Fear pounds like a drum in my chest. Taliesin is a formidable fighter, that much is clear, but the rogues keep coming, crowding into the chamber. He can’t face this many alone, and my dagger is still lodged in that other man’s skull. My power is useless here, but even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t kill this many by touch alone.
We’re doomed.
Taliesin steps back, pulling me with him, dragging me toward that empty depression we found. I expect the rogues to follow. We’ll be trapped with our backs literally against the wall, surrounded on all sides by the enemy.
But they don’t come.
Instead, they hurl themselves at the sarcophagus with a furious intensity. They strike it with their swords, they circle it, they scream at it. Likeit’sthe enemy and not us.
Taliesin pushes me behind him, then leans close, his lips brushing my ear. His breath is hot on my skin, sending a shiver through me.
“Stay close and hold on to my shirt,” he murmurs. “I’ll hack a path out of here.”
Tears of fear and frustration burn my eyes as I nod. I feel helpless,useless, like the damsel in distress I swore I wasn’t. Without my magic, I don’t know how to protect myself. And suddenly I understand how much I’ve relied on its presence, even when I’ve refused to wield it. I’ve called it as a curse, the thing that makes me the monster everyone fears, but maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s my strength.
Or it could be, if only it didn’t carve holes into my mind.
I hold tight to Taliesin’s shirt as we inch toward the passageway. The rogues are utterly consumed by the sarcophagus. They hack and claw at the stone, sending shards and dust raining onto the floor below. We skirt the edge of their screaming frenzy, and it gives me a chance to get a better look at them.
Their eyes are wrong. Where the earlier glaze unsettled me, this is something else entirely. It makes my bones go liquid, like I’m staring into the face of something no one should ever have to see. They barely register our presence. It’s like something beyond them has taken hold, an unseen force driving them into a mindless rage.
They’re not here for us. Not this time, at least. They came for this tomb and whatever was inside it. For the dead god once housed here…if he’s truly dead at all.
At last, we reach the passageway. Gray light from the outside slants through the exit. We’re so close…only steps away now. I start to release Taliesin’s tunic just as a rogue suddenly appears ahead, squeezing through the slit in the wall and charging toward us.
Taliesin grunts and shifts sideways, pinning me between his body and the wall. The rogue closes the distance with spittle flying from his open mouth. Taliesin swings his sword. I expect the rogue to defend, to raise his own weapon to block, but he seems oblivious to the threat. The blade makes contact with his throat, cleaving his head from his shoulders.
Roars of anger echo through the chamber behind us. My stomach drops. We’ve caught their attention again.
Taliesin takes off down the tunnel, and I clutch his tunic, holding on for dear life. My heartbeat is so loud I can hear nothing else. Our boots skid across the stone when we reach the exit. Taliesin shoves me through first, then slides through just behind me.
The dull evening light is nearly blinding. I blink once, then twice, before I understand why it looks like the trees are moving. The clearing is full of rogues. Nearly a hundred of them, all moving toward us, eyes vacant, steps sluggish, like they’re being called forth by something beyond their control.
All my breath seems to stall in my lungs.
“They’re not here for us,” Taliesin murmurs.
Clearly not. But they don’t want us here, either. And if we stand in their way, they’ll happily finish what they started at the cliffs.
I look around us, searching for a solution. We can’t retreat into the tomb, but the path into the forest is no better. Too many block the way, and even now, more appear, emerging from the trees like phantoms. Most fix their eyes on the tomb, but a fewstare at us instead, their hands twitching around the hilts of their swords.
“We need to get out of sight,” I whisper, too afraid to speak louder.
He nods. “Around the back of the tomb. We can wait them out, then take the path once it’s clear.”
I don’t like it, but I can’t see a better choice. If we trek through the forest off the path, we’re as likely to get lost as we are to stumble into another pack of rogues. And this time, the sarcophagus won’t be near enough to distract them.
Besides, I don’t much mind the idea of sitting for a moment, of catching my breath. My face still stings, and I can feel dried blood crusting on my skin. More must have leaked out after Taliesin wiped my lips.
At the memory of his touch, my chest flares with heat.
Taliesin Wynn is nothing like I expected him to be. Well, no, that’s wrong. Heis,in so many ways. There’s a hard edge to him, a deadly aura that radiates from his every move. And he’s every bit as capable of destruction as the Order has always claimed. But he is far more than that, too. He’s protective, thoughtful…maybe even kind. If I were to ever draw him, I would not render him in black and white, but in vast shades of gray.
We skirt the edge of the tomb, and the rogues vanish behind us. Dense trees crowd close. Some bend toward the onyx, growing up against its side, like they’re as drawn to the magic as the rogues are. Still, the grass beneath is brittle and black, just like out in front. Life and death seem to be in a constant battle for dominance here. I don’t know what that means. I’m not sure I want to.
A few paces beneath the canopy, I spot a fallen log and motion for Taliesin to follow.
Once we’ve crunched through the leaves, I settle onto the rotted wood. Taliesin drops his pack and immediately takes myface in his hands. He leans in, examining me closely. His thumb brushes my lip again, and I shiver despite myself.
