Page 31 of Bartered by the Shadow Prince (Bargain with the Shadow Prince #3)
The Wraith
DAMIEN
T he breath of my rabble beast fogs the air, and I lean over his mane, taking comfort in the animal’s body heat. Borus’s feet land in the snow at a steady rhythm, the only sound in these cursed woods. I don’t bother to cover his clawed paw prints. No one in their right mind would follow me here.
Usually, as a shade, I’m not particularly susceptible to the cold.
A shadow can’t freeze after all. Except here.
Here, a shadow can be made into a snow globe to be shattered underfoot.
The weather in the woods surrounding Dimhollow is magically enhanced as a defense by the witches who call this place home.
It’s the reason that neither elves nor shades have ever controlled these lands, despite outnumbering the witches eight to one.
This frost sinks into me, into the very stuff I’m made of.
A blast of snow blows into us, stinging my cheek. Borus shivers from nose to tail and gives a disgruntled chuff.
“I agree,” I tell the beast. “But there’s no turning back now. This is how we find Eloise.”
If he understands my words, I cannot say, but when I prod him forward, he obeys.
Halfway up the mountain, the forest grows denser, until I enter a grove of close-growing trees with oddly torqued and knotted branches.
Almost immediately, disorientation seizes me.
Have I lost my way? Are we heading up the mountain or down it? North or south?
Something moves in the wind, and I spot a rope constructed from braided hair with feathers and branches tied to it at regular intervals. It spins in the chilling wind. A witch’s ladder. That’s why I’m disoriented. This is meant to deter me. I must be heading in the right direction.
I guide Borus, and Romulus behind him, over to the charm and stop its spinning by gripping its center. A shock runs along my arm, but my sense of direction returns. I release it and prod Borus up the mountain again.
I see them more frequently now. Sticks wired together to look like men or pyramids with crystals at the center, stones precariously piled one on top of another. I’m surrounded by spells, charms, and cairns on all sides.
Borus takes another step forward and then stops, braying as if he’s in pain.
Fire erupts in a circle around us, broken only where a pile of dirt churns.
A skeleton hand breaks the surface and claws the earth, fleshless arm pulling a skull and then a spine until a complete skeleton rises from its burial plot.
Ghostly flesh forms on the bones. The dead is a man.
In his final state, he might be mistaken for living, aside from the silver glow he’s giving off in the moonlight.
The spirit’s head is cloaked in fur and feathers, his clothing fur-lined leather.
“Guardian, I am Damien of House Hymir, former prince of the Kingdom of Stygarde. I need to see Aurora.” Every single time I’ve visited the realm of the witches, I’ve woken the dead who guard their villages.
But normally, Aurora knows I am coming and returns them to their slumber quickly.
This time, I’m not even sure Aurora is alive.
No one knows I’m coming. I haven’t had to face a spirit warrior since the very first time I sought her out, and I was a much younger shade then, and well-armed.
The dead opens its mouth and roars. I dismount my steed, careful to avoid the flames. Unfortunately, they give off no heat even though, if I touch them, they will burn. And the injuries they cause are far worse than those brought about by natural fire.
“Just this once, could you simply tell them I’m here? Can you use those psychic abilities of yours to send a message to the community you protect?”
The mouth of the dead thing curls into a dark smile. I suppose if I were dead and buried and my only chance to be above ground was the occasional interloper, I’d require a fight as well.
I transform into battle form, growing bigger and sprouting wings and a tail. Talons at the ends of my new fingers click together with my annoyance.
The dead man draws his rapier from the sheath at his hip.
This would be easier if I had my broadsword.
What is it they say about bringing a dagger to a sword fight?
My talons are only so long, and I’m fighting a creature who is already dead, animated by magic.
I’ll have to disassemble him to get past him.
I could use Eloise’s daggers, but they’re packed in the saddlebag and would be of limited use in this form anyway. I’m better off wielding my own talons.
I spread my wings and lower myself into fighting stance. The guardian attacks. I dodge left as he thrusts toward me, barely missing my torso. As I pivot around him, evading his next slash, I bring my fist down on his free arm, severing it off at the elbow.
The black-tinged mouth screams, and the wraith chops his blade toward my wing.
Barely slipping out of his crosshairs, I drop and swipe my talons across his waist. The skeleton disconnects in its middle.
I slide out of the way as the torso topples, and I kick the legs into the flames.
The flesh disappears, but the bones fall to the snow and start writhing toward me again.
“Goddess, you really don’t quit.” The torso crawls in my direction using the elbow of his sword arm and the partial remains of his other.
I leap aside and stomp on the back of its skull.
My hoof shatters the empty bone and lands in the snow.
The arm keeps going, pulling itself from the socket and trying to turn so it can stab me.
Meanwhile, the legs are still working their way toward the torso as if the dead thing plans to pull itself back together.
I decide not to wait until it’s successful.
I hurry back to Borus and mount him, still in my battle form.
“Yah!” I kick him forward toward the break in the flames where the guardian emerged from the soil.
Borus is reluctant, but he leaps over the bones there to get out of the ring.
To my great relief, Romulus keeps up. But as we pass, the wraith swings the ghostly rapier in a high arc.
“Ah!” A sharp pain slices through my lower leg from ankle to knee. The tip of the dead thing’s sword only nicked my ankle as we escaped but I feel it all over my lower leg. My flesh is torn and I’m bleeding, but it appears to be a shallow wound.
I look back at the skeleton, lying in pieces in the circle of flames, its skull half caved in. Staring at me through one piercing eye, the spirit gives me a wicked smile. I ignore it and press forward. We’re free.
Hastily, I direct Borus and Romulus onto a trail I remember from my time here long ago.
I’m close. This leads to Aurora’s village.
Only, I have no chance to celebrate my good fortune.
Pain swells in my ankle, spreads to my knee, and then my hip.
I try to ignore it, but when I glance down, my hoof and fur are soaked in blood and I’m dripping crimson onto the white snow.
The wound burns too. Sweat breaks out on my forehead.
Pulling Borus to a halt, I dismount and inspect the cut, changing into my polite form to make bending to the side easier.
I scoop up a handful of snow and use it to wash away the blood, then pack it against the still-bleeding wound.
Despite the ice, it burns, and when I pull the snow away, it’s still bleeding.
It looks deeper than I originally thought, too, with a jagged red edge.
I dig in my bag for a shirt and tear off the bottom, tying the cloth around the wound. It bleeds through almost immediately. Fuuuuck . Shades heal quickly, which means this damned cut is cursed. I attempt to shift into my shadow form but find that I can’t.
Behind me, Romulus gives a strangled cry and topples over. I move toward the beast, still trying to sort what’s wrong with me. I notice two thin slices across his legs. I reach down to check for his pulse, and it pounds against my palm, although the beast’s eyes close. Asleep.
What in Hades? Quickly, I check Borus. He’s fine. Unharmed. Thank the gods. I load Eloise’s pack onto him and untie Romulus from his saddle. Then I grab his reins and begin to walk him along the trail, leaving the other beast behind for now. I’ll come back once I find Aurora.
Every step on my injured leg brings pain, but Borus can’t carry two packs and me. Blood trails behind me on the path, my ankle still bleeding. It grows colder, windier. Borus moans and chuffs, unhappy to be forced forward.
It can’t be much farther. Another step and another. Slower now. It starts to snow. “Aurora!” I call.
Another step, and my feet slip out from under me. My cheek hits the snow. My eyelids droop, close, and then stay closed.