“You will be compensated, water shifter.” Rhetahn lost patience with the young man’s verbosity. “Assuming we survive the journey, that is. How long will it take to reach Amity?”
“We’ll need to wait until full morning to begin, after the harpies have secluded themselves. They won’t fly in broad daylight. With a favorable wind, we’ll make the outskirts of Amity ahead of nightfall. We’ll have to moor in secret overnight and finish the expedition the following day.”
Dax grimaced. “Not ideal, yet faster than walking.”
“Dawn is only just breaking now,” Libby pointed out. “Shouldn’t we wait a while before leaving this cave? What if the harpies are patrolling?”
“She makes a good point,” Rhetahn said to Dax.
“Although it’s your decision,” Fen said, “if time is as pressing as Lieutenant Jahda intimated, you may want to risk it. Then we can sail with haste. Also, this cave is perfect for harpies to hide in during the day.”
Dax and Libby turned to Rhetahn. He frowned, glancing from the nonchalant water shifter to the mist-shrouded vista beyond the cave. Fen was right. Despite the danger, they needed to keep moving to catch the council prior to them getting deeper into the Shifterlands.
“Very well.” He inclined his head at the water shifter. “Lead the way.”
Fen gave a sweeping bow, his deference at odds with his mischievous smile. “Indeed, I shall. Happy to bring up the rear between our Lord and the young lady, Dax?”
“Of course.”
“Are you going to shift into a leopard again?” Libby asked.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” The young man tapped the quiver hanging off his shoulder. “My archery skills are more useful than animal senses against harpies.”
“Disappointed, little human?” Fen patted her on the shoulder with a grin. “I’m sure our gallant ground shifter will show you later, if you ask nicely.”
Even though Dax remained expressionless, Libby still blushed gorgeously. Rhetahn was now sure she wasn’t romantically interested in the ground shifter, merely curious about the shifter’s animal guise. He wondered what she would make of his own huge dragon form. Terrified, probably. On the other hand, perhaps not. So far, the human had displayed an unlimited supply of temerity.
Soon, they were negotiating a path he hadn’t spotted earlier. It snaked to their right on a steeper section of the mountainside. Dawn advanced slowly, the mountain colors growing more vivid as if trying to get the sun’s attention. Yellow gorse bushes lined the path, interspersed with purple heather and fragrant mountain-mint in various shades of green. Fen led the way with Libby and Rhetahn following. Dax trailed them in the rear, alert and watchful, an arrow nocked in his bow.
Dawn’s pale rays touched the colorful vegetation amongst the drab rocks and gravel. A magpie surveyed them from a distance, and curlews flew above their heads, their eerie wails echoing around the boulders. More birds joined the cheerful chorus, sounding out of place around the tense party. The roaring rapids on the other side of the mountain lessened to a faint rumble.
Mist cleared to reveal the trail’s path, twisting down the hillside into a wood at its base. The trees—a mixture of pines, conifers, and thick, leafy rowans—stood silent and unwelcoming in the hazy light, branches waving in the breeze as if shooing them away. There was no sign of the river.
He frowned when Fen gave Libby a conspiratorial wink. The water shifter seemed keen to get them into the open. How had he known they would be there in the first place?
He stopped dead on the path, causing Dax to bump into his back.
“Lord?”
“How did Fen have knowledge of our presence on the Yarkhelecht, and our debark point? How much do you trust him? He could be leading us into a trap.”
Before the ground shifter could respond, a dart whistled past his ear and thudded into the earth next to them.
For one extended moment, both men stared blankly at the barbed missile, then a cackling snarl came from above.
“Harpies,” Fen shouted. “Get to cover, now!”
Gripping Libby’s hand, the water shifter set off, springing across the slope like a deer in flight. Fury overwhelmed Rhetahn; Fen had betrayed them. He beheld the three human-shaped figures in the vaporous tendrils, their bat-like wings outstretched as they hovered with blowpipes in their gnarled hands. One lifted hers to her mouth and he froze, but Dax shot an arrow into their midst, making them screech and scatter.
“Run, Lord.” The ground shifter yanked another arrow from his quiver. “We’re easy pickings on this hillside and they know it.”
As if to prove his point, another dart whistled between them, skidding on a boulder. Its tip glinted ebony and purple, filled to the brim with poison.
Cursing, Rhetahn followed Fen and Libby’s path, crashing over the rocks, slipping and sliding across the gravel. He stumbled through a patch of gorse, his clothes providing scant protection from the razor-sharp thorns. A snapping twang came from behind him; the ground shifter was providing cover. An agonized scream from the skies indicated he’d found his mark.
A pasture of lilac and heather nestled at the base of the hill and Rhetahn tore across it, bounding sideways like a hare as another dart missed him by a whisker. He made it to the trees, his chest wound throbbing in time with his pounding heart. He scanned for Dax; the ground shifter still had half the pasture to cross, yanking another arrow from his quiver as he barreled ahead.
Wheezing, Rhetahn searched the skies for the harpies. One had crashed into a patch of heather near the mountain base, an arrow wedged in her upper chest. Another hovered close, fumbling with her blowpipe and reloading. The final one...
“Look out!” Libby’s scream jerked him round.
The harpy burst through the canopy toward him. Summoning magic with all his strength, he whipped it toward his attacker. The wall spell was nowhere near as powerful as it should have been, but the harpy smashed headlong into it. It dissolved into nothingness, and her unconscious body slumped to the ground.
He bent double, shaking, as Dax reached him.
“We need to get the third one,” the ground shifter said urgently. “If she escapes, we’ll have every foe in the area heading this way.”
Fen approached. “I’ll draw her out.”
Red mist filled Rhetahn’s vision.
Seizing the water shifter by the throat, he slammed him against a tree. “You’re the reason we’re in this situation, you fucking eel.” He squeezed his fist, his muscles screaming in protest. “How did you know our location? Why were you conveniently there to greet us? Less than an hour in your company and we’re under attack, you traitorous shit. How much are those bitches paying you?”
“Lord, stop,” Dax shouted, as the water shifter turned a sickly shade of gray. “Fen is a friend. Release him!”
“You have the audacity to command me, boy?”
A hand touched his forearm and he stiffened.
“My lord,” Libby said calmly. “Fen said from the start there were harpies around. He’s here to help us. Dax trusts him and we trust Dax, don’t we? Please let him go. Use that anger to catch the last harpy, we can’t let her escape.”
He swiveled toward her without loosening his hold. She held his gaze, her body language submissive but her bright eyes insistent. She had called him her lord. Her lord. Possessive desire made him slacken his fist, allowing Fen a desperate gasp of air. Finally, he released him.
The water shifter sank to the ground, coughing, as Rhetahn faced the third harpy. She was approaching with caution, her gaze sweeping the ground for her missing companions.
He drew his sword. “I’ll bring her in closer. Be ready, Dax, and keep the unconscious one alive for questioning. Libby, stay out of harm’s way.”
He strode into the open.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The harpy put the blowpipe to her lips when Rhetahn emerged from the tree line.
“Cowering from a distance as usual,” he said, ready to d
odge if she released another dart. “Craven bitches, hiding in the clouds like fairies, only nowhere near as sweet. Do you groveling hags consider yourselves warriors?”
She hissed, edging closer.
He glanced at Dax, waiting in the shadow of a gnarled rowan, his bowstring drawn and ready. The ground shifter shook his head. Rhetahn continued in the same taunting vein, keeping a tight hold on his sword hilt. He needed to hurry. Dax couldn’t hold the draw forever.
“Are mirrors still banned on Rasp Ridge? Does your queen insist you’re beautiful yet refuse to let you see for yourself?”
Her leathery skin creased into twists as she snarled.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He gave a mocking laugh. “No wonder the swarm cowers in the shadows, paying homage to the demons who despise you like everyone else—”
With a furious screech, she snapped her wings and shot toward him.
Dax’s arrow whipped past him and thudded into her ribs. Her mouth opened in an ‘O’ of shock, her purposeful dive changing to a flailing plummet.
She hit the ground at his feet, and he swung his sword in a smooth arc, slicing her neck like a knife through butter. Greenish blood sprayed from the laceration, splattering his upper body. He stumbled backward in disgust, a nausea rolling through his belly. Wiping the viscous gloop from his face, he turned to the trees and froze.
Dax and Libby stared, distracted by the near-headless body slumping to the ground. Behind them, the first harpy had come to and was advancing with purpose. Her attention was locked on Dax as she lifted her blowpipe to her lips. Shouting a warning, he lurched forward, knowing it would be too late.
A knife whistled across the glade. The creature screamed, causing his companions to whirl around. Fen loomed behind the harpy, another dagger loose and ready in his hands. Her wings crumpled around her like a bony cloak as she collapsed.
“Answer my questions and we will ease your passing.” Rhetahn strode to her. As he’d suspected, the first of Fen’s blades was imbedded in her back. She wasn’t going to last long. “Why are the demons attacking? How many are there?”
The woman’s cackle became a gurgling cough.
“Your time is done, dragon.” Her nasal voice was hoarse. “The demons have returned.”
“Yes, we figured that out for ourselves.” Fen spun the knife on his fingertips, appearing no worse for his violent experience at Rhetahn’s hand. “How about telling us something we don’t already know?”
The creature’s yellow-eyed gaze drifted to Libby.
“I have more sisters close by, special one,” she crooned, spittle dribbling from her mouth. “Seek their protection and they’ll carry you away from this false god and his bootlickers, to those who brought you to pass.”
“Don’t talk to her,” Rhetahn snapped. He moved in front of Libby. “How many demons are massing near Rasp Ridge?”
The harpy said nothing, panting with every moment.
“Answer me.”
“I don’t believe she’s in a talkative mood,” Fen remarked. “Shall we jab her with the dart to make her more cooperative?”
The harpy paled, her bloodshot gaze shooting between them.
“An excellent suggestion.” Rhetahn crossed his arms. “Is that what you need to loosen your tongue, hag? A taste of your own poison? I’ve seen enough die from it to understand the pain it causes.”
Only the harpy’s harsh breathing and the twittering birds in the canopy disturbed the silence. Rays of dawn’s sunlight sparkled through the branches, yet shadows clung to the fallen creature like she belonged to the darkness.
He inclined his head at Fen. “Do it.”
The water shifter scooped up the harpy’s dropped blowpipe obediently.
She spat words at them like a snake. “I know very little.”
Rhetahn shrugged. “I ask you again, what has made the demons attack on such a scale?”
“They’ve waited an age to put their plan into motion...” Her voice became a hacking cough.
“Continue,” he said when she leaned back on her ankles in exhaustion.
“Something went wrong,” she croaked. “I heard one demon say you should be dead already. They should be marching to Trivium in triumph, not hunting you and the amulets across the Shifterlands.”
“How many demons are there?” Dax asked.
“More than you can fight, ground shifter. They’ve rallied in secret for years. Now they come to annihilate the dragons and their fawning supplicants. And harpies shall bear witness to the glory.”
“You won’t,” Fen pointed out.
She bared her bloodstained teeth, her breath growing more labored and her body shuddering. “I have told you everything I know. Finish it.”
Rhetahn shook his head. “We’re not done yet. What did you mean, something went wrong? Are you referring to the ritual? Did the demons predict Mhaljett’s actions?”
“Foolish god.” The harpy twisted her thin lips into a sneer. “You have grown weak and ignorant in your dotage. Hiding in your castle, ignoring the realm around you and basking in your arrogance and imbecility. You missed”—she coughed, greenish spittle spraying from her mouth—“what was right under your nose, or rather, your brother’s nose.”
He raised his palms to the sky. “What nonsense are you speaking?”
The creature’s gaze fell to Libby again, who peeked from behind Rhetahn. Triumph colored her next words.
“Kalid’har returns,” she rasped, “and the realm will cower...”
She collapsed, Fen’s throwing knife still imbedded in her back. Her breathing slowed, juddered, then stopped.
“Well, that wasn’t illuminating.” Fen retrieved his blade and wiping the green-tinged gore on the ground. “Do you comprehend what she meant, Lord, or why she babbled about Kalid’har? He’s long dead, isn’t he?”
“He is. I watched him fall myself.”
“She mentioned that your brother missed something,” Dax said. “Did she mean Mhaljett? Or Storren?”
“I don’t know.” Rhetahn rubbed his temples, trying to stem his pounding head. “Her words made no sense, other than to clarify this demon attack has been planned for an extended time.”
“How?” Libby asked. “Mhaljett’s actions seemed so unexpected.”
“Lord Rhetahn was supposed to die also.” The ground shifter’s voice was sober. “She said their attack on the Shifterlands should have been a victory march. They weren’t expecting much resistance, meaning they anticipated the death or incapacitation of all three gods.”
“They didn’t account for Rhetahn’s reflexes,” Libby said. “Or Captain Brand having the nous to fly him to safety. But how did they foretell what Mhaljett would do?”
Rhetahn bit his lip and didn’t answer.
Her expression grew haunted. “It’s me, isn’t it? My blood sent Mhaljett insane for some reason and the demons predicted it. This relates to Thassa machinating me as the sacrifice. Hence her saying I’ll be taken to ‘those who brought me to pass.’ Thassa and the other sorcerers, who are being escorted by demons. Everything that has happened is my fault.”
“No.” He took her hand. “There is no wrongdoing on your part. This is supposition. You are an innocent pawn in whatever dangerous game Thassa is playing. To obtain real answers, we have to get to him.”
Fen nodded. “We need to grab the other two, then we’ll press on.”
“Grab the other two?” Libby said faintly.
Rhetahn noted her paleness and wide eyes. She’d probably never seen a harpy in her life, let alone been attacked by them. He squeezed her hand as Fen elaborated.
“We need to get the bodies out of sight. Come on, Dax.”
“One moment.” Rhetahn shuffled his feet. “I owe you an apology, water shifter—”
“No need, Lord. I recognize the suspiciousness of my fortuitous appearance. Besides, few can boast they’ve been manhandled by a god. If I get the story right, I’ll never have to buy my own drink again.” He tapped h
is lips thoughtfully. “How would you feel if I embellished the tale and told people I came off best?”
Rhetahn wasn’t sure how to answer. Luckily, Dax’s stern question saved him from having to do so.
“Why were you on the mountainside, Fen? Even I was surprised to see you.”
Fen’s smile widened. “An excellent question, my friend. Here’s one for you: how is it you can shoot harpies from the sky with ease yet be vanquished by tiny sprites?”
The ground shifter gaped. “How...?”
Rhetahn studied the water shifter. “The otter.”
“That was you?” Libby exclaimed.
“Indeed, it was.” Fen stretched out his arms grandly. “Dax wasn’t making your rescue attempt easy. In this form I’d have been as susceptible as him, so I decided to assist in the water. Animals are immune to bluecaps.”
“You were following us already?”
“After relocating my boat, I came to hunt for you. Jahda told us you were heading for Pikeport, so I knew you’d be traveling in the Taglemeiss area. I swam up the Yarkhelecht to save time. I was surprised to find you on the barge, but it saved me from bumbling around the tunnels searching for you. I was ready to shift and climb aboard when the bluecaps appeared.” Fen threw a playful glance at the chagrined ground shifter. “I’m not sure what was funnier, my noble friend succumbing to the sprites or getting knocked senseless by a dragon god.”
Rhetahn frowned. “Why didn’t you show yourself when we disembarked?”
Fen studied his fingernails. “I decided not to reveal my presence to the dwarves. I went on to Khulacht instead—it’s not far from where you came ashore—then went aboveground and headed around the mountain while you traipsed through the tunnels.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to reveal your presence?” Dax’s face cleared. “The dwarves haven’t permitted you access to their river, have they?”
“I’m banned from it. A simple misunderstanding around payment for some cargo. You know what they’re like.” Fen shrugged. “One tiny miscalculation leads to a small under-payment and you’ve offended them to their core. My access has been revoked until I pay a Khulacht elder what he believes I owe him. He can sing for it, the greedy old bastard, and I’ll keep using the river as often as I like. Assuming they don’t recognize me.”
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