Page 57 of Bloodwitch

Even as Safi thought this, she knew it was impossible. Even as her mind tried to grasp why she no longer heard signs of battle or the flame hawk, why heat no longer chased, she knew, deep at the core of her witchery, that it was because she had left the Origin Well’s grounds entirely.

She had left Marstok entirely.

True, true, true.

A squawk pierced her eardrums. Safi flinched, snapping right and flinging out a hand to brace herself. It was such a long, long way to fall.

She found the crow glaring at her a mere arm’s length away. It perched upon an unlit torch fixed to the cavern wall. Beside it was a door.Thedoor Safi had traveled through.

It glowed blue and seemed to pulse against her, a shivering sensation not so different from the magic that thrummed inside her chest. She had to crane her neck to take it all in. Ornate carvings were etched into the granite. Ancient, Safi thought, even as they looked untouched by time.

Another squawk from the crow. But this time, Safi was prepared. She glared right back at it. “Where,” she demanded gruffly, “have you taken me?”

The bird blinked. Then its beak clack-clack-clacked, and she would have bet every piestra in Dalmotti that it was laughing at her.

It was, as she dusted off her bloodied hands, that a new light winked in Safi’s vision. Red and flashing.

Iseult.Her gaze snapped to her Threadstone, dangling against her chest. It must have fallen out of her uniform during the roll, and now angry red light blinked up at her. It tossed bloodstained shadows across the cavern walls.

But did the stone blink because Iseult was in danger, or did it blink because Safi was? Safi had no idea, no way of telling. And before she could rise and try to gauge in which direction Iseult might be, the old crow made a move. Its wings swept up and it hurled itself at Safi.

She reacted without thought, shoving herself sideways to avoid it. She hit the blue light and toppled once more through the doorway.

Again, Safi was pulverized and pulled apart. Again, she was crushed and expanded while time sped so fast it stopped entirely. Then she was through the magic, striking a sharp, muddy slope. Light shone through a tiny crack above, but no flame hawk. No heat or rage.

Safi glanced to the blue light, now behind her. It glowed from an archway blocked by stones. Roots and weather had cleared a path along the bottom. Safi must have hit a crack in the earth beside the spire, slid into this hidden ravine… and then slid right on through that magic doorway.

She shivered. In the distance, pistols popped and people screamed, so she hauled herself up the incline, still soaked from the Well and now muddied too.

Her ankle protested the climb. It wasn’t broken again, but it wasn’t happy either.

She reached the golden spire. Voices were near—voices she thought she knew, even as they were swallowed by the flame hawk’s roar. Then she heard someone holler in Cartorran, “Is that all you have for me?” and with no concern for her ankle, Safi started to run.

“Come at me, you bastard!”

The Well appeared through the trees, still distant and hazed by fire and smoke. With each loping, uneven step, Safi saw more. Corpses in Marstoki green. Corpses in Adder black.

And the flame hawk, on the ground and limping. Each of its hops shook the earth as it stalked toward the Empress of Marstok, unconscious beside the Well.

Ten paces away was a second woman, crouched defensively. No armor, no helmet, no weapons save a single knife extended before her.

The Hell-Bard Lev.

Safi had no idea why the woman was there—orhow—but relief sent her muscles spinning faster. If the Hell-Bards were in this fight, then Safi and Vaness might actually survive.

The flame hawk lunged at Lev, beak out and neck extended. Then its body passed right over, and before Safi’s eyes, Lev dissolved into darkness. Wherever the magic of the flame hawk touched her, she became a skeleton made of shadows.

A skeleton now thrusting its blade into the flame hawk’s chest.

The monstershriekedits pain—but that was only the beginning. As Safi stumbled out from the cedars, aiming toward the fallen Empress, the other Hell-Bards—lumbering Zander and lithe Caden—charged from a different expanse of trees. They rushed the hawk from behind, and like Lev, they wore no armor, no helmets. All they had were simple knives…

And the power of the Hell-Bard’s noose. The ability to withstand any magical attack, even a flame hawk’s.

The two Hell-Bards reached the creature’s tail. Then two more skeletons streaked into the firestorm. Zander attacked the wing. Caden leaped onto the beast’s back. Five bounding strides and he reached the top of the creature’s spine. He shoved his blade in, right where the wings met. Right where the hawk would feel it most. Such beasts might not die, but they could be injured. Safi had learned that firsthand with sea foxes.

The flame hawk screamed, a layered sound that split Safi’s skull.That shook the ground—that shook the veryworldwith its pain. Somehow, Caden remained upon the creature’s back, a torch of black flame, even as the hawk attempted flight.

Stab. Withdraw. Stab. Withdraw.