No, this warm, dry wind gusted in from the west, feathering across Lara’s skin as if she were pushing through old cobwebs. Usually, the winds brought the smell of the mountains or sea with them, yet this one had an unsettling odor. Musk and mildew. Uneasiness tightened deep in Lara’s chest as she raised her gaze to the sky, cloudless and pale pink.
But when voices reached her, tangling and overlapping as if each strove to talk over the last, her pulse lurched into a canter.
She cut her gaze right to where Bree rode. Her friend frowned as she looked up at the sky.
“It’s The Gaulas, isn’t it?” Lara asked.
Bree’s lips compressed. “Aye.”
“It sometimes blows in the far north,” Cailean added then, “especially around Gateway.”
“But we aren’t yetinthe far north,” Lara reminded him.
She’d grown up listening to chilling tales of The Gaulas. It sprang from The Threshold and carried the voices of those banished there. The damned souls of the Slew—traitors, kin slayers, oath breakers—didn’t merely whisper. They infected. Their words burrowed under your skin like splinters.
The first gust hit her in the center of the chest, and then the voices began.
This mission is doomed. None of you are prepared for what waits for you at The Shattered Crown … not even Mor.
Her lungs seized. The air turned thick. It wasn’t like on the Slighe Fraoch. The Gaulas didn’t risk crippling her. Instead, it undermined her confidence. It made her doubt her choices. It knew exactly how to strike the soft places where doubt already lived.
You can’t trust any of them. Not Mor. And certainly not that traitorous bastard you married.
Sooner or later, they’ll both turn on you.
You’ll fail your people.
Albia will slip into darkness, and history will blame you.
Lara’s belly started to ache.TheGods spare me. With spirits like these on the wind, who needed enemies? The Gaulas was exhausting. Relentless.
The wind shrieked past her ears, but beneath it—woven through it—she could feelthem. Not voices exactly, but presences. Thousands of them, pressing close, their hatred and despair lashing her.
Lara started to sweat. It didn’t help that she was exhausted. All of them were after a sleepless night. However, in the wake of wielding her fire magic to gain the assistance of the corpse candles, her limbs were leaden and weak.
And underneath it all, a dull dread gnawed at her.
What if something was terribly wrong with her?
What if she failed those she’d sworn to protect?
Her gaze slid ahead to where Mor rode upon her elk. Dorka was giving her trouble this afternoon. She twisted against her chain, snarling and spitting. Mor’s long curly black hair flew around her as she fought to control the clag-doo. Her face was set in grim, tight lines.
Aye, The Gaulas had dug its hooks into her too.
“I shall sing something to take the edge off once we make camp.” Lara dragged her attention from Mor to see Ren urge her sturdy garron alongside Bracken. The bard’s eyes were hollowed.
Lara nodded, relieved. Ren’s songs had helped against the likes of the Weeper. Hopefully, she’d provide a barrier against this foul wind too. “Aye … do that.”
Sinking down before the crackling hearth, Lara heaved a deep sigh. “Thank The Mother.”
They’d traveled for as long as they dared before stopping for the day on the eastern side of a steep hill that provided some shelter from the wind. It wasn’t yet dusk, but since everyone was tired and hungry, they’d ended their day early. Two of the Sheehad gone hunting, and as Roth dragged branches of dusty whin onto the fire, they returned with five large hares and two fat red grouse.
They’d eaten all the food they’d brought with them, and resupplying at Dulross had turned out to be impossible. From this point onward, unless they stopped at a village, they’d be hunting and foraging for each meal. Thirst wasn’t an issue though. They filled their waterskins from burns on the way; the Shee knew which ones were safe to drink from, as did Cailean, Bree, and Alar, who’d all traveled The Uplands extensively.
Looking on as the Shee gutted and skinned the hares and plucked the grouse, their long slender fingers moving with deft precision, Lara reflected on just how vulnerable she was out here in the wilds. Aye, she’d shown her mettle over the past years, but the truth was that she’d never had to hunt for her own food. She’d never gutted a hare, let alone spit-roasted one. She’d grown up in an environment where others rushed to do her bidding.
They’ll all abandon you.The Gaulas’s cruel refrain was back.They’ll leave you to fend for yourself. Turn back now!
