Page 103 of The Ashborn

“I am not,” Moira laughed.

“And you have magic?” asked the first little boy.

Moira nodded, the warmth filling her eyes. She would be a great mother. Kienna was sure of it. If anyone in the world deserved a child, it was Moira. Kienna’s heart warmed thinking about it. She smiled, turning to the children. Pushing her finger to her lips to shush them, she leaned forward and moved her hair behind her ears. The children gasped. Her ears were nothing like the pureblood Elvish clans, but the quaint little tips still had the children giggling.

Mothers looked relieved to see their children feel something other than fear, the room falling at ease, despite the booms roaring above. Kienna scanned the room again, searching for any others needing assurance. For anyone overcome with fear as war waged onward. She didn’t know if she was making that much of a difference, but it kept her mind off the spinning and grinning that attempted to force its way in. For now, that was enough.

—Baila—

The barricades were masterfully built, sealed with wards from the Elvish to keep everything out. Baila stared at them for over an hour. She could have broken them instantly, her sword good for more than raising the dead. The sharp point was laced with dark magic that could break any barrier, even the barrier of River Storm.

The city was smart to lock Kienna away. Finding her proved quite the task, one that Baila almost gave up on. But her mission was clear: She was to retrieve Kienna and Moira and take them home. Nothing more. Yet Baila couldn’t resist the temptation of bringing along her Umbrin. If they killed Kienna…well, that wouldn’t be her fault at all. It would have been the shadows. Baila savored the thought. She wanted to kill Kienna’s soul.

Baila looked at the army behind her, Vorthakai hissing, the foam in their mouths dripping from their sharp teeth like blades ready to rip flesh apart. The Umbrin remained quiet behind them. They were ready to be unleashed, the smell of fresh blood catching on their noses.

“Kienna,” Baila called, a haunting melody against the slamming of wood. She pushed her shoulder into the wood stockpiled on both sides to create space. “Why don’t you come out, so you and I can end this war?”

“Baila,” Kienna’s voice called from the other side, slamming the door back. It was frantic and as angry as Baila was. Too long had she lived in the shadows of this cunt, sidestepped by her own father. And for what? Kienna betrayed them. She refused to give up the magical forest, and worse, she fought against River Storm.

Baila sneered at the sound of Kienna’s voice as she continued. “You don’t want to do this. There are innocent people in here! Children!”

Children’s cries blared in Baila’s ears. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be. Baila didn’t anticipate the thought of babies. Little girls with bows in their hair. Small boys holding teddy bears. Would Baila be forced to raise an army of dead children, too?

“Stop,” Baila whispered faintly. The words left her lips, disappearing behind the snarls of Vorthakai. She turned to them, her eyes growing wide. Perhaps she could pull Kienna on her own. Moira would go if she knew it meant saving the innocent people in there. For once, Baila feared she was in over her head. “Pull back.”

The Umbrin stepped forward past the Vorthakai. Their eyes stared at her with an emptiness of deep onyx. They did not respond to her command, only pulled their weapon and prepared to push through the door. The beasts behind them growled in agreement. There was no stopping them now that the scent was caught.

Baila held out her blade. One of the Umbrin tilted his head, staring at it with indifference. If she were on the other side, in the same place, she would have laughed. There was nothing she could do to these creatures aside from chop their heads off, but then she’d be fighting the swarm of Vorthakai and the other Umbrin waiting behind them. Her heart raced furiously in her chest.

“Ah, fuck it,” she growled, turning to the door once more. Baila tried to care. She would pay for this substantially if she didn’t fix it… All she could do was muster a groan before yelling out, “Have fun with my toys.”

—Kienna—

Baila’s curses echoed outside the door before disappearing. The growling took over.

“I never liked her,” Moira said menacingly.

Kienna pushed against the door as something else slammed into it. The subtle reminder of her shoulder’s previous dislocation radiated into her arm. “They didn’t give me a weapon.”

The people stirred, mutters and cries filling the room. Fear surfaced as strongly as the war above, children clinging to their mothers. No one in that room could defend themselves. Kienna’s gut wrenched into a thick knot.

“Help me,” she said, marching to the walls. She ripped at the boxes and barrels in front of the paths to the tunnels. They could get out if they hurried. “Moira, if I send you to lead the people out, would you be able to remember the way to the Lysiria?”

Moira scanned Kienna’s face, her brows furrowing as her eyes bounced back and forth along the hardened features. Her mouth parted, but a loud thud on the door sounded, and wood toppled onto the floor.

“Please,” Kienna begged. She turned to the room. “Everyone, Moira is going to take you to safety. Hurry through the tunnels. We don’t have much time.”

“You don’t have a weapon,” Moira reminded her.

She pushed Moira through the opening doorway before helping the elderly step through. They stole torches from the walls and rushed to escape. Kienna watched them go, but she feared they wouldn’t be fast enough to make it. She had to think quickly.

She scanned the room as the door of the barricade scooted open. Near the stacked supply crates in the far corner, something long and splintered caught her eye. A broken part of the barricade beam. It would have to do. Kienna sprinted toward it, flipping it over with a grunt. It was a jagged length of ironwood, dense and fibrous, and heavier than it looked. One end fractured into a crude spike, sharp enough to pierce if driven hard. She wrapped her sleeve around the shaft for grip, fashioning a hasty but vicious makeshift spear. Not ideal for her skillset, but she’d have to manage.

Kienna’s heart raced. A sound, like bone grinding against stone, echoed from the other side of the barricade, followed by a wet, gurgling click. The scent that followed was rot like burnt hair and spoiled meat. Her stomach turned.

A Vorthakai slipped into the room, contorting its body unnaturally to fit through the cracks. She could barely see it in the darkened room. Torchlight flickered but didn’t reflect off the slick, black hide of the beast. It was as if light disappeared into the body, absorbed into its hideous form. It moved with a twitching, predatory grace, like a centipede wrapped in sinew.

Kienna cast her mind up, though she knew Connak was busy. She had to try anyway.