Netherworld

by Amy Miles

  Three men would not be enough to save this village, but that was all who remained. I began the journey with fifteen reapers, all good men, but our numbers had dwindled during the first ambush. The second took nearly half of those who remained. The Lorcan had worked together, attacking from the trees above when we were forced to rest in shifts.

  I knew each of my men by name. Even the youngest among us were those I had helped to become men. We had trained side by side from dawn till dusk these past months. We maintained a tight perimeter together. My men knew how to fight and how to survive, yet the Lorcan continued to pick us off.

  My forearm burned from where Lorcan poison sank deep into my flesh after the last attack only four hours earlier. I nearly lost my head during the ambush. Two of my men did.

  The dawn was not long away from the distant horizon. Soon the sun would rise and we were running out of time. Eimear would wake and too few good reapers remained to protect the city.

  Sinking low, I crawled forward on my hands and stomach. I pushed aside the high grass to survey the village below. Many of the thatch-roofed huts were ablaze, sending thick clouds of soot high into the air. Storehouses and barn doors had been thrown open. Flames licked the interior of the one nearest me. I could not see any sign of animals or villagers, though they must be there. I could still hear their screams.

  This town was among the largest north of Eimear. A good two hundred men, women, and children resided within those walls. I should easily be able to see bodies, and yet there were none visible.

  “It’s a trap,” I whispered.

  I had learned much since tracking these beasts. They reveled in chaos and destruction, feeding off their rage. They were also capable of setting traps.

  The exterior of the town was made of hewn logs, buried deep in the earth and rising to nearly ten feet in height. The tops had been whittled into points and were lashed together tightly with rope so that barely a thread’s breath could fit through.

  My chest heaved and my limbs ached with exhaustion. We had pushed ourselves too hard these past few days, but the Lorcan was relentless, so we had to be also.

  I whistled and waited for Breccan to approach. “Take the southern gate. Signal when you’re in position. No matter what happens, do not let anything get past you or your family in Eimear may suffer the same fate as this poor town.”

  The inflamed burns consuming the entire left side of Breccan’s face pulled taut as he nodded and then disappeared into the night. He made no sound as he passed. A second whistle brought Cashel to my side.

  “Do ya have a plan?”

  “We need to flush them out.” I raised my hand and pointed towards where I sent Breccan. “The southern route will be blocked. You and I must see to all others.”

  His gaze moved swiftly over the village walls. Already they had begun to catch fire. It would not be long before the entire place was impenetrable.

  “How many Lorcan do ya reckon there are left?”

  “By my count, I would guess two, perhaps three.” I wished this small number gave me a reason to hope, but one living Lorcan was still a grave threat. “Rafferty wounded one before he fell, which will make it an easier target.”

  Cashel fell silent at the mention of our fallen brother. Too many of us had fallen.

  I pointed at the nearest barn. “The villagers are most likely hiding in the grain bins, out of sight and off the ground. We must get them to safety.”

  His hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. “And what about you?”

  Clapping him on the back, I rose. “I will be the decoy.”

  On the battlefield, I was no different than him. I was just a man trying to do right by his people. Not the sole heir to my father’s throne.

  Breccan would be in place shortly. I only needed to be patient a few moments longer, but that had never been my strong suit.

  As I crouched low, I heard things moving in the night. My hand lowered to my sword hilt as I paused to listen. Heavy footsteps paced back and forth not ten metres ahead.

  Much of the firelight was lost to a cloud of smoke as I peered through the gates. I couldn’t wait for dawn’s light. By then there would be no one left to save.

  From the distance, I heard Breccan’s shrill whistle and slipped inside the gate. Shadow surrounded me from every angle as I pressed my back against a domed hut. The interior remained untouched, so I moved on. The next four huts appeared in the same manner.

  The closer I drew to the centre of town, a heavy unease settled between my shoulder blades. My hand tightened around my sword hilt. I glanced behind me, shaken by the feeling that I was being followed, but each time nothing appeared from the darkness. I searched the rooftops and peered inside open doorways, but all was still.

  A scream tore through the air, rising over the crackling of the flames. As I dashed into the opening of the town square, something large slammed into my side. I hit the warm brick of a water fountain with enough force to crack the mortar. My vision blurred as I pressed my hand to the back of my head and found a small patch of blood staining my fingers. Heavy footsteps approached. I tried to focus around the thick haze of smoke.

  I rolled instinctively a split second before the sound of breaking stone filled my ears. As I rolled to my feet, my blade was drawn in my right hand and my whip of mist in my left.

  I cracked my whip at the mighty Lorcan rising before me. It stood at least two feet taller than me and nearly double my width. Leathery flesh spanned a broad torso. Parts of its face showed sign of rot. Its right eye had fallen out of its socket, leaving behind an empty black hole.

  Its skin was different. Almost as if it had grown an armored plate. Its claws were nearly double the length of the others. There was intelligence in its eye that made me weak in the knees.

  I tightened my grip on my sword. This Lorcan showed no fear at the sight of my whip. Only rage.

  “Prince Aed!” Cashel yelled as he ran into the courtyard.

  “No!” I watched the man lift his eyes to the sight of the Lorcan as it turned on him. It swung out its razor sharp claws and tore through Cashel’s leather vest before he could react, knocking my man to the ground.

  I leapt from the water fountain’s ledge and drove my sword deep into the Lorcan’s back. It roared and twisted, trying to knock me loose. I hung on as my blade shifted, tearing through its thick armor to reach the sinew and bone beneath. Acid fire tore through my shoulder when it reached over its back to try to drag me off. My screams echoed its own as we grappled with each other. I pushed hard on the hilt of my blade in an attempt to drive it away from Cashel.

  “Get out of here,” I screamed to Cashel.

  My vision wavered as splatters of the Lorcan’s blood burned deep into the claw marks in my shoulder. My grip was already starting to weaken in that hand.

  “Breccan has fallen, but I took down the bloody wanker who got him.” Cashel’s shout was hard to hear over the tumbling beams of a nearby roof as it collapsed in on itself. The crumbling grain mill at the far end of the courtyard sent sparks hurtling into the air.

  When the Lorcan turned at Cashel’s voice, I twisted the sword and grinned at its pained howl. “See that the villagers are safe. I will take care of this one.”

  A bony elbow rammed back into my side and my fingers slipped off the blade. I slammed to the ground and tucked to roll.

  “Aed!”

  Burning debris littered my path, but the thundering monster behind me forced me to roll through the embers. I gritted my teeth against the new burning but leapt to my feet. With a flick of my wrist, I sent my whip lashing out at the approaching Lorcan.

  “Go! See that Eimear is warned!”

  I made my way around behind the fountain, moving slowly enough that the Lorcan would stalk me instead. Its gait was off as it tried to reach my sword still buried in its back.

  “Your people are gone,” Cashel shouted back. Peering around the fountain, I realised he hadn’t moved an inch. “They must have fled on the southern ro
ad.”

  If we miscounted even by one Lorcan, my people were still in grave danger.

  “You must follow them.” I leapt over the side of the fountain just as the hulking beast stomped on the edge, crushing the stone to dust underfoot.

  “I canna leave you. My duty…”

  “Cut the duty shite and follow orders, Cashel!”

  I ducked a second too late to avoid the creature’s blow. My head rocked back and five deep gashes appeared across my chest. The claws burrowed just deep enough to steal my breath away. I staggered to my feet and pressed a hand to the torn leather.

  That was too close.

  Another hit with the back of its arm sent me flying through the air. I slammed into the disintegrating wall of a home. Fire and ash tumbled around me. Angry welts rose on my arms, but I ignored the pain as I picked my way back out of the smoldering debris.

  “Cashel,” I ground out as I kicked through the remains of a door. The glass shattered beneath my boot. “I am not asking.”

  “Aye, sire.” Regret and resignation laced his tone this time. “I will follow.”

  “No Lorcan will breach our city walls. Promise me that.”

  “I swear it.”

  The Lorcan growled as I sidestepped its attack and drove my shoulder into its side, sending it off balance. Digging its claws into the ground, it tried to push to its feet, but I snapped my whip and wrapped it around its throat. The scent of its burning flesh turned my stomach. The scent was putrid. It writhed and screamed, but I was relentless as I approached to retrieve my sword.

  “There is no place for your filth in my lands.” I wrenched the blade free and wiped its blood on my pants. “We gave you life when you deserved death.”

  The Lorcan shuddered, gasping as the mists from the whip burned through its armor plating. Its long, snake-like tongue was a vivid red with black spots on it.

  “How are you like this?” I demanded.

  The Lorcan snapped its teeth at me. The rush of breath forced between its jaws startled me. It reminded me much of the alligators from the human realm I had read so much about as a child.

  “Answer me.” I punched it in the side of its head. “I know you understand me.”

  A trickle of black blood escaped from its ear hole. It glared back at me, resolute in its silence.

  There was no remorse within me for this monster. It would die, just like all of the others. My father was a fool to keep them alive. I would see to it that this mistake was reversed as soon as I was king.

  I moved around to stand in front of the monster. Its jaw popped as it shifted back and forth, grinding its teeth. “How many of you are left?”

  It stared up at me with a deep-seated hatred. I hated these creatures with a mutual anger. I hated their stench, the breath in their chests, and their very existence.

  “Tell me!” I slammed my sword hilt into its snout. Bits of bone fell away, but it didn’t react to the blow. It just stared back at me with damned defiance.

  I swept out my foot and slammed my boot into its jaw, rocking its head back. The impact rippled up my leg. A low growl rose in its throat and it claws clicked as it opened and closed them against the dirt.

  Moving away, but never showing my back to the beast, I tied off the whip to the fountain. The added tension sent the Lorcan into a fit as the whip dug deeper into its neck. A black sludge slid the front of its armored chest.

  I stomped my foot on its arm and drove my sword into its right wrist, sawing at its hand. Terrible howls and rasping groans of agony did not slow my attack as I took out my vengeance from this monster’s body. Its skin might have been thick, and its bone strong, but my blade was made for this very purpose. When my arms grew weary with effort, I slammed my boot down onto the blade to snap through bone. The wound cauterized as the blade shifted. Blackened flesh bubbled and smoked. I sidestepped its free swinging arm and kicked its dismembered hand away.

  “Hurts, does it not?”

  Steaming blood seeped from its arm. I pressed my blade to its wound to stop the blood flow so that none of its poison touched me and then walked around its head and snapping jaws.

  “Tell me how many of you were left,” I screamed down at it.

  I didn’t know if it could speak to me beyond its grunts or growls, but if I could feel it, then it could feel me too. Unadulterated rage followed my steps as I placed my boot on its second hand. I knew I should not linger, that Cashel would need my help, but I needed this moment.

  My men, lost to this damned battle, deserved this.

  The stench of sizzling flesh filled the air as I began to saw off the second hand, removing the beast’s ability to inflict wounds on another villager. For as long as I lived I knew I’d remember this creature’s pain-filled cries. Knew it would forever mirror those of the men I held as they took their final breaths.

  Moving back around to the beast’s jaw, I slammed my sword hilt into the side of its elongated face once more. The first hit made my knuckles ache as I clung to the sword. Lorcan faces were hard, their bone structure far thicker than my own. A single hit would not be enough to knock it out.

  It took six blows and several near misses with its gnashing teeth to subdue the Lorcan.

  Placing my sword between its jaws, now lax from unconsciousness, I twisted the blade downwards and closed my eyes. With a mighty thrust, I sliced down the back of its jaw. Black ichor coated my hands as I seesawed my blade until its lower jaw rolled down onto its chest and then fell near my feet.

  Rubbing the burning blood from my hands, I removed my whip from around its neck and coiled it at my hip. The creature I left behind would no longer be a threat to my people. I would let it live, but only because it could no longer feed. It would wither and die. A slow and painful death was my hope if such a death was even possible.

  Rising up, I turned towards the south, towards my home. I didn’t know if I had the strength left in me for this final leg of the journey, but I would crawl to the gates if I had to.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  TARYN

  I MARCHED WITH MY head down against the driving winds, knowing they’d be far worse once I crossed through the veil. We didn’t really have a winter in Netherworld. It was more like an eternal blustery spring. On the best of days, Eimear offered rain, mists, and cold. Not exactly what I’d call paradise, but it was home.

  It was also a perfect match for my mood. Eivin was gone. He should have arrived at the Wall by now. Was he still alive? What was it like there?

  My stomach twisted each time I thought about him. Eivin would have been furious with me for going to Devlin’s house. Maybe that was why I went. To feel something.

  I wasn’t sure what I thought I’d accomplish in seeing Devlin. More confusion, that was for sure. I guess I was hoping by talking with him I could figure out why he could see me. At least that was part of the reason. The other was that I just needed to share a bit of my pain with someone who understood. He understood loss. Though Eivin was likely still alive, my heart ached as though I’d never see him again. No one in my realm would understand that hurt. Devlin would. I craved that connection, that was all. It didn’t mean anything beyond that.

  When I saw his eyes light up when he saw me...it made me wary. I couldn’t risk letting him get too close—to learn who and what I was. I couldn’t let myself care about a human. It was forbidden and impossible. I had to remember that. I was needed right here in my own world...whether people knew it or not.

  Huddled deep within the folds of my cloak, I side-stepped a particularly murky puddle and lifted my dress as I hurried along, careful not to be splattered by merchant carts as I passed.

  Shouts rose from the docks up ahead. I pushed my hood back just enough to see heavily muscled men hoisting wooden crates off ships, their wide sails tied to the riggings while at port. The crates were most likely filled with fresh fruits and vegetables picked from the fields in the River Lands, then sailed east to us from the market town of Alameda. Other crates boasted mou
nds of fish that I really hoped would not be on the menu at home tonight. Living this close to the sea made it easy to hate fish after a while.

  I turned when the twang of fraying rope caught my ear. The line holding a large crate snapped and the pulleys whizzed. The ropes zipped through, freeing themselves. I shielded myself with my cloak as the wooden crate hit the deck of the ship and erupted into a thousand splinters.

  “Dermot, ya bleeding idiot! You just dumped the whole load!” a raspy voice shouted from somewhere below the main deck.

  I leaned over to see the water’s surface littered with wood fragments. There, sinking to the depths of the Pettigo River, were glass swords, daggers, and crossbows. My eyes closed at the clenching remorse in my chest. In the coming days, those weapons would be needed.

  The clock tower began to toll the hour’s approach.

  “Shite!” I hiked my skirts to sprint away from the docks. The ferryman waited for no one. If I was late, there would be hell to pay.

  The fog grew thicker the farther I ran from the centre of town. The area was immersed in the scent of stagnant water. From behind me, I heard the tolling of the bell through the surrounding sheet of gray. When the bell fell silent, I would be late and left behind. I couldn’t risk another mark against my name. My perverted boss would like nothing more than to find a reason for me to miss the boat. Being stuck with him all day was not a punishment I’d force on my worst enemy.

  I followed the sound of shouting up ahead, veering farther right and praying I didn’t take a wrong step into the river.

  “Taryn!” A slender figure emerged from the fog ahead of me, waving her arms. It was Tris. “I had to stall Conall for ya. Where have you been?”

  I bent over and held up a hand to still Tris’ rapid monolog. “Accident…at the docks,” I wheezed.

  “He’s not gonna be caring about that. Come on.”

  I tried to keep up with her, but I was spent after my mad dash through town.

  We reached the docks just as the final bell tolled and I waited for my assignment card, garnering a wicked glare from my overlord, Conall Loman. He had an ample paunch that hung over his trousers and a growing bald spot. His glasses sat awkwardly on his tiny nose. He was also a right pain in my arse. The sort who lorded their power over you, even though it was barely any power at all.