Ash caught his breath. The traps had worked as planned, scattering the Maenorens to be picked off one by one, like hunting an elk herd. Beside them, another pair of wolves–one brown and one golden–appeared. The first limped, and the other had a deep gash above his eye.
Willow, Hawk. Pike dipped his head in acknowledgment. Willow bowed back before turning toward the other side of the valley. The infantry’s commander had retreated, but something far more sinister was happening. Negiol, the Da' Gammorn leader, who only months before had forced Ash to murder his friends, stood at the tree line. Its armor was so dark, it drank the early morning sun rather than reflecting it. Beside it, a long-dead stallion pawed the ground. Ash was too far away to see the undead warrior’s face, but he knew it was smiling.
“Your cowards’ tactics have been revealed,” Negiol’s voice slithered into Ash’s ear. “Now we will fight man-to-man, and beast-to-beast.” Before it had finished speaking, the closest Fenearen archers released their arrows at the Da’ Gammorn from their positions in the trees. At the same moment, a shrieking swarm of ravens burst from the forest on either side of Negiol, blocking the attack. The surviving birds tore into the nearest True Wolves with their talons as more creatures streamed into the valley. Ash counted scores of familiar animals: huge bears that should have been hibernating, furry red foxes, elk with antlers so vast, they had to be ten winters old or more. There were cave lions with teeth past their lower jaws, and smaller animals, too: stoats, minks, badgers, even snakes that would never survive in such cold.
But that was it, they had not survived. The scent of rotting flesh was so strong, it settled in the back of Ash's throat, choking him with each nauseating breath. Not only had the Maenorens destroyed much of their forest, they had murdered hundreds of its inhabitants, and now had turned their slaughtered forest brethren against them.
Look out! Pike pushed Ash out of the way as an enormous eagle dove on top of them. It buried its talons in Pike’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground with a roar of pain. Ash, Hawk, and Willow shredded the bird to pieces until its shimmering black eyes blinked into glassy film. Ash helped Pike onto his feet as a chilling chorus of howls erupted behind them. Bayne and Silver led their portion of the Fenearen army to the True Wolves’ aid. Despite Ash’s demands that Pike see a healer, all four wolves joined the charge. Across the battlefield, the possessed animals formed their own snarling ranks to meet them. As Ash careered down the slope, he caught sight of Negiol and the rest of the Da’ Gammorn mounted and ready behind their thralls.
Head and heart! Bayne howled, and the rest of the Fenearens and Trues took up the call. Destroying the head or the heart was the only way the demons and their twisted creations could be stopped. As the line of possessed animals ran forward, Ash and Pike dodged low, sliding beneath an undead elk in time to avoid its deadly antlers. They snapped at its tendons, bringing it crashing on top of them before an axe-wielding Fenearen hacked through its neck. Ash leaped off the decapitated elk’s shoulders, landing on a cave lion's back that was savaging a Fenearen. It reared, thrashing from side-to-side as Ash tore at its decayed fur and maggot-eaten flesh. He gagged, and the beast shook him off, but Pike leaped for this chest. Narrowly avoiding its huge, curved incisors, he slashed at its broken ribs, penetrating its chest cavity, and punctured its heart. The beast toppled, decomposing before their eyes.
Ash howled his approval, but their celebration was short-lived. The Da’ Gammorn rode into the valley, slaying dozens of Trues and Fenearens with their long swords. Arrows and crossbow bolts flew from the trees and the southern hill, pelting the riders. Those hit in the heart clattered to the ground, but most did not slow their assault.
The trees! Pike cuffed Ash on the shoulder. We have to lead them into the trees, remember?
Ash sprinted to the east side of the valley. Pike followed, and other Trues and Fenearens did the same, the Da’ Gammorn and enthralled animals in pursuit. Screams and howls filled Ash’s ears, and the taste of rancid flesh would not leave his tongue. Crossbow bolts showered the field as the Maenoren arbalists came into range. They fired indiscriminately, killing dozens of Ash’s allies and friends but also hitting the Da’ Gammorn and undead animals. A bolt grazed his cheek, but he sprinted up the hillside, through the bracken, and into the leaf-strewn forest. The enemy thundered toward the tree line, and the next Fenearen assault began with Roxen and Daria at the head. They jumped out of trees, from behind boulders and tree trunks, and charged the Da’ Gammorn.
Ash and Pike wheeled on the nearest enemy, a black-eyed badger. They tore the corpse apart, but one of the Da’ Gammorn spun a mace over its head, galloping toward them. It slammed the spiked metal ball toward Ash. The wolf jumped out of the way, but it caught his tail. He rolled, crying in pain. Pike mouthed his scruff, dragging him to his feet in time to dodge a second assault.
Through here and stay low! Pike sprinted deeper into the trees. Ash ignored the heat swelling through his tail, chasing after him with the shrieking Da’ Gammorn in close pursuit. They ran between twin beech trees as the rider raised its mace for another attack.
Stay low! Pike repeated. A loud twang broke through the din of battle. Ash turned as a sharpened log swung from an evergreen, straight into the Da’ Gammorn’s neck, shearing off its head with a spray of ichor. They jumped over the decaying horse, running toward the fighting. Along the way, many more enemies had fallen prey to the traps. For the first time in a long while, genuine hope returned to Ash’s heart, and he forgot about the pain in his tail.
Until he smelled fire.
Roxen had never seen fire move so quickly. Flames burst into existence all around him, consuming the trees and underbrush with unnatural precision that could only be explained by Rhael’s dark magic. The remaining Da’ Gammorn and possessed animals fled to the valley. If he and the other Fenearens were to survive, they had to follow.
To the valley! Roxen formed human to better see his surroundings as he sprinted from the forest with the Trues and Fenearens following. He coughed though the acrid smoke as the cover of burning trees shrunk away. He narrowed his streaming eyes, peering through the heat and grit. Fire engulfed the Fenearen side of the forest surrounding the valley. It burned furiously, as if it fed on a forest dead from months of drought, not on leafless, frost-tinged trees. Fenearens, True Wolves, and Maenoren Resistance streamed onto the open battlefield they had hoped to avoid, and Roxen watched, transfixed, as the full force of the Maenoren army marched from the woods across the valley. Rows of broadsword-wielding infantrymen, mounted cavalry, more Da’ Gammorn, and Corsair mercenaries twirled their scimitars. They marched between the pits, over their dead countrymen, those who had been sacrificed to the Fenearen traps, in an endless, insurmountable wave. Then the broken bodies of the dead with intact heads and hearts wriggled back onto their feet as the Da’ Gammorn showered them with the terrible black helices that had once cursed the Trues.
Before Roxen could think of a strategy, the Da’ Gammorn and thralls that had preceded them turned on them. Roxen leaped to the right to avoid the lethal strike of a long-dead copperhead. He regained his feet in wolf form, crushing the snake’s skull with his claws. Roxen killed every opponent–human, undead, or otherwise–he came upon in the confusion, but they kept coming. He tripped over Daria’s gored body as he stumbled downhill and knew he would not survive this battle, either. All their plans had sounded good, but this was the reality–screams and howls and blood and the whistle of arrows. But Roxen did not need to survive. He had made his peace with death, but he couldn't go yet. Not until he had sent Nero to Hell.
Roxen skidded to the side as another Da’ Gammorn came into view. The corpse raised its gigantic cleaver as Roxen sped underneath its horse, nipping its ankles as he went. The beast and its rider crashed to the ground. Roxen turned in time to see eight Fenearens and True Wolves mob it at once. He turned his gaze forward. Two more Da’ Gammorn cut through the Fenearen ranks, sending wolf after wolf flying. As they hit the ground, fo
rced into their human form, foot soldiers finished them before they could fight back.
If he stopped to help, he would die. He could not die until he knew Nero would never hurt anyone again. Guilt raged in Roxen as he ran. Silver and Bayne appeared. Roxen watched as, in unison, they leaped onto the backs of the possessed horses. A heartbeat later, the horses and riders collapsed to the ground. Bayne and Silver jumped off of them, human-formed. The Alphen were stunning. Slipping between wolf and human, they dispatched opponents back-to-back with no sign of fatigue. Roxen continued on, searching for any sign of the traitor.
A few frantic breaths later, Roxen’s nose alerted him that Nero was close. Through the stench, he smelled the same scent as in his mother’s den when he'd found her lying pale and torn apart. Nero must have sensed him as well, because when Roxen caught sight of him, Nero’s pale amber eyes connected with his across the insanity of battle. A grin spread across the traitor’s face as Roxen moved toward him. Roxen’s eyes burned, and his lips twitched. Mid-stride he formed wolf, and Nero mirrored him.
Nero attacked first, landing on Roxen’s back and tearing into his scruff. Roxen rolled, pushing Nero into the ground. Nero snarled as Roxen recovered his feet. They circled each other as humans.
“Just tell me, Nero!” Roxen roared, taking a solid stance. “Why did you do it? Why did you kill my mother?”
“I had to do something. Don’t you understand? Being second-best is never enough.”
“You were never second-best. Since the day you were born, you have been nothing more than a coward.”
“Your mother didn't beg. I guess the old bitch was too good for that.” Nero laughed, but Roxen leaped, forming in the air, sailing into Nero’s side. Nero shifted and tried to gnash at Roxen’s leg, but the younger Fenearen slammed his skull against Nero’s.
Roxen’s teeth clamped hard on Nero’s jaw. The metallic taste welled as Nero attempted to shake Roxen off. Roxen pushed harder, sliding his teeth farther up Nero’s muzzle. Nero squealed as Roxen’s jaws engulfed his face. He pulled harder, a vicious snarl vibrating his throat. The pain was too much for Nero; he snapped into his human form. At the same moment, Roxen jerked his head back, and dug his teeth into Nero’s throat. The traitor fell to the ground, gurgling as his jugular emptied.
Roxen stood up as a human. His stomach fluttered, but not with victory or pride. Roxen felt sick, as if Nero’s blood had been poisoned. Before Nero could take another rattling breath, Roxen knelt, driving his claws through Nero's heart.
There was no break in the battle, no ray of sunlight, no sense of accomplishment. Roxen fell and vomited, empty. He struggled, shaking, onto his hands and knees in time to see a Corsair emerge from the smoke, charging him with his curved, steel blade.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rayna, Channon, and Mina followed Jayden across bridges, alongside canals, and around a shallow pool until they stood outside of General Pheros’s home. Alvornian architecture was a cross between the natural, open air structures Rayna was used to and the stone buildings favored by Maenorens. Pheros’s quarters were made up of white marble columns that allowed passage for cool breezes and a stream, but as they went into the atrium, Rayna noted a wall with a closed door as well as a spiral staircase leading to a curtained loft. Like the Alvornian landscapes, Sinthahelm's buildings were familiar and foreign at the same time.
Jayden gestured to a hearth in one corner of the courtyard. “Please wait here. I will find the general.”
Rayna crossed the white, tiled floor, passing by a raised fish pond. Channon ran his hands along the wall, his expression puzzled. Rayna joined him. Warmth rushed beneath her fingers.
“What is it?” asked Mina as she settled by the fire.
“Hot springs,” Rayna said, remembering something Silver had told her. “Alvornians use hot springs to warm their homes. Water runs through the walls.”
“Oh, plumbing,” said Mina. “They have that in the nicer parts of Halmstead, too.”
Rayna sat beside Mina, but Channon paced. The fire crackled, and Rayna could hear the whooshing sound of water in the wall.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Mina said with sudden animation.
“Plumbing?” Rayna asked. “Me, either.”
“No. I’m not sure I understand our purpose here. We'll meet General Pheros and say, ‘Hello. I'm Rayna, the girl who was engaged to your mortal enemy, and this is Channon. You don’t know him, but he was damned to Hell, and now he’s back. We think you should help us get our country back.’ Do you think he'll agree?”
“Fenear is outnumbered; we need help,” Rayna whispered to the floor. “Pheros must help.”
“Must I?”
Rayna froze. A tall figure stood in the doorway. He smiled, but it was the same smile Rayna wore when she cornered her prey.
“My apologies.” He bowed. “I ought to have introduced myself first. I am General Pheros, Protector of the Priestess and the Realm. You are welcome to my home.” He wore cotton robes of a deep purple that matched his eyes as well as a breastplate of Alvornian steel. Rayna noticed the sword displayed at his side, which undercut his amiable welcome.
Rayna and Mina stood and bowed, but before either could speak, Channon crossed the room until he stood a tail-length from the general, who towered above Channon.
“We don’t have time for niceties. After centuries of friendship between Fenear and Alvorn—”
“Bayne knew what he was doing. Alvorn will never be connected to any nation playing Maenor’s pet.” Pheros did not yell, but his voice echoed just the same.
Rayna flinched, and Channon growled. Pheros’s face darkened. Sensing they might be ruining their chance, Rayna pulled Channon back, standing between him and Pheros.
She dipped her head—a Fenearen sign of respect. “I’m sorry, General. We’ve had a long journey, and some of our manners have escaped us.” She glared at Channon. He did not take his gaze from Pheros.
“Of course, Miss Myana. You are Rayna Myana, correct?” He pointedly turned his gaze from Channon to her.
“Rayna Myana, daughter of Mya Eliona and Aquillo Thamot, niece to–”
“Alpha Bayne Aruthult and Alphena Silverine Eliona, of course. We’ve met before. You were too young to remember, but I will never forget that hair of yours—the color of fire, quite striking.”
Rayna’s cheeks heated as Pheros turned to Mina where she stood in uncharacteristic silence.
“You’re not Fenearen. Or Alvornian. Your skin is not dark enough to be Soulousian. Are you Maenoren?” His body stiffened.
“I’m not Maenoren,” Mina assured him. “I’m from the Kyrean Republic. No worries. I’m not particularly patriotic.”
“A lesser of two evils. I do not think I could forgive Bayne and Silver’s niece for bringing a shadow-stalker into my city.”
“Listen, we hate Maenor as much as you do.” Channon’s voice gained power. “Rhael is over-confident, and Rayna tells me that part of the Maenoren military has turned against him. If we lead a combined attack now–”
“Your insolence is astounding, boy.” Pheros glared at Channon.
“So is your cowardice.”
“Channon!” Rayna cried as Pheros reached for a dagger on his belt.
“I should cut out your tongue for that.”
“I would like to see you try,” Channon growled, his teeth extending into sabers.
“Channon, please.” Rayna gripped his arm.
“Fenearen men are all the same. Rash, violent, and ultimately, animals. But,” Pheros removed his hand from his dagger, “it is not the Alvornian custom to harm those who are weaker than one’s self, especially not in a lady’s presence. Stay here as long as you please, use our baths, eat our food. I am glad to provide it. Because I do not allow personal insults to interfere with matters of state, I will consider your request, even if you are not the first to make it.”
“We don’t want your baths or food, you–” Channon began.
“Thank you, Phero
s,” Rayna spoke over Channon. Pheros inclined his head. Channon released a snarl before sprinting into the dusk.
Rayna turned to follow, but Mina stopped her. “Maybe we should let him be alone, Wolfie.”
“Your friend is right, Miss Myana. He is safe within these city walls, and I think it best he be removed from my presence for the time being.”
“I'm sorry for his behavior, General. If you only knew what he has been through–”
“I do, actually.” Pheros took a pitcher from the mantel, pouring water for Mina and Rayna. “The Priestess has had many visions of you, Rayna Myana, and of your journey.”
“I know,” said Rayna. “She told me.”
“She told you?” Mina asked. “When did you meet the Priestess of Alvorn?”
“In dreams?” Pheros asked. When Rayna nodded, he continued. “I told you I would consider your request. A messenger from your uncle arrived only days ago with the same appeal. Believe me, nothing would give me greater pleasure than defeating Rhael Demetrian and protecting innocents from his rule, but I must heed the advice of my Priestess.”
“A messenger?” Rayna’s heart leaped at the idea of seeing someone from her homeland, even if she did not know them.
“A True Wolf, sent so I could not argue or ask for clarifying information. Your uncle is a clever man, Rayna Myana.”
Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1) Page 42