AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We can ride back to the keep after this rest if you need to,” Mak said.
“You needn’t fuss over me so. I can make it another hour, certainly.” But she couldn’t deny that when Lio seated her at the base of one of the willows, she was quite glad to be still for a moment.
She tried not to begrudge her mortal body the respite. She had pushed it through murder holes, bled it into Hesperine spells, and dragged it across the Maaqul. And presently, it was her link to her mother’s magic.
When all of this was over, she would reward her weary body with the Gift.
She leaned her head back against the willow’s trunk. But she didn’t close her eyes. She contemplated her Grace, puzzling over his facade of confidence. He seemed…disappointed, somehow.
Regret drained away what little energy she had regained. He was disappointed in their progress, surely. Disappointed in how long it would take them to find her magic, so he could finally transform her.
“Lio—” she began.
She had no chance to finish. She saw the threat too late to move. She could only sit there and realize that an arrow was flying her way, and it was going to strike her.
THE KNIFE
Lio hurled a levitation spell at the arrow, ready to fire a volley of mind magic at the archer.
But the arrow did not stray from its path.
The horror of that realization cost him a precious instant. Then he lunged for Cassia at Hesperine speed and carried her down to the ground, covering her with his body. He braced himself for the impact of the arrow. But what if it went through him?
No pain came. He lifted his head. The arrow was an inch from his eye, grasped in Mak’s fist.
Lio didn’t move, holding Cassia’s trembling form under him. He felt her heart pounding. Who had dared shoot at his Grace? Who had dared make her pulse race with fear?
Lio held back the instinctive blast of thelemancy straining to escape him. If he waved a flag at the Collector, nothing good would come of it. Lio had learned that lesson, and it had cost Hamon’s life.
Forcing himself to focus, Lio structured his power into a veiled seeking spell. He swept the concealed magical probe through the trees.
Mak and Lyros’s wards were everywhere. The air rippled with the fire spells Solia held at the ready. But Lio sensed no unfamiliar auras in the direction the arrow had come.
Knight circled the copse, his nose to the ground. At the base of one willow, he let out a howl. Sinking back on his haunches, he made a mighty leap, snapping his jaws at a branch above. Not quite high enough. He landed again with a snarl.
Tilili shimmied up the tree, Kella clinging nimbly to her back all the way. Lio heard a hiss and the sound of claws rending fabric and flesh. Then a body fell from the branch and hit the ground hard.
Solia stood over the man, her sword drawn. Kella and Tilili dropped to join her without a sound, the cat poised to pounce on her prey again. His legs were a mess of claw marks. He should be alive, but unable to run anywhere.
He stirred. The emptiness inside the moving body disoriented Lio. He couldn’t sense the man’s mind. Couldn’t hear his heartbeat. His wounds weren’t bleeding.
Lio’s stomach turned over, and he swallowed hard.
“Lio, let me up.” Cassia pushed against him. “I need to see what’s happening.”
“We’re not sure it’s the only one.” Lio said.
“It?” Cassia echoed.
“It’s bloodless. Undead.” Lio was looking at the first reanimated corpse he had ever encountered outside of a tale.
The creature who had once been a person suddenly slid to its feet with uncanny coordination, its joints bending at impossible angles. Oblivious to the painful wounds on its legs, it sprinted away.
Solia’s sword flashed, missing the bloodless by a hair. Tilili bounded after it, but Mak and Lyros were faster still, a blur even to Lio’s eyes. Bones cracked. Flesh tore. It had never occurred to Lio what a beheading sounded like in reality to sensitive Hesperine ears.
When Mak and Lyros were still, Lio made himself look at the results of their work. Lyros had its body on the ground, controlling its struggling limbs with a complicated grip. Mak held the creature’s detached head.
It blinked, scanning its surroundings, then met Lio’s gaze. Not with the hollow eyes he expected. It looked at him with cunning perception. This was no clumsy minion, but the carefully crafted tool of a master necromancer.
