Page 8 of A Thief Among Fae

“We shouldn’t be here,” Evie says in one frantic breath. “We need to go, now!”

A slab bursts into rubble, smashed from the inside. Bony hands reach through the dark gap, and a draugr emerges. Evie shrieks.

Rotted flesh clings to its skeletal face. Chainmail armor hangs from its limbs, and its milky white eyes search the room for us. The fetid stench turns my stomach, and bile rises in my throat.

I fling my dagger at its neck. My aim is off. The draugr catches the blade between the bones of its hand. It studies the dagger with slow curiosity, as if trying to remember what it is. Panic squeezes my heart, so I squeeze it back. The terror locking my limbs gives way to an exhilarating burst of energy.

I smile. The God of Death is not reaping our souls today.

“Evie, use the water to separate yourself from that thing and me.”

“But—”

“Now!” I square my feet to charge, hoping she’ll listen. But the draugr clenches my dagger, opens his mouth of decaying teeth, and screams.

Ice crackles across the wall of water. Evie grunts as she tries to stop it, but her Gift only lets her move water, not control its form. The chamber grows cold. I don’t dare turn away from the draugr, but I hear Evie banging her fists against the ice. We’re trapped.

I don’t understand. Draugr aren’t supposed to keep their Gifts after death. Not unless the rumor is true that some are more powerful than even the necromancer who made them—a draugr wight.

Magic prickles my body as I hurl the chest at him, crushing him against the alcoves. I risk searching my pack, each precarious second hitching my breath. Where’s my flint and steel? The gemstones cut against my hand as I search. Time. Not enough time.

I throw my pack at Evie. “Find my flint and steel!”

“That tiny lantern can’t burn through ice!” she cries out, her voice so high it’s a screech.

“Fire kills draugr!”

The draugr throws the dagger, and I’m too distracted to dodge. The blade sinks into my shoulder, red-hot pain screaming through my body. I grit my teeth as I pull it free. I can’t spare a weapon. Blood seeps into my tunic. Don’t look at the wound. Don’t pause to bandage it.

The draugr’s teeth clack in a smile. It throws the chest across the chamber, where it splinters. Then it cocks its head and watches me with its necrotic milky eyes.

I have to burn it or cut its head off. Before our lungs tighten from the frigid air. Before the draugr can devour us alive.

I slip my daggers into my thigh sheaths. My wound throbs as I unsheathe my sword from the scabbard strapped to my back. The village guards drilled the basics into me, but I’m still lousy with it. Cold seeps into my feet as I shift my weight, waiting for the right moment.

The draugr lunges into an alcove and pulls out an axe. Definitely not how I want this fight to go.

“Cynthia!” Evie shouts. “Kill it!”

“I’m working on it!” I charge and slash its left arm until there’s a satisfying crack of bone. With one arm maimed, the draugr’s clumsy swing misses my head, but I feel the air whoosh past my ear. My heart thunders. A better plan hatches in my mind. I need that axe.

I sheathe my sword and retreat, looking back once to make sure Evie is behind me. Then I throw a dagger, striking its eye socket by mistake. No good. Nothing matters if I don’t sever its neck.

Enraged, the draugr stomps and roars. The chamber shakes, stones crumbling, and ice cracking.

I lunge as rock falls from the ceiling. A cave-in was not what I wanted—as if drowning wasn’t bad enough. Yet I’m invigorated as adrenaline surges through me. Even with my odds of survival lessening, I don’t feel more afraid. I feel alive.

Magic hums through my body as my gaze connects with the debris from the fight. It gives me an idea, and I stretch my mind to raise all the rubble. Rock and wood float around me. Evie gasps. I pelt the draugr with a mighty barrage, pinning it against the alcoves. Then I run to it and try to pull its axe from its grip.

It refuses to let go.

“Give up!” I scream at it.

Evie throws a rock at the draugr’s head, stunning it just long enough for me to wrench the axe away. I race to the wall of ice and hack. The force vibrates from the axehead to my shoulders with unforgiving pain. But I hack again, and again. Evie shouts as the draugr stalks toward me. The ice chips, then splinters into a web of cracks. I swing again, frigid water rushing from the widening fissure.

The draugr wraps its hand around my neck and squeezes.

“Evie!” I rasp as pain crushes my throat. The water roars against the draugr and me, shoving us back. I can’t inhale before the wave swallows us whole.