Page 24 of Scorched Earth

Deimos.

Whether it was because of the darkness provided by the storm or that their riders had given them no choice, the creatures were braving the sunlight. Worse still, there were at least two of them.

Ahead, the trees ended at the crest of a slope. Killian drew up his horse, Lydia’s mount sliding to a stop next to it. Down the steep hill was a meadow that was alight with flame, and smoke billowed on the violent wind of the storm. A tiny, hooded figure clutching the reins of a rearing horse stood on the road, a man and a giant flanking her. A dead deimos lay smoking in the charred grass, a victim of the lightning. But encircling the trio were a dozen soldiers led by a woman clad in black leathers, long dark hair spilling down her back.

Lydia’s heart lurched.Rufina.

The thunder from the storm had hidden the noise of their approach, so neither group had noticed them yet. But as the lightning had ceased, the wind carried Rufina’s voice to Lydia’s ears.

“I’m not pleased with you, Agrippa,” the Queen of Derin said. “You stole my favorite toy.”

“But I left you with two better ones.” Agrippa smirked, the wind whipping his brown hair this way and that. “Or did you lose them, too?”

“Kitaryia can run back to the far side of the world, and it won’t matter.” Rufina lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “She has welcomed my master into her heart and serves him now. If she’s not already been the death of Killian, it’s only a matter of time.”

“I always did think they were destined for a tragic end,” Agrippa replied. “But they’re not my problem.”

Rufina took a step closer, only for lightning to lance down from the sky, exploding the dirt before her. She froze.

“No closer, Your Grace,” Agrippa said. “Or you’ll find yourself in the same position as your mount.” He jerked his chin toward the smoking deimos corpse.

“What do we do?” Lydia whispered, only to discover Killian lifting the bow he’d found at one of the abandoned towns, nocking an arrow and taking aim at Rufina.

“We end this,” he whispered, then let the arrow loose.

It flew through the air, aim sure and true, but just before it struck, Rufina spun and snatched it from the air. Brush crackled behind Lydia, and she turned to find two women in homespun dresses standing behind them. Their skirts were covered in vomit, their feet bare and stained, and they were very,verydead.

“Blighters!” she gasped, only for the women to drop to the ground. Both had arrows embedded in their eyes.

Killian lowered his bow, but quick as he’d been, the damage was done.

“Why won’t you just die, Lord Calorian,” the Queen of Derin called up the slope. She watched them with midnight eyes rimmed with flame, her skin pale against the black leather clothing she wore. To Lydia’s eyes, she glowed preternaturally bright, but even without her gift, the youth of Rufina’s face betrayed that she was drunk on stolen life. “I grow weary of our encounters.”

“Then let’s make this our last.” Killian dug in his heels, shooting his remaining arrows at Rufina’s soldiers as he galloped down the slope. Dropping the bow, he pulled his sword.

Instead of raising her own weapon to fight, Rufina turned on her heels and ran.

A deimos swooped from the sky, and she leapt onto its back, taking to the air. As she did, Lydia heard it.

In the back of her mind, she’d thought it noise from the storm.

But it wasn’t thunder. It was marching feet.

Hundreds, no, thousands, of men and women ran in lockstep through the trees, their faces blank.

As dead as the two women on the road behind her. And infinitely more in number than they could fight.

Her horse reared and Lydia dug in her heels. “Run!” She galloped down the hill. “Blighters!”

“Get on the horse!” Agrippa roared at Malahi. Instead of listening to him, Malahi dropped to the ground and pressed her hands to dirt.

The ground shook, and Lydia’s mount nearly lost its footing. Nothing before her explained the tremor, so she risked a backward glance.

The trees were moving.

It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Anything she’d known possible. The trees grew and wove together, branches twisting around each other and creating a wall running as far as she could see in either direction.

Yet it came at a cost, for Malahi slumped into Agrippa’s arms.