“Now!” There was a sudden movement, a flash of black against the flickering torches. Someone screamed. Druids poured from the buildings. The pipers hesitated, two of them mowed down, their songs silenced before Larkin could draw breath to scream.
“To me!” Denan cried.
Flutes falling against their necks, the pipers pulled out axes or swords and shields. They moved as one, shifting to stand with their prince and make a circle around Larkin and her family, but they were outnumbered five to one.
Talox placed the children in Larkin’s arms before taking his place at Denan’s side. Somewhere, music must still have been playing because Sela slept on, ignorant to the carnage around her. The baby snored a little through her open mouth. Larkin placed her sleeping siblings between her mother and older sister and stood protectively over them, sword and shield out.
Denan gave a trilling whistle. From above, a rain of arrows sliced through the ranks of druids and dropped them in screaming, writhing masses. Denan pushed something into Larkin’s hands—amulets with different kinds of leaves. “Dampeners for your mother and sister. They’ll block the thrall.”
She wore a similar amulet—Denan must have placed it around her neck right before she woke up. She lifted her mother’s head, settling the cord into place. Immediately, Mama shifted and let out a moan. Larkin did the same for Nesha—the first time she’d touched her sister since before she’d been taken. Within seconds, both women were struggling to their feet.
Larkin handed Mama the baby but kept Sela for herself. She was so grateful the little ones were sleeping through this. “Mama, we have to go with the pipers.”
“What?” Nesha cried. “They’re beasts!”
The battle raged around them, pipers fighting against druids, arrows and men falling. Larkin locked gazes with her mother. “Garrot will never stop hurting us, Mama. The pipers will help us.” Her mother hesitated. “Trust me, please.”
Nesha gripped her arm. “Mama, you can’t!”
Mama’s mouth tightened. “I know the monsters the druids are. We have to trust Larkin.”
“You always do,” Nesha said bitterly.
Another round of arrows rained down. Garrot and his druids retreated from the onslaught. “Where did these archers come from?” His voice rang out. “Get the dampeners off the dead. Put them on our reinforcements!” Druids scrambled to obey. “Nesha!” Garrot cried.
Denan whistled three short blasts, and the pipers shifted, pushing through a gap the druids had left. Before Larkin could grab her, Nesha ducked between pipers, nearly taking an ax to the side before the piper could turn his swing.
At the head of a charge, Garrot stepped aside to let her pass him and said, “Run and hide! I’ll find you later.”
“Nesha!” Mama wailed.
Larkin swung her sleeping sister over her shoulder and brought out her sword. “We have to let her go, Mama. Nesha’s chosen her side.” She hated how their family was being torn apart, that she was losing the people she loved the most.
“Where did they get the dampeners?” Talox cried.
“I don’t know!” Denan ordered the vanguard out. He and Talox took up defensive positions around Larkin’s family. They rushed through the deserted streets. Steps scuffed on the rooftops above, black shadows rose up and let arrows loose. With grunts and screams, druids went down behind them. Denan whistled again, and about thirty archers dropped from the rooftops, taking up the rearguard.
From the direction of the forest, music wove through the buildings. It must be working, for Larkin didn’t see so much as a curtain shift in the windows. There was no sign they were being followed.
“He’ll be coming for us,” Larkin panted, her corset restricting her breathing.
“Yes,” Denan agreed.
The eastern gate came into view, a shadow outlined by even darker shadows. Ahead of them, something lay in the middle of the street. They came closer, the details coming into focus. Tam. The vanguard passed over him, taking up defensive positions as Talox knelt next to his friend. “He’s alive. But what—”
“Arrows out!” Denan cried.
“Now!” someone shouted. Light fell around them in the form of falling torches. From above, a contingent of two dozen druids stood on the roofs, sighted down their arrows, and released a volley. Larkin didn’t have time to think. Those arrows would find their mark, strike the pipers and her family indiscriminately. She lifted her left arm, calling up her shield above them, demanding it grow larger. Bright gold in the center darkened to marigold on the outer rim, a dome with a tree in the center formed above those closest to her.
The arrows slammed into it, sending ripples of light and color across the surface. Larkin staggered, dizzy. The shield fizzled out. She’d managed to protect those closest to her—Mama, her sisters, Denan, Tam, and Talox. But the rest . . . Dozens staggered and fell. She cried out, hating that she hadn’t been able to protect them all.
Talox held his shield over Mama as he ushered her toward an alleyway.
Denan gripped Larkin’s elbow, dragging her toward one of the buildings. “Arrows!”
The remaining pipers returned fire with deadly accuracy, dropping all but a handful of druids. The rest swung up the sides of the buildings and climbed like only pipers could. More fell to the druids’ second volley. The sounds of weapons clashing and men dying drifted down from the rooftops.
Larkin fought a wave of dizziness. Her knees went soft. Denan pushed her against the wall, eased her to a sitting position, and stood guard over her. “You drew too much magic. It will pass.”
Her aching arms around Sela went slack, her sleeping sister slumped against her chest. Her gaze met her mother’s, who was cowering behind Talox, her body curved protectively around Brenna.
A final cry sounded from above. Less than a dozen pipers came back. “Guard them,” Denan commanded Talox.
Larkin tried to stand, but it was awkward with Sela. Mama hurried over to help. The dizziness had passed, leaving behind a heavy exhaustion. Huddled toward each other, they eased away from the building, shoes soaking through with blood.
Denan crouched beside Tam. Someone had dropped him in the melee. Larkin had the discordant thought that if Tam died Alorica would kill them all. Denan shook his shoulder.
Tam groaned. “What happened?”
Larkin’s eyes fluttered shut in relief.
“Can you stand?” Denan asked.
Tam pushed to a sitting position and looked around, a devastated moan slipping from his lips. “No! I didn’t make it back in time to warn you.”
“Tam.” Denan’s voice shifted to that of a commander. “Get up!”
Tam straightened and pushed himself, wobbly, to his feet.
“Naven, Benden, get that gate open,” Denan said. Two pipers sprinted toward the entrance and up the stairs built on the side. The rest spread out, checking those who’d fallen. The pipers propped up men who could walk. Those too injured to manage were swung over shoulders. The dead were left where they lay. The broken group hurried toward the gate, the heavy wooden doors swinging outward. The two pipers came back down the stairs.
“You see anything up there?” Denan asked.
“No movement,” one of them said.
Denan didn’t take his eyes from the fields lying between them and the forest. “We do what we must.”
The pipers echoed the phrase back to him.
Larkin swayed on her feet.
“Talox,” Denan called. “Carry the little one.”
Talox wrapped his big hands around Sela. Mama made a sound of alarm. “It’s all right,” Talox soothed. “I’ll guard her with my life.”
Larkin released her sister reluctantly. Mama stuck to Talox’s side like a burr. The group headed out. Larkin tried to keep up, but her steps were unsteady.
Denan hung back, looking at his shield and ax as if trying to figure out how to carry her and his weapons. “Come on, Larkin. You have to keep up.”
He lunged. One second
he was beside her; the next he was behind her. Something clattered. She spun. Fifty druids sprinted through the gate behind them.
“Run!” Denan cried. More arrows flew, hitting the remaining pipers one by one, until only Talox and her mama remained.
Larkin didn’t know someone had caught up until arms wrapped around her waist. She went sprawling, the breath knocked out of her and her face stinging where her cheeks skidded across the dirt.
“Denan!” She twisted in her assailant’s arms, coming face-to-face with Bane. “Let me go!”
“Larkin,” he pleaded.
Then Denan was there, ax swinging.
“No!” she cried.
At the last second, Denan twisted his ax so the flat side slammed into Bane’s shoulder, sending him sprawling off her. She scrambled to her feet, only to be knocked down again by someone else. Denan pivoted to meet first one, then two druids. Another druid grabbed her by the ankles, tying them. She tried to bring up her shield or sword. Light sputtered before her fingers before stuttering out, her magic spent. She kicked and fought as another pair of hands joined the first.
“Get her behind the wall!” Garrot cried. “And bring me the piper prince alive!”
Denan finished one druid, who was replaced by two more. He still had a clear path to the forest. He could outrun the druids.
“Denan, go!” she cried. “Leave me.”
Denan growled in frustration. Larkin’s hands were tied, and she was hauled back toward the town. Tears streamed down her face. “Denan, go! Please!”
Denan kept fighting toward her. Five men now. The sixth, Garrot, snuck up behind him and slammed the handle of his sword into the back of Denan’s head. He dropped to his knees. He looked up at her, his gaze unfocused.
“Tie him up,” Garrot ordered. “Take him with the girl.”
“No,” Larkin gasped. She could see no way Denan would survive this. Beyond, Tam slipped inside the forest with Mama and both her sisters. Where was Talox? She could only hope he’d reached the Forbidden Forest ahead of them.
If nothing else, at least her family had made it to safety. Then the gate slammed closed, blocking her view of what lay beyond.
The druids opened a newly installed trapdoor at the ruins of a house that had burned to the ground decades ago and was never rebuilt. Below, there was only blackness. They shoved Larkin in first. She landed hard, feet stinging and shins aching. She rolled out of the way seconds before Denan hit with a muffled groan.
“Denan,” she cried. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” he rasped.
The trapdoor slammed shut, plunging them into utter darkness. Larkin made her way by feel to his side. She could feel sticky blood on his face.
“There’s a knife they didn’t find,” he said, voice strained. “Sewn into the hem of my tunic.”
She located it, tore it free, and cut through his bonds. He did the same for her. She called up her sword, using the light to peer into the crooks of an ancient cellar filled with tree roots and rot. A woman crouched in the corner, matted hair covering all but a sliver of her too-pale face. Larkin gasped, heart leaping in her chest.
Filthy with hollow cheeks and yellowed bruises, Maisy stared straight at Larkin. “It would have been better if they’d killed you.”
How long has she been down here? Larkin wondered. She waited for Maisy to attack or break into maniacal laughter, but she only rocked back and forth. Hoping that meant she didn’t plan to assault them anytime soon, Larkin turned her attention to Denan.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“An old cellar.”
“But how did we get here?”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“I-I can’t remember.” Before she could answer, he rolled to his side and vomited. She got a good look at the back of his head, a swollen, bloody mass. He rolled back over with a moan. “Curses, my head hurts.”
Larkin pulled off her wedding cloak and draped it over him. “You’re trained for field injuries. What do I do?”
“There are some herbs.” He blinked in confusion. “I don’t remember them.”
Ancestors, he’s been hit harder than I thought. “We don’t have any herbs anyway.”
He grunted. “Just let me sleep.”
She helped him to the opposite corner from Crazy Maisy and propped his head in her lap. She watched the other girl warily until her sigil ached from holding her magic for so long. “Are you going to do anything?” Larkin finally asked, exhaustion slurring her words.
“What would I do?” Maisy asked.
Larkin didn’t know, and that’s what scared her. She gave in to the inevitable darkness.
Wraiths glided over the elegant wall of the Alamant. Their evil swords cut through the people like scythes through wheat. Darkness trailed after them—a dark stain that spread like smoky tendrils, reaching, grasping for the White Tree until it was no longer white at all, but black as a night forsaken by stars.
Larkin struggled to be free of the dream, but it pulled her in time and again. A song echoed through the carnage.
Within the shadows of the trees,
The beast doth live, the beast doth breathe.
When day dies and shadows grow,
The beast without his kingdom goes,
Shadows his cloak, magic his staff;
His snaggily claws reach ‘n grasp
Snatching the virgins from their dreams,
Never a chance to voice their screams.
Back to the forest, he doth go
To nibble and dribble their bones just so.
Larkin gasped awake as Crazy Maisy began the song again, her face tipped toward the strangled light seeping around the corners of the trapdoor, providing dim illumination to the abandoned cellar. It must be morning. Surprised she’d slept, Larkin checked Denan. His chest rose and fell evenly. She gently laid her hand against his cheek, relieved he wasn’t fevering.
Her backside and neck ached. Not wanting to wake him, she settled for rubbing her shoulders. Surprisingly, Maisy had a pretty voice. Then the words caught her attention. “Within the shadows of the trees, the beast doth live, the beast doth breathe.” Larkin stilled. “When day dies and shadows grow, the beast without his kingdom goes.” Tears slid unheeded down Maisy’s cheeks. “Shadows his cloak, magic his staff.”
“Wraiths,” Larkin breathed. Maisy went very still. “The beast in the song—it isn’t the pipers. It’s the wraiths.”
Maisy turned toward her, face cast in shadows.
“How do you know about them?” Larkin asked.
Maisy wiped her face with her sleeve. “The same way you do.”
Larkin half shook her head. “You’ve been inside the forest?”
Maisy slowly peeled back her skirt, revealing jagged scars like the tines of a fork crisscrossing her legs, but the lines were not black, and Maisy clearly wasn’t a mulgar. Larkin squeezed Denan’s shoulder. He blinked up at her, and she nodded toward Maisy. His brows furrowed, and he sat up. Maisy dropped her skirt, but not before Denan got a good look at her legs.
“Ancestors save us,” Denan breathed.
“Maisy,” Larkin said gently. “How did that happen?”
Maisy’s gaze went distant. “I used to hide in the forest—the one place I knew my father would never go.”
How desperate had Maisy been to fight past the barrier’s magic? “Did he hit you?” Larkin asked.
Crazy Maisy scrubbed at her arms. She shook her head over and over and over. Larkin understood. Her father hadn’t hit her, but there were worse ways to hurt a child. Larkin’s eyes closed in revulsion. Beside her, Denan swore softly.
Maisy sang, voice thick with sobs, “Reach ‘n grasp . . . snatch . . . no one ever heard my screams . . .” She trailed into silence, her eyes growing unfocused.
“Ancestors,” Larkin breathed. “What did they do to her?”
“Did she ever go missing?” Denan asked.
Larkin shook her head. “She went to
live with the druids for three years. When they brought her back, she was like this.”
“Did you just hear her? She wasn’t with the druids.”
Larkin looked at Denan, whose face was swollen from the fight. “Then where was she?”
Denan studied Maisy a long time. “What if they took her to Valynthia?”
“Valynthia?”
“The wraith city.”
Shivers worked up and down Larkin’s arms. “They have a city? I thought they lived in the shadows?”
“They travel by shadow. They live with their mulgars and slaves in the ruined city of Valynthia.” He rubbed his face. “It was once the twin city to the Alamant. It fell when the wraith king came into being.”
The markings on Maisy’s legs . . . “Ancestors, she was their slave?” Larkin asked. He nodded. “This city has a tree?”
“A Silver Tree twisted into a perversion.”
That explained where the wraiths’ magic came from. “And their king?”
“King Ramass was chosen by their tree, as ours chose me, but he descended into evil, and that evil corrupted his tree and his people.”
That meant the wraith king was nearly three hundred years old. The same time the women had lost their magic. “The wraiths created the curse.” Denan nodded. Horrified, Larkin drew her knees to her chest. “What are we going to do?”
“My pipers will come for us. Tonight, when our magic is strongest. We’re going to escape and meet them. After that . . .” His voice had turned hard.
“It’s war, then.” Larkin could only be grateful her mother and younger sisters had escaped. “Will your men be safe in the forest?”
He nodded. “We have wards to keep the wraiths away from our camps. They don’t help with the mulgars, but we can drive them back.” He pivoted, barely managing to cover a wince of pain. “Show me your sigils.”
She held out her hand, his fingertips worked over a leaf, tracing the lines that circled her wrist. A band had begun to form around the sigil on her left arm.
Denan grunted in amazement. “Your magic will be so strong when they’ve completely formed.”
Leaning forward, she lifted her hair to reveal the one on the back of her neck. “What is it?”