Every part of me froze.
There was no sign of the Horror, no, but I stood in the midst of its aftermath.
Blood pooled across every inch of the yard. Entrails, legs, antlered heads—they lay strewn over the ground. Bodies sat in the doorways of their stables, like they’d been dragged out and torn open.
I couldn’t do anything more than stare, but as I did, I realised… nothing was missing. The Horror hadn’t killed these stags and hinds to eat them. And their remains weren’t sucked dry as the saddles had been. It hadn’t fed on their magic.
It had just… torn them apart. For fun? Out of anger at being unable to find me?
Was this my fault?
My legs wobbled and I fell to a crouch, covering my mouth to try and hold in my gasping breaths. A dozen deer. Gone because I’d led that monster here.
“I’m sorry.” It came out again and again, then I threw up as the full stench of death and blood and the Horror filled my throat and somehow made this all the more real.
I vomited until there was nothing left but to spit bitter bile on the ground.
Emptiness felt better.
Numb and no longer trembling, I pulled myself upright. In the cupboard, I found some leather scraps and used one to tie my hair back. I deposited my cloak inside, remembering how it had interfered with my draw.
Clear water sat in a trough at the far end of the yard, untainted by deer blood. I rinsed out my mouth and washed the sweat from my face. As the ripples stilled, I caught my reflection staring back at me.
Afraid and yet determined. Practical. Ready.
Was this who I was?
I touched the surface and let her dissolve into ripples.
Squeezing my bow, I straightened. By Horror, crowd, or poison, I was not dying today.
Overhead, the sun began its descent to its early solstice evening.
51
Bastian
Nine. That was how many Horrors had entered the city.
It had taken us what felt like a lifetime to fell the first one we’d found, and we’d lost two guards to it.
Lysander had caught up to us not long after, shadow-stepping here from his estate, bringing the hellhound Fluffy.
Now we closed in on two more Horrors and the hound stuck to me like a pale version of my shadows, even though Lysander was at the other end of the road. On foot, I led half the unit and Faolán the other half, cutting in from both sides as the monsters sniffed and scratched at a brazier that had been used to roast nuts and marshmallows. Archers crept to position on the rooftops.
Movement from above. I raised my sword on instinct but recognised the darkly-dressed woman as one of the guards I’d set on watch. I lifted my eyebrows in a silent question.
“The two ahead are the last in this quarter. Two more are down, leaving one in north and east and two in the south quarter.”
A third of them dead. I nodded, but her report didn’t bring as much relief as it should’ve. “Any sign of the red-haired woman?”
“There was a sighting in the southern quarter, but they lost her before they could extract her.”
I gritted my teeth, eyeing the Horrors as they jostled over feeding from the brazier’s scant magic. We’d head south as soon as these two were taken care of. It sickened me not to go now, but…
Duty called.
I nodded to the lookout, dismissing her, and signalled for Faolán to continue advancing. Once we were thirty feet from the Horrors, I raised my hand and the archers fired their first volley.
A dozen arrows glanced off the monsters’ carapaces, but they were never meant to be anything more than a distraction.
While the Horrors looked up, screeching at the archers, we moved in.
Fed by the city’s abundant magic, my sword was at full power—a pure void with shadows dripping off its edges. I bared my teeth as I reached my enemy, the darkness inside me ready and eager to strike.
I sliced the monster’s leg. When I met its chitinous shell, there wasn’t even an instant of resistance. My Shadowblade cut clean through, and a buzz of magic funnelled into me, stolen from my shrieking enemy.
The long head swung to me, black eyes unblinking.
It snapped, row upon row of teeth closing on the space where a split-second earlier had been my shoulder.
I rolled across the paving, its stone surface digging into my shoulder and ribs.
Muscles roaring with the simple pleasure of battle, I landed on my feet behind the Horror. The remains of its severed leg bled foul ooze onto the ground, flailing as it reacted to another strike.
Growling, Fluffy bit one of the legs. Her teeth sank into the exoskeleton, her magical flame unleashing an acrid smoke that smelled of burning hair.
I battered into the monster’s back, the thicker shell resisting my blows, but making it twitch and start to turn—distracting it for the rest of my unit.
Russet fur darted between the other Horror’s legs—Rose. She snapped at its clawed feet, blinding fast in her wolf form, always staying inches ahead of its strikes.
One of the guards wasn’t so lucky. He flew back with a grunt, clubbed by one of the legs.
With the monster chasing Rose, Faolán leapt onto one of its legs. His fingers elongated into vicious claws.
I grinned as I blocked a strike, clipping the end of my Horror’s leg. I knew exactly where he was aiming.
Back arching, I dodged, then sidestepped, drawing my Horror away from its partner. If it spotted Faolán’s progress, leaping from one leg to the next, further forward, it might try to stop him.
Acid sizzled against my gauntlet as the monster snapped at my hand.
Two inches. That was all I dodged by.
But two inches or twenty—it was all the same. I still had my hand, and the Horror had its back to Faolán. With a roar, he reared and drove his claws into the spot behind his monster’s front leg.
Dark blood spurted.
The Horror shrieked, splitting the air and my ears. I staggered as the sound lanced through my skull, an instant of blinding pain.
I kept my sword high, but as the other Horror fell, mine lunged.
The world lurched as I fell back, driving the air from my lungs. I couldn’t do anything else but roll as my pulse roared, like it was a beast trying to scare off the Horror bellowing inches from my face.
Somehow I managed to jab as I rolled. Even more miraculous, I hit something, and the monster reared back with a scream, bleeding from a ruined eye.
But it kept fighting. My chance jab hadn’t gone deep enough to hit the brain.
Still. One leg missing. Blind on one side. It couldn’t last much longer.
I scrambled to my feet as a horn blasted through the air and hooves clattered across the paving.
Light filled the street as a golden stag galloped in.
Cyrus bared his teeth in a wicked grin and raised the Brightblade.
I didn’t have time to stand and stare—the Horror had realised I’d taken its eye and must’ve decided that made me the biggest danger, even as the full unit hacked at it.
Blow after blow I blocked, dodged, feinted to make the thing pull back an inch. I kept to its blind side, taking every opportunity to swipe at its face as it lunged for me, ignoring the acid burning through gaps in my armour.
“Don’t worry, Serpent.” Cyrus’s voice cut through the sound of my own pulse. “I’ve got this foul beast.”
A flash of light arced in from the right, and mid-lunge, the Horror crashed to one side.