Reign of the Fallen

by Sarah Glenn Marsh

  “Good boy, Lysander!” Meredy calls. “Odessa, where in Vaia’s name have you been?”

  I slump against the bear’s familiar bulk and laugh until my chest aches.

  “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Meredy breathes, much closer now. “Oh, no. What’s wrong? Danial, get over here!”

  A moment later, a slender hand—wearing several rings, by the feel of it—covers my sightless eyes. Danial, preparing to heal me.

  “Your mother did this,” I murmur to Meredy.

  “What?” There’s shock and desperation in her voice. I try to soften my approach, but the words still come out in a breathless rush.

  “You know how she always resented Evander and me for becoming necromancers? Well, she’s one of Hadrien’s biggest supporters.” My voice burns with bitterness. “He ordered her to kill me, so she took my sight and left me bleeding in the Deadlands.”

  There’s a long, heart-pounding silence, then: “I don’t want to believe it, but . . .” Meredy sighs. “I know you wouldn’t lie. And after everything I’ve seen in the past few days, not much could shock me. How’d you get out, blind and bound like this?”

  I smile at the memory. “Your Firiel. She and some other spirits helped me to a gate.”

  Meredy clasps my hands in hers. “I’m sorry,” she says fiercely. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  I squeeze her hands, wanting to repay her for all the times she’s steadied me.

  “She’s not my mother now,” Meredy adds, her whisper turning harsh. “She’s nothing to me. But Firiel, she—helped you?”

  I nod, and Meredy makes a noise between a laugh and a sigh. “She was always so kind. I’m glad to hear death hasn’t changed her.”

  Sudden warmth pricks my eyelids. As Danial draws his hand back from my face, his light hazel eyes fill my view. I grin, leaning in to kiss his pale cheeks one after the other, and spot Meredy beside him.

  Her blouse and deerskin trousers are torn in a few places, and there’s blood on one of her sleeves, but it doesn’t appear to be hers. Danial’s sturdy white healer’s uniform is torn, too, his kohl eyeliner smudged, and his scraped knee is crusted with bits of dirt and grass.

  “You should probably heal yourself,” I whisper to him as we pull apart.

  “If only that would work.” Danial grins, his hands shaking slightly. “Welcome back, Sparrow.”

  “Where’s—?” I start to ask, but Meredy interrupts.

  “Valoria’s out of the dungeon and still in one piece,” she says quickly, anticipating my question. “One of Hadrien’s guards tried to kill me on the way there, but after I stabbed him . . .” She lets the words hang in the air, grinning wearily, and perhaps a little proudly. “He told me where the princess was. And that’s where I found Danial, protecting our Valoria from the unruliest prisoners.”

  “We were in the middle of lunch when Hadrien ordered the guards to seize her,” Danial explains, his eyes glinting with a fierceness I’ve never seen in him. “Apparently protesting a wrongful imprisonment earns you a spot in the dungeons these days. That, or they didn’t appreciate me trying to stab them with my steak knife while they were leading Valoria away.”

  I gaze past Meredy to the mouth of the alley, where muted gray afternoon light covers the city, half expecting to see Valoria dashing toward us. There are far fewer bodies on the ground than I imagined, and the sight of the calm street gives me hope. “Where’s the princess now?”

  Meredy exchanges a glance with Lysander, who delicately pokes a claw into the shackles around my wrists. As they spring open, she gives a fleeting smile. “Last we saw Valoria,” she says, somber once again, “she was heading for the harbor. She heard a rumor that Jax and Simeon were drowned there.”

  “We were with her for a while, looking for you on the way.” Danial reaches to heal the cut on my arm, and I’m relieved it’s not as deep as I thought. His light touch warms my skin as the cut pulls itself shut, leaving only a faint white scar that should fade within days.

  “We got separated when one of the Shades chased the crowd across Market Square,” Danial adds, distracted. He gazes off into the distance as he whispers, “If we make it through this, if he’s still alive, I’m going to ask Simeon to marry me.”

  I give him a long look. “What if Si still wants to be a necromancer after this?”

  Danial smiles, grimly determined. “Then I’ll learn how to be the warrior he needs, so I can protect him. So I can be strong even when he’s in the Deadlands.”

  “I hate to interrupt, but—there are fires all over the city,” Meredy says urgently, kneeling beside us. “One of the Shades is dead, but two others are still roaming around, terrifying everyone and feeding on anyone they can grab.” She laughs bitterly. “I heard some of Hadrien’s shouts from inside the palace. His archers aren’t controlling the monsters as well as he’d planned. He’s worried all the deaths will keep him from winning over his new subjects.”

  “Then you’ve got to go after Valoria. Now. Make sure she stays safe.” I grip Meredy’s arms, grateful as always for her steadying presence. “Karthia will need her when this is all over. After I kill Hadrien.”

  Her green eyes widen. “You tried that once before. It didn’t work out so well, remember?” She points to the shackles on the ground.

  “I’ll be more careful this time.”

  She leans closer, her breath damp against my lips, reminding me of our earlier kiss. “Not good enough. I don’t think you know the meaning of that word.”

  My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I meet her gaze. “Maybe my version of careful just looks different from everyone else’s. Don’t go getting yourself killed either, all right?”

  Beside us, Danial clears his throat, ushering us back to our senses. “Remember Valoria?” he murmurs softly. “That princess we need to find?”

  My face is hot as I turn to him. “Danial, will you go with Meredy to the harbor?” I sound stupidly breathless and hope that he doesn’t notice.

  Danial nods, tying his long raven hair back from his face. He leans over the dead man I tripped on when I first stumbled into the alley and rifles through his belongings. When he straightens, he’s clutching a handsome dagger. “This time, I want to try stabbing them with something bigger than a steak knife.”

  I bite my lip, taking a moment to study him as I get to my feet. I never knew there was a fighter hiding beneath Danial’s pristine healer’s robes and gentle smile. I clearly wasn’t looking hard enough.

  “Where’d you learn how to wield one of those?” Meredy asks him, fighting back a grin that surfaces despite the weary look in her eyes. “They teach you how to kill people during your healer’s training?”

  “It’s just healing in reverse,” Danial says quickly. It’s the kind of joke Simeon would make, and perhaps he realizes it, because as soon as he utters the words, his face falls. “Actually,” he murmurs to his boots, “I didn’t know I could handle any kind of weapon until today. I always thought I’d be the one in need of rescuing in a fight. But . . .” He shrugs. “When someone I knew was in danger, instinct took over. And it turns out my instincts are almost as good at hurting people as they are curing them.”

  I wrap my arms around him, stealing his breath. “You’re stronger than you think, Danial. I’ll come find you and Meredy after . . .”

  “Hadrien,” Meredy finishes. “He’s locked himself in the throne room with some of his guards, last we heard. He didn’t want to take any chances until the Shades were all gone.” She rolls her eyes, then grows solemn again. “I’m sending Lysander with you, so you won’t have to fight him alone.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I take both her hands, remembering what happened after she possessed Lysander during our fight against the Shade-baiters.

  She squeezes my fingers. “Good idea or not, you can’t talk me out of it. I can sp
lit my attention between my body and Lysander’s,” Meredy says confidently. Her voice wavers slightly as she adds, “At least, I think I can . . . I’ve only tried it once before, and that was over a year ago.”

  There’s no way I’m letting her experiment at a time like this. “Meredy—”

  “If it’s too much, I’ll pop out of Lysander’s mind like that.” She snaps her fingers and raises her head, looking determined. Her eyes linger on my face. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.” I sigh. She’s too stubborn, too much like me once she’s made up her mind. “Just be careful. I need you.” Cringing at how that sounded, I hurry to add, “I mean, I need you to have your wits about you for whatever happens next.”

  Mustering a grin, Meredy nudges my shoulder with hers. “Surely you forget who you’re dealing with, master necromancer. I’m the youngest beast master in almost a century.”

  “I could never forget anything about you, Master Crowther.” I grin back. “Even if I wanted to.”

  I drop her hands and stride out of the alley, looking for anything I can use as a weapon. I feel exposed without my sword and can’t rely on Lysander alone—especially if we get separated.

  I break into a run, Lysander easily keeping pace with me. Meredy and Danial are already out of sight, no doubt on their way toward the harbor.

  “You’re better than a sword anyway,” I tell the grizzly. “Just look for something sharp I can grab as backup, all right?”

  He snarls, his eyes glowing a familiar shade of green.

  “That’s the spirit,” I mutter, patting his massive shaggy head. “Now let’s go overthrow the king.”

  But instead, Lysander stops in his tracks. He growls again, deeper, the bone-chilling sound I’ve come to think of as a warning signal. I follow his glowing eyes up the narrow road leading out of the city and spot what’s filled him with such rage.

  A Shade stumbles toward us, scenting the air, a victim half-dangling out of its cavernous mouth.

  XXX

  The Shade snarls at us as it chokes down the last of its meal, boots and all. There’s no way to tell if it was once King Wylding, but in my mind it was, which makes it more difficult to pick up a jagged piece of wood from the road and take a swing at its skeletal face.

  It’s a new Shade, so it’s clumsier than the one that killed Evander, but it’s already grown strong feeding on Grenwyr’s citizens today. It effortlessly dodges my attack, lashing out with a rotting gray arm and grabbing the other end of the wooden beam.

  I grip my end of the beam with both hands, but playing tug-of-war with the Shade is like playing against several grown men. Gritting my teeth, I struggle to hang on, my fingernails tearing, until Lysander breaks the Shade’s hold with a swipe of his deadly claws.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, reminding myself that it’s really Meredy in there.

  As Lysander roars in the Shade’s face, I look around at the empty buildings of Merchant Square, hoping to spot a flicker of flame I can drive the monster toward. But everything is soaked thanks to Hadrien’s weather mage.

  I take another hasty look around as the Shade tosses Lysander across the road. The bear groans but staggers upright almost at once.

  There’s a fountain at the center of this square. The pretty teal and gold mosaic tiles around it glisten with overflowing water. Since Shades rely on scent to hunt, it shouldn’t be able to find us if we’re submerged. It’ll smell something else in the air and move on.

  “Into the fountain!” I shout at Lysander.

  The bear turns, bounding toward the fountain with the Shade on his heels.

  Bracing myself for the cold, I climb over the edge and take a huge breath before dunking my head underwater. This would never work in the Deadlands, where the water would strip my memories away before I could say Karthia. But maybe here, in the land of the living, my quick thinking could save us.

  The cold stings at first, forcing itself up my nose and under my eyelids.

  Lysander crashes into the water as the breath I’ve been holding starts to burn.

  Howling, the Shade plunges its bony arm into the fountain, and I squirm to keep it from grabbing my leg.

  Too late, I realize that the fountain, deep as it is, may not entirely cover Lysander. The bear does his best to flatten himself against the bottom as the Shade hisses and spits, trying to catch a piece of our flesh.

  Any moment now, I’m going to have to come up for air. Then we’ll really be in trouble.

  Forcing my eyes to stay open in the clear water, I nearly touch noses with Lysander. Lysander’s glowing green eyes hold mine. We don’t have time to waste on this Shade, not with each second meaning Meredy might lose control of her senses.

  My head is spinning. My body’s getting lighter.

  My lungs are on fire.

  Blinking an apology at Lysander, I push myself off the fountain floor and emerge into the brisk afternoon air, gasping and shaking.

  The Shade is nowhere to be seen.

  “Palace,” I say to Lysander through chattering teeth. “And Meredy, if you can hear me, get out of Lysander’s head. I can manage him on my own from here.”

  The bear lumbers out of the fountain after me, growling, his eyes flashing an unearthly green. He slides on the tiles as he shakes himself off, soaking me with a fresh wave of icy water. Then he darts out of Merchant Square, leading the uphill climb to the palace, his glowing green eyes assuring me it’s really Meredy still in control.

  I run after him, my clothes clinging to me like a second skin. I pause only once, not for breath but to search the pockets of a fallen guard I dimly recognize from the palace.

  Unexpected tears prick my eyes as I slide a dagger from her belt. I wish she had a sword, the weapon I’ve trained with for years, but this will have to do. I squeeze her hand, shuddering as my gaze settles on the spot where a Shade took a bite out of her.

  Lysander growls from somewhere up ahead, and I take off running, dagger in hand.

  The back entrance to the palace is surprisingly empty. I expected guards with flaming arrows stationed in every nook, at every door and window, yet there’s no one near parading past the sad iron cage. There’s no one standing with a weapon at the ready, taking aim at a soaking wet girl and her bear who look like the sea just spit them out.

  Maybe everyone is hiding until this storm blows over, I decide as we navigate the vacant corridors leading to the throne room. If I were one of the Dead, I surely wouldn’t want to be seen by anyone living right now, not knowing how they’d taken Hadrien’s little “demonstration.” Knowing the king I’d followed all my life was gone.

  I rub my chilled arms as Lysander rounds a bend, taking us down another deserted hallway where we have to step over potted trees and flowering shrubs that have fallen across our path. The silence is somehow more unsettling than the screams and clashes of battle.

  As we near the throne room, someone coughs. The sound startles me into alertness, and I hold my dagger at the ready. Peering around a corner, I count ten guards stationed outside the throne room’s only entrance and exit.

  Of course Hadrien’s in there, the arrogant boy who thinks himself a king. But king is more than just a title, and while he can call himself whatever he pleases, he’ll never rule the hearts or minds of Karthia.

  “Now, Lysander,” I whisper as one of the guards bends over to inspect a cut on his leg.

  Glowing eyes narrowed, the bear charges around the corner, sending the newly hired guards into a frenzy. I don’t know what promises they made to Hadrien, but while they draw their swords and bows, not one of them looks prepared to fight a grizzly.

  I dart through the chaos toward the throne room. Lysander’s bulk knocks me sideways, into a soldier who swings his sword at me. I drop to the ground, slashing the backs of his knees with my dagger, and crawl as fast as I can toward the throne room doors.
/>
  Something pierces my leg. The soldier I cut looms over me, his face white and livid, the tip of his blade stuck in my calf. “Where do you think you’re going?” he sneers.

  I try to jerk away, but the blade pins me in place. The slightest movement sends fresh waves of pain through my leg.

  The soldier shakes his head, pulling the sword from my leg and raising it like he’s about to end my life, right here on this worn old floor.

  But before he has a chance, Lysander knocks him back into a bloody pile of his fellow guards. The bear roars, rising up on his hind legs in a sort of victory dance. “Doing okay in there, Meredy?” I whisper.

  Lysander’s eyes flicker as he settles back down, shifting from green to brown, then back to glowing green.

  I shiver. Could Meredy be losing control? Or worse, what if she’s hurt? Hopefully, she’s keeping her promise and leaving Lysander’s mind to focus on whatever she and Danial are facing now.

  As Lysander saunters toward the throne room, I hiss, “Meredy, if you’re still in there, go. Take care of yourself. That’s an order!”

  Then I charge after the bear.

  “What’s the news from the city—?” Hadrien’s question dies on his tongue as he catches sight of Lysander and me. “Sparrow.” He blinks at me from atop the throne, perhaps wondering if he’s seeing a spirit walking among the living.

  Four more guards charge toward us, but Lysander quickly sets to work disarming them.

  I raise my dagger, noting the absence of the usual longsword at Hadrien’s side. His blade rests in its scabbard on a table well out of reach of the throne, almost like it’s on display, or at least like he doesn’t feel he needs it here. King Wylding’s jeweled crown looks especially fine on the handsome prince, making his shadow on the floor taller, more imposing.

  But I’m not afraid.

  Hadrien frowns at the water I’m dripping on the room’s glossy floor. “Did Lyda try to drown you?” he asks quietly, not bothering to rise as I climb the steps to where he sits. “She couldn’t even handle this one simple task. You were as good as dead when I handed you over!” He shakes his head, disgust evident in his tone.