Asher nodded. “She’s coming.”
They ran for the door.
36
Casrian reached the gap in the wall and threw his back against the crumbling stone. Behind him, the fort loomed black against the cloud-veiled sky. Vines crawled over the stone, possibly the only thing still holding it together. This place had been abandoned long before the fall of Caetris, though its position above the river suggested that it had once overseen a trade route between the kingdoms. It was no wonder no one remembered the place. Rowan and Toby had likely been the first people to find it in decades.
Where guards had once kept watch, only broken parapets remained. The roof had long since rotted away. One tower had collapsed, sliding into the river. Another remained, broken like a rotten tooth. The fallen walls exposed shattered stairwells and empty halls choked with moss and stone. Little remained of the curtain wall. The main gate lay open and waiting like a gaping maw.
It was exactly the sort of place witches liked. Isolated. Echoing of past glories. Forgotten and melancholy. She was probably able to lure the occasional brigand or wanderer into her circle. Enough to feed upon. Not enough to stir notice.
It was also exactly the sort of place a pair of adventurous youth would go on a quest to find treasure. He could almost imagine Rowan here, foolishly brave, daring her friend to follow her into the place. The image that crossed his mind caused an ache in his chest.
Let her still be alive.
Daris joined him and gave a sharp nod. Casrian cocked the crossbow and loaded the bolt. When Daris signaled that he was ready, they slipped through the wall and moved off to the right, aiming for the door Rowan had said opened to the great hall. They hadn’t come across any familiars yet, which meant that the witch had likely pulled them into the nest. Normally, the things would be out prowling the woods looking for food, but with fresh meat in the dungeon and hunters at the door, the witch would want to keep them close.
This witch seemed to have a gift for creating familiars. He’d never come across any so large. Usually it was clear what animal had been corrupted. He still had no idea what the fuck these ones had been before she’d gotten her hands on them. Maybe wolves. They seemed vaguely doglike. They moved in packs. But they were as big as bears and some of them had horns. Maybe they’d been created from some new creature in the mountains. Who knew what evil things now roamed Caetris?
He signaled to Daris to follow and circled toward the front. As they approached, the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Magic trembled in the night air like the reverberation of a drum just out of hearing. The air was heavy with the stench of rot. The shadows pooled black as pitch.
The witch was here—somewhere—but he didn’t feel the focus of her attention. That had always felt to him like the sharp tip of a spear poised above his heart. Impossible to ignore. This felt less targeted.
What could possibly absorb a witch more completely than a pack of witch hunters? He could only think of one thing. The prisoners already in her grasp.
He wanted to rush inside, but he’d made a promise to stick to the plan. It was a good plan. He had to at least give it a chance.
They held to the cover of the wall as the first round of flaming arrows ghosted overhead. Emrys was friends with the armorer and often tested out new weapons before they were distributed to the other patrols. These arrows contained small vials of oil that burst into flames upon impact. Most of them hit the stone walls of the fort and flared only briefly to life, charring stone. A few hit the dry ivy and burned longer. But the ones that landed in the brambles near the front door flamed like a torch, casting enough light for them to see what monsters the shadows veiled.
One familiar beside the door flinched away from the light.
“Got it,” he said and put a bolt in the thing’s head.
When he looked down to reload, he heard Daris fire another shot. There was a dull thud, and Daris cursed softly. The crossbow had never been his weapon. They each took out another of the familiars before the flames began to die. The witch had still not appeared.
“It won’t be enough,” Casrian said. “She has dozens of the damned things.”
Daris caught his arm and pulled him back. “We need to move. They know where we are.”
They were so close.
Casrian shook his arm free, gaze fixed on the entrance that would bring him nearest the dungeon stairs.
“Cas, you can’t.”
It was the promise he’d made. Hold the witch’s attention. Don’t engage her directly until her power waned with the dawn.
It was the smart thing to do.
Emrys was right.
All of their classes at the Academy had emphasized the idiocy of attacking a witch at night, let alone raiding her nest in anything but the full light of day.
Still, he hesitated, staring at that black hole of a door. Daris caught his shoulder and pulled with more force than was necessary.
“Damn it.”
A cry rose from within the fort—a woman’s cry, cut short—and every muscle in his body went taut.
