They moved, guiding the horses down the steep hill, angling toward the river. The witch had decided to make a break for Caetris. They’d need to cut her off before she reached the river.
Emrys’s men had already engaged the familiars. Those unnerving wails rose up, echoing on water and stone. The ground seemed to move as the witch’s power drew those large, flat-backed bugs to the surface. They smelled like rot as they were crushed beneath the horse’s hooves.
The sky darkened with clouds and flying things. Vultures, he thought, though they seemed uncommonly large. The animals in the mountains were already strange. It didn’t mean they were familiars. He kept an eye on them all the same.
The sounds of fighting came to him—shouts from the men, those unnerving wails from the familiars. Another flare indicated that the witch was moving south. They came to more open ground and spurred the horses to a run.
Within moments, he reached the first familiar. This one was smaller than some of the others he’d encountered. It still had a tuft of fur running along its spine. He saw the glint of yellow eyes before the shape separated itself from the darkness. He neatlydecapitated it as it lunged. Asher took the next with a bolt to the head.
They moved forward at a steady pace, caught between urgency and caution. He ran down the next familiar, disabled another with a slash across its torso, and then they’d reached Emrys’s men. There was a stretch of open land along the riverbank. A crumbled block of stone that looked to be an old bridge support. The river was narrow enough for a bridge here, though it would have been a big one.
Emrys stood near the stone structure, his men with him. For now they were gathered together as they fought off a swarm of familiars. It was likely a distraction as the witch was nowhere to be seen. He cocked and loaded his crossbow and hit one of the familiars at the rear of the group. He reloaded, all the while searching for the damn witch. It didn’t matter how many familiars they killed if the witch got away.
“There!” Asher shouted, pointing toward a copse of trees near the base of the hill leading up to the fort.
The shadows were deep and roiling. He didn’t see the witch, but he felt her. A dark pulse of power that echoed in his chest.
“Let’s go.”
He turned away from the attacking familiars. Emrys could hold his own for a while. He nudged Kenzi forward, keeping his eyes on that swirling darkness. Asher was beside him, still moving forward despite having been that thing’s captive for days. He hadn’t spoken about what the witch had done to him, but even just being in her nest would’ve been hell.
A familiar came out of the shadows and Asher loosed a bolt. It took it in the side of the skull, jerking its head around. The damn thing kept its feet. Casrian took aim as it swung back around to snarl at them. Fired. This time the bolt shot right into its eye socket. It still took two steps before it collapsed. There was another behind it. Asher shot this one while Casrianreloaded. They weren’t going to be able to fight through the familiars to the witch without help.
“Here,” he shouted. “She’s over here.”
He prayed he was right. They’d thought they had her cornered yesterday too.
Daris and Lew ran down the beach toward him. They must have climbed down from the far side of the fort. Neither had horses, which was less than ideal, but both were armed.
They started firing at the familiars as soon as they were in range.
Emrys and his men had killed most of the things attacking them at the bridge support and began to press forward. The slaughter took on a rhythmic quality. Aim. Shoot. Reload. Move. He dropped his crossbow when one of the familiars broke through and lunged at Asher. A line of fire sliced through his left arm before he took the thing’s head.
Emrys shouted orders behind him. Asher swore. At some point, the Cardis brothers had arrived, which he didn’t like. They were so young. Too young to be involved in a fight like this. He’d hoped they’d hang back to guard the wounded.
Blood ran down his arm from that slice to his biceps. He used his knees to guide his horse and slashed with his good arm, hacking at the things now as he cut his way to the witch.
He saw her then. The shadows peeled away from her as she sent them out to join the fight. They were like black snakes coiling through the men, grabbing hold of ankles and wrists and throats, pulling men off their horses and slamming them to the ground where the familiars waited.
The witch was a horror of ravaged beauty. Her eyes were like empty windows in a pale face, framed by long, dark hair. She hadn’t been possessed for long. Surprising, given her strength. But the flesh hadn’t yet begun to rot, though it was burned inplaces where muscle and bone showed through. Her gown hung around her in tatters.
He decapitated the next familiar that came at him and then he was through. The shadows shot toward him, but his blade, blessed by the Church, cut through the dark strands.
“Witch,” he snarled. “Do you repent?”
She didn’t get the whole speech, but he had to give her the chance. His blade was already rising before she laughed in his face.
As he slashed down, something grabbed hold of his ankle and jerked him hard to the right. He kept his seat in the saddle, but Kenzi swung around to adjust for the movement. He sliced through the shadow. It took him a second to regain control. By then the witch had darted forward. She clamped her hand on his thigh, her fingers digging right through his breeches. His arm on that side hung limp and unresponsive. He twisted his body to bring his sword up to his other shoulder.
She grinned at him as he slashed down across her neck.
“I see you, Casrian Dain,” she hissed even as the blade connected, sliding through flesh and bone, taking her head.
Her fingers were still in his flesh. A cold current passed from the spot, through his body. He kicked her free. Kenzi trampled her as he turned.
A wail went up from the familiars, but they were lost without the witch. Like the body of a snake whose head had been cut off, they thrashed around without purpose. The other witch hunters began the work of butchering them. They weren’t natural animals any longer. They couldn’t be allowed to live.
The air cleared. The vultures scattered. The first rays of dawn spilled over the horizon.
