Page 70 of Heart of the Raven Prince

I need higher ground. I need to keep running. I need to turn and fight.

One thought after another shoots through my mind like the arrows I let fly toward the wolves when they get close enough. I’m just pulling another arrow from my quiver when something massive slams into my back and sends me flying through the air. I cry out, slamming into a tree and falling to the ground. The arrows sail from my hand and my quiver, scattering across the clearing, but I keep my grip on my bow like my life depends on it. Because it does. A shadow crowds over me, and I roll swiftly, moving moments before a massive hoof slams down. Sitting bolt upright, I get my first look at the demon that is hunting me.

One red and one gold eye stare directly back at me. Its pupils pulsate from deep within the sockets of the deer skull. The demon is enormous, easily four times the size of the biggest war horse I have ever seen. Great, spindly antlers curl from its skull, guts and viscera dangling from their jagged ends. Its jaws are open wide in a perpetual cruel smile. The deer is made entirely of bone. There is no scrap of skin or muscle wrapped around its form. There is nothing for an arrow to sink into.

I’m breathing rapidly as the looming creature begins to lower its head. Its cracked and chipped skull is bigger than my entire body. A cackle fills my mind, mixing with the wailing howls from the wolves that are closing in. The blue flame inside of me is flickering as the three dire wolves creep closer, one limping from the arrow protruding from its shoulder. I grip that dwindling flame as I feel for the glowing red essence of these demons.

Scream for us, daughter of the sun. Cower before us and we may make your death quick.

Chaotic laughter echoes in my mind.

But we will not make it painless.

The deer opens its jaws wide, a decaying wind blowing over me from inside its maw. It leers at me with its two-toned eyes. The wolves close in, and the deer makes to strike, but pauses when I begin to chuckle. The sound starts soft and small, but then I am throwing my head back and letting the sound bleed into the woods.

She laughs. Her bow sits useless in her hands, and she laughs at us.

Gripping the blue flame tight, I leash it around the three creeping wolves who all go rigid at the contact. The words that ethereal creature in my dream whispered to me fill my mind.

Your prey may be bigger, but you are stronger. The road has always been dark, but that does not mean you cannot light the way.

Her words flood into me, and that ghost road—the one I have been walking for years—snaps into place in my mind. It shows me a readily lit path, one that leads directly to the minds of the wolves. The deer rears back, its glowing red and gold eyes burning bright as I say, “Go back to hell.”

As easy as drawing in a breath, I flow into the minds of the wolves and fill them with a single thought: Attack.

They snarl as they rush forward, their massive paws kicking up dirt as they leap off the ground and launch at the deer. Claws and teeth scramble for purchase over the spine and ribcage of the creature, snapping and biting and clambering. The deer screams, bucking its head, snapping at the wolves that climb over its bones. The demon slams into trees, sending branches raining to the ground in an attempt to dislodge the wolves. The voice of the creature roars in my mind, but I ignore it all as I swiftly stand.

There, on the other side of the clearing, is an arrow with golden ivy painted on the tip. I sprint toward it. A bony hoof slams in front of me, and I feint around it, nearly falling down but catching myself at the last moment. A wolf’s sharp cry is cut off with the crunching sound of breaking bone and moments later its lifeless body is sailing through the air and landing beside me. It’s missing half of its head.

The weeping eyes on the trees are trained on me as I rush to the arrow, not breaking my stride as I lean down and snatch it up. Thundering hooves shake the ground as the demon races toward me, the screaming battle cry of the creature splitting my mind nearly in two. I can feel blood dripping out of my ears from the force of the demon's feral scream. It almost sends me to my knees.

But I am not weak, so I do not fall.

Twisting, I pull back the string and take aim. That creature made many mistakes. The first was hunting and taunting me when it could have easily killed me. It thought me so weak it could draw out the attack. The second was assuming because I was not armed, I was not lethal. The third and final, fatal mistake it made was staring me directly in the eyes. Otherwise, I would have never seen the shining golden apple hanging deep in the socket in its skull.

The deer rushes me, flinging off one wolf and sending it flying, while the other clings to its ribs. The arrow sings through the air, shooting clean through the back of its skull and taking the gilded apple with it. The glowing light in its hollow eyes fades. But it does not stop.

The staggering beast had been running at a breakneck speed, and even as the light dims in its eyes and it buckles under its bony limbs, it continues careening toward me. I jump out of the way, but I’m not quick enough, and a hoof cracks into my ribs and launches me into a tree.

Blinding pain erupts from my back and my skull as I smack into the bark, and I’m positive several of my ribs are broken. I force the feeling aside, narrowing my eyes only on the apple pierced on my arrow. It’s lodged directly in a tree, dripping golden nectar. I let out a grunt as I force myself to stand and rush to it. Every breath is agony, and my mind is beginning to grow foggy as my body tries to shut down. Gripping the arrow, I use what little strength I have left to yank it from the tree.

The demon may be defeated, but I still have to make it back through the portal. I turn, taking a single step and swaying until I fall to my knees. An angry sob escapes my mouth. I can’t give up. I can’t stop now. But I also cannot make myself stand. The disorientation from knocking my head against the tree worsens as I keep trying and failing to get up. I can almost hear the court jeering as I struggle under my own weight, the arrow holding the gilded apple gripped tight in my hand. One thought sings out in my mind, calling loud and clear:

I am not weak.

The demonic deer may be dead, but two dire wolves are still very much alive. Their eyes burn a bright acid blue as they pad toward me. Guiding that blue fire, I draw the biggest of the wolves to me. It kneels, staying perfectly still as I grab a fistful of its fur and begin to drag myself on top of its back. I don’t bother stifling my screams as I throw my leg around the back of the wolf, pain splintering in my mind when it stands. Taking as deep of a breath as my broken ribs will allow, I grip the wolf’s fur and hiss out one ragged word.

“Run.”

Then we are flying through the woods.

Bleeding red eyes whip by me as it rushes us through the forest, dodging trees and bounding over large rocks. Tears stream from my face as my mind is filled with nothing but the creeping dread that the portal is already closed. We leave a gilded trail of nectar from the dripping apple, the only bright spot in this world of darkness. My vision tunnels, gray walls beginning to close in, and even my blind determination cannot keep my mind from moving toward unconsciousness.

Then I see it, a bright red rift in the world. One that is slowly dwindling, stitching back together. Crying against the agony, I force all my remaining energy into pushing the dire wolf harder, pouring everything I have into the power that is fueling the beast. The wolf leaps into the air, and we go sailing through the rift. The very moment we pass through, the beast turns into red mist. I tumble to the ground, rolling as I am sent flying over the polished floor. Sliding several feet, I stop when I smack into a stone column.

I don’t scream. I don’t have the energy to.

Silence greets me, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve lost the ability to hear. Then slow, soft footsteps creep toward me. They echo around the courtroom until the visage of the queen comes into view before me. I’m sucking in shallow breaths, agony coursing over every inch of my skin, but I force myself to hold her ruby gaze as I finally release my grip on the arrow. It rolls from my hand, tumbling across the floor and bumping into her pristine white slippers. She dips her eyes, regarding the golden fruit. Her face is an unreadable mask, growing foggier as darkness reaches up to claim me.