Page 158

Without thought, Sorasa pulled a dagger from her belt and threw the blade.

It hurtled through the air, perfectly aimed, the steel of it gleaming.

But the dagger turned to ash inches from Taristan’s heart, and the wizard laughed. He broke his stare to look at Sorasa, his horrible, red-rimmed eyes roving over her body. She felt them like a cold hand and shivered.

Dom shouldered in front of her, stepping between Sorasa and the cursed two.

“Domacridhan!” Taristan crowed, as if he faced an old friend.

The Elder raised his blade in reply.

With a spin, Sorasa braced her back against Dom’s, facing out into the graveyard. Hundreds of undead shadows moved through the smoke, still lunging forward, still hell-bent on killing Corayne and whoever stood in their way. Sorasa assessed the situation as she’d been taught, balancing odds. Next to her, Sigil struggled tostand but raised her ax. Andry grabbed for Corayne, but she was frozen, rooted to the spot.

There was nowhere to run anyway. Nowhere to turn.

Sorasa licked her lips and looked skyward. She wished she could see the moon or the sun, whichever hung above them now. The face of Lasreen. She prayed in her head, begging for a miracle.

None came.

“You are beaten, Immortal,” Taristan growled, and Sorasa felt Dom flinch against her back.

The hands of the undead reached out, too many to cut apart, though Sorasa certainly tried.

31

For Nothing

Corayne

The undead wrestled Andry, Sorasa, and Sigil to the ground, forcing them to their knees. Corayne could only watch, horrified. All three struggled in vain, arms wrenched behind their backs as the sheer number of bodies overpowered them. Their weapons fell to the ground, sword, dagger, and ax. Tears sprang to Corayne’s eyes as Andry held her gaze, his breath coming hard and fast through flared nostrils. She wanted to shut her eyes, to somehow stop her own heart from breaking.This is all a nightmare.I’m going to wake up in some cold field, with all of us still riding toward this hell.

Corayne did not wake.

But the undead did not kill her friends.

Because they have not been commanded to,she realized with a start, looking back to Ronin.Yet.

The wizard clenched his fist, and the undead tightened their grasp on the others. Her fear turned to rage, both for her friendsand for all beneath his thrall. Somehow the ragged red rat held sway over the corrupted bodies of Gidastern’s dead. Corayne wanted to rip the smile off his horrible white face, but she kept still. She angled her body so she could see both Andry and Taristan at the same time. And to do as Sorasa had taught: give her enemies a smaller target.

Only Dom remained at her side, the last Companion left standing one more time.

Flames ran along the rooftops around the churchyard, leaping at the edge of Corayne’s vision.The hounds,she thought, gritting her teeth. Their barking roars echoed through the graves as they gathered like vultures waiting for a kill.Does Ronin command them too?

Behind him, the Spindle glimmered through the branches of the cursed rosebush. The roses perfumed the air, cloying with their scent, the fragrance heavy as the smoke. They grew before her eyes, born of the Spindle, born of winter-dead seeds burned back to life. Their thorns were long as her hand, black and needle sharp.

Taristan rose slowly, without urgency, unfolding his long limbs to straighten up. He gripped the hilt of his Spindleblade, letting the sword pass in a lazy arc at his side. He did not fear the hounds or the undead, barely glancing at them. He wasn’t concerned with Dom either. His eyes slid from the immortal to Corayne, delighted by their predicament. A red sheen flared in the black, and Corayne shuddered.

It felt like looking at the shadow through the Spindle, the echo of What Waits.

“How did you become this?” Corayne bit out, scowling.Taristan was still a mortal man, Corblood or not. His heart beat the same as her own. But he was somehow so much worse. “What twisted you into this monster?”

He only grinned. Corayne half expected a burst of fangs instead of teeth.

“Is it monstrous to want what is owed you?” Taristan said, stalking toward her. “I don’t think so, Corayne.”

Her name in his mouth made her feel sick.

She grimaced and gripped her long knife. Her body itched, her muscles tightening all over. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, as Sorasa had taught, putting some bend in her legs. Taristan watched her pull into the fighting stance with a look of amusement, a smirk curling on his thin lips.