by Emily Inskip
Fenn was already looking at her, worried. Even he couldn’t hide his panic as he flicked his gaze between her and the wall of beasts that closed in around them. Nadia had passed out again in her lap. There was no way to escape. After years of running, Amara Vanderlore was finally cornered. Out of options. Out of ideas. Out of hope.
“There’s no one to help you now, you pathetic girl,” Fassar chided with a smile. “It was sweet how you thought you stood a chance.”
She tried to think. To push past his remarks and focus. But even she couldn’t get herself out of this one.
Amara palmed her hunting knives, rising to her feet even as her energy flagged. She had survived centuries on her own without the power of the moon. She could survive without it now. Potentially.
“It’s not been nice knowing you,” Fassar grinned.
And then they pounced.
41
The pain was crippling as strong jaws ripped through her arm. Amara fought past it, slicing her dagger across its neck and whirling away. Agony lanced from her fingertips up towards her shoulder. Every part of her wanted to give in as she and her brother cut down beast after beast, defending Nadia who lay unconscious behind them. All the while, Fassar watched from the distance, like it was some sort of sick entertainment. Amara had done this to defeat him. Oh, how wrong she had been.
Her muscles grew tired, even as the flesh on her arm was already beginning to heal. Every swing of her blade was a hardship. Even lifting it upwards was becoming difficult. Fenn wasn’t in much of a better state. If anything, he was worse. Amara still didn’t know how much he had gone through before tonight, let alone the dislocated shoulder and bruised eye. When was the last time he had fed? Either way, she knew both of them couldn’t last much longer. Their time was running out.
But still, they fought.
“Amara,” Fenn managed to gasp before swiping his dagger into the faceless beast’s chest. “I’m so sorry.”
She gripped the horns of one of the wolves, swinging around it before bringing her blade down into its skull. As it collapsed, she was moving again. “We don’t apologise,” she only replied, her chest heaving as she attacked the next beast in her path.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t always there for you,” he panted, in between decapitating another monster, it’s horrific face frozen in a scream as it flew through the air.
“Enough with the emotions, they’re boring me,” she heard Fassar call from the distance, across the din of chaos around them.
She screamed, flinging a dagger in his direction. Amara didn’t check to see if it had hit its mark, but she knew from the irritated grunt that it must have struck true. If she was going to die, at least she’d managed to piss him off slightly.
Despite this all, despite the fact that death was almost certain, Fenn laughed, and Amara felt inclined to do the same. For a split second, they were children again, chasing after each other as their parents called for them. Their parents that were still alive.
But their laughter quickly ended as another swarm of monsters barrelled towards them. This time, they weren’t ready. Fenn went down first. They were on him in moments, a mass pile of scrabbling bodies and limbs. Amara cried out, but there was no reply. Frantically, she hacked through them, but arms closed around her too, dragging her down.
Fenn. Nadia. Anyone?
The moon’s power was a dead weight sitting within her. Dormant, but still draining every last bit of energy she had.
Amara fought upwards, slicing through the horde of monsters, but it was no use. More and more kept coming.
Through the tangle of bodies above her, she could barely make out the crimson sky. A dark haze began to blur the edges of her vision. Amara barely felt the pain as claws and fangs tore through her flesh. She was too far gone, her power depleted. She’d never be able to heal these sorts of injuries now, not when all of her body’s energy was gone. It wouldn’t be long until she was gone, too.
Amara.
Was that someone calling her name? She could no longer tell above the rushing in her ears. Which way was up? There was no way of knowing beneath the thrashing bodies of monsters.
Amara.
She wished the shouting would stop. She wished everything would stop.
Curses escaped her lips as the dagger slipped from her grip, quickly devoured by the fray. But she carried on fighting. Struggling, she lashed out, kicking and slamming her fists into everything around her.
The pressure on her ribcage was becoming too much. Jaws clamped around her arms until moving was no longer an option. Was this really it? Her death. No glamour or flourish. No clever outwitting. Just death. With nothing waiting for her on the other side.
Amara didn’t want to have to accept it. But maybe, in the end, she had never really had a choice after all.
It was over. It was—
A shattering howl tore through the forest. A moment later, the monsters were shrieking, scrambling to get away. Amara didn’t stop to question why. She seized the opportunity to force herself upwards, snapping the necks of any remaining beasts that were too slow to get out of her way.
The clearing was absolute chaos. Monsters were fleeing in every direction, desperate to leave the castle grounds completely. It didn’t take Amara long to figure out why.
It had worked. Her impossible plan had really worked.
For the forest was now flooded by another army of beings. Fortified, carved from nothing more than stone. The Alley of Eyes entered the battle. Animals of all shapes and sizes lunged into the fight, howls and snarls a chorus in the air.
It’s only trickery, some residual magic left within the castle. And Nadia had found a way to bring that magic to life.
Amara watched in shock as the granite bear who had followed her with an unwavering eye that first day in Winvaris, leapt into the fray. It tore easily into the body of one of the faceless beasts, crushing its lean frame in one stamp. Because perhaps Fassar knew how to summon beasts. But they were just flesh and bone. Amara had managed to create an army that would never bleed, never die and was powerful as hell.
She let the stone animals do their work, still marvelling at the scene before her. But there was no time to linger. Quickly, she spun, assessing the clearing once more. Her heart dropped at what she saw.
“Fenn,” she gasped, sprinting towards his crushed body still sprawled out on the grass.
She dropped to her knees beside him, knelt in the pools of his blood. He didn’t respond as she grasped the sides of his face and began shaking him gently.
“Fenn?” she whimpered, “Fenn can you hear me? Wake up. Please, please just wake up.”
Emotions swelled within her, bubbling, threatening to explode. He wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be gone.
Amara pushed her hair back, blood smearing across her face, but she didn’t care. She needed to find out if he was okay. But it wasn’t just as simple as checking for a pulse, or if he was breathing . . . because those answers would all come up negative.
Desperately, she checked his wounds for any signs of healing or regeneration. Relief flooded through her like an unstoppable wave. Sure enough, his skin was slowly beginning to knit itself back together. He was alive. Well, as alive as the undead could be. And that was enough for her.
A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder. Amara’s relief deepened as Nadia came to kneel beside her, resting her head against her shoulder.
“Are you all right?” Amara asked, her arm coming around Nadia to steady the still-weakened witch.
Nadia only sighed, her heavy eyes closing shut once more. But Amara couldn’t rest until Fassar was dead. Until she did what she came here to do.
“Go,” a soft voice came from the shadows. Then Elias appeared from behind the bushes, his face tired and wan, streaked in dark blood. “Find Fassar, I’ll defend them. Take them someplace safe until this is all over.”
Amara shot him an incredulous look. “You think I’ll trust you with them. How many more times can you betra
y me?”
Around them, howls and cries came from the clashing beasts, battling head to head with the vicious stone animals across the clearing.
“You were right,” Elias only said.
She couldn’t stop staring at his eye patch. The gorgeous face that she had ruined. His remaining hazel eye held so much sadness it was almost too hard to stomach.
“Amara you have always been right,” he continued. “I never did anything to stop my father. I was weak. I never took a stand. Every day I hate myself for what I let him do to you. I stood idly by as he whipped you for everyone to see. Amara, I can’t close my eyes without seeing you like that. I’ve done nothing my entire life. But my father is a monster. I can’t watch him hurt you again.”
Tears began to well in his remaining eye but he blinked them away. “Let me help you. Let me do what I should have done two centuries ago.”
Something about the pain in his voice made her believe that was true. She could never be sure whether to trust Elias. But if she wanted to destroy Fassar, she couldn’t do so if she was busy defending Nadia and Fenn. It was best that they were taken away from all this chaos, even if it meant giving them over to him.
“If you so much as touch a hair on their head, you’re dead, too. Get it?” Amara warned.
“I promise I’ll keep them safe,” he said, bowing his head.
Amara hesitated. She flicked her eyes from Elias down to her unconscious brother and Nadia still leaning against her shoulder.
Silently, she nodded. There was no time for second-guessing. She needed to believe Elias meant no harm. And if she was wrong, she would never forgive herself for it.
His features softened before whispering. “Thank you, I won’t let you down.”
“Go.”
He quickly swooped Fenn off the floor and threw him over his shoulder as though he didn’t weigh much more than a feather, then gently, he eased Nadia off her knees before scooping her into his arms. Amara watched them until they were nothing more than a splodge of darkness through the trees. Her heart tugged after them but she curbed her emotions. Now was not the time. Reluctantly, she turned her back on them.
Amara only had the daggers around her waist and the single firebirch stake she’d managed to scrounge from the blood-sodden and flame-singed land. Not as many weapons as she would have liked, but it would do. She hoped.
Through the sea of thrashing beasts, Amara could just make out Fassar across the clearing. Around him, the Valkrane fought tirelessly to keep back the statues from the Alley of Eyes. Some went down, screaming as stone crushed through their ribcage. Others got clever, using the surrounding boulders to shatter the statues, smashing their limbs until they were practically heaps of rubble. Fassar, on the other hand, barely lifted a finger, watching the events unfold like it was a performance for his own amusement. Amara hated him for it.
Taking one last bracing breath, she began to pick her way across the clearing. Like smoke itself, she weaved through the beasts. They barely noticed her as they continued to fight each other. The Bloodmoon still swelled high in the sky like a giant crimson wax seal.
Amara cursed. Soon the celebrations in Valmont would be ending and members of Winvaris would be hurrying back towards the castle for some well-earned rest. She didn’t have long. There was no way this mess would be able to be concealed, as soon as it was done, she’d have to leave the castle behind for good. Flee before anyone got any ideas as to why Lady Lynessa hadn’t attended the celebrations and why castle gardens resembled a northern battlefield. Of course, all of that was assuming she survived this. If she survived Fassar.
But as she ducked beneath the swooping arm of one of the faceless beasts, its clawed, shrivelled fingers just grazing her hair, Amara couldn’t help but think about what she would be leaving behind if she were to flee the castle tonight. She would never get to play one last game with the Princess, to pluck the stings of that magnificent harp. And Aedric. Her golden prince. She would never be able to see the better world he was on the path to making. The world they were meant to experience together.
She slashed her blade across the faceless beast’s stomach in one clean swoop. She didn’t bother looking as its innards spilled out onto the grass with a wet slap.
Before the horned wolf to her left could even begin to think about attacking her, Amara jammed a dagger up into its skull. Grunting, she kicked the beast away, yanking the blade free of its head.
The anger building up within her wasn’t good. It made her messy, careless, unpredictable. But somehow she didn’t care. Fassar deserved the full front of her fury. He deserved to know how much pain he had caused her. And how eager she was to return the favour.
So Amara forced her way through the last line of monsters, flinging them off their feet as though her power had revived itself. Relit by her own wrath. She felt anew. As though her anger had purged the dead weight of the Bloodmoon from her. It had preyed on her weakness, her belief that she couldn’t defeat Fassar without it. But she had been wrong. Amara didn’t need magic or potions or crimson fire. All she needed was her own battered and bruised soul, toughened by scar tissue and stronger for it.
As soon as Fassar caught sight of her, his eyes widened.
“You . . . you survived?”
She only smirked, extending her arm out towards him. The same action she used before she would throw out liquid flames. Frantically, Fassar began patting down his jacket. Maybe she didn’t have the power anymore, but Fassar didn’t need to know that.
“Looking for this?” she grinned, before presenting the firebirch stake from behind her back.
The Valkrane froze as she waved it slightly, waggling the point of the stake like it was a bone before a hound. Fassar’s thin lips curled back in a snarl.
“Put that down before you hurt yourself,” he spat.
“If I were you, I’d be more worried about what harm I could bring to you.”
“You’re going to regret this,” Fassar hissed through fanged teeth.
“No,” she said coolly, “I’m really not.”
The Valkrane tried to form a protective circle around him, but with the Alley of Eyes at their necks, they could barely take their attention away from the fight. Fassar seemed to realise that too, and for the first time, Amara could have sworn he looked nervous. Shifting on his feet, Fassar let out a rippling growl. His gloved fists clenched and flexed at his sides as he began to advance towards her.
A stone bear launched at him from the shadows. Amara shuddered as Fassar brought his fist up in a lightning-fast action, smashing through the statue’s skull without even taking his eyes off her. He didn’t flinch as the shards of granite rained to the ground, only dusting his palms off onto his jacket.
Amara didn’t let him get any further, quickly slipping one of the daggers free from around her waist and flinging it towards him. The blade buried itself into his chest with such a force behind it that it knocked him backwards. His steps faltered as he wrenched the knife free, letting it clatter to the ground.
“How rude,” he said, his voice low and flat. As though someone had merely spilt wine on his jacket.
Amara clutched tightly to the firebirch stake until the wood felt like it was beginning to burn into her palm. She kept her gaze steadily fixed on Fassar as he started to advance again. She rolled her shoulders once. Twice.
Game time.
Amara launched into a sprint, her boots digging into the ash-covered soil as she leapt up up, and over Fassar’s head. Before he could even register it, Amara had slammed her foot into his back, sending him hurtling forwards. He whirled instinctively, catching himself just before hitting the ground. A primordial growl ripped through him as he glared daggers at her. A dark flame lit behind his eyes. He was scrambling off the ground in moments, kicking up soil as he lunged towards her. She managed to dodge past his first attack, ducking beneath his vicious swipe. But she didn’t expect the blow to her left temple, making the world tilt. Her vision blurring.
&nb
sp; Amara heard him bark a laugh as she crashed to her knees. “Well, that was pathetic.”
She didn’t react, instead, she shot her leg out, swinging it into his shins and sweeping his feet from under him. Fassar toppled forwards, just as she thrust the firebirch stake into his chest. His scream shook through the forest, but Amara already knew she had missed. Too high. Aim lower.
Without wasting a second, she pulled the stake back, but not without bringing her knee straight into his nose. The crack of bone splintered the air and he howled in pain.
Amara couldn’t stop that small satisfied part of her from smirking as she watched the blood gush from his nose. But he was yelling now. Drawing all of the Valkrane’s attention. Not good. Not good at all.
Without warning, a man sprung towards her but she swerved, missing the swoop of his sword by a hair’s breadth. The blade whistled through the air as he swung again, but this time she ducked and rolled to the side, right into another member of the Valkrane. The man’s sword collided perfectly into the second vampire just as she’d planned, swiping his head clean off. It landed with a wet thud on the grass, rolling into the bushes.
A chorus of shocked gasps spread through the Valkrane as they all turned to the man. Amara knew how primitive they all were. She knew how it worked. It was a dog eat dog world when it came to the Valkrane. It was scary how easy it was to make them turn on each other. But then again, Amara wasn’t complaining.
As they launched themselves onto the unfortunate vampire, Amara was back on Fassar in an instant. He was on his feet again, his face alive with fury. Dried blood streaked his face, smothering his lips.
“I swear to the gods, I will end you bitch,” he spat, a mix of saliva and blood flying from his mouth.
“The gods have damned us all,” she grinned as she flipped the stake in one hand. “I wouldn’t put my faith in them.”
Fassar opened his mouth to reply but she had already flung another dagger, this time it found its mark in his neck. He choked, desperately clawing at the blade before ripping it free. Fassar didn’t hesitate to hurl it back. Even Amara couldn’t dodge the dagger as it tore through the air. It slammed into her thigh, making her stumble to one side. Amara bit down hard on her lip in an effort to stifle a cry. Sucking in a sharp breath, she regained her balance, removing the knife and keeping hold of it.