They continued on for a while, until Dess halted. “Look.” The tunnel brightened ahead, a strange, cold green at odds with the warmth of their torch. “Witchlight.” He doused their flame, and the tunnel dimmed, but with the witchlight emanating off glittering specks in the walls, they could still see.
At some point, the blood disappeared. It was either very good news or very bad news, Oskaren’s wound having clotted or bled out. They could only guess the route now and aimed for further in and further down whenever a fork was presented.
Then Dess put a hand on Thia’s arm. “Hear that?”
She stopped, forcing her lungs to calm. A faint clanging sounded in the distance.
Dess put the torch down to free his hands, drawing a sword in each. Thia slid her dagger free, heart thumping as the metal hissed against its leather sheath. They strode forward as cautiously as they could, a difficult feat on uneven ground. The tunnel ahead dipped and widened, opening to a large cavern. They paused at the entrance, peering around the edge.
They were in the center of a hollow mountain, no ceiling in sight, only a small sliver of sky far, far above. In the middle of the cavern, Oskaren was tied to a pole, chains binding her wrists and ankles. Xercae was nowhere to be seen, but there were a number of large boulders that could have blocked her from view.
With a glance at Dess, Thia stepped into the chamber. She resisted the urge to call out to Oskaren, the slump of the girl’s chin telling Thia she was still unconscious. Beside her, Dess shifted his hands around his swords, preparing for the worst.
Xercae emerged from behind a boulder. She wore the same black cloak as the last time they had seen her, but there was a hole in it where Dess had stabbed her. The wound still wasn’t healed; it oozed a strange greenish-black sludge that dampened the front of her shapeless dress.
Her cracked lips spread wide as she took them in, revealing her yellowed fangs. She dropped her hood, expression hungry. “Storm Crow,” the witch said. “The queen told me you’d be coming.”
FORTY-THREE
“THE QUEEN?” THIA ASKED,FROWNING. SHE GLANCED AT THE BOULDERclosest to her, thinking she’d have less than a second to make it there if the witch decided to hurl fire their way. She didn’t understand why the queen would be on speaking terms with Xercae when her own husband had sent them to kill her.
To her left, Dess began creeping sideways, edging away from her. Sensing his intent, she walked to the right, clambering to keep the witch’s attention.
“Let Oskaren go.” Her knuckles were white around the hilt of her knife, which she brandished toward the witch, arm shaking. “I’m the one you want.”
“I will have you bothhhh,” Xercae snarled, drawing out the syllables in her strange, serpent-like caress. “Her for my meal, you for eternityyy.” She raised her arms, the folds of her cloak slipping back to reveal gray, crusty arms.
Thia threw herself to the floor. Heat blazed across her neck as a fireball soared just over her head. Out of the corner of her eye, Dess’s boots disappeared behind a boulder. Good.
She sprang to her feet as another fireball crashed where she’d just been lying, and sprinted for Xercae. The witch’s poisonous eyes widened as she saw Thia’s purpose, but too late, Thia ducked under her outstretched arm and drove upward with her knife.Slash, don’t stab, came Oskaren’s voice in her head, so she slashed with all her might at Xercae’s throat.
Xercae screamed as the knife bit into her flesh. Black blood splattered Thia in the face, but she could already tell the angle was wrong, and she’d missed the witch’s artery. Boney hands clamped around her throat, hoisting her off her feet so that she was dangling, choking, as the witch crushed the life out of her. “You will payyy for that,” Xercae promised.
Thia tore at the hands around her neck, lungs burning. The witch was strong, far stronger than Oskaren or Dess in practice. Xercae lowered her to the ground, pulling her tight against her chest and opening her mouth to welcome Thia’s neck. Thia twisted, struggling to get her arm free as Oskaren had taught her.
She couldn’t reach. Dry lips mouthed her skin. With her head tilted to the side, all Thia could see was the witch’s thigh, braced against a rock to hold her in place.
A thigh that was human-shaped. Which meant it might have that same femoral artery. Which meant that if Thia cut just right, she could cause the witch to bleed out in less than three minutes.
Because she was a witch, it wouldn’t kill her. But Thia had to try. She stopped struggling, and Xercae lifted her closer, which gave Thia just enough room to slice downward. Her blade cut through the dense fabric of the witch’s robe, through skin, through flesh, and black blood spurted like a fountain.
Xercae let out a shriek and dropped Thia, who hit the floor with a clack as her elbow slammed into stone. She cursed, scrambling to her feet, and only just found her balance when a gust of wind backhanded her across the face, sending her crashing to the floor again.
The sound of metal scrapping stone echoed in the chamber; Xercae ignored Thia for a moment and spun toward the sound, hissing angrily as she saw Dess trying to pick the lock of Oskaren’s chains. She hurled her hands out, and Dess went flying, smashing into a boulder with a sickening crunch. He slid to the ground, unmoving.
No.
Xercae prowled toward Dess, death in her cold features. Her leg was already clotting, but she limped heavily. Thia pushed herself upright, bleeding from a dozen scrapes of her own, and raised her blood-soaked knife again.
“Hey!” she yelled. When the witch ignored her, she flung it with all her strength. She’d never quite managed to stick the blade in the tree, and it was no different now. But as the hilt bounced harmlessly against the witch’s wisps of white hair, Thia at least managed to get her attention.
“You want your vengeance, don’t you?” Thia taunted. She scrambled to pluck a second knife from her belt and held it to her wrist. “You want me for eternity?” She drew the blade across her skin, starting a cut that would kill her if she finished it. “Then stop me before I’m dead.” She sliced fully across her wrist, crying out at the sting. Blood sprung forth, red and heavy, running down her hand to drop onto the cold stone below.
Xercae snarled, striding with arms outstretched. The same glittering storm that had nearly cost Oskaren her leg appeared at the witch’s fingertips.
Thia fled.
FORTY-FOUR
