A patch of mist turned corporeal before his eyes, forming a towering figure with a semi-translucent battle axe. The wraith swung the weapon, but not at Teryn. He was facing away from him…toward Lieutenant Griff.
Teryn’s warning came too late, and the man took the axe in his shoulder. With a grunt, Griff staggered forward and whirled to face his opponent. Through the wraith’s body, Teryn saw the lieutenant’s eyes go wide, saw where his armor was rent open to reveal a seeping wound. The man’s arm hung useless at his side, but he kept the other hand wrapped tight around his sword. The wraith swung his axe again, but Teryn dove into action. His father’s sword cleaved through the specter, making it disappear into a puff of mist.
Lieutenant Griff met Teryn’s gaze with a haunted look, his face already pale from blood loss.
“It’s going to reanimate in a matter of seconds,” Teryn said. “Be ready—”
Griff charged to Teryn’s right and met the shaft of a spear that had been aiming for the flesh above Teryn’s breastplate. Teryn launched back. Griff’s sword knocked the spear away. Another swipe and the wraith was gone. At least the apparitions’ weapons could be parried like any other, and their bodies could be vanquished by the lightest interference. Teryn had witnessed that when Cora had shot them with her bow. Her arrow had soared straight through every wraith in its path and took them out with ease.
The problem was that they kept coming back.
The axe wraith reformed before Teryn’s eyes, staring down at him with two black hollows. Teryn cut through his middle before he could swing his axe, but the spear wraith was back now too. Teryn blocked his spear then swiped through his body. Turned, cut down another. Turned. Another.
They were everywhere.
Everywhere.
He turned again, watched Lieutenant Griff fall to the earth, his gut gaping open where the axe wraith had split his armor yet again. The next swing of the axe severed Griff’s head. Teryn’s stomach lurched. He stepped back, forcing himself to keep his nerve. Mist formed at his left but he cut it down before it could take a human shape. Another appeared on his right. Another straight ahead.
A flurry of wings stole past his vision, cutting through the bodies of the wraiths and sending them scattering into mist.Berol. She flew back up, her wings beating the air.
A specter holding a mace charged him. Again, Berol dove down. The wraith swung his mace. It nearly collided with her. She veered left at the last minute, missing the weapon’s spiked head by an inch.
She landed on Teryn’s shoulder and frantically nipped at his cheek. “Go!” Teryn shouted, waving her away. The mace wraith renewed his charge on Teryn. Berol launched off Teryn’s shoulder and flew at the apparition. This time, its mace connected with one of her wings. “Berol!” Teryn saw her fall to the ground just as he cut through the wraith. As soon as it disappeared, he turned toward the falcon. She rolled on the grass and righted herself, then flew back toward Teryn. Her feathers were bent at odd angles where the wraith had struck her, making her flight uneven. She flapped her wings in his face, ushering him back. His heart squeezed tight at the sight of those twisted feathers. “Get out of here, Berol. Home!Go home.” She beat her wings at him a few more times, but he gently shoved her away. “Go!” he shouted as fiercely as he could. “Go away!”
She launched back into the sky and circled overhead.
“Please.” The word was barely a whisper. With all his heart, he willed her away. Whether it was home, the woods, or some far off place, he didn’t care. He’d rather never see her again than watch her die protecting him.
Finally, she flew out of sight.
With a bone-deep weariness, Teryn returned to the fight.
He barely noticed when a small cavalry charge came from behind. Reinforcements had arrived but it still wasn’t enough. There were too many wraiths.
He swung his sword again and again, his arms aching with every slash. His father’s longsword was far heavier than the shortsword he’d brought on the Heart’s Hunt. Still, he fought on. The wraiths were relentless. A particularly skilled apparition pursued him, blocking every swipe and slash with his translucent sword. The sounds their two weapons made when they made contact was wrong. There was no clang of steel on steel, only a muffled crash. Sweat dripped into Teryn’s eyes. His muscles screamed with every move. He parried. Stepped back. Parried. Stepped back.
His next step landed on something hard. The body of another one of his soldiers, he realized with terror. He lurched back as the wraith swung his sword, sending him tripping over the man. The wraith took his chance to close in on Teryn. Teryn lifted his sword, but the wraith was faster, his weapon darting straight toward his throat.
The wraith froze and puffed into mist. Teryn scrambled to his feet and found a thin, twisted root where the specter had been. Not too far away he saw a woman with tan skin, dark hair, and inked forearms. His heart stuttered as his first thought was that the figure was Cora. But another look revealed this woman was much older. He glanced around the battlefield and noticed a few other similar figures, their tattooed palms raised as more roots rose from the earth, tearing wraiths in two, snuffing them out before they had the chance to fully form. He saw others with spears and bows, some in direct combat with Morkai’s soldiers.
Teryn wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Cora must have brought her people. Her coven. She might even be there herself. The prospect wasn’t entirely comforting, as he hated the thought of her being in harm’s way. Still, the odds were no longer so firmly against him, especially as an infantry charge stormed into the fray.
A wraith formed in front of him, and he cut it down, ignoring the scream of his muscles. Gritting his teeth, he turned his mind away from retreat. There was one person he needed to find.
One person to kill.
50
The air grew heavy with plumes of dirt, left in the wake of the Forest People’s manipulation of roots and vines. It was some of the most impressive feats of visible magic Cora had ever seen. She couldn’t gape for long, though. Not only was her vision growing increasingly obscured as she wove through the battlefield, but she had a job to do.
Salinda stayed at her side, fending off threats with her Magic of the Soil while Cora used her bow. They kept to the east side of the valley, where the field was devoid of wraiths. The specters remained to the west, the side closest to Menah’s and Selay’s camps, where very few of Morkai’s men kept up pursuit. It didn’t take long for Cora to learn why. The wraiths cut down anyone they came across, regardless of what side they served or what sigil was etched into their armor. She supposed that was the cost of employing the dead—beings whose bodies had been stripped from mind and spirit. Morkai had said they were the souls of warriors who’d served in a war long passed. They were living memories gifted with the power to kill, nothing more.
The ground rumbled beneath her feet. Cora and Salinda pulled up short as Valorre streamed past, the Roizan charging after. Cora had been too late to prevent Morkai from using his creature to summon the wraiths, but Valorre’s appearance on the field had been enough to get the Roizan away from Morkai shortly after. Valorre had then begun circling the perimeter of the field, drawing the Roizan up the hillside, between the trees, anywhere to keep him out of range from the duke. But whenever Valorre had tried to lead the creature too far, the Roizan would come barreling back, forcing Valorre onto the field to tempt the beast away again.
Cora coughed into her cloak as she and Salinda moved through a particularly dense cloud of dirt. She blinked the grit from her eyes once they were past it. They were nearing Centerpointe Rock. Through the haze, she saw half of it was framed by roots, as if one of the Forest People had tried to create a cage around it. Finally, Cora caught sight of Morkai. He was battling Roije. The tracker had a spear in one hand while his other palm was raised toward the earth. He sent root after root to harry the duke, but Morkai sliced through every vine that tried to wrap around his ankle, hacked through every root that shot toward his chest. Not only did Morkai have his long dagger—the one he’d had hidden in his cane—but he now held a broadsword as well. Salinda and Cora took off toward the fighting pair. Cora’s heart leapt into her throat when she passed a familiar body lying in the muddy grass.
Druchan.
