the ice!"
A war cry erupted in front of Edie, and she ducked just in time to avoid the blade of a spectral fighter's axe. The ice coating the lake was strong, bolstered as it was with the valkyrie frost, but the heat of battle would melt it. If there was one thing Edie had learned about battles, it was that they always turned unbearably hot.
Having Vidarr here, who seemed to constantly be spitting sparks, didn't help matters. As Satara and Eniola shouted orders, he was the first one to tear through the crowd, carving swaths through the spirit army with his sword.
Edie and the rest of the Reach followed suit with a roar, rushing off the ice and toward the terrace. Daschla had disappeared, but the Blood Eagles' fresh corpses still steamed in the wintry air.
The Reach pushed the offensive, swords and axes passing through the spirits and making them explode into eddies of white wisps. But as Edie reached the terrace, an uproar turned her attention back to the ice.
Her heart sank. There was no trail of bodies in their wake. The fallen spirits simply re-formed, howling and screaming like gales, angrier and more bloodthirsty than before. They charged forward again.
"Great," Cal shouted, emptying his shells and speed-loading with a practiced movement. "So they can hit us as hard as they want, but we're fucked!"
"This way," Satara called, flying over the de
fenders. "Flank them, push them toward the Mall!"
Edie drew her dagger, clutching it tight in a clammy hand as she raced past the angel fountain, leaping over fallen bodies. At least the ghosts don't have guns, she thought. But a slight loss in execution efficiency was a small price to pay for the invincibility they'd just demonstrated.
Somehow, they needed to contain this army in Central Park, here and now. If they got into the city, New York would end up like Anster.
When she climbed the grand staircase to the upper terrace and looked across at the Mall, she understood why Satara wanted them to move there—much more room, room they could get creative with.
If she knew Satara, the valkyrie's gears were spinning a million miles a minute trying to come up with how they were going to kill a deathless army. Hell, Edie’s wheels were spinning just wondering how she was going to make it out alive.
The Reach fighters retreated across the narrow street, following Satara’s order to lure the spirits into the wider area. Edie was about to follow suit when she caught a flash of familiar armor.
She froze and turned to watch Marius climb the staircase to the first landing, then jump and scale a sandstone pillar to the upper terrace. "Marius!" she cried out, running a couple steps toward him. The spirits were closing in fast, barely slowed by the flank. "We need to go!"
"I want to try something." Without taking his eyes off the mob of spirits, he stood on the parapet and wrestled something from the pouch on his belt, throwing it like a pitcher into the center of the crowd. Whatever he'd thrown exploded with brilliant yellow light, leaving a crater in the spirits' ranks.
Edie held her breath, waiting for them to reform ... but they didn't. It was like the light had stunned them out of existence.
"I knew it," Marius breathed, jumping from the parapet and taking off running next to Edie. The spirits were right on their heels, so close she could feel their deathly chill. Marius summoned a shield at their backs and raised his voice. "Satara! They're evil spirits. Use holy magic. Use holy magic!"
The valkyrie circled above their heads, squinting as if straining to hear him—but once she understood, she was off like a shot again, spreading the message: "Eniola, use the magic of the Aesir!"
"Spirit magic will work, too," Basile said, pulling up beside them, his glamour still intact for now.
Edie spared a glance over her shoulder as they continued to jog. Her heart leapt when she saw that the flanking Reach had managed to push the unholy army across the street. "So anyone who doesn't have holy or spirit magic is just shit out of luck," she said breathlessly, looking back at Basile.
"Just corral them toward someone who can kill them for you. Oh, and try not to die."
"Thanks! Great strategy!"
The remainder of the choice words she had for him were cut off when a spectral spear pierced the icy snow just inches to her side. Edie turned her head in time to see another soaring squarely toward Marius's back.
With a squawk, she grabbed his arm and tugged him roughly to the side, pulling them both behind a tree.
It was a temporary respite, but the unholy army was so single-minded in their advance that they charged right past them, chasing after the others.
Marius gazed across the frosty Mall, then looked at Edie. "Thank you.”
“No problem. So what’s the plan?”
“I'll try to stay near. You can lure whoever comes after you to me, and I'll kill them with blessed sunlight." He dug in his belt pouch and pressed something into her hand—something metal, and hot, nearly unbearably so.
She opened her palm to examine it. The object looked almost like a tea ball: an orb with tiny holes punched through it. The cap of the object was gilt, and from each hole streamed a brilliant shaft of light. This must have been what he'd thrown earlier. "What is it?"
"A holy boon. Use it in an emergency. Just throw it with force, or break it otherwise ... but be careful." Marius scanned the area and pointed to the main thoroughfare of the Mall, a paved esplanade. "I'll try to stay along this road, but who knows where the battle will travel."
Edie shoved the boon in her jacket pocket, then exchanged her newly acquired dagger for the Puretongue's blade instead. It caught Marius's eye, and she smiled. "Now I'm glad I didn't give this back."
He looked seriously at her, golden gaze seething. "We're outnumbered by nearly seven hundred, and not all of our combatants can kill the enemy. People are going to die. Brutally. Please be careful."
"Satara and the other valkyir will come up with a strategy. We'll save as many people as we can."
Edie glanced back toward the battlefield, glowing dagger at the ready. The fighting had spilled into the Mall proper now, some of the valkyir and shieldmaidens flanking the Blood Eagles on the side nearest to Edie, the Mare Isle forces pushing them on the other. From where she stood, she thought she understood Satara's strategy—to sandwich all the unholy warriors so the valkyir could rain spirit magic from above.
But having to funnel the spirits to the priestesses and valkyir was breaking the formation. Edie watched as multiple Mare Isle soldiers attempted to shepherd the spirits and fall to the mob in the process. The sight made her blood heat, adrenaline kicking through her system. With every ally that fell, the enemy was able to chip away at the line just a little more. Before they knew it, the battlefield would be chaos.
As Marius followed her gaze, his weapons blazed to life, and he leapt into battle, driving his glittering shield into the enemy. "Hold the line! Edie, go!"
She ran a few more feet, then stopped again to assess the battlefield, heart beating frantically. She'd never been in a battle like this before. The fight at Zaedicus's party had been more of a slaughter—a culling, as Sárr had called it—and she'd spent most of her time running and trying not to die. The battle in the Auroran chapterhouse had been close-quarters chaos, basically a slugfest.
This? This was calculated warfare, and she was surrounded by veterans of this sort of thing. Where did she even jump in?
Before she could find her place in the battle, the battle found her. A war cry erupted above her and she looked just in time to see a spirit flying down from one of the trees, his blade poised to sink into her neck.
Edie pitched herself to the side, rolling across the ground. The clang of steel striking pavement, as though the spirit wielded a real sword, reached her ears. She jumped to her feet, reorienting so she could face her attacker.
The shock of his blade hitting pavement seemed to have stunned him for a moment, and a voice at the back of her skull whispered, Don't hesitate. Kill.
On instinct, she obeyed instantly, darting forward. Death magic raged up her left arm, and she fired a blast of blue flame at the warrior. He burst into a flurry of white magic but, just like before, the magic soon coalesced back into the shape of a man. If nothing else, it stunned him for a few seconds ... but stunned is not what I need. Death is what I need. Power. Kill.
The spirit roared as he reformed, even more berserk than before, and brought his sword down. Again, Edie dodged to the side, but she gave him no time to recover. With a vicious, quick movement, she sank the dagger of truth into one of the eyeholes of his helmet.
The silver blade penetrated his translucent form, and with a yowl, he disintegrated, light eating him away from the edges like a melting snowflake.
Edie's heart lifted, but there was no time to celebrate the victory. Another wispy shape charged her flank. She was able to dodge the spirit's weapon, but his shield slammed into her, knocking her over one of the fences separating the esplanade from the green.
She struggled among the gnarled roots of a tree to pick herself up. The fence had staggered her, but she assumed it would be nothing to the spirit—they could fly and phase through things when they wanted to.
Without looking back to confirm her suspicions, she instead looked forward, gaze catching on the first shadow she saw: the shadow of a tree about twenty feet ahead, lined up perfectly.
There.
> The next moment, she was. She turned as the shadows cleared from her vision and saw that the spirit who had been mere inches from running her through wasn't alone; there were three others with him, all charging for her. No way a tiny dagger could save her from four at once.
With a bit of effort, she pushed out a wave of death magic that crashed into the four forms, dispelling them momentarily. They reformed after a few seconds, their bodies pulsing with murderous energy, and she darted to the side, jumping the fence. The second her boots hit the pavement, she took off, pumping her arms.
All around her, weapons flew, people cried out and fell. The heat of battle she was used to wasn't as prominent as she thought it might be—no, it was rent with a bone-deep cold. It emanated from each of the spirits as she charged through a corner of their formation on her way to Marius, cutting their ranks with a sweep of death magic.
Those warriors re-formed, too, of course, and joined the mob chasing her, so close the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She ducked and wove through the valkyir flank to avoid their spectral spears and arrows.
By the time she finally reached Marius, some of her admirers had been picked off by the valkyir and their shieldmaidens, but there was still a crowd of perhaps fifteen at her back.
"Marius!" As he turned, she slid past him on black ice, then wheeled around and drew the Puretongue's dagger again.
Marius reacted immediately, his blade and shield reshaping into a greatsword. The pommel slotted into his wolf's head vambrace as he took the grip into his left hand and swept outward, then down, slicing through several spirits in just a few movements.
One escaped his blows and charged toward Edie, but she was ready with a blast of stunning magic and another dagger to the eye. A few others followed him, but Marius spun and shot a beam of light through their chests. What remained of them flurried toward the sky.
"Like that?" Edie said between heavy breaths, scanning their surroundings as she stepped closer to him.
"Yes." Marius's breath came harshly, too. "Though I'm not sure a sane person would have baited quite that many."
Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3) Page 42
