Two more grimlocks carried Bes—kicking and screaming—too high for us to reach her, too fast for us to follow.
“After them!” I called, tearing off toward Wyken Woods.
Bezaliel fell in beside me as did the rest of my warriors, all of us charging at full speed after the monsters who’d stolen two of our children. One of them was the sweet infant of my dearest friend.
The air in Wyken Woods was oppressive, the bare trees with bony, craggy branches standing like sentinels to the underworld. This forest wasn’t dead, for the trees were tall and strong, even if they bore no leaves. But never had we caught game here for our winter meals. As if woodland creatures sensed there was something wrong in the atmosphere, something unwelcoming.
“This way!” yelled Brohm, bending close to the ground, examining a knotty root jutting across the path.
As I passed, I noticed a drop of bright blue blood on the bark, the smell of Bes on the wind. She had been injured when they took her. My gut clenched. Two of the most vulnerable members of the clan had been taken, one of them wounded.
We hurdled on, the woods darkening the farther we went. We only ever came here for kindling, and we never ventured too deep into these woods. The trees’ spindly, naked branches reached up, tangling with their brethren overhead, creating a lattice of interlaced fingers. I never sensed dryads or naiads or sprites, not any of faekind, living here. It was a barren place that we avoided.
A baby’s cry echoed in the distance.
“Saralyn,” groaned Bezaliel, chasing in the direction of the sound.
We followed, helplessly. The next time we heard her cry, it was much farther away. Still, we ran on, going deeper into Wyken Woods than we had ever been, the coldness of this place seeping into my bones.
We ran until the gray sky peeking through the trees turned dark. Until we were all exhausted from our fruitless chase, the moon beaming through the branches above us.
Fungus grew along the base of some of the trees this deep in the forest, the snow piled in sparse patches against the knotted roots. We came to a clearing and Bezaliel stopped, as did I. The others circled around us. We all stopped and listened. I inhaled deep, seeking our enemy. The grimlock scent was faint. A hard gust of wind rattled the branches above us like bones in a mass grave.
“She’s gone.” Bezaliel’s voice broke with agony. “My child.” He thrust his hands into his hair and roared up at the half-moon peeking through the canopy of bare branches, as if it was watching our helpless despair.
I remained still, smelling the air, trying to find a trace of them. This time, even the scent of the grimlocks was gone. There was no sound of a baby’s cry or Bes’s whimpers on the wind.
Meeting my friend at the center of the clearing, I put a hand on his shoulder. “We must go back.”
“No! We can find her. Wemustfind her.” He shook his head, agony in his eyes. “I can’t go back to Tessa without her.”
I hauled him to face me, both my hands on his shoulders, holding his terrified gaze which made my gut clench. “This isblackmagick. We need help. We are no match for this without those who wield magick also.”
It galled me to admit it, but there was one thing we could not fight alone. And that was this sorcerer who wielded the grimlocks with his magick.
“I can’t leave her,” he choked out, swallowing hard against the pain building inside him.
My heart ached at the grief and anger tearing him apart.
“We aren’t leaving her,” I assured him, mustering all the confidence that I could. “We will find someone to help us bring her back.” I shook him to make him look at me again, his gaze wandering toward the darkness beyond my shoulder. “Then we will kill them all.”
“Tessa,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “She won’t survive this.”
“She is a strong woman. You know this.” I squeezed his shoulders to get his attention, despair engulfing him. “Let’s return to them. We’ll get the help we need and hunt them down when we have it.”
He wrenched free of me and roared to the skies. “I will find you!” His voice was malevolent. “I will kill you all!”
His rage echoed through the woods. But no answer echoed back to us. Nothing but silence and the wind.
He fell to his knees, finally giving into his fear and grief. When his shoulders shook, I strode to him and pulled my chief to his feet.
“Donotdespair,” I commanded him in my kingly voice. “This isn’t the end. We must go to Tessa. It’s time for action.”
He swiped his arm over his eyes, his face set in tight, grim lines. “You’re right. We need a plan.”
The other warriors remained silent, knowing there was nothing they could say to ease Bezaliel’s pain. They simply corralled closer in silent support.
Finally, we raced back home—empty-handed.
