I can’t breathe. My body shakes, and I start to panic as my vision blurs.
“Let her go!” Meredy shrieks, jabbing my sword into the fleshiest part of the monster’s rotting arm, looking pale but not the least bit afraid despite the flames licking at her feet and the shimmering curtain of smoke filling the wagon.
The Shade’s howl deafens me as it drops me. I push myself upright in time to see Lysander attack the monster from behind in a fury of claws and teeth.
Quickly, I scan the mess of glass and tar-like potion burning on the wagon floor. All the vials are shattered, but we can still stop this Shade. I’ve pushed one into a bonfire before, which means I can do it again—this time, with the aid of bigger, rapidly spreading flames.
“Cymbre?” I shout over the monster’s screeches and Lysander’s roars. “Cymbre!”
There’s no answer. She must be hurt somewhere, at the mercy of the monster and the blaze. Before I deal with the Shade, I need to get her away from the fire.
Meredy and I jump from the burning wagon together, our boots crunching as they touch down on the rocky mountainside. She offers me my sword, and I give her a nod of thanks.
“You have to run. Find a cave or somewhere you can hide, just in case...” My words are lost to a fit of coughing.
“What about you?” she demands, eyes narrowed against the smoke. “It’s my job to protect you, remember?”
“I have to find Cymbre. Then I’m going to stop this Shade.”
“Odessa—”
A burst of noise from the wagon cuts her off as the last of its canvas top collapses, sending up a shower of sparks that fleck our hair and arms, sharp as bee stings.
“There’s no time to argue,” I growl, edging farther away from the blaze. “Just go!”
Meredy calls out to Lysander—who’s still in battle from the sound of things—as I dash to the front of the wagon, sweat already beading on my brow. The horses have fled, their tethers torn and trampled. Master Cymbre slumps across the driver’s seat, firelight dancing along a deep gash down the side of her face.
At least her pulse is still strong.
“Master Cymbre.” I gently shake her shoulders. “You have to hide. Our potions are gone, and I’ve got one nasty Shade to shove into a fire.” I shake her harder, and when that does nothing, I realizeI’m going to have to carry her out of harm’s way. I hang my sword at my side and slide my hands carefully under Cymbre’s back.
With any luck, Lysander will force the Shade into the flames while I’m struggling to lift a woman who weighs more than me.
But the Shade must have tired of the bear—or worse. The monster plucks me off the ground, forcing me to drop Master Cymbre. An arm, skeletal but strong, snaps off my belt as I reach for my sword, then lifts me toward its mouth as it unhinges its jaw. Even with my heart sticking in my throat, I manage to kick the Shade in the spot where its eye should be, hoping to make it stagger backward toward the fire. But all my kick does is make the monster gnash its teeth in what appears to be excitement.
Icy breath blasts against my legs.
The last time I came face to face with a Shade, I remember my blood spilling out like buckets of paint. I remember that, after the initial gut-wrenching agony, I didn’t feel much at all. Only this time, there’s no Danial to heal my wounds.
The first scream tears from my throat as the Shade sinks its teeth into my leg.
And drops me with a piercing wail.
I land facedown, spitting out a mouthful of dirt and fallen leaves. I guess I taste worse than I look. As I scramble away from the monster, dragging myself toward my blade along the rocky ground by my elbows, a bright-orange glow washes over me.
The Shade claws at itself, tugging on a burning arrow lodged in the softest part of its chest. But it’s too late. It’s already engulfed in flames.
Several paces back from the wagon, looking immensely pleased with herself, is Meredy. She drops her bow at Lysander’s feet and rushes to my side. “You’re lucky I had Lysander carrying my things instead of storing them in the wagon. Are you hurt?”
“No. Not bad, anyway.” But my head spins when I touch my aching lower leg, and my hand comes away slick with blood. “Check on Master Cymbre.”
Frowning, Meredy hurries to where Cymbre fell. I catch my breath, watching the Shade melt into ash.
There’s something odd about the way it appeared on this particular mountain, when there are dozens of trails like this one leading into Elsinor, and the only people who know our chosen path to Abethell Castle are back in Grenwyr.
It’s as if the monster knew exactly where we’d be tonight.
I peer into the shadowy forest surrounding the wagon trail. But other than the lonely call of an owl, I don’t see or hear anything. There’s no sign of Vane or anyone else.
