Lera of Lunos

by Alex Lidell

  “The main bonfire is by the Red Temple,” Tye says, cutting off the prince. “That’s where all the drinking and merriment will be happening even now, on what the city considers Samhain Eve.” He draws his sword, baring his teeth at Xane. “Let’s move, Highness. In case you might be of use.”

  With the approaching sunset, the streets are even busier than I remember, many revelers already starting to celebrate. Deep drums boom from dozens of fires licking the dimming sky, while fiddles strike tuning chords as if exchanging the latest gossip. The scent of smoked meats and spiced hot cider fills the air—the latter unlikely meant for children, given the intoxicating fumes.

  My heart speeds in rhythm to the music, my breaths even only thanks to Coal’s training. I take in the Red Temple’s peak, still far from us. Too far. Masked children and rowdy youths rush about the crowded streets, seeing little on their path. Vulnerable. These children, these fae, all so unprepared for the horrors Griorgi is about to unleash.

  I curse, tripping on the hem of my dress and discarded strings of red and orange flags, while Tye pushes aside a pair of boys wanting to try their wooden swords against his steel. Even with Tye leading the way and Viper’s quint bringing up the rear—trapping Xane in the middle lest he should try to bolt—we can only move so fast. Only do so much to outpace the setting sun.

  The crowds are shoulder to shoulder by the time we reach the temple, its steps filled with bards and priests, while a great bonfire crackles in a westside clearing. I stop, bracing my hands on my silk-covered thighs as my eyes follow the sun lowering toward the temple’s peak, the gilded steps indeed blazing like flames. The drums and fiddles come together now, heralding the sunset’s flaming climax.

  Ta-da-da dum, dum. Ta-da-da dum. The musical march calls from all sides. Ta-da-da dum, dum. Ta-da-da dum.

  A priest on the top step starts a countdown, his red robes glowing as the sun creeps toward the horizon. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven—”

  The air beside the priest ripples, thickening. Gripping my attention, if not yet that of the revelers. We were right. Stars. We were right. Dread and relief seize my stomach in turn.

  “Six,” says a voice that is not the priest’s. Not fae at all.

  I grab Tye’s arm, my fingers digging into his muscles as two qoru step from the Gloom to desecrate the temple’s beauty. Their mottled gray skin, webbed legs, and lidless eyes send sick terror careening through me. Their mouths are open in rictus grins, sharp teeth bared hungrily.

  For a second, the crowd does nothing, thinking it all but a new twist in the evening’s ceremony, cheering for the high quality of the newcomers’ costumes. Then reality starts to seep in, to kindle the fear. The crowd marks the priest’s frozen confusion. The stalled countdown. The smell of rotten flesh carried on the wind. Murmurs turn to exclamations, which turn to a rumble of rising screams. The music finally falters when two more beings step through the thickened air—one as large as River, the other smaller, with Xane’s strawberry-blond hair.

  A flash of a knife steals the sunset’s glory as Griorgi slashes the king of Blaze’s throat, sending the bleeding corpse rolling down the temple steps.

  30

  Lera

  Xane screams.

  Beside me, Tye’s sword whispers free of its scabbard.

  The panicked crowd around us parts like a great sea, the revelers trampling over each other in a desperate shove to get away. In no more than five heartbeats, the lane between Griorgi, standing at the top of the temple steps, the dead king bleeding at the bottom, and Xane, trembling ten paces away, is clear.

  Mullen leaps toward the steps, toward his fallen king, only to be flicked aside by Griorgi’s magic like a bug striking a window.

  “Ironic, isn’t it, Xane?” Griorgi says to the prince, now so pale he must hold on to one of Viper’s quint mates just to avoid falling. “You expend such effort contriving ways to hide the truth from your sire, and now it’s all for naught. Don’t feel too humiliated though. Klarissa is still dancing along the border, negotiating with a corpse.”

  An unintelligible choking sound emerging from Xane’s throat makes me pity him for a moment, not that it does the male any good.

  Griorgi beckons the prince toward him. “Now then, colt. Let us discuss your options. Namely, would you rather spare your court pain and bloodshed by acknowledging me as your liege, or shall we accomplish the same end with the encouragement of my allies?”

  The two qoru, standing at ease until now, suddenly straighten and step forward to flank the Slait king.

  Everything inside me focuses, my pulse and breath steadying as the field of battle unfurls before me. If Griorgi is here, River and the others can’t be far. And there are better things for us to be doing than watching the king break Xane’s resolve.

  I grab Viper’s wrist. “Tell Klarissa to engage,” I whisper into his ear, moving to Tye without waiting for a response. Whether or not Griorgi manages to pull Xane—and therefore all of Blaze—over to his side, the true turn of battle rides on the portal that the bastard must still be opening. And where there is a portal, there will be River. The others too, if Griorgi is using them as leverage. The war is coming, whether I’m dressed for it or not.

  Understanding my silent question, Tye holds out a hand, mouthing, “Gloom.”

  The moment our fingers touch, I feel the pull, my body stepping through the invisible veil between the worlds of light and darkness. As the Gloom focuses around me, my hand tightens around Tye’s. Even after weeks of transitions, the initial moments of entering the dimness are still disorienting. Add in the blood rushing through my ears, and for a moment, I can’t work out why the pounding drums and ringing screams have suddenly cut off. Why, instead of looking up at the temple’s bloodstained steps, I now stare at the inner walls of its towering nave, the rows of pews and the great altar somehow having made it into the Gloom. All of it—even the stained-glass windows, which I imagine would normally beam at this time of day—is covered with glowing blue moss.

  I’ve never seen the like. The thick, velvety parasite is everywhere. Wrapping around pillars, hanging in uneven patches along the walls, growing so thickly around the altar that the heavy stonework is barely visible beneath the blue carpet. Thick as the moss is, it seems to be moving, the tendrils shifting in a nonexistent breeze. Feeding on the grand influx of magic filling the space.

  As my eyes rove over the dim, cavernous hall from our shadowed hideout at the edge, it takes me a moment to register what I’m seeing, but then my heart leaps into my throat. Only Tye’s hand on my arm keeps me from sprinting across the dull marble floor.

  At the far end of the room, Shade and Coal kneel beside each other, bodies heavy with exhaustion. I see no immediate restraints, but the glazed pain in their eyes fills in the gaps—some dark power of Griorgi’s keeps them and their magic caged. As do the half dozen qoru surrounding them, using blades and boots to clear moss-free patches for themselves. Wearing little beyond boots, loincloths, and sword belts, the qoru are taking no chances with the moss burning their exposed gray skin.

  In the open space before the raised sanctuary and its altar, River crouches before an elaborate design painted in harsh, dark-red strokes on the stone floor. Blood, my mind whispers. A warped version of a seven-pointed star, about the width of a barn door, with too many dashes and swirls and carefully painted symbols for me to track. With a quick slice of his knife, River adds another gash to his already-bleeding forearm. The blood catches on his dark metal cuff before overflowing and continuing down to the floor.

  My throat burns with acid and tears. Even in the perverted light of the Gloom, River looks too pale. Ill. Dark bags hang under his eyes, and his hair is matted to his forehead and temples. Such a far cry from the clean, upright commander I’m used to that I can barely believe it’s him. A thin stream of blood trickles from his cut limb, that intricate seven-pointed painting soaking it up hungrily. Evil wafts from the rune, as stomach-turning as the qoru’s stench. I’ve no noti
on of how River can bear to stand there, when not even the moss comes near. An island of bare stone in a blue velvet sea.

  “Can you move no faster?” a familiar, deathly voice demands from an invisible place just above the rune, where the portal to Mors is brewing into existence. Jawrar.

  “I could. So long as you little mind the qoru coming through in pieces,” River says, his steady tone strong enough to fool most beings. But not me. Not Tye either, who releases a small, protective growl. River lifts his face, his eyes widening for a moment at the sight of us, before lowering it again quickly. “Plus, I’m not doing anything drastic until my father returns.”

  Just as the cool hilt of a blade touches my palm, Tye sliding me a spare sword, Jawrar and four more qoru step through thick nothingness into the nave. The emperor strides past River with an annoyed huff.

  For a moment, his gleaming blood-red eyes are all I can see. Then the mottled gray skin stretching over misshapen bones. The jewel-encrusted sash, joined now by a ruby-studded sword belt that looks eerily similar to Griorgi’s. The emperor’s sharp teeth clack and he sniffs the air. The hair on the back of my neck rises.

  “Good thing the stars sent us a snack while we wait,” he says. He snaps his fingers at his accompanying henchmen, who break into a run toward Tye and me immediately, while their disciplined companions maintain their previous stations.

  Tye raises a large shield around us but it’s too late. I gasp as the Mors nightmares rip the protection to shreds without so much as tripping. They are used to such magics from the slaves they keep.

  My males’ voices rise in warning, as does my own leaping heart. Raising the sword Tye gave me, I hold the tip between me and the approaching beasts. Force myself to inhale. Judge the speed of approach, the stench that somehow grows even more pungent. Four steps. Three. One. Lunging forward just as the first of the qoru enters my range, I swing for its thin, veiny neck.

  My sword slices the air, an extension of my arm after all of Coal’s drills. For a moment, I think it’s someone else inside my body, stepping and swinging and closing in for the kill. I’m as surprised as the qoru is when the sharp edge of my blade bites into its flesh. Hits bone.

  Black liquid flows from the wound, the stench making my stomach turn. In my side vision, I see two more qoru rushing up. I yank back my sword, cursing when the blade remains stuck in the bone. My heart races, my arms heaving with all my might.

  A fist jams into my gut, stopping my breath. Beside me, a trio of qoru take Tye to his knees.

  I pull desperately on the sword, which finally slides free of the dead body just as a pair of gray arms clamps around my waist. The qoru’s wet breath skitters over the back of my neck, the sound of its clicking teeth like nails on slate. Switching my hold on the sword, I aim the blade behind me, mapping its path in my mind’s eye.

  A second pair of qoru hands is on me before I can finish the blow, long gray fingers gripping my sword hand. A moment later, pain explodes in my wrist, the crack of bone and my own scream sounding too dull in the Gloom.

  “Lera!” Shade’s voice reaches me through the haze of pain. Before I can scream again, Shade stands, his yellow eyes flashing wildly.

  “No!” River shouts.

  Coal grabs for Shade and misses, his sluggish movements sending a different brand of agony through me.

  Ignoring the males’ warnings, Shade leaps into the air toward me and—

  And slams into nothingness. The very air shimmers with a momentary blackness, slamming the male back toward Coal. Shade falls into a crumpled heap on the floor, his body arching in a horrid spasm. A trickle of blood pours from his mouth, the overgrown moss stretching toward it hungrily until Coal sweeps it back with his boot, knocking over a pew in the process.

  I sob.

  Jawrar inhales deeply, smacking his lipless mouth as if savoring a delicate wine, while Shade whimpers, his body shifting from wolf to male and back again, over and over.

  A knife edge presses against the far edge of my throat, preparing to slice. I close my eyes, unable to watch my males lose another quint mate.

  “Keep her alive,” Jawrar says, a smile in his croaking voice. “Griorgi’s spawn will become useless too early otherwise.”

  The knife lifts away.

  A deep laugh that could have been River’s fills the room as Griorgi steps into the Gloom with Xane. Tossing the prince onto the floor beside the altar, Griorgi watches him flop about like a fish, recoiling from the burning moss until he finally collects himself enough to rise into a kneeling position.

  “I’m starting to understand the appeal of your persuasion methods, Jawrar,” the king says. “Establishing a hierarchy amidst the cattle might be a messy business, but it does pay dividends.”

  “Yes. It does.” Tearing his gaze away from Shade’s suffering, Jawrar turns his attention to Griorgi. “Once we unite and you add the lesser fae and mortals into your stable, you will discover the benefits you’ve long been denied. Even the dumber beasts can have utility or pleasures to offer, when motivated correctly. Now, let’s bring the others through and get this done.”

  “Of course.” Striding up to the rune beside River, Griorgi slices his own wrist, using the blood to make a correction to the drawing. At once, the air above the rune turns into liquid night, stretching up slowly into a pitch-black archway that sends waves of terror through every fiber of my being.

  31

  Lera

  The qoru holding me forces me to my knees beside Tye, another qoru’s blade still at his throat. In the moment while the monsters’ greedy attention fixes on the opening portal, Tye’s green gaze finds mine. “Five.” The single, hoarse order escaping his swollen lips sends a shiver down my spine.

  “Five,” River mouths.

  My heart lurches as I feel the sudden surge of River’s power. He may be unable to use it himself with those shackles on, but he doesn’t need to. He needs to do nothing but simply let it wake, let it exist enough for my own body to respond in echo. If I dare.

  Stars. The males want me to connect the quint, as I have before. Each time with disastrous results. My mouth dries, images of Karnish’s collapsed buildings and the arena’s cleaved ground clear in my mind. The magic has only grown more powerful since. Worse, the slight waggling of the woven magic, the most I’ve truly done up to now, will not be enough.

  To combat Griorgi’s nightmare, I’ll have to wield the power fully, holding nothing back. And if I do, I will kill us all. I know it. And so do the males. I can see as much in River’s apologetic gaze, his sad resignation. His eyes slide meaningfully toward the open portal, through which the first of the qoru squadrons are just starting to emerge in rows of three. Feet clicking on the marble floor, milky pink eyes wide with excitement, pointed teeth bared. It’s too late to prevent the invasion, but there may yet be time to destroy us all—and the portal—before the hordes are loose. Time to save the world, just not ourselves.

  “I’ll shield you from debris,” Tye rasps, his magic rising, growing inside my blood and roaring for destruction. “You’ll walk out, Lilac Girl. But you must destroy this place before you do.”

  No. No. I can’t kill them. I won’t kill them.

  Feeling eyes on me, I look up to find Coal’s brilliant blue stare. His face is grim, his subtle nod saying he knows what’s just been said. Is unsurprised. Is in bloody agreement.

  Shade opens his yellow eyes for a moment, his gaze full of pain and longing. He, too, nods. Mouths a farewell.

  Tears spill from my eyes as the males offer up their magic to me. I trace their faces with my gaze one last time, memorizing them. River’s high cheekbones and steady gray gaze. Shade’s full lips and golden skin. Coal’s hard jaw and sharp, sky-blue eyes. Tye’s lovely, angled features, his splash of freckles, the glint of that silver earring. The orange cord of Tye’s magic stretches its claws, shooting tendrils of energy through my core. It’s a force of will to open myself up fully to Tye’s power, and when I do, a predator’s hunger se
izes my heart. My muscles tense, my breath and heart quickening with an eagerness to pounce.

  The need to fight and kill grows stronger and wilder as Coal’s magic untangles within me, making my blood simmer while shoving away pain to a hazed corner of my mind. If I’d thought the quint’s magic unbearably powerful before, now—with the males throwing all their strength and life into the quint bond—it is cosmic.

  Faster, my mind urges as the first dozen qoru fully clear the portal, the next set already on their heels. You must move faster.

  I don’t let any of my effort show on my face or in my limbs, my unsuspecting qoru guard focused eagerly on the arriving squadrons.

  My eardrums ache with the pressure. My scalp tingles, thousands of tiny sparks racing beneath my skin. The phantom keening I’ve heard only once before sounds again. Low and dangerous. Vibrating with apocalyptic destruction.

  The final cord of magic smells of earth damp from rain. Grabbing the tendril of Shade’s power, I wrap it around the others, the tight bundle whipping like a great fish. Around me, the moss stretches its velvet strands, growing so quickly I can see the change before my very eyes. The glowing blue even begins shifting to violet, like Coal’s eyes do in the throes of magic. Yes, the moss feels the power. Wants it. Except my mortal body doesn’t give it up.

  I realize I’ve forgotten to breathe for some time and I gasp, forcing air into my cramping lungs. The power thrashes inside me, yearning to assault its enemies. Three, six, nine, the horrors continue to march from the portal. Fifteen, eighteen. More.