Caym drops down too, squatting on his heels and looking toward the thicket.
Leeson finally emerges from the trail.
“Thank the gods,” I utter as she witnesses the scene unfolding. It only takes a moment for her to spur her mare on, her blonde hair whipping behind her while she smacks the horse’s rear to urge her on.
I glance back to the village to see that it still is as vacant as it appeared when we first rounded the corner. Surely with all the commotion from The Devourer, they would have sent a sentinel or guard out to check on us.
Leeson’s mare stops with a slide, flinging mud onto my skirts and cloak.
Caym cuts in, offering a quick explanation, “I’m not sure what he’s on about,naymeih. I came around the trees to see him falling off Alora’s horse and next thing I know the bastard is down there acting as if he’s been possessed by the oracles themselves.”
She watches The Devourer claw at his throat, blood welling from where his nails have dug in, and quickly kneels beside me. Her face calms and she closes her eyes, the familiar feel of her magic weaving into the air. Her hands illuminate with soft golden light and she grabs our captive’s hand, her other free one set on top of mine, still clutching his face.
Her lips pull tight and head quirks.
“Hmm.” The soft murmur is all that can be heard in between the choked gasps from the man beneath our joined hands.
Her brows furrow together, confusion seeping into them as she slowly opens her eyes.
“He’s not physically wounded. I… I’m not sure what’s happening, Alora.”
My eyes focus on his, I can’t help but watch him struggle. The foreboding feeling slices into somethingmore.
I lift my gaze to Leeson, helplessness surging through my veins. She returns the look, pure uncertainty tainting her angelic face.
“Caym, do something.” Her voice breaks in panic. She’s been blessed to never witness suffering or anguish that she couldn’t mend. It’s something I’ve always been jealous of, but could never whisper out loud, even to the dark.
Caym leans forward, his disheveled hair falling over his eyes and he grabs The Devourer under his arms and heaves him upright. “It’s strange, his inked band. The shadows appear as nothing I’ve ever witnessed.”
Caym ever so slowly touches the inky patch with his forefinger, prodding it gently as if the shadows could latch onto a new host.
He inspects the shadows closer and whispers,“It looks as if it’s been born from the infernoes of Haldir.”
The Devourer seizes one final time and then falls limp, his dark tresses sticking to his clammy forehead. My skin burns with the heat that escapes from his body, and Leeson gently pulls her hand from mine. I slowly place my hands on each side of his face, not sure of what’s happened or if he’ll go into another fit, and straighten his lulling head.
“What cursed magic is this?” Caym looks from me to Leeson, wary to touch the man again, even though he’s toppled in his lap.
Caym’s expression hardens, his face worn with travel, as his skin flushes with the sudden exertion of energy.
The rain settles into the cold drizzle that’s plagued us the last few days. The chill starts to seep into my garments, freezing down into my marrow.
That’s one of the things about the Siltar Woods that makes it so treacherous, the sudden freezes that come with the phantoms. A bright burst of light falls from the sky, landing nearby and is followed by a big boom that reverberates in my chest. The strike, only a mere distance away from us, is more disquieting when we witness the fog begin to billow around where it hit.
“We need to move, now.” Caym pushes to his feet, hauling The Devourer up with him.
Leeson and I quickly bring the horses to the men, and with a shove, we’re able to get the mountain of a man on the saddle, belly down.
Whatever has happened to The Devourer has attracted the mean spirits and possiblyworse.We won’t stick around to be offered up as penance.
Caym grabs his horse by his reins and pulls him close enough to jump on before slapping Dahla’s rear, sending her in a run toward the village.
I grab Leeson and allow her the moments to settle in her saddle before I slide my foot in her stirrup and swing my leg up. She gives me the reins and I crack the leather on the horse.
Chancing a look back as Leeson’s mare jumps forward, I see it even more plainly. The dense fog eats up the path we came from, coupled with a sinister crackling of branches that freeze in the wake of the mist. I’ve never witnessed it move this fast, this ferociously. So eagerly. As if it was hunting prey.
“What the hells.” Leeson breathes the words out before kicking the beast beneath us harder, insisting the horse to move quicker.
I can’t help but watch Caym and The Devourer ride ahead of us, the foreboding feeling threatening to strangle me, reminding me of the moments after my neck was adorned with the noose.
