by Jayne Castel
And then, around ten yards back from where Nathan and Reoul had clashed, Elias caught a glimpse of golden hair.
His gaze swiveled to it, his father forgotten.
There—hemmed in amongst Anthor soldiers and enchanters—stood Ryana.
35
Fury
NINIA DREW BACK her left arm before launching a twister of shadows into the wall of Anthor soldiers before her. The dark whirlwind lurched through their midst, scattering bodies in its path.
“Keep moving,” Asher grunted. “Nathan’s bringing in more troops behind us.”
Ninia nodded, gritting her teeth as she glanced over her shoulder. Her brows knitted together. It was too crowded in here. It was getting difficult to tell allies from enemies. She risked maiming Rithmar soldiers with her enchantment.
Moving forward, Ninia gathered the Dark once more and sent it howling toward the enchanters that approached from the far side of the square. The power of the Light and Dark throbbed through her, obliterating all traces of the nerves she’d had before battle. As they’d approached the walls of Veldoras, her bowels had cramped and she’d broken out into a cold sweat.
She’d thought she was going to be sick, that she’d need the privy. But the moment she pulled down that lightning bolt from the sky, she forgot fear.
Asher fought at her side, as he had from the moment the battle began. They’d lost a few enchanters on the way in, but he was still standing. However, his face was starting to show the strain: pale and drawn, his silver gaze narrowed with the effort it was taking to hold his own against the streams of fire and shadow that shot across the Great Square toward them.
Asher was strong, but he was no match for the fury of these enhanced enchanters. Those of the Light set the very air ablaze, and those of the Dark whipped the air into a tempest.
Doubt crept into Ninia’s mind then, a hairline crack in the cloak of invincibility her abilities had given her.
They’re too strong.
Pushing her fears back, she clenched her jaw and pushed on. This time she gathered the Light from the guttering braziers atop the wall. A bolus of flame dropped into the midst of the enemy enchanters and exploded. Cries of pain reached her, even through the chaos of battle.
Ninia grimaced and glanced over at Asher. Their gazes fused for an instant, and despite that his face was wet with sweat and streaked with ash, he managed a grim smile.
Tearing her attention back to the battle, Ninia gathered both the Light and the Dark and prowled forward, shoulders rounded. And as she did so, the line of soldiers clad in gleaming obsidian before her parted.
A tall dark-haired man stalked toward her out of the fray, flanked either-side by robed figures.
Ninia’s step faltered. Gael.
It had to be him: the man who’d used Ryana to steal part of The King Breaker, who’d tried to free Valgarth—and who had somehow managed to safely utilize Stynix.
The man she needed to kill if she was ever going to liberate this city.
Ninia’s pulse started to thunder in her ears. This was it, the moment she knew she wasn’t ready for and yet had to face nonetheless. Lunging forward, she whispered to the Light and the Dark, calling them close, before unleashing her fury upon Gael.
Heart hammering, Ryana took in the scene before her.
Gael and his enchanters had formed a tight knot, surrounding Ninia.
The young woman was faltering. She’d started the battle with such a show of power, yet Ninia’s face was now strained and blood-streaked. Her eyes were wide with fear. She stumbled, struggling to shield herself from the shadows and fire that hammered into her on all sides. Ninia couldn’t compete with their combined strength.
The young woman hadn’t been ready, but she had given it her best.
Asher fought at the princess’s side, sweat streaming down his face. He too was nearly spent.
Ryana couldn’t watch this, couldn’t see her friends cut down. She gathered the Dark close and launched an attack at Gael—but her shadows just bounced off the shield of fire that roared up to protect him.
And then an explosion rocked the Great Square.
The ground bucked beneath Ryana’s feet.
Gael and his companions had broken through Ninia and Asher’s defenses. The force of the blast flung them both backward. The pair barreled into a wall of smoke and disappeared.
Shadow spawn, she thought, savage anger rising within her. I’ll get you.
Hands shaking, Ryana whipped up a Dark Blade and launched herself at Gael. As she reached him, and raised her arm to sink the blade into his back, Gael turned.
Recognition flashed across his handsome face.
And then he moved—faster than a man should have been able to—and clubbed Ryana around the head. She staggered, before a blunt force slammed into her side, knocking her to the cobbles. Rolling onto her back, Ryana looked up to see Gael looming over her. He drew his right arm back, preparing to strike.
Despair washed over her in a cold, sickly wave. It’s over.
And then a tall leather-clad figure barreled into Gael.
Steel flashed, and Elias sank a blade into Gael’s ribs.
Ryana’s breath gusted out of her. Panting, she clambered to her feet. The two men were locked together, struggling with the knife that Elias had yanked from Gael’s side. Around them roared columns of flame and twisters of shadow. The booming roar of battle shuddered through Ryana’s body, drilling deep into her skull. It made it hard to think.
She staggered over to where Elias and Gael wrestled and desperately looked for a way in—an opening to stab Gael with the Dark Blade she'd gathered once more.
Yet the two men were in a frenzy.
Gael gathered a Dark Blade of his own and slammed it into Elias’s shoulder.
Elias roared and head-butted Gael in the nose. The enchanter rolled off him and rose to his feet. Blood trickled out of Gael’s nostrils from his crushed nose. He staggered, cradling his injured ribs.
In his free hand, Gael fisted a black spike.
Elias lurched to his feet, but it was too late. Gael thrust the spike into his side.
Ryana cried out, the keening sound lost amongst the din of battle.
Time slowed. Elias sank to his knees on the cobbles. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.
Gael turned to Ryana, favoring her with a bloody smile. Then he gathered the Dark once more with a flick of the wrist.
Ryana glanced around, looking for help. A sea of black and red surrounded her. Where was Nathan? Where were the other Rithmar enchanters? Were Ninia and Asher still alive?
It was over—for all of them.
And then, Ryana caught a familiar scent.
The odor of hot iron wafted over the square, cutting through the smoke and stench of blood.
Gael knew that smell too. His pale face went taut, and he straightened up, his gaze shifting from Ryana toward the gates—where a milky white mist crept in, wreathing amongst the fighting.
Above them, where the smoke had parted, Ryana saw that night had fallen. The rain had stopped although the air suddenly grew chill.
She watched Gael’s lips move, as he breathed a curse.
Following his gaze, she spied tall hooded figures emerging through the mist.
Thracken.
Ryana had never seen one, but Asher had—and he’d told her of these wights that ruled the remaining shadow creatures. Emptiness lay within their hoods. They glided through the crowd, sleeved arms outstretched.
Men crumpled as they passed.
Behind the Thracken, more shadow creatures appeared. Nightgengas loped into the fray, peering through curtains of lank hair with the eyes of predators. Dusk Imps scampered and chattered, their meat-hook claws scraping across the cobbles. Hiriel glided into the square, their tattered ghostly cloaks trailing after them. Fen Hounds stalked in behind the sprites—huge wolf-like beasts with protruding ribs and drooling jaws.
And there were many other creatures
that Ryana had no name for; things that slithered, crawled, and scuttled.
Howls and shrieks rent the air, and then the servants of the shadows attacked.
Ryana froze where she lay, fear washing over her in an icy tide. She hadn’t thought the situation could get worse. What had brought the shadow creatures here?
Around her, Anthor and Rithmar soldiers and enchanters alike turned to face the onslaught. Shock filtered across their faces, and then fear.
Screams echoed over the Great Square.
Ryana rolled to her feet, gathered the Dark, and prepared to defend herself.
But then she realized that the shadow creatures were ripping into Anthor soldiers and enchanters. They were leaving those of Rithmar alone.
Ryana’s breathing caught. She didn’t understand it—but somehow, they were here to help them.
A few feet away, Gael’s attention had been drawn by a mob of Dusk Imps that had just attacked an Anthor enchanter. The dark-haired woman went down screaming, and the wet sound of the imps’ feasting rose into the air.
Gael wasn’t looking Ryana’s way—her chance was now.
Ryana moved. She leaped at Gael and sank the Dark Blade deep into the hollow of his neck.
It was a mortal wound, unlike those he’d sustained a year earlier. She’d not make the same mistake. She’d not let this serpent live.
Gael choked, his knees buckling under him.
Ryana dug the blade deeper still, even as his hands grasped at her wrists, trying to pry the Dark Blade free.
“Not this time,” she said between gritted teeth.
Gael stared up at her, surprise rippling across his features. She watched the life drain from his eyes.
As soon as Gael went limp, Ryana released him.
And then, something small and grey wriggled out of the neck of Gael’s robes. Ryana reeled back, only to see a sleek rat emerge. Nose twitching, the creature turned its focus for an instant upon Ryana.
A keen intelligence shone in those crimson eyes.
Ryana rocked back on her heels. She hadn’t realized Gael had a familiar.
A heartbeat later the rat twisted away, streaking across the square to safety. Ryana let it go. She had more important things to worry about than chasing after a rodent—plus the creature could do no harm with Gael dead.
Elias.
The shadow creatures were tearing through the panicked crowd around her. She had to get to Elias before they did. They wouldn’t know he’d helped Rithmar. If he was still alive, they’d savage him.
Ryana scrambled across to where Elias lay on his side.
His face was frighteningly pale, and when she placed her hand on his chest, it came away sticky with blood. Yet he was breathing, just.
Ryana heaved in a deep breath as a sob rose within her. “Stay with me,” she whispered, climbing over Elias so that her body covered his. “Don’t give up.”
A Nightgenga lumbered toward them, its huge rawboned hands outstretched.
Ryana cried out, and moved to gather the Dark. But instead of lunging at Elias, the creature grabbed a Thûn enchanter who was trying to flee. Those strangler’s hands fastened around the man’s throat, cutting off his scream.
A tide of shadow creatures descended upon them then, and Ryana bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
She’d done all she could. There was no more strength left in her to fight.
36
Back to the Dark Places
RYANA STIRRED AND opened her eyes. She’d collapsed on Elias’s chest. Pushing herself up, she checked his pulse; it fluttered under her fingertips. He still breathed too, albeit shallowly.
What just happened?
One look at the carnage and devastation around her brought it all back. Piles of broken bodies surrounded them, illuminated by the fires that still burned on the walls.
For the first time in her life, Ryana had fainted.
How long was I out?
She supposed it hadn’t been long, for at the perimeters of the square, Fen Hounds and Dusk Imps feasted upon their victims—some of whom still fought them.
The ripping sound of flesh and muscle, the crack of sinew, and the crunch of bones filled the air. Nausea crept up Ryana’s throat. The shadow creatures had turned the tide in Rithmar’s favor, but to see them eat men who weren’t even dead yet sickened her. She sat up and raised a shaking hand to her mouth.
Someone had to stop them.
Around her the mist and smoke drew back, and a small figure dressed in black limped into the middle of the square. Ninia’s round face was chalk-white. Blood trickled down her cheek from a shallow cut to her brow. One arm of her robe was completely singed off, although her jaw was set in determination.
Relief filtered through Ryana at the sight of her; she’d thought Ninia dead. After the girl’s spectacular attack on the gates, she expected Ninia to leave a path of destruction through the city—but Gael and his enchanters had anticipated that. They’d hemmed her in, stopped her from unleashing her full force.
Watching Ninia move confidently past where two Dusk Imps snarled at each other over an Anthor enchanter’s corpse, Ryana’s breathing hitched.
The skin on her forearms prickled as realization dawned. Ninia brought the shadow creatures to Veldoras.
The young woman approached Ryana and Elias, stopping before them.
“How?” Ryana whispered.
Ninia’s mouth stretched into a tight smile. “The shadow creatures made me their queen,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “Before we left The Forest of the Fallen, their general promised me … that should I ever need their aid, I could call upon them.”
Ryana’s breathing caught. “So you did?”
Ninia ran a hand over her face. “I didn’t want to … but I knew things would go against us during the siege.” She cast Ryana a rueful look then. “I’m strong, not invincible … and I suspected that I couldn’t beat a company of enchanters who’d all taken Stynix.”
“Now what?” Ryana motioned to the nearby Dusk Imps, who were scrapping over a severed leg. “You can’t just let them … feed.” She swallowed hard as a contented growl drifted across the eerily still square behind her.
Ninia’s hazel eyes clouded. She then inhaled deeply. “Darg,” she called out, her voice ringing out across the Great Square. “Come forth.”
A heavy hush settled. Even the shadow creatures gorging at the margins of the square went silent. A gentle mist rolled in, and with it, a tall cloaked figure.
Ryana’s mouth went dry, and her breathing quickened. Darg, Lord of the Thracken and general of these shadow creatures, approached.
The wight drifted across the square, the hem of its robes dragging through blood and gore, before it came to a halt a few feet from Ninia. The empty cowl dipped, and a cold, hard voice whispered. “You called, My Queen.”
Ninia lifted her chin as she faced him. “Thank you for bringing the shadow creatures here,” she greeted him, her own voice confident and calm. “You have all done well.”
“We exist to serve you, My Queen.”
“And you have … but now is the time for you all to leave Veldoras.”
The Thracken released a low outraged breath. “So soon?”
“The city has been liberated. Anthor no longer has control of Veldoras … but I won’t have those of their army who’ve survived tortured and eaten. Call off the others and depart.” Ninia paused here, her eyes narrowing. “I command it.”
A long pause followed. Ryana caught her breath. Maybe Ninia didn’t have the control over these creatures that she thought she did.
The cloaked figure bent its hooded head. “As you wish, My Queen.”
Moments later the shadow creatures started to empty out of the city. They didn’t go quietly. Growls, shrieks, and much enraged swearing accompanied their exit.
Ryana watched the terrifying tide flow across the Great Square and out of the gates. Her breathing was coming in short gasps now, and she was starting to feel lighth
eaded. Panic clawed at her throat as a Dusk Imp bounded by, its long rat-like tail slashing from side to side.
Like during the battle, she noted that there were more varieties of shadow creatures than she could have imagined, from those that resembled beasts, to those who were parodies of men, and those, like the Hiriel, that were otherworldly.
“Where will they go now?” she whispered, as the last of them stalked through the gates.
“Back to the dark places of this world,” Ninia replied, watching them go. “Far from us all.”
Two figures approached through the clearing mist: a tall blond man dressed in singed and bloodied smoke-grey robes, and a dark-haired woman in fighting leathers. Mira’s face was pale and strained. She walked slowly, leaning on Asher for support.
Ryana’s vision blurred at the sight of them. She’d thought Asher lost—and she’d had no idea where Mira had been during the battle.
Nearing the center of the square, where Ryana still sat at Elias’s side, Asher met Ninia’s eye and gave an exhausted grimace. “Are your friends all gone?”
Ninia raised an eyebrow. “Aye … although they saved your hide too.”
Asher didn’t reply, yet he frowned.
“Victory always comes at a cost,” Ninia murmured, her gaze shadowing.
“Aye … and without the shadow creatures Veldoras wouldn’t be liberated.” A gruff voice intruded.
Ryana shifted her gaze behind Ninia to see King Nathan approach. The man was battered, bloodied, and favored his right arm. His once pristine mink cloak was singed and caked in gore, but the Rithmar king still walked tall and proud.
Chain-mail clinking and armor creaking, he drew up next to Ninia. “You did well,” he said, his mouth curving. His attention shifted to where a dark-haired man garbed in slate-grey robes lay sprawled before him. “Is this Gael?”
“Aye,” Ninia replied. A beat of silence followed. “Ryana killed him.”
Surprise flared in the king’s eyes, before he focused on Ryana for the first time. “I thought you a traitor,” he rumbled, “but I see now I jumped to conclusions.”
