by Sarah Hawke
They were aiming at Sehris.
“No!” Rohen cried out as he charged straight at them. Human soldiers would have adjusted their aim and shot him instead of the Flensed sorceress, but the elves were driven by a single-minded fury that drowned out everything, even the most basic instinct to survive. Rohen managed to catch two arrows on his shield, but the rest soared past him.
Zin was even faster. Hoisting up his battered, arrow-riddled shield, the Keeper threw himself in front of the channeler he was sworn to protect. He intercepted one arrow and then another and another…
Until one finally slipped past his wooden bulwark and struck him in the gut so hard it knocked him from his feet. Zin tumbled over Sehris’s body, and the dark elf let out a wail so horrific, so inhuman, that even the Chol seemed to freeze in place.
Rohen killed them all. His Pale-shifted wraithblade scorched them to cinders one after another, but he didn’t even wait for their burning bodies to hit the ground before he sprinted back to his friends, his heart pounding in his ears with as much force as the battering ram crashing into the main gate barely twenty yards away. Every second passed like an epoch as he watched his best friend clutch at a gushing wound that would never close.
Sehris’s hand glowed blue with magic as she desperately tried to feed his Keeper markings, but she screamed and collapsed before she could muster a single spark of energy. The veins beneath her skin looked like they were ready to burst.
“Hold still!” Rohen cried out as he slid into the frozen, blood-stained muck next to Zin. There were still hundreds of Chol scattered throughout the fortress and thousands more waiting to pour in from outside, but there could have been a million of the monsters lurking over Rohen’s shoulder and he still wouldn’t have cared.
“I can’t…” Zin rasped. “I can’t breathe.”
“It will be all right,” Rohen insisted. The fletching was the only visible thing sticking out of Zin’s chest, and his brigandine coat was already matted with blood. The arrow must have punctured one of his lungs, possibly even both…
“The bleeding…you can’t stop…” Zin trailed off as blood frothed over his lips. Sehris clawed her way to her knees and pressed her hands over the wound.
“Delaryn can,” Rohen told him. “She did it back at Whitefeather Hold. You just need to hold on until—”
Zin grabbed hold of Rohen’s cloak. “Get them…out of here!”
“I can carry you to her!” Rohen screamed. “I can—”
“Sehris…Del…” Zin gurgled breathlessly. “Get them…”
He slumped over, his eyes staring up at the woman he had been forbidden to love one last time before they went dark. Sehris screamed. Rohen’s body went numb. And all around them, the Chol massacred everything and everyone in their path.
“Beyond the Pale, in the Guardian’s grace,” Rohen breathed. “We will meet again.”
Sehris dove on top Zin, screeching inconsolably, as the main gate finally burst open. An ocean of Chol poured into Rimewreath like a raging tsunami. The remnants of the Pact Army, as scattered and disorganized as hapless militia, were cut down in a tide of death and screams. The Culling was upon them.
And there was no escape.
***
The battle had been over before it had even begun. Delaryn knew precious little about war or strategy, but even she could tell that the Pact Army didn’t stand a chance. The Chol had already overrun the outer bailey, and now the horde was attempting to breach the main gate. In a matter of minutes, every man and woman in Rimewreath would be dead.
Including her friends…and the man she loved more than anything.
Open yourself to the Pale, my daughter. Its power is your birthright—and your destiny.
Delaryn swallowed as she opened the palm of her left hand and reached out just like the voice of her mother had taught her. The frozen air hissed as if she had just set it aflame, and the power of the Pale flowed through her body like a refreshing stream. There was no backlash, no fear of the Flensing, just pure, untapped energy siphoned from the realm of the gods. The Tel Bator considered unsanctioned channeling a crime against the Triumvirate, but this…this was assaulting the very heavens themselves. Surely there could be no greater sacrilege.
Follow my voice, just as I showed you. Come to me, my daughter, and I shall shepherd you to safety.
Choking down the last of her fears, Delaryn wove the crackling energy in her palm in the exact pattern her mother had shown her just moments ago. The hissing sound grew more and more intense, and the air around her rippled as if she were staring through a haze of heat—
And then suddenly, impossibly, she was no longer standing in Rimewreath—or at least, she was no longer standing in the same Rimewreath.
“Maiden’s mercy…” Delaryn breathed. The entire world had changed around her. She was still atop the curtain wall connected to the eastern tower, but everything else was different. There was no battle, no explosions, no thunder of a battering ram smashing into the gate. Everything was quiet.
Quiet…and very wrong.
The Tel Bator scriptures described the Pale as a dark, tormented realm filled with demons and the corrupted remnants of the Fallen Gods. Delaryn’s mother told a different tale: the Pale was merely a shadowy reflection of the physical world where force of will dictated reality.
Whichever version was true, Delaryn had never been as unsettled in her entire life. She looked around, mouth agape, and tried to take it all in. She could see clearly even though there didn’t appear to be any source of light. The fortress’s walls were so dark they were almost black rather than gray, and even the few patches of grass and moss looked more like shadows than living things. The sky above her crackled with strokes of green lightning, yet there was no thunder or wind or rain. There were no people, either—until suddenly there were.
Delaryn blinked in confusion when she spotted dozens of shining green figures moving into the fortress as if the walls were made of mist rather than stone. It took her a moment to recognize the lanky, slender figures as Chol. They weren’t here in the Pale with her—not completely—but she watched as they casually passed through Rimewreath’s walls and then slipped back into the physical world.
Time is short, Delaryn. You must find your friends—quickly!
Bracing herself for the worst, Delaryn descended the stairs from the curtain wall down into the inner bailey. She tugged her cloak more tightly around her body, though it wasn’t as if she was cold—the air here didn’t seem to have a temperature, as surreal as that seemed. Her heart was beating, her lungs continued to draw breath…everything was normal, and yet completely different.
As she moved into the outer bailey, she caught a glimpse of a glowing, sword-shaped beam of energy that made her breath catch in her throat. The blade danced furiously through the air as if it were being wielded by a master duelist, but there was no one holding the hilt—not in this realm, anyway.
“Rohen,” Delaryn breathed as she broke into a sprint. He must have been battling the Chol right here in this spot in the physical world.
Go to them. Save them. Time is running out!
Delaryn shook her head. “How?”
Even as she asked the question, she somehow already knew the answer. She could feel the barrier separating the physical world from the spiritual realm even if she couldn’t see it. All she needed to do was open the door.
Holding her left arm out in front of her, she pushed her hand through the ethereal veil as if it were a pool of water. Cold air chilled her fingertips, and when she took another step, a blast of freezing wind blew back her hood and tousled her blond hair.
And then an ax nearly split her in two.
Delaryn screeched as she dropped into a crouch and rolled away from a giant melee of terrified Pact soldiers and bloodthirsty Chol. The battle for Rimewreath raged all around her, though she couldn’t imagine it would last much longer. The main gate had been shattered, and Godcursed elves were pouring through the barbican i
n numbers that seemed unfathomable. Her friends were only a few dozen yards away near the steps to the wall, and they were about to be overrun…
Sprinting toward them, Delaryn reached out to the Aether and allowed its familiar warmth to wash over her. Zin was lying crumpled on the ground with Sehris and Rohen leaning over him, and a mob of Chol were mere seconds from impaling them all on their swords and spears. Delaryn lashed out with the quickest spell she could weave: she pulled a cloud of vapor from the air, shaped it into tiny shards of ice, and hurled the frozen darts at the onrushing monsters. The first row of Chol crumpled in a shower of blood and screams, but their allies trampled their bodies in frothing rage. She couldn’t possibly kill enough of them to slow the horde…but perhaps she didn’t have to.
Delaryn shaped a thick mist directly around the Chol and then froze it into a crystallized wall of jagged ice. The horde of Chol thoughtlessly slammed into the magical barricade and impaled themselves as if they had just charged a spiked palisade.
“What?” Rohen stammered as he turned away from the wall and locked his elven eyes upon her.
Delaryn slid down next to them, her heart racing in fear and her limbs tingling from the Flensing. She placed her hand on Zin’s chest and gasped in horror at the sight of the arrow sticking out of his brigandine. Her hand flashed with healing magic, but it was already too late.
She was too late.
“Oh, gods…” she breathed.
You must run, Delaryn. You must take your friends and go!
“How did you get here?” Rohen asked, his face streaked with soot, blood, and tears.
Delaryn forcibly dragged her eyes from Zin’s body as she whispered a silent prayer to the Guardian. She would have to mourn later—they would all have to mourn later. But right now, they simply didn’t have the time.
“The same way we’re going to escape,” she said, grabbing Sehris’s hand and then his. “Hold on.”
She released her grip on the Aether and reached out to the Pale instead. The air hissed and popped even as the Chol pounded on the wall keeping them at bay. As the monsters finally crashed through the ice, Delaryn pushed through the barrier between worlds—
And then the Chol were gone. She blinked several times and looked around at the shadowy fortress now completely devoid of life. She didn’t see a single glowing figure anywhere; now that the gate had been breached, the Godcursed didn’t need to shift through the walls.
“Nau’shevi…” Sehris gasped as she looked around. Unlike every other source of light in this place, her luminescent eyes seemed even brighter than normal. “Is this…?”
“The Pale,” Rohen breathed. “Gods forgive us…”
“We need to go,” Delaryn said, staring down at where Zin’s body used to be. “This way.”
She tugged their arms and pulled them behind her as she walked toward the nearest wall. Both of her friends were trembling with shock, grief, and exhaustion, and Sehris’s body had been so ravaged by the Flensing she could barely stand. But Rohen visibly steeled himself and swept the dark elf up in his arms even as he continued glancing around in disbelief.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “How is this—”
“I will explain everything later,” Delaryn promised. “Just trust me. Please.”
He nodded and swallowed as he carried Sehris to the wall. Delaryn placed her hands against the smooth, dark gray stones, marveling at how they felt exactly the same as normal. The difference was that in the physical world, she couldn’t have possibly moved them. But here, anything was possible.
Forming her lips into a thin line, Delaryn imagined the wall opening right in front of her. Her will instantly became manifest: the rocks parted smoothly and silently without a single rumble or speck of dust. Soon the gap was large enough for them to walk through, and she stepped through with Rohen and Sehris closely in tow.
The frozen plains beyond were every bit as a disturbing, perhaps even more so. While the ground was still covered in a thick layer of snow and ice, she didn’t feel the slightest chill through her shoes. She had never missed the bitter wind blowing across her face and tousling her hair more than she did right now.
“This isn’t possible,” Sehris said, shaking her head. “We can’t be here!”
Delaryn pushed on as quickly as she could. A growing cacophony of whispers tugged at the back of her mind, but these hushed voices had nothing to do with the Wailing of the Chol. They were focused, relentless, and completely clear in what they wanted.
Escape.
The demons of the Pale were desperate to join the world of living, and they begged Delaryn to crack open the door. In one ear she heard dark promises of power in exchange for freedom; in the other she heard threats of eternal pain and torment if she refused. Along with the whispered words came a deluge of images and emotions, almost as if she were being drowned in a sea of memories from every mortal whose soul had ever passed beyond the walls of this realm.
“Keep walking,” Delaryn told the others through clenched teeth. “We need to get as far away as possible!”
While Rohen carried Sehris away, Delaryn concentrated on closing the rocks in the wall behind them. They moved together as smoothly and easily as before, but a split second before the gap sealed, she caught a glimpse of an armored figure with a horned helmet blink into existence within the fortress. It wasn’t a Chol or a demon—it was a man.
And he was staring right at her.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked back at him. His face was little more than a shadow inside his helmet, but somehow it still seemed familiar. She didn’t understand how or why…
And then the wall closed. Delaryn turned away, her temples throbbing as if her veins might burst. The demonic whispers were growing louder and more insistent by the moment, and she knew they couldn’t afford to linger—but she also knew they couldn’t afford to return to the physical world so close to the fortress. Spurring the others onward, she jogged south as quickly as she could. Once they finally passed the road, she reached out her hand and once again pushed open the veil between worlds—
The blast of cold wind was so sudden and so intense it knocked her from her feet. But for perhaps the first time in her life, Delaryn welcomed the bitter chill as her knees and hands sank into the snow.
“Ilhari vlos,” Sehris breathed as she glanced around in confusion. Her eyes, still brimming with tears, eventually settled on the fortress behind them. “Zin…”
All three of them turned. They were several hundred yards away from the wall and the battle behind it, but even from here the devastation was obvious. Billowing clouds of flame and smoke rose from the towers and the turrets, and thousands more Chol were still swarming in through the gate. For over five hundred years, Rimewreath had stood as a bulwark against barbarians, bandits, and monsters, but now…
Now the path to the south was finally open. Tor’s Crossing, Nythovas, even Silver Falls itself—without Rimewreath and Whitefeather Hold, all of them were vulnerable. The north was lost. Her homeland was lost.
And the Culling had only just begun.
To Be Continued
The adventure will continue soon!
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Also by Sarah Hawke
The Amazon’s Pledge
The Amazon’s Pledge
Mark of the Huntress
The Black Mistress
Daughter of Destiny
Legacy of Winter
Wrath of the Inquisitrix
; The Amazon’s Vengeance
The Amazon’s Vengeance
Blood Legacy
Ascension
The Dragon of Highwind
Conduit to the Gods (TBA!)
Wings of the Seraph
Wings of the Seraph
Outcast
Spider Zero
Spectre
The Last Blade
The Elf Slave Series
Slave to the Empire
Unbound
Unchained
Unbroken
Unleashed
The Spider Queen Collection
Web of the Spider Queen
Slaves of the Spider Queen
Bound to the Spider Queen
Vengeance of the Spider Queen
Wrath of the Spider Queen
Dirty, Filthy Fantasies
The Priestess’s Gratitude
The Headmistress’s Punishment
The Ranger-General’s Submission
The Ranger-General’s Submission
Knightfall
About the Author
Sarah Hawke lives in New England with her two cats, a horse, and a car that actually functions now thanks to the generosity of her readers!