Fear claws up my throat, but I have been stripped before and faced worse odds. I raise my sword and grimly throw myself into the fray again.
‘Don’t let the Myrkr’s blade touch you!’ Kyor warns.
As if called to action by the warning, the Myrkr lifts his sword. The metal is blackened, veined with something green and foul that looks like rot itself.
The ground beneath the tip of its horse’s hooveswithers. Whetherthe Myrkr is a servant of Mortidem or not, I don’t know, but he sure as hell looks like death.
Another Rotting lunges for Benny and I intercept, ramming my shoulder into its chest. It’s a stupid action that puts me at far too much risk, but it pays off as it stumbles back.
I gag at the stench of damp and decay as I hack at its knee with my sword. The joint gives with a sickening crack and the Rotting collapses, still trying to claw at me with unnerving persistence.
I stamp down hard, pinning its wrist, and sever the hand. It keeps reaching all the same.
‘Rose!’ Ruben screams. I don’t know when he left his horse, but he is on the ground now, swinging his sword with even more force and vehemence than during his spars with Kyor.
Even Loch is fighting now, hacking and cutting at the Rottings around us with the kind of precision that only comes from hours of practice. It tells me more than words ever could how he’s managed to survive this forest.
If I had the time, my heart would ache for him, facing this alone these past few moons. Trapped with thesethings.
The fight occurs at every angle, Caz battling to keep the horses steady as they rear and buck wildly. The Rottings might not go for the animals, but the stench is spooking them all the same, not to mention the swords flailing around them.
‘The Myrkr!’ Thessa shouts. ‘The Rottings will leave with the Myrkr if we can force him away.’
‘How?’ I yell.
‘We have to focus on him. Injure him,’ she calls back. ‘Not the Rottings.Him.’
I nod, mind whirring. Yet before I can decide on the best plan, Elska barrels through the Rottings, tearing them down with teeth and claws. As the Myrkr turns his hooded head towards the dire wolf, she skids to a halt, snarling, hackles raised.
Kyor urges her forward still. A whine rises from her muzzle, but she doesn’t fight him. She knows who her next target is. Kyor’s attention is locked on the hooded figure.
The Myrkr moves faster than he should, his sword whistlingthrough the air, and Kyor barely parries in time. The impact rings out, bone-deep and sonorous, sending sparks skittering across the ground.
‘Stay back, Rose!’ Kyor snaps at me as I start forward, though how the fuck he saw me behind him I have no idea.
Actually, I realise I do. He didn’t see me move – he just knew I would – and his barked instruction isn’t because Ican’tfight, but because he doesn’t want me to. But if Thessa is right, then we need to attack the Myrkr, and the fuck I’m letting him do that alone.
‘Ruben! Benny! Keep the Rottings away from us!’ I yell. There seems to be no point in instructing the others. Caz has enough of a battle with the horses, and Loch appears to know what he’s doing far better than the rest of us. And there’s no way I’m stupid enough to command Stide and think she’ll listen.
I sprint through the chaos, heart hammering as I duck low and surge into the fight, fury burning through the fear as I see Kyor and Elska squaring up to the Myrkr alone. At their backs, Benny and Ruben defend them while they battle the thing of nightmares, but a single Rotting has broken through the line of defence, and I watch, heart in my mouth, as it heads to Kyor.
‘Kyor, watch out!’ I scream. ‘Behind you!’
He hears my warning, I know he does, yet he’s spotted an opening in the Myrkr’s defences and instead of retreating and defending his back, he pushes forward.
‘I’ve got it!’ Stide shouts at me.
Relief floods through me as Stide races for the rogue Rotting as Kyor plunges his sword towards the Myrkr, driving his blade into the terrifying thing that is sucking all our magic from us.
An inhumane wail rips through the air, and shrieks of pain tear from my lungs as my eardrums reverberate with the horrific sound of the Myrkr’s cry. Around us, the crows take to the sky, cawing as they flee, the cacophony slowly fading into the forest.
Behind Kyor, Stide raises her spear to take out the Rotting, but she doesn’t see that Kyor’s turning for it too. With both hands on the weapon, she thrusts forward with all her might, aiming at the creature’s neck. The spear severs the putrid flesh, but it doesn’t stop. It keeps going.
Straight into Kyor.
Chapter 33
Kyor’s cry is a thousand times worse than the wail that came from the Myrkr. That sound may have pierced my ears, but this one goes straight through my heart.
