Alorica crept to the edge and looked down. “There’s no way she survived that fall.”
Larkin closed her eyes. “Is this the river Weiss?”
“Yes,” Denan said.
Maybe Venna was going home after all. “What happened to her?”
Denan watched her, his whole body tense. “Poison from a wraith’s blade turns a person into a mulgar—a creature possessed by dark magic and by the wraiths themselves.”
So, Venna was part wraith now, part of that evil darkness. Larkin wrapped her arms tight around herself.
“You couldn’t have told us that before?” Alorica shot at Denan.
“He couldn’t,” Larkin said. “Just like I couldn’t tell you about the wraiths, though I tried.”
Denan shot her a surprised look, probably because he thought she was defending him, but that wasn’t her intention. She was accusing Alorica.
Alorica turned and walked away, Tam right beside her.
Larkin observed the three pipers. “You’ve been cursed, haven’t you?”
“We all have,” Talox said, his voice like broken glass. “You just didn’t know it until now.”
Larkin didn’t bother asking who had cursed them or why—they wouldn’t be able to answer.
“That scream will lead the mulgars right to us,” Tam said.
“I will cross first.” Talox shouldered his pack and approached the rope that stretched across the ravine. He rolled onto his back, hanging upside down on the rope, hands and feet crossing each other. About halfway across, the rope dipped and swayed, but Talox didn’t pause.
Tam approached Larkin warily. “Please, help her.”
She followed his gesture to see that Alorica had fallen to her knees next to the ravine, her arms wrapped around her middle, shoulders shaking with sobs.
“She deserves it,” Larkin said.
Tam’s face reddened. “Have you never made a mistake, never unintentionally hurt someone?”
Hadn’t she let Sela wander into the Forbidden Forest alone? Her anger toward Alorica wavered.
“Please,” Tam said. “She’s refusing to cross. I can’t carry her.”
She saw genuine fear in his eyes. “Why can’t we spend another night in the trees?” It would be awful with the wraiths prowling around below, but wouldn’t they be safe?
“Our magic can misdirect patrols,” Denan said, joining them. “And we can fight off a few mulgars and still manage to slip through unnoticed, but now the wraiths know we’re here, they’ll have sent a garrison of mulgars after us. Our only chance is to cross the river, forcing them to use a land bridge. It won’t stop them from coming after us, but it will buy us time.”
Larkin glanced toward the sun, already slipping below the horizon. She stepped around Denan to stand beside Alorica. “Alorica, we have to go.”
“Leave me alone!”
“It’s just as much my fault as yours,” Larkin said.
“How?”
“I should have told the pipers what you were planning to do.”
“That’s not the same!” Alorica burst out sobbing harder than before.
Larkin was shocked to see cocky, cruel Alorica brought so low. She looked back at Tam for help, but he was too busy pacing, his hands on his head. Arrow nocked, Denan watched the line of trees, but he turned as if feeling her scrutiny. He nodded encouragingly.
She didn’t want his encouragement. “If you don’t stop,” Larkin said to Alorica through gritted teeth, “we’re going to have to leave you behind for the wraiths. Pull it together.”
Alorica hiccupped on a sob. “Don’t talk to me that way.” The sun inched lower—nearly a quarter gone now. They were running out of time. From within the forest came a triumphant shout. The mulgars had spotted them.
Larkin leaned closer. “You failed Venna. Are you going to fail me too?”
“Like I care about you.”
Larkin huffed. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”
“You took Bane!”
Larkin threw her hands up in exasperation. “You never had him!”
“We used to meet at the river at night. I thought he meant to marry me. I was so relieved to be free of the worry of the forest, right up until he told me there was someone else.” Glaring, Alorica wiped her nose on her sleeve. “A few months later, he announced his engagement to you.”
Larkin blushed and wondered exactly how far things had gone. Maybe Larkin didn’t want to know the answer. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
She glanced toward Denan and Tam. They whispered to each other, bows in both their hands, gesturing wildly. The setting sun was now more than halfway gone. “Alorica, if you stay here, you’ll die. I don’t want you to die.”
Alorica wiped her cheeks. At least she wasn’t sobbing anymore. “You don’t mean that.”
Something crashed through the forest toward them. Larkin stood with difficulty, muscles groaning in protest, and held her hand out to the other girl. “You’re all I have left.”
Alorica stared at Larkin for what felt like forever, but she finally gripped Larkin’s hand and let her pull her up. Tam and Denan stopped whispering and hurried over.
“Larkin,” Denan said. “You go first. Hurry.”
“No,” Larkin answered. “Alorica goes first.”
Denan wavered, but Tam was already tying a cord with a pulley around Alorica’s waist and wrapping her hands with bandages. “Keep your gaze on the opposite side,” he instructed her. “There’s no chance you’ll fall. Hand over hand and foot over foot. Go quickly.”
Swallowing hard, Alorica nodded and eased out onto the rope.
Tam hurried to Larkin, wrapping the bandages around her hands. “You go next. Then Denan.”
“No,” Denan said. “I’ll stay—”
“I’m better with a bow,” Tam interrupted. “And I’m replaceable. You and Larkin aren’t.”
Denan pulled up, letting loose an arrow. A mulgar fell forward onto the barren rock. Unlike the wraiths, at least the mulgars could be killed. “Tam, I need you on the other side of the ravine, taking down the mulgars here so Larkin and I can cross.”
Without any more arguments, Tam dragged her toward the ravine. He attached a cord to her waist, which he tied with a loose loop around the rope.
“What about the pulley thing Alorica had?” she asked.
“There isn’t time for them to send it back. I’m going first. You’ll go right after me.”
She looked down, down, down. “Why aren’t we replaceable?”
“Because you have magic,” Tam answered.
“And Denan?”
Another mulgar broke free. It wore rudimentary plate armor and carried a rectangular sword with an angular tip. Denan brought it down.
“Hurry,” Denan called.
Tam knelt, took the rope, and started shinnying across.
Larkin couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “What if the rope can’t hold both of us?”
From across the ravine, Talox and Alorica were waving her onward.
Behind her, she heard an arrow’s thunk as it hit its mark. “Go, Larkin!”
Trying to shut off her brain, Larkin rolled to her back, gripped the rope between her hands and the backs of her calves, and started across. After only a dozen hand over hands, the wrapping around her hands shifted. She wasn’t even halfway across before her palms burned and her arms shook. Her scabs ripped free, leaving smears of blood on the rope.
After the halfway mark, the rope sagged, and she had to climb upward. After an entire night holding on to Venna, her fingers didn’t want to close around the rope, no matter how much she tried to force them. The line bounced, making her heart pound. Letting her forearms take her weight so her hands could rest, she tipped her head back. Tam scrambled off and sighted down his bow.
Talox cupped his hands around his mouth. “Go, Denan!”
She looked past her feet and watched as Denan slammed the side of his shield int
o two mulgars and chopped down a third. Attaching his weapons to his pack, he dropped to the rope and started across. Immediately, arrows came from behind Larkin, cutting down the two mulgars sprinting from the forest. Those mulgars were immediately replaced with four more, and these mulgars had bows.
“Hurry, Larkin.” Alorica sounded panic-stricken.
Ignoring her burning palms and aching muscles, Larkin stretched her arms and legs. Still, it wasn’t long before Denan reached her. He panted, his face red. Arrows clattered on the ravine behind them, coming dangerously close. Before she could process what he was doing, Denan climbed under her, took a portion of her weight on himself, and kept going. Larkin worked with him, while Tam and Talox provided cover. It didn’t seem to matter how many mulgars there were, more always came.
Larkin was so focused on the ravine’s edge that she didn’t notice the sun disappearing along the horizon. She didn’t notice anything at all until she felt a sudden absence inside—like all the color and life had been sucked out of her. The four wraiths stood at the edge of the rope, wicked swords trailing from their armored hands. They hid behind long rectangular shields.
She gasped as the wraith with the crown lifted a black bow, sighted along it, and drew back. In an instant, she’d grabbed her amulet and held it before her, calling up the barrier. The black arrow slammed into it—clashing light and dark, shadows withering and dying.
Larkin peered down the rope and shot a triumphant look at the wraiths. The mantled wraith screamed in rage, lifted his sword, and cut through the rope. Larkin had a moment of weightlessness, and then they were falling. Their weight caught, and the rope swung them toward the opposite ravine, which grew in size and detail as they careened toward it.
“Hang on!” Denan cried.
Larkin braced herself. Denan hit first, taking the brunt of the impact. Larkin tried to hang on, but her hands gave out. The rope burned her palms as she slid down.
“No!” Denan cried—a cry that echoed from both sides of the ravine.
Denan’s hand snapped out, catching her by the hair. Larkin yelped in pain, but it helped her hold on. “Find a foothold on the ravine,” Denan said through gritted teeth. He strained, every muscle corded and exposed, the veins in his neck standing out as he struggled to hold them both.
She swiveled and found a ledge big enough for the balls of her feet. She grasped onto a few straggly plants with one hand and tugged to make sure they would hold her before releasing the rope. Denan dropped down beside her.
“What now?” she asked breathlessly.
“You worry about the shield. I’ll worry about getting us out of here.” He tipped his head up. “Pull us up!”
“Hang tight. I’ll rework the pulley,” Talox called back.
Luckily, the amulet was still hanging from her neck. Her hands were raw and bleeding as she took hold. She shot a glance at the other side of the ravine. The mulgars and wraiths were gone. “Denan.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his features shifting from surprise to grim acceptance. “They’re looking for another way across.” He tugged back her hand, wincing at what he saw, though his hands didn’t look much better. “Have you enough hand strength to hold on?”
She flexed her fingers. Between holding Venna all night, running all day, and supporting her weight over a rope, they were slow to obey. Seeming to take that as answer enough, Denan pulled up a length of rope, tying it around both of them. “I need you to turn around and straddle my waist.”
She shot him an incredulous look.
He rolled his eyes. “You have a better idea?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Give me your wrappings.”
She obeyed. He wrapped his hands, grimacing as he pulled the cloth tight. The rope above them went taut. She turned around and wrapped her legs and arms around him. Talox and Tam pulled them up while Denan braced them against the side of the ravine.
When they reached the top, Larkin collapsed. She was alive. Thank the ancestors, she was alive.
But Venna wasn’t.
Larkin closed her eyes tight and whispered, “Wherever you are, Venna, I hope you’re free.”
Grief came over Larkin like winter, slowly stealing away her ability to feel anything but a numb heaviness. It wasn’t just Venna’s death. It was the loss of her home and family—of Bane. The days always looked the same—trees and walking and river crossings. Her only thought was to put one numb foot in front of the other.
She ate when Denan insisted, and she didn’t protest sleeping in the pod with him. Except to change her bandages and remove her stitches, he never touched her, and she never sought out his touch. But by morning, their combined weight always drew them together—her back against his warm side.
In the dim light that ended and began each day, he would pull out his pipes and play a song for her, soft and low, and for a little while, the frozen center of her chest thawed, and she wept silently. In the mornings, when he helped her out of the pod, he would study her chapped cheeks with such kindness it made her chest ache, but she would always look away, the grief of winter creeping back over her heart like frost over a pane of glass.
Three days after Venna’s death, a boat waited for them on the river—all white with delicate lines and a curving prow like the curls on a pea vine. The wood was smooth as velvet under Larkin’s fingertips. The others climbed inside; Alorica stuck to Larkin’s side like a burr, refusing to look in Tam’s direction. Talox hadn’t spoken a word, but his grief was evident in his heavy movements and stricken face.
Denan helped Larkin inside and then pushed off the muddy bank. The boat shifted under his weight as he positioned himself at the front. All three men took paddles and started up the slow-moving river. Larkin spread out a blanket on the boat’s floor and slept with Alorica beside her. While she slept, she dreamed. She was a child, held in her mother’s loving embrace. Her mother sang in a language Larkin couldn’t understand, the vibrations soothing against her cheek. She was loved and safe and, best of all, home.
Larkin woke with a start to Denan’s hand resting on her shoulder. She didn’t want to wake up. The warmth of the dream still curled around her, the echoes of her mother’s heartbeat fresh against her cheek. For the first time in days, her cold grief felt distant.
Denan pointed to something ahead. What she saw made her gasp. They were no longer in a river, but some kind of lake. Before them was a stately progression of enormous trees. But instead of growing in a circular shape, the trunks had flattened and joined together, fusing to create one continuous wall. The lower boughs formed arches that wove into a parapet shaded by smaller branches, all of which were covered in thorns and bright yellow leaves.
Those leaves drifted down, coating the water like floating coins. Larkin reached to pick one up, but a flash of color and light in the turquoise water made her draw her hand back.
Twisting around, she shook Alorica awake. “You have to see this.”
Alorica blinked up at her, face shifting into a scowl, but then she caught sight of the wall and gasped. “Where are we?”
“The Alamant,” Denan answered.
Larkin startled as a horn sounded. Sentinels atop the wall moved. They wore beautifully wrought armor, enormous bows strapped to their backs and spears in their hands. This wall wasn’t just beautiful—it was a place of defense. As they came closer, she caught sight of an older man watching them, one of his sleeves pinned up in a crisp fold, highlighting his missing right arm. He was not the only one. There were missing arms and legs everywhere. Scars visible through helms. Though beautiful and polished to a mirror shine, the armor showed signs of carefully hammered-out dents and scars so deep they couldn’t be buffed out. Larkin’s eyes narrowed.
Venna had begged Larkin to cut off her foot to stop the poison’s spread. Had these men done the same? “Would it have saved her—if I had helped her amputate?”
Denan’s head whipped back in surprise, and he followed her gaze to the men on the wall.
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“She would have bled to death,” Talox answered.
Larkin hung her head. Better than becoming a mulgar.
An enormous arched gate pushed outward, large eddies sucking the leaves in and down. Larkin looked from the impenetrable wall to the sentinels patrolling the top. Were they there to keep the mulgars out or the women in? Probably both. Though beautiful, this wall was a prison as much as a protection.
“Will I ever come out again?” she asked.
The men’s silence was all the answer she would ever need.
“Larkin, take out your amulet,” Denan said. “You and Alorica grasp it so the branches pierce your skin.”
Larkin was tired of her hands always being bloody and sore, but she did as she was told, holding the other half out to Alorica, who looked at the amulet as if it might bite her. “Why?” the other girl asked.
“Your town isn’t the only one with a barrier around it,” Tam answered.
“You don’t get to speak to me,” Alorica snapped.
Larkin studied the empty space the gate had left. She could make out a golden sheen, like light reflecting off glass. It was like the shield Larkin had made before. She took hold of Alorica’s hand, maneuvering it against the amulet, and squeezed. Alorica hissed as the branches pierced her.
Larkin looked up as they passed through the shield. For a brief moment, crystals sang, and something abrasive, like sand, scraped against her skin. Then it was over. Alorica worked her jaw like she was trying to pop her ears, let go of the amulet, and rubbed at the blood welling on her palm. Larkin’s hands were still bandaged from the rope burn, so she didn’t bother.
They came out on the other side of the archway, and the whole world changed. Trees grew out of the lake—trees so large and wide her family’s entire farm would have fit across the canopy of one. She looked closer. Not one tree, but hundreds. They twisted to form a single tree supported by great buttressed roots. Rooms had been cleverly integrated into the tree’s natural shape. Larkin stared above her as they passed beneath a flat bough that spanned the distance from one tree to another. A bridge, she realized. She’d seen them before—dove off of them in her dreams. But how was that possible?