by Kerstin Hall
“El,” Finn gasped. “I can’t—”
The Haunt bucked, trying to dislodge him. Finn had the creature pinned, but it was obvious that he couldn’t hang on much longer. For all his new strength, he was never going to match the Haunt in a fair fight.
A glint of metal flashed in the air. A dagger landed in the dirt beside the creature’s head.
“Stop it from moving!” yelled Osan.
Without hesitation, Finn seized the weapon and drove it down through the Haunt’s shoulder. It shrieked and swiped at him, its long talons raking across his chest. Blood bloomed through Finn’s shirt. He grunted and stabbed the creature again.
“El, don’t just stand there!” he panted. “Get moving, you idiot.”
I could not leave him like this. He was bleeding; he could not fend off the Haunt alone.
“El!” he snarled.
I swore and I forced myself to turn away. My heart thundered in my ears. Run. The hillside sloped upwards beyond the cage. Millie crouched below the railing, fumbling as she loaded one of the crossbows. Osan had the other ready and trained on the Haunt.
“Go,” he said. “Quickly.”
I raced up the hill, and adrenaline pulsed through my blood. Where was I running? I could never hope to flee from the Haunt; as soon as it escaped Finn, it would be on my heels. My lace was spent. I was helpless.
Why was I abandoning my friends?
The landscape shimmered and I cursed. Not a vision, not now. I reached the top of the rise. In the valley ahead, the ruins of an old wall rose from the dead soil, the stones tumbled and scattered across the ground. A reddish track snaked into the distance beyond the wall, before disappearing into a thicket of skeletal trees to the south.
I glanced back to see the Haunt throw off Finn. The creature was gouged with stab wounds to the arms and chest, and its blood coursed black over its paper-white skin. Its head swivelled toward me and it crooned.
Osan fired. His bolt slammed into its right leg, but the creature hardly paused. It zigzagged up the hill after me, eyes fever-bright and ravenous.
I ran. Grit and stones skittered under my feet as I flew down the hillside. Around me, ghostly figures rose up from the earth. They whispered and reached out to grab me, but their touch was like smoke and their voices were indistinguishable from the roaring inside my head. The Haunt was closing in behind me; I could hear the uneven rhythm of its footfalls beating against the ground.
My muscles burned, but I pushed myself to move faster. If I fell now, it was over. Fear raged like an electric current through my veins, and the landscape blurred in my peripheral vision; all I saw was the red stones of the path ahead. I was falling or flying, my feet barely touched the earth.
I leapt over the broken wall and landed hard. All at once the figures fell silent. I whirled around, heart thumping. If I was wrong, if my instincts were flawed—
The Haunt stopped.
I sagged to my knees and gasped for air. The creature stared at me, yellow eyes gleaming, no pupils, just flame-bright circles of gold. Black blood dripped from its fingers.
“Can’t touch me here, huh?” I whispered, clutching my side.
Its lips parted in an ugly sneer, but it came no closer to the path. Without blinking, it grasped the bolt stuck in its thigh and yanked it free. I flinched. This close, I could smell the Haunt, that cold, earthy scent like damp soil.
An ululating howl rose from the hills to the south. The sound chilled me to the bone; it was like multiple voices screaming in unison, both shatteringly high-pitched and low enough to make my diaphragm vibrate. I clasped my hands over my ears, but it seemed to make no difference—the sound sank through my palms. In front of me, the Haunt bent forward—almost prostrating itself—and its antlers dragged furrows through the earth as it shook its head from side to side. It snapped at the air, teeth clicking together. Was it scared? Reverent? I wasn’t sure, but the display unnerved me.
When the sound finally faded, the Haunt’s movements slowed and came to a stop. It remained crouched and staring at the dirt, so still that it might have turned into white stone. I lowered my shaking hands from my head. With its body bowed, I could see each of the creature’s ribs jutting up against the skin of its back, the tracery of veins spreading darkly over its spine.
This was a man once, I thought.
As if hearing my thought, the Haunt lifted its head. I took an involuntary step backwards, but it only glared at me. Then, with a malevolent hiss, it turned and loped off in the direction of the hills. I stared after it, convinced this was some kind of trick, but no, it kept moving, limping slightly. It gave the track a wide berth and slunk away into the grove.
I was alone.
“Millie? Finn?” My voice emerged hoarse. “Osan?”
It was quiet again, and I felt watched. If I left the path, if I let my guard down, the Haunts would be waiting.
“Finn!” I shouted, louder.
“El!”
Millie appeared at the top of the hill, and my heart leapt to my throat. She stumbled down the slope, almost tripping in her haste.
“Where is it?” Her eyes were wide with fear. “It moved so fast, I thought—”
I fought the urge to run to her. “Come here, quickly!”
She rushed the final few feet, and I threw my arms around her neck when she reached the broken wall.
“When I heard that howling, I thought for sure it had caught you,” she said. “It moved so fast, El.”
“I know.”
“It was awful, the way it ran, the way its eyes were shining.” Sweat beaded her hairline. “It never even looked at me.”
“You aren’t hurt, are you? It didn’t come near you?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
I drew back from her. “Finn and Osan?”
“They’re coming. It didn’t touch Osan or me, but Finn’s a mess. Why didn’t it attack you?”
“It’s the path; the Haunt couldn’t approach it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
I looked up and saw Osan supporting Finn’s weight as the two of them staggered over the rise. Osan’s relief was obvious when he caught sight of me, but Finn seemed scarcely conscious. He didn’t even raise his head.
When I started toward them, Millie grabbed my forearm.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she said, “but if Haunts can’t reach you on this path, then stay here. I’ll help them.”
I ground my teeth together, but nodded. Millie let go of me and hurried to assist Osan. Finn’s shirt was soaked in gore: his own blood and the Haunt’s splattered over his skin. His steps faltered. Millie supported his other arm, and the three of them awkwardly shuffled down the hill. When they came closer to the path, Finn resisted weakly.
“What is it?” said Osan.
Finn shook his head. His breathing had a rough, wet quality, and I could see the Haunt’s claw marks through the rents in his shirt.
“No further,” he muttered.
I could not help myself, I stepped off the path to join them.
“Put him down,” I said.
Osan lowered Finn to the ground, and I knelt beside him. When I tried to peel back his shirt, he caught my wrist. Despite his injuries, his grip was firm.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t look,” he murmured.
I pulled my hand away. “Don’t be stupid, Finn. I have my faults, but I’m not scared of blood.”
“It’s not the injury.” His eyelids fluttered. “The way that it heals, it’s … unnatural. Not pretty. I don’t want you to see.”
Millie touched my shoulder.
“You’re hurt.” My throat was tight. “And you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
His chest quivered as he breathed, every inhale painful and slow.
“I’ll be fine.” He coughed. “I need a few minutes, that’s all. Don’t worry.”
Don’t worry! I nearly exploded. He was lying in front of
me, blood seeping into the dirt and his chest cut open, and he wanted to act like nothing was wrong. Bad enough that he had gotten hurt again, bad enough that it had been my fault, but the fact that he was still trying to protect me? It was more than I could stand.
And yet I could not argue with him now. He was so broken and exhausted, and I could not do anything.
“Take as long as you need,” I said dully.
CHAPTER FORTY
BY MIDDAY, FINN had fully recovered. He walked alongside the path, quiet and pale and withdrawn. We had split Cyde’s provisions between us, and he carried the bulk of them, but he moved as if their weight meant nothing to him.
“You called it the path of grace?” said Osan.
I felt despondent and heartsore, stretched too thin between the horrors I had witnessed over the last few hours. We had passed through the grove and into another valley, where the path looped and twisted like the random scribbling of a child. It had rained again, and the sky remained overcast and drear.
Osan’s question startled me out of my thoughts; we had been walking in silence until then.
“It’s just a theory that Cyde had.” I cleared my throat. “About the people who occupied Aytrium before the Ascension.”
He frowned. “They made the path?”
“Possibly.” I considered for a moment. The conversation was moving in a dangerous direction. “From what I understand, the Eater’s people conquered the continent and drove out or killed its former inhabitants. The path is a relic of that time.”
“Huh,” said Osan. “That’s not history I’m familiar with.”
“Cyde researched it while she was Chief Archivist.” I pointed south. “I believe the path should extend all the way to those mountains.”
“And it repels Haunts?”
I could not help glancing at Finn. “It seems that way. When we were descending from Aytrium, I think we might have drifted over it before the wind pushed us back.”
“Which is why I…” Finn made a bitter gesture. “Well, why I had my episode.”
“At least we know the reason now,” said Millie.
He sighed.
“What’s at the end of the path?” asked Osan.
I tried to keep the tension out of my voice. “I’m not certain. I think it used to serve a spiritual purpose. It might lead to a place of worship, maybe a temple of some kind. I’m not sure it matters.”
Millie gave me a hard look.
“What?” I said.
“You’ve been hiding something,” she said.
“No, I haven’t.”
“What did Reverend Cyde mean when she said everyone might live or die by your success? Why was she already preparing to send you to Ventris before Celane found us? I’m not stupid, El. There’s more going on here than you’re telling us.”
They were all looking at me; Finn had stopped walking, Osan’s eyes were sharp. I pressed my lips together. I knew I needed to say something, but the excuses I had prepared evaporated from my mind. My behaviour had already been unfair; I could not keep up the pretence any longer.
“I’m trying to cure Finn,” I said slowly. “Reverend Cyde believed that there might be a way, and that it could lie at the end of this path.”
They reacted as I had anticipated they would. Initially with incomprehension, and then Millie’s face lit up with wild hope and relief. Osan was more guarded, almost mistrustful. Finn … Finn was angry. I held my head high.
“It’s not a guarantee,” I said. “But if there’s a way to fix you, then maybe the other Haunts—”
“You came down here chasing a fairy tale?” Finn’s eyes flashed. “That’s what really drove you to Ventris?”
“I have reason to believe Cyde was right.”
He swore and turned away, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at me.
“My visions showed me the temple,” I continued, refusing to back down. “I was meant to come here.”
“No,” he snarled. “You weren’t ‘meant’ to do anything. You could have stayed on Aytrium, away from all this shit, away from these Haunts. You could have been safe.”
“Yes, safe, with half the Order trying to eat me alive.” I folded my arms. “This goes beyond us, Finn. An end to Haunts would mean a waning of the Order’s dominance; Aytrium would no longer depend on Sisters for its survival. No more Renewals. No more martyrs. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I never asked for this.”
“But here we are.” I wished he would look at me. “And what if it works? What if I can stop what’s happening to you? I’m willing to fight for that.”
“Is it really possible?” Millie’s voice was husky with emotion. “How would it work?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I hope I’ll figure it out once we get there.”
“Still, there’s a chance?” She laughed breathlessly. “That’s something. You really think it’s possible?”
“Stop it, Millie,” snapped Finn.
She didn’t say anything else, but her eyes shone with a new fervour. Her hope was infectious; it buoyed me up and restored my determination. Maybe I could do it. Maybe this would really fix everything. As we continued down the path, Millie’s face occasionally broke into a smile, nervous and fleeting, like she was fighting to keep her expectations in check.
In contrast to his sister, Finn remained angry. He stalked ahead of us, with his shoulders raised and his muscles wound tight. I knew that he was ashamed of losing his temper, and that he needed time to think everything through. But Eater, I hated when he got like this. Finn had the slowest fuse of anyone I knew, but once he was mad, he turned stubborn beyond belief. Nothing I could say was going to make him see reason now. I could only give him space.
The landscape slowly came alive the further south we travelled. Small patches of muted green began to appear amongst the stony waste. High above, a flock of birds flew westwards, their cries drifting down on the breeze. With each step away from Aytrium, I saw more signs of animal life. A grey and yellow lizard sunned itself on a rock and watched us pass, its tongue flicking through the air. Fat locusts buzzed between straggly clumps of grass. Emergency protein, I thought with faint amusement. Maybe my work experience would come in handy, after all.
We followed the path until the sun sank behind Aytrium. The wind had chased the storm clouds across the sky, leaving only smeared orange streaks in the deepening blue. Pale stars appeared and grew steadily brighter as evening descended.
“We should stop,” said Osan.
The path widened at the base of a sheltered bluff, dry and out of the wind. My feet had been dragging for the last hour, and the temperature had dropped sharply with the sunset. I nodded and set down my bag.
“I think it’ll be another day, maybe two until we reach the mountains.” Osan cracked his shoulders and stretched. “Depends where the path runs.”
“And how fast we walk,” I said.
He snorted. “And how fast we walk.”
Finn, still grim-faced, moved off to collect tinder. Millie sighed and started unpacking her bag. When she caught my eye, she jerked her head toward her brother meaningfully. Talk to him. I gave a small shrug.
“There’s not much to burn around here, and it’s all pretty damp.” Finn carried a small stack of gnarled sticks to the edge of the path. He grimaced when he tried to move closer, and shook his head. “I can try seeing what lies up ahead; maybe there will be more vegetation.”
Millie took the sticks from him. “No, let me see what I can do with this first.”
He gave her a strained smile. “Make a lot of smoke, I suspect.”
She scoffed and crouched down beneath the overhang. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.
“Finn, a word?” I said.
We followed the path as it curved around the bluff. Finn had his hands buried in his pockets, and he hunched a little, like he was trying to hide his height. The remains of another stone wall—perhaps there had been a building here, long ago—stood a
longside the path. He sighed and sat on top of it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m being unfair, I know.”
“Do you really think I made the wrong choice by coming here?” I remained standing, but even seated, he was taller than me. “You saw that the Order was after me. It was only a matter of time.”
“I know. I know you’re right; it’s just that when I lost my grip on the Haunt, I felt … I don’t even know.” He swallowed. “You could have easily died today. And if you’re here because of me, that means you would have died because of me.”
I softened. “I told you: this goes beyond us.”
He dropped his gaze, miserable. His hair was growing back, I noticed. Still little more than stubble, but with time it would recover. A sudden feeling of tenderness washed over me.
“How are you feeling?” I murmured.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hungry is a bad answer, isn’t it?”
“Not the best. I can give you more space, if it might help.”
“No, I’m okay now.” He lifted his head again, and he did appear calmer, like some unresolved tension had been laid to rest. “Can you restore your lace again?”
My stomach clenched. “Only once more. I’ve tried to spread out consuming the sacraments, but I think I’m risking gorge sickness anyway.”
“You’re scared?”
“I’m more scared of Haunts.”
It might have been the light, but I thought the colour of Finn’s eyes changed. “I think they’re nearby. Be careful. They can’t come this close to the path, but if you stray, they’ll be ready.”
I shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around me. It was dead silent out here, and I suddenly felt acutely vulnerable. Too loud, too clumsy, too slow. Finn stretched his neck to one side and his mouth tightened.
“Is the transformation hurting you?” I asked. “Be honest.”
He was quiet, seeming to weigh his response. I waited.
“A little,” he said at last. “Mostly I’m numb. It’s like I’m losing the ability to feel—I can only sense. Or experience. I can’t really describe it, but there are a lot of ordinary sensations that are vanishing, while others grow much more powerful. And that’s not painful, necessarily, but it’s different.” He rubbed his neck, frowning. “Right now, I’m very conscious of the warmth you’re giving off and your smell. But I couldn’t feel the rain earlier, and I can’t taste anything.”