There was no screech, no more blows, just the thing lying on its side, the Brightblade embedded in its eye.
Hands on my knees, I caught my breath, ears still ringing from the death cry of the first monster. With a couple of gestures, I had someone take the injured guard for healing. Getting tossed across the street like that, he’d have internal bleeding.
Meanwhile, Lysander arched an eyebrow as, looking like smugness incarnate, Cyrus dismounted and strode over.
Faolán appeared at my side, giving me a once-over. “We had it,” he grumbled as Cyrus drew his sword from the Horror’s head and raised it with a flourish.
The effect was slightly ruined when he turned and eyed Faolán’s claws, a sneer marring his victorious grin.
Cyrus was a prick. But I didn’t give a shit who killed the beast or got the glory. As long as these things were gone and the city safe, anyone could finish the damn things.
As he remounted, waved, and returned to his elite guard, someone tugged on my sleeve.
“Bastian?”
My eyes skipped over her at first, that wraith magic at work. But I knew Orpha’s voice, and I followed it, however much my gaze tried not to. Mouth pinched, she looked up at me.
“What are you doing here?” I’d sent her to catch up with the patrol who should’ve been guarding the edge of Horror territory.
“We found that patrol. They’re dead. Looks like Ascendants got them.”
What the fuck were they playing at, interfering with something that kept us all safe?
“On our way back, we found the Horrors. We’ve been trailing them the past day, trying to stop them or overtake them so you’d at least have a warning.” She shook her head.
We could’ve prepared. Stopped the festivities, ensured people were evacuated to safety.
“All the wardstones on this side of the territory had been removed. We replaced what we could, but…” Another shake of her head as her eyebrows clashed together.
I wiped off my sword. “Why do you think it’s Hydra Ascendant and not just an accident?”
“I caught one of them moving the wards to line the road. He’s here. Though not in the best shape.” She smiled, sharp teeth glinting as she nodded towards the city walls. “I tried asking him a few questions myself. Didn’t want to talk, though. I’m sure the Serpent can persuade him.”
An Ascendant. And she’d caught him interfering with the wards designed to keep the Horrors away from civilisation. Lining the road…
Funnelling them here.
My blood ran cold.
This was a deliberate attack, using Horrors as weapons, just like the Wars of Succession.
“Get him to Asher or the Hall of Healing. I need him kept alive. I’ll speak to him later.”
Once the city was safe.
And—my gaze skimmed up into the orange sky and I froze.
The sun was setting and we hadn’t touched today. Once it hit the horizon…
I needed to find Kat.
52
Kat
I worked my way uphill, aiming for the palace. Bastian might not be there, but they had to know where he was. If he realised the time and came looking for me, it seemed the most likely place he’d start.
My calves burned as I pushed up and up, one eye on the road, one on the setting sun.
Questioning clicks echoed from a lane to my left, and I hurried the opposite way, taking a winding alley that cut through to another street. I hugged the walls, gripping my bow.
My touch hadn’t worked, so an arrow to the eye was my best hope. If I was lucky enough to get a clear shot on both, the monster would be blinded. Would that make a difference when they could sniff out magic? I tugged the cuffs of my gloves like they might stifle my scent.
The palace grew larger and larger, and my hope unfurled. Another ten minutes.
I turned a corner and stopped dead. A gasp caught in my throat.
Ahead, perhaps forty feet away, stood a Horror.
Maybe it hadn’t seen me.
Swallowing, I eased back a step.
The thing’s clicking increased as it rose, front legs coiling as if ready to grasp.
Oh, it had seen me.
It had definitely seen me.
I turned to run, but more clicks skittered off the walls of the alley behind me.
Shit.
Head low, the Horror that stood between me and the palace prowled closer, its eight legs moving with hypnotic slowness. It was like a sabrecat approaching its prey—slowly, slowly, then in an instant, it would explode into movement.
My stomach roiled.
No turning back.
But no going forward.
Closer, the Horror came, void-black eyes locked on me.
I nocked an arrow.
Pure desperation drove me. There was nothing else. Well, I could curl into a ball, I supposed, but… No. That wasn’t an option.
Maybe Bastian was right. Maybe I was brave. I certainly stood here facing a magical beast, lining up my shot.
That sounded brave.
Pulse pounding in my throat, face, temples, I exhaled and aligned my arrowhead with the creature’s eye.
I didn’t need to kill it. I just needed to buy myself enough time to get to the palace.
I loosed the bowstring.
The arrow flew.
And skimmed off the monster’s brow.
Fuck.
I’d rushed and missed in my fear. Under my gloves, the stains had to be covering my hands—a marker of my out of control emotions.
Another arrow. Deep breaths. Calm. Focus.
The orange sky turned the Horror’s carapace into a fiery rainbow. As if it understood what I meant to do, it hissed. Acid sizzled and pitted the stone paving.
If it could corrode granite, what would it have done to my skin if not for my…？
“Poison.”
Touching it hadn’t worked, perhaps because of the carapace, but…
I yanked up my sleeve. If I delivered my poison directly…
Twenty feet away now.
I still had time to run.
But I would have to run away from the palace. And then I’d be dead, anyway.
Desperation. Bravery. It didn’t matter what it was—I sliced the arrow across the back of my arm, gritting my teeth at the streak of pain. One eye on the Horror, I let the blood well and coated the arrowhead.
Fifteen feet.
There was no time to think.
Draw. Aim. Exhale. Fire.
Every part of me stiffened, trained on the arrow’s arcing flight.
Please. Please?
I didn’t see it strike, but I saw the Horror’s head snap back. Its shriek split my ears.
It stumbled, my arrow buried in its eye.
Had it worked?
Maybe more poison…
Another arrow. Quickly. Quickly.
I smeared it with blood as the Horror slowed and tossed its head side to side like it might be able to throw off the one already embedded in its eye. When that didn’t work, it lowered its head and roared.
Its acrid breath burned my eyes, the stench choking.
But I drew and lined up my shot, stilling every part of me save for my leaping pulse.
I fired.
Deep down its throat, past the rows of sharp teeth, my arrow buried itself inside the monster. Its roar cut out.
I already had another arrow out of my quiver and was coating it in blood, but…
The Horror gave a high-pitched wheeze, like it was trying to scream but couldn’t. It took a step closer, but its front legs crumpled, and the monster slumped.
Its remaining eye stared on and on.
Was it…？