Siren's Song

by Mary Weber

  I glance at Mia and Tannin. “How soon can we reach the northern border?”

  Tannin raises a brow. “That’s not on our route, miss. The closest we come is our final stop in Litchfell, which—”

  “How soon, Tannin?”

  “Two days, tops. But are you saying we abandon the rest of your tour—”

  “I’m saying we finish down here and then head for the border before entering Litchfell. If we can meet up with King Sedric’s scouting parties or wraiths—”

  “Pardon, miss, but I’m uncertain how they’ll help. I’m aware you’d like to locate Princess Rasha, but Draewulf will have her more highly protected than any of our units are prepared to—”

  “I’m aware of that, but I believe we already have an idea of where she’ll be. Plus, we have the advantage of Lord Myles.” I peer over at Myles who, even though still resting on his horse’s mane, seems somewhat sane at the moment. Even if the veins beneath his facial skin are all blackening, making him look aged about twenty years. “Who I plan to put to good use.”

  “And may I ask how?” Myles slurs.

  I purse my lips and unload my bag as the itching beneath my own wrist veins picks up.

  After a moment Mia says, “She’s going to use herself and you as bait.”

  CHAPTER 26

  IT’S NOT UNTIL THE FIFTH MORNING AWAY FROM THE Castle—when my anxiety’s been spiking along with my plans—that I notice it.

  The fog is reeling back over the blue-gray hills to dissipate over the sea, and the sunrays are just beginning to warm the dirt. The guards are cleaning up breakfast while the rest roll up bedding, and I’ve begun to tie blankets to the horses, who’re still acting jittery. Even Haven is shuffling and stamping her hooves.

  I look up to fog-fingered mountains and sniff the air. I smell nothing and yet . . .

  And yet I can taste something. The moment I recognize the sensation, it’s like my blood comes alive with awareness of how deeply it’s moving over the atmosphere.

  I almost gag. Draewulf’s presence.

  “I’m coming for you, pet.”

  It nearly knocks my knees from beneath me, as if it’s been moving in all along but so subtle, so slow, I failed to recognize the reek. I scan the purple horizon—searching for what? I don’t know. His airships? Warning pyres? Wraiths?

  Not even a flesh-eating bird trolls the sky or interrupts the song of a nearby thrush.

  So why is a shiver curling my spine?

  I glance over at the men and Mia, who’ve been so supportive, living, sleeping, eating together, and rushing me in and out at each of the five towns we’ve stopped at. And try not to think of what I’ll be making them face tomorrow.

  Just focus on the task at hand, Nym. Focus on today and the village marked on Eogan’s map.

  “We need to move out,” I say to the group and, without further explanation, climb onto Haven and turn toward the mass of green coating the northwestern rim at the base of Faelen’s Fendres Mountains. Litchfell.

  It’s not until I look around for Myles that the uneasy feeling comes back. When I don’t see him, I turn to Tannin. “Has anyone seen the Lord Protectorate? We have to go.”

  “He’s gone,” Mia says quietly.

  “He’s what?” I spin around.

  “He went for the princess,” she says.

  “He did what? Is he insane?” I almost laugh.

  “Gilford tried using the wristlet on him, but we couldn’t stop him in time.” Her tone is beyond apologetic.

  Is she jesting? “And you didn’t wake us?” Why wouldn’t she?

  Mia grabs the reins to her horse and falls in line with the rest of us. “He’d already made up his mind.” A rimming of red fills her eyes, indicating she’d read him. “He would’ve injured your men and still escaped. It seemed better to let him go.”

  I glance around at the group.

  “He did ask me to inform you that his ability could exhibit enough for what needed to be done, so there was no sense in wasting your life as well.”

  I pause. He said that?

  Mia nods.

  Oh.

  I shake my head. “He’s an idiot.”

  “Completely.”

  “How does he think he’ll make it across the waterway, let alone up into Tulla?”

  “He is the king’s cousin. It will take little convincing to get the Faelen captains to believe he’s under King Sedric’s orders. Or under King Eogan’s, for that matter. I believe he means to hitch a ride on one of the airships Faelen’s men have supposedly confiscated in the waterway.”

  “And will he actually make it to Rasha?”

  “I don’t believe so. But he feels it’s his responsibility to try.”

  Of all the blasted—I pound my fist on my thigh and swear at him.

  “Better he dies trying than destroy the rest of us with his disease.”

  The way she says it stops me in my tracks. I don’t even have to look at her to know her eyes will be reddening around the pupils as she reads my intentions. The ones that are saying I don’t know if I could’ve killed him had it come to that, and I’m quite sure her pacifist self couldn’t have either.

  I breathe out for only the humidity to hear. “So he’s going to get himself killed.”

  “Yes. At least without our help.”

  “Will he even get close to Rasha?” I mutter after a moment.

  “We’d have to follow him to find out.”

  I study Tannin’s expression that claims he’s been taking this all in. He shakes his head.

  “I know you disapprove—”

  “I only fear for your safety, miss. The king’s cousin has made his choice, but you—”

  “You know well enough I’ve already made mine too. We came to rally the people and then find a way to rescue Rasha, if that’s even a possibility.” I glance at the horizon. “Now Myles has just given us a head start.”

  “Miss, I—”

  “Either arrest me or follow me, Tannin. But we’re only a few hours from Litchfell and we can follow that toward the border today if we start now. So what’s it going to be?”

  After a moment he tells the group to fall in.

  Good. Thank you. I nod at him and set Haven free to ride for it, leaving the others in our dust for a while. Until it begins to mist so heavy the group swears at me to quit messing with the weather.

  “I rather like it,” I’m tempted to inform them but, instead, ease up and bring out the sun like a semi-decent person.

  “As if following Lord Myles’s tracks wasn’t hard enough,” one of the guards groans.

  I bite my tongue and look away.

  Maybe my nerves are due to Myles, or Eogan, or Rasha. I squirm in my seat and set my eyes ahead.

  Or maybe they’re due to the fact we’re getting closer to Litchfell. I shudder at the thought of my last encounter with the bolcranes there. When Colin and Breck and I . . .

  Sigh.

  When they were still alive. Well, sort of.

  “Up here,” a guard shouts. “Tracks.” He’s taking a tradesmen’s path that’s heavily covered in brush between the Litchfell Forest on our left and the vast, green Faelen valley to the right. The sun is creating a ripple of heat waves across the surface of it. Warming the hovels and empty plowed fields and people who’re even now deciding whether to fight for king and country.

  I ride ahead to the guard to push on our pace. C’mon, Myles, how far have you gone?

 
It’s not long until Kel strikes up his questions again as we wind our way up and down the path that leads to the slim set of foothills just before the ocean channel and the airship I hope is still there.

  “And what are bolcranes like?” Kel asks after a good fifty terrameters.

  “Deadly,” Tannin mutters.

  “How deadly?”

  “They’ll eat you in two bites.”

  “Neat.” Kel’s eyes are huge. “Will we see any?”

  “Hopefully not.” I frown.

  “Well, what do they look like?”

  Tannin clears his throat and shakes his head at me.

  “Ah c’mon. I’ll need to know in case I spot one, right? Probably be safer if I know what to avoid.” Kel flashes his giant white teeth.

  “They look like enormous lizards,” I say. “Except with shiny black scales and crocodilian mouths that host sharp teeth. And they’re bigger than the horse you’re riding when they’re full grown.”

  Kel’s face is turning a darker shade of black, as if he’s holding his breath. “And?” he finally whispers. “What are they from? How’d they get in the forest? How do they stay in there?”

  Tannin puckers his mouth and looks quizzically in my direction.

  Huh. Good question. I don’t actually know. And apparently neither does anyone else in the group because they’re suddenly all staring at me too.

  And then, after a moment, “There’s a legend,” I say. I bite my lip.

  “It claims they’re descendents of once-powerful beings here in Faelen who lived in the most beautiful valley. Until they became arrogant and full of selfish, bloated hearts, and their Creator was forced to banish them to the forest. Where they’ve lived ever since.” I kick Haven to move ahead.

  “What kind of powerful beings?” Kel asks.

  I don’t answer.

  Tannin clears his throat again.

  “What? Tell me.”

  “Elementals,” the guard says softly.

  “Oh.” Kel falls silent for a merciful minute. Until, “Well, is the story true?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Tannin replies—which becomes a common response during the next four hours, most of which the boy spends asking an inexcusable amount of questions.

  “And what of—?”

  A chill runs between my shoulder blades, so minimal I almost miss it.

  Except it’s followed by another.

  What the—?

  I try to shake it off, but even Haven is jittering beneath me as we reach the cusp of a hill that drops down into a forested trail blanketed in heavy shadow.

  A noise ahead grows louder. Like Lord Myles’s habit of hissing his words . . . but not.

  Litches.

  I flip around and flail a hand at Kel. “Shh!”

  “What? Why?”

  “Stop talking. Stop riding,” I snap at the group. “Just . . . stay.”

  Tannin and two of the guards canter up beside me to lend their eyes and ears.

  “I don’t hear anything,” one whispers after a moment.

  “You don’t hear the hissing?”

  All three of them shake their heads. “Miss, are you—?”

  I beckon Mia to join us. “Do you hear it?”

  “No, but I see you believe wraiths are nearby.”

  “Are they?”

  Her red-lit eyes scan the forest tunnel for what seems like far too long, until eventually she points a finger. “There.”

  A second later a wrinkle in the air erupts and the atmosphere comes alive with images, as if an unseen bomb went off and set the airwaves moving. At first it’s hard to see them in detail—but then an army of Faelen soldiers is emerging from the forest.

  The hissing noise spikes and is followed by the appearance of three wraiths reacting to the men. I sniff. Even from this distance their scent is floating up, permeating my nostrils with the stench of decay.

  “Ugh, what is that?” someone behind us says.

  “The wraiths,” Kel answers. “That’s their odor.”

  I wrinkle my nose.

  “It was a wraith scouting party hedging along Litchfell,” Mia says. “What are they doing this far into Faelen?”

  Tannin’s face is stalled in horror. “Looks more like it’s an ambush on our men.”

  I study the way their limbs move through the brush and forest trees. “Those aren’t our men.”

  He swerves toward me as do the other guards.

  “It’s Lord Myles.”

  His brow goes up.

  “She’s right,” Mia says. “If I had to guess, I’d say he stumbled upon their scouting party and they ambushed him. He’s creating an image to confuse them.”

  “We need to help him.” I twitch the reins against Haven’s neck. “Tannin, you and Kel stay here with four guards. The rest of you, follow me.”

  “But, miss—”

  I ignore Tannin and twitch a crack of lightning toward the forest’s edge—away from where I suspect Myles is under siege, but enough to distract his attackers as I nudge Haven into a gallop toward the tunneled path leading down.

  We’ve hardly gone one-third a terrameter when the hissing grows loud enough to fill the entire atmosphere around us. I crack the sky overhead with one, two, five more strikes, but don’t allow them to touch down lest they hit too near Myles.

  The next moment the forest is filled with black-cowled, ghoulish-faced wraiths, far more than merely the three. Dark wisps writhe around their gaping jaws and empty black eyes, and they appear to have been mainly pieced together from men, although a few have an extra appendage—one a snake tail, another the skin of a sea animal if I didn’t know better. A third has the claws of a bolcrane on both hands.

  “Bleeding litch!” the Cashlin guard yells.

  “Of all the—” Myles yells from somewhere.

  “Aim for their heads,” is the only advice I give before racing toward them. By the time I’m close enough to the fray to see through the mirage of soldiers, I’ve impaled two of the wraiths with an onslaught of ice picks. I take out a third when Mia and our guards reach me. The guards have their swords drawn and hack away at the swarming beasts, while Mia looks on in shock.

  “Myles,” I call.

  He doesn’t reply.

  A wraith jumps from the branches overhead and I’ve hardly time to move Haven out of the way before he hits the ground. His claws scratch up her flank, causing her to shriek. Next thing I know she’s flipped around and bitten the thing’s head off.

  Except three more are right behind him.

  Litch. Where did they all come from?

  I snap lightning through the trees at them even as I note that one of our guards has fallen and Gilford is barely keeping the wraiths off of Mia. The poor thing. She looks absolutely terrified.

  I take out another black-eyed beast only to realize that the party with me isn’t experienced enough at fighting them.

  They’re going to get massacred if I don’t do something.

  I glance around for Myles—and I’m met with a claw in my shoulder. It wrenches me off of Haven before I can reach a hand around to freeze it. Two seconds later I’ve let an ice stream pool its way up the beast’s arm and into his mouth, shattering his skull from the inside out. He drops.

  I drop. I can’t breathe. The air’s too thick in here.

  And that blasted hissing.

  I look up just as two more wraiths lock their eyeless
sights on me.

  Hulls.

  “Myles, where in blazes are you?”

  Still no reply, but this time there’s another shudder in the atmosphere and the sound of running, as if someone’s crashing through the forest. The air around me ripples again and one, two, three mirage soldiers still standing abruptly shift into wraiths. The black-cowled undead who’d locked sights on me pause. One appears to focus his body toward me and I lift a hand to take him down. Except he tips his head at an odd angle, sniffs, then pulls back.

  What the—?

  A second later he turns to shuffle away and the other follows.

  I glance behind me, then down to see what caused the reaction.

  Oh litch. At my feet lies another version of myself, sliced open from stomach to throat and bleeding out in bright-red rivulets. I peer up and around in time to see the bodies of Tannin, Mia, Gilford, and the other soldiers materialize nearby—also dead, also bleeding out.

  Nicely done, Myles.

  “All of you, stop. Don’t move.” I keep my tone low, but loud enough for the group to hear.

  The guards obey. “M’lady?” Tannin whispers.

  “Look down.”

  Their exclamations of surprise say they see us as dead too.

  “I believe Myles has them fooled into thinking their job is done. I’d suggest waiting until they’ve retreated to move, lest we show them different.”

  Tannin tips a finger to indicate he understands.

  The sound of the final wraiths shuffling back into the tree line gradually dies away. Only a muted cry from someone farther out threatens to reveal us, but it fades as swift as it erupted.

  I wait another minute before moving toward the group, and all but two of the soldiers, who take it upon themselves to search the area, stride back to where Kel and the others are waiting.

  “Everyone alive?” I say.

  “I believe so.”

  “That was terrifying!” Kel’s eyes are as big as hornet eggs, but his grin suggests he wished to be in on the fight.

  I shake my head.