Page 9

Chapter Nine

SYLVIE

M en’s voices clashed with the clang of steel on steel as I hurried toward the armory with my skirts whipping around my legs. The attack horn hadn’t stopped since the guards on the tower spotted the Scarrok. Every blast vibrated the air and the inside of my skull.

I smelled the armory before I saw it, the scent of sweat, leather, and pitch flooding my nostrils. Grabbing my skirts, I ran, rounding the corner and entering a broad corridor.

The armory loomed ahead, its thick doors flung wide. Two grim-faced knights spilled from the opening and gave me curt nods as they clattered past me. Tanyl’s voice boomed down the corridor.

“I want ten more men manning the River Gate! Now!”

Rapid footsteps followed, and more knights emerged. They took a sharp right, no doubt heading for the tunnels that led to the River Gate under Storm’s Hollow. When closed, it stopped the Perun from flowing under the castle.

I kept moving, Tanyl’s shouts rising once more.

“Stay on your horses! And for fuck’s sake, stay out of the water! If you get dragged into the river, you’re already dead.”

I skidded to a halt just inside the doors. Chaos reigned as sweating squires buckled and laced knights into armor. Torches danced against the walls, the flames as agitated as the men readying for battle. Pages plucked shields from wooden stands against the walls and rushed them to waiting knights. Men-at-arms slung quivers of arrows around their shoulders. Their sigils gleamed white-blue around their throats and wrists.

My heart sped up, and my magic kindled in my chest, the ball of energy bucking at its restraints. More men swept past me. Gold flashed on the far side of the room. Tanyl’s hair swung against his back as he turned, his arms outstretched so two squires could fasten his breastplate. Briar stood a short distance away.

Murmuring apologies, I darted between the knights and squires, garnering more than one curious look as I made my way to Tanyl. He spotted me when I was halfway across the armory. Instantly, displeasure tightened his mouth. When I reached him, he took my elbow and pitched his voice low.

“What are you doing down here, Sylvie?”

“Let me go with you,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, Briar cast us a searching look as he slipped a vambrace up his arm.

Impatience joined Tanyl’s displeasure. “I don’t have time for this?—”

“The knights said they’ve never seen Scarrok in these numbers. You need all the help you can get.”

Tightening his grip on my elbow, Tanyl pulled me closer to the wall. He bent over me, his features hard and his voice even harder. “You’ve never fought a Scarrok.”

“I’ve stunned them from afar.”

Understanding lit his eyes, and his expression softened. He brushed my cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I know, my love, and you saved lives doing so.”

Old sorrows stirred. “Not all of them,” I said.

“That wasn’t your fault.” He drew a deep breath, the mantle of authority descending over him again. “You don’t need to atone for your parents’ deaths.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what this is about. I’m more powerful than Crispin.” I braced a hand against his breastplate. “Use my magic.”

“Magic doesn’t swing a sword.”

“It doesn’t need to. You know that as well as I do.” Why couldn’t he admit it?

Impatience returned to his eyes. “I won’t have my wife ripped apart by the filth that haunts our rivers.” Lightning forked across his eyes, and his voice went lower. “Have I not made myself clear?”

“I’ll stay behind your men. I don’t need to get near the Scarrok to stun them. We can end this battle in minutes and with no bloodshed.”

Next to us, Briar murmured to a squire. The boy spun and raced to a table scattered with swords of various lengths. Briar bent his head and worked on the laces of his vambrace.

“I want you to go upstairs,” Tanyl told me. “Now.”

Anger tightened my chest. The ball of magic within it swelled, its core hot and restless. My face stared back at me in Tanyl’s pupils, my sigils glowing brighter against my pale skin.

“Here you go, Father,” the squire said breathlessly as he rushed back to Briar and handed him a sword.

“Good lad,” Briar said. He examined the blade, then nodded to the boy. “You have a good eye. It’s a fine weapon.”

The boy beamed.

Tanyl pulled my hand from his breastplate but kept a grip on my fingers. “Return to our quarters. I’ll come to you after we’ve repelled the Scarrok.”

“Tanyl—”

“Sir Layred,” he called, looking over my shoulder. Metal scraped behind me, and a deep voice responded.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Escort the queen to her chamber.”

For a moment, anger held me immobile. Briar had returned to his laces, his head bent and his gaze on his task. But it was clear he absorbed every word. Around me, the sounds of preparation had quieted. A watchfulness pressed against my back. I knew if I turned my head, I’d see knights pretending not to notice my clash with my husband.

And it couldn’t continue. Tanyl’s word was law in Spring. If I crossed him in public, he’d have no choice but to retaliate. The consequences would be humiliating and ugly.

A presence loomed over my shoulder. Tanyl straightened, larger in his breastplate engraved with the Perun and its tributaries. “Sir Layred will keep watch outside your door, my queen. Your safety is more important to me than anything in this world.”

He’d trapped me. I could leave with my dignity intact, or I could resist and get hauled to my chamber like a disobedient child. Either way, the knight would ensure I didn’t leave my room.

Tanyl held my stare. Emotion flickered in his eyes—fleeting but real. A silent plea. He didn’t want the ugliness. But he would let it happen.

“Perun protect you, Husband,” I said. Then I turned on my heel and strode toward the doors. The knight fell into step behind me.

“Wife.”

Tanyl’s voice froze me in place. The title and command wrapped around me, and I faced him with my heart knocking against my ribs.

He stood tall in his armor, his eyes glowing more brightly than the torches on the wall behind him.

“Yes?” I asked, lifting my chin.

“You take my love with you.”

For a moment, the armory fell away. Forty-five years blazed between us, each one soaked in need and resistance. Challenge and acquiescence. The Old Language trembled on my tongue, the words too powerful for everyday use. The Covenant made it so. Ishulum’s magic was a delicate balance—its borders bound and blunted. That was how elves and humans kept the peace. Through submission.

Na-tesku. I love you.

I couldn’t say it. Not with the Scarrok at our gates. The words were pure magic, volatile and dangerous. I only used them when I needed them. When I needed to stop. In our bed. In battle. Most times, the first was indistinguishable from the second.

“And you take mine,” I said. In the quiet that followed, I turned and continued on my path. Knights parted as I swept from the armory and entered the corridor. Regret was a knot in my throat. If Tanyl got hurt…

No. He wouldn’t. His magic was stronger than Crispin’s. Stronger than mine. The power in his veins had made his ancestors kings. And unlike his father, Tanyl was determined to save Spring. He wouldn’t fail. He wouldn’t fall.

The attack horn shook the air. The knight’s boots were a clipped drumbeat behind me. Tanyl was never going to let me fight. He fought an enemy that couldn’t be killed, and he refused to let me help him.

Visions formed in my head, faces flashing and red spreading across water—across the godswell. A thousand voices shouted in my ears. Lightning flashed. The water turned red.

Did you see anything, child?

I stopped, my heart pumping so hard that dizziness swept me.

“Your Grace?”

A knight stepped in front of me. Sir Layred. My jailer. Brow furrowed, he lifted a hand like he meant to steady me.

“Are you well, Your Grace?”

In my mind, Tanyl’s face appeared briefly in the sea of red.

Sir Layred’s frown deepened, and a hint of panic entered his eyes. “Your Grace, perhaps I should call for help.”

I seized his arm and yanked him close. “For you,” I said, then let my magic off its leash. It frazzled down my arm and into his. He jerked, his pupils expanding before his eyes rolled back in his head.

I caught him as he slumped, his weight sending me to one knee.

Grunting, I maneuvered him so he slumped against the wall. With shaking fingers, I turned his wrist and checked his pulse.

His heartbeat thumped in a steady rhythm.

Relief coursed through me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, arranging his legs so he wouldn’t slump to the side. Later, I’d find him and apologize—and make sure Tanyl didn’t punish him for my actions. “Perun protect you,” I added, putting his hands in his lap.

The murmur of distant voices made me jump to my feet. Grabbing my skirts, I ran from the corridor. My heart raced as I made my way down one twisting passage after another until I reached the oldest part of the castle. Shouldering my way into a storeroom, I swatted at the cloud of dust that rose as I stopped and looked around.

There. Pieces of armor lined wooden shelves behind bales of rice and barrels of wine. The latter were stamped with King Galathil’s seal and hadn’t been touched since his death.

Weaving around the barrels, I reached the shelves and pulled pieces of armor from the stacks. Breastplate, greaves, gauntlets. More searching revealed an ancient gambeson and a pair of leather trousers sized for a squire. When I had everything I needed, I stripped to my shift and began buckling and lacing. Perspiration dotted my forehead by the time I finished. Twisting my hair into a knot, I tied one of the laces around it and then grabbed a helm from the shelf.

More dust swirled as I moved to the corner and pulled a sword from a rack. The magic in my chest pulsed. I let it have its way.

Lightning flowed down my arm and into the blade, white-hot energy writhing around the steel.

Perfect.

The attack horn beckoned, its vibrations shivering up my legs. I settled the helm over my head, and the shelves in front of me narrowed as I flipped the visor down. Spinning, I left the storeroom and retraced my steps. Knights charged past me, some alone and some in groups. My heart seized, and I waited for them to stop and demand my identity. But they merely pounded past, armor jangling as they made their way toward the courtyard.

Tugging my visor lower, I followed. Moments later, I jogged into a courtyard even more chaotic than the armory. Horses whinnied, and knights shouted as they swung into the saddle. I turned my head from side to side as I struggled to adjust to my limited vision.

“We have to hold the gate!” a captain bellowed, his hair streaming down his back.

Shrieks drifted in the air. A whistling sound made me turn, and I followed the path of an arrow as it sailed past the castle’s main bridge and disappeared over the cliff. A second later, a high-pitched howl lifted the hair on my nape.

“They’re climbing the cliffs!” the captain yelled. “If you’re not on gate duty, get to the riverbank!” Without warning, he swung toward me and pointed. “You!”

I took a swift step back, one gauntlet lifted to my chest. “Me?” I cleared my throat and lowered my voice. “Um, yes, Captain?”

He glowered at me. “Are you saving that spot?”

Confusion pummeled me. “I…”

“Stop gawping at me, and move your arse!” He flung a hand toward a bunch of squires busy slinging saddles onto horses’ backs. “Pick a fucking horse and get down to the riverbank!”

I nodded, already moving. “Y-Yes, Captain.”

One of the squires swept a dubious look down my body when I approached. “Did your grandfather give you that armor?”

Little shit. I let my magic flow down my arm. As I lifted my crackling sword, the squire swallowed.

“He did,” I said. “He gave me his magic too.”

The squire thrust the reins at me. “Perun protect you, Sir…?”

“Sir will suffice,” I said, drawing the horse forward. As the squire backed away, I spun the beast in a wide arc. Then I nudged it forward and thundered across the courtyard. Bending over the horse’s neck, I joined the knights streaming toward the bridge.

* * *

When I galloped onto the riverbank moments later, carnage greeted me.

Mist rolled from the base of the waterfalls, clouding the air and making the ground muddy and slick. Knights thundered through it on horseback, their shouts warring with the Scarroks’ shrieks.

The monsters were everywhere, their red eyes like rubies in the mist. Their swollen, waterlogged bodies were stark white except where their skin was dotted with moss. A few trailed river reeds like gruesome tails. Morning sunlight scattered over everything, casting tiny rainbows in the air as it reflected off the mist.

I gripped my borrowed sword more tightly as I let my magic build. Around me, knights slashed at Scarrok, lightning streaking down their blades and striking the monsters with a sizzling sound. The scent of rotted meat seared my nostrils, and my stomach pitched.

“More coming up the bank!” a knight shouted as he galloped past me. He charged into a group of Scarrok, blue lightning flashing from his sword as he hacked and sliced. Blood sprayed. Monsters fell and writhed on the ground. A short distance away, a severed hand with long, white fingers and black fingernails crept across the mud like a spider.

Nausea burned my throat.

An ear-splitting screech jerked my head to the side just as a Scarrok scrabbled up the riverbank and lunged toward me.

Panic seized me, and I yanked my mount’s reins. The horse reared, its eyes rolling as it pawed at the air. I slipped backward in the saddle. As I grabbed at the reins, fire licked over my thigh. A glance down revealed the bloody edge of my sword. In my panic, I’d nicked myself with the blade, the edge finding a gap between my armor.

The Scarrok hissed, its nostrils flaring as it caught the scent of my blood. Sweat burned my eyes. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as death opened its jaws wide.

Not today, you filth. Gritting my teeth, I squeezed my horse’s flanks with my thighs as I used all my strength to fling my body forward. The momentum forced the beast down, and its front hooves crashed to the ground with enough force to rattle my bones. Tugging hard on the reins, I steered the horse around.

Then I let my magic off its leash. White-hot power burst from my chest and sizzled down my sword arm. Heat scorched my bones, the boiling rush making my eyes water. I bit back a cry as I let the magic have its way. Lightning streaked from the tip of my sword and struck the Scarrok in the center of its chest. The monster exploded, bloody flesh and bits of bone flying in every direction. Blood spattered the grass like raindrops hitting the ground. Several chunks of Scarrok splashed into the river.

A whoop sounded behind me, and a knight brought his horse alongside mine. White teeth flashed between the slats in his visor as he worked to keep his dancing horse under control.

“Perun’s balls, keep doing that !”

I bit my tongue against the urge to scold him for blasphemy. Instead, I nodded. “I will.”

“Good.” Slamming his heels against his horse’s flanks, he hurtled back into the chaos.

With a deep breath, I gripped my sword and followed. The battle seethed, and Scarrok continued bursting from the water and climbing up the riverbank. Lightning flashed as knights wielded a combination of magic and blunt force to hack the monsters apart. I fell into a pattern: find a Scarrok, call my magic, and burst the monster’s body into pieces.

But for every Scarrok I struck down, two more took its place. They rose from the river in sickening waves, water pouring off their bodies. Sweat trickled down my back and dampened the waistband of my borrowed trousers. My shoulder burned, and my arm caught fire as magic swept down my sword. Men’s shouts warred with the Scarroks’ shrieks and hisses.

A charge entered the air. The tang of rain and metal hit my lungs. Energy shivered over my skin, lifting the fine hairs on my body. In a blink, dark clouds rolled across the sun, plunging the riverbank into shadow. The wind picked up—and then it howled, grass and leaves swirling as waterspouts formed on the river.

Lightning cleaved the sky in two.

BOOM. Thunder shook the ground.

“The king!” someone shouted. The thunder of hooves spun me around just as Tanyl galloped into the battle. He wore no helm, and his hair streamed behind him like a golden river. His sigils blazed as he lifted his sword, the point thrusting toward the sky. Lightning twisted down his arm and wrapped around the blade.

Baring his teeth, Tanyl slashed his sword through the air. Lightning leapt from the steel and arced through the air, striking several Scarrok like a whip. The energy sliced through their bodies, and they tumbled to the ground.

More mounted knights raced onto the riverbank, their swords drawn and their sigils glowing. White flashed at the edge of my vision. Briar galloped toward a group of Scarrok, his white-and-blue surcoat setting him apart from the rest of the knights. He charged toward the monsters without slowing.

I tensed. He was going to crash into them!

Spurring my horse forward, I let searing-hot magic race down my arm.

Briar swung his sword, decapitating a Scarrok in a single blow. I yanked on my reins as he spun his horse in a tight circle, his sword already descending a second time. Blood sprayed as another Scarrok’s head left its body.

Protests died on my tongue, my fear replaced with awe. Briar spun again—and again—his sword a blur as he took down the enemy. He fought with brute force, but his movements weren’t brutish. They were like poetry, his big body moving as fluidly as the river beside us.

“On your left!” someone nearby bellowed. I turned just as a Scarrok scrabbled toward me, its jaws snapping and its eyes like embers. More monsters crowded behind it, the gaggle stumbling over each other in their haste to reach me.

Tightening my grip on the reins, I maneuvered my horse around and called my magic. Power frazzled down my arm and burst from the tip of my blade. Light flared. The Scarrok in the lead burst apart.

Triumph surged, and I fell into a rhythm again. Knights shouted. The wind swept up and down the riverbank as Tanyl summoned the tempest. More waterspouts formed, flinging Scarrok from the river. The ground grew soft and slippery with blood. My horse’s sides heaved, and foam flecked its mouth. The beast tired.

I know the feeling, I thought, rubbing a gauntleted hand over its neck. My sword arm throbbed, my muscles twitching. Sweat soaked my skin under my stolen gambeson. Wind gusted, its insistent fingers tugging at my helmet. Anxiety gripped me as hair tickled the back of my neck. A pale strand fluttered in front of my face. Ducking my head, I guided my horse away from the river.

A shriek rang in my ears, and fingers raked down my leg. A Scarrok snapped its jaws as it clawed at my thigh, its fingernails separating from the nail bed as it tried to tear the armor from my leg.

“No!” I gasped, kicking at it. The Scarrok was on my left, but I gripped my sword in my right hand. My shoulder screamed, and my horse shied as I tried swinging the blade over my body.

The Scarrok’s eyes flashed as it plunged its fangs toward my thigh again and again. The horse bucked, and my body lifted out of the saddle. I slipped sideways. The Scarrok’s jaws loomed, dozens of jagged teeth gnashing.

The tip of a blade thrust through its mouth and protruded from between its jaws, which were suddenly frozen wide.

For a second, I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. Then Briar appeared over the Scarrok’s shoulder. Eyes the color of rain met mine through a visor.

Recognition shivered between us.

My stomach dropped, and my heart fluttered like a trapped bird between my ribs.

“Please,” I whispered, giving my head a little shake. If Tanyl discovered me…

Grunting, Briar withdrew his sword from the back of the Scarrok’s neck. Then, in one smooth movement, he backed his horse up and sliced the monster’s head off before its body hit the ground. The head rolled across the bloodied grass and disappeared under a tangle of warhorses’ hooves. A second later, one of the stallions flattened the skull with a sickening squelch.

Briar looked at me, his chest rising and falling beneath his breastplate and blood-splattered surcoat. His eyes gleamed as he guided his horse so it stood alongside mine, and he looked toward the battlefield as he spoke under his breath.

“You favor your right side. It’s slowing you down.”

My throat had gone so dry, I had to swallow before I could speak. “I cut myself. It was an accident.”

He flicked a look over the saddle, his gaze moving over my right leg.

“I’m fine,” I said. Around us, knights threw lightning at Scarrok. A waterspout jumped the river bank and sent grass flying into the air. The wind caught a Scarrok, spinning it so quickly that its tattered clothing ripped away, exposing raw, white flesh and sagging skin.

Gaze on the fighting, Briar reached over and adjusted my fingers on the reins. “You’re pulling too hard when you go for the kill. Your mount is trained for battle. He knows what to do. Trust him, and he’ll trust you.”

“All right,” I said, my voice emerging low and raspy. Briar kept his fingers on mine, and I fought the urge to flex them under his larger grip.

Briar nodded as he removed his hand. Then, with some kind of unspoken command, he urged his horse back into the fray.

Hefting my sword, I spurred my horse into a gallop. But as knights and Scarrok clashed around me, heat prickled over my fingers. Briar’s touch lingered, and his gray eyes swam in my mind. He was a Rivven—one of the best warriors on either side of the Covenant—and he hadn’t tried to stop me from fighting.

The scent of blood and sweat mingled with the tang of metal. My heart pounded as I let my magic build and flow down my sword arm. Briar’s advice rang in my head, and I kept a light grip on the reins. As he predicted, the horse grew less agitated. I fell back into a rhythm, and it was easier without the beast fighting my signals.

Wind continue to howl. Lightning forked across the sky. Tanyl’s shouts lifted over the clash of steel, but I barely heard him as I continued to fell Scarrok. The stench of burning flesh filled my lungs as lightning took the monsters to the ground. My magic flowed, and I grit my teeth against the burning, writhing pain. It’s the price of power , my father’s voice said in my memory. The discomfort was worth it.

Because the battle was turning. Wherever the flood of Scarrok had come from, they wouldn’t overwhelm Storm’s Hollow.

A knight battled a Scarrok on foot at the edge of the river. The monster looked ancient, pieces of its skin ripping away to reveal bone and pulp. Nevertheless, it charged the knight, claws and fangs flashing. A path opened before me, and I galloped forward, magic sizzling down my arm.

Something struck me hard in the back. Hot breath seared my nape, and a bony arm circled my neck. Gagging, I lost my grip on the sword. A scream lodged in my throat as I slipped from the saddle. The world spun, the blood-soaked ground rearing up.

My shoulder hit first, and the Scarrok scrambled on top of me. My head struck something hard, and my helmet flew off, giving me an unimpeded view of the lightning-streaked sky and the Scarrok’s yawning jaws. The smell of rotting garbage burned my nostrils as the monster lunged, aiming for my nose.

“No!” I screamed, swinging a fist. Dizziness rushed me, and the Scarrok went blurry as I thrust my arms out to hold it off. My gauntlets sank into its chest like a sponge. Watery blood ran down my forearms and splattered my face. I clamped my lips together.

Can’t get it in my mouth. If I did, I was dead. But death hovered anyway as pain stabbed my shoulder, and my muscles quivered.

The Scarrok lunged, its red eyes blotting out the sky. As a sob left my lips, the monster’s head flew from its body. Blood pumped from its neck. Big hands seized its shoulders and tossed it away. Briar filled the sky above me. Lightning flashed behind him. Tanyl appeared at his side, his shoulders heaving and a bloody sword in one hand. My husband’s gaze fell on me, and his blue eyes filled with shock.

Then cold, brittle fury.

Another wave of dizziness crashed over me. Pain stabbed the back of my skull. Shadows gathered at the edges of my vision. I reached for them, letting the darkness claim me.