Page 123 of Bloodwitch

Right would lead to Esme’s tower. Left to the river. Straight to the Windswept Plains.

The plains,his magic murmured, and he felt himself grin. On the plains, there were other people. And on the plains, there waswind. No, he was not yet strong enough to fly, but soon. Beneath these gulps of air, the power sparked hotter.

He straightened, hand rising to point…

His eyes caught movement in the trees. Figures were shambling this way. The Cleaved were shambling this way.

Shit, shit,shit.Esme was working faster than Merik had anticipated. Too late now to stop her, though, and what was it Vivia always used to say?No regrets, keep moving.

Merik grabbed the Northman’s shoulder, and he got moving. “Run.” As one, they launched into a sprint.

The Cleaved didn’t like this, and their half-dead legs picked up speed. They tumbled from the forest, and then from buildings too. Body after body, filling the streets. Gathering into a stampede that swarmed at Merik and the Northman from all angles.

They pushed themselves faster.

Down streets and over walls, around fallen statues and through tree-choked squares, Merik and the Northman drove their legs. They leaped, they slid, they barreled around anything that blocked their way.

Until Merik and Northman reeled onto a wide avenue, free of trees. Swallowed by grass. The ground shook beneath them. The grass stalks rattled and swayed.

And now a hundred more Cleaved chased from ahead. There was no exit. They were cut off from all sides.

The Northman’s pace faltered, but Merik gripped his arm and pulled him on. They could not stop. They could not slow.

Merik had a hundred paces to find an escape—or else he had a hundred paces for his magic to return. It unfurled more with each razoring breath. Ninety paces. Eighty. Sixty paces, and Merik could see black eyes. Fifty, and the shadows that lined Cleaved skin came into focus—

There. A toppled building on the right. It hid an alleyway clotted by saplings. The trees would slow Merik and the Northman, but they would slow the Cleaved too.

He hauled the Northman into the slip of space between ruins. Leaves and branches slapped against them. They zigged and zagged and did not slow. Not when the earth shook so hard it knocked rubble loose from buildings. Nor when flesh slapped against flesh and saplings crunched behind.

They reached the alley’s end. A new road, a new expanse—and more Cleaved. But Merik knew this road. He had walked here only last night, and straight ahead would lead to a pool filled with corpses.

A pool that had sucked him in. A pool that might suck in others too.

If he and the Northman could get into that water and reach the stairwell at the back, then maybe the Cleaved would pour in behind them. Even if the water did not kill them, it would at least slow them. It would at least give Merik the time he needed to reclaim his breath.

And reclaim his magic.

Then he saw it. The cattails and the murky waters and the floating bodies, so calm beneath the night sky. He plowed directly for it, praying the Northman would not argue or slow.

More Cleaved streamed along the corners of his vision. He dared not turn his head to look at them. If this pool did not save him, then he was out of options.

“Swim!” Merik roared at the Northman, pointing ahead. Then he reached the cattails. His feet squelched in mud.

Instantly, the pool’s power rushed against him.Come,it sang.Comein and find release.This time, he was ready for it, though. This time, Merik knew to fight.

He splashed onward until the water reached his knees. His thighs. Then he launched into a dive, the Northman just behind.

His head crashed beneath the surface.

The power of the pool grew tenfold. A chorus that vibrated in his brain, crushing and creeping into every crevice, every memory.

Come, come, and find release.There were the water-bridges and the white-sailed ships.Come, my son, and sleep.There was Kullen chasing crabs beside the shore.Come, come, the ice will hold you. And there was Merik’s mother, tired and sad, while she read to him about Queen Crab and her treasures.

Merik swam deeper. His legs propelled him, his arms pulled.

Come, come, and face the end.

A faint blue light glowed from a stone wall at the bottom of the pool. Corpses, some pale and fresh and floating, others rotten and sinking, blocked it. They had tried to reach that light; they had failed.