Chapter 31 | Ravinica

Chapter 31

Ravinica

“THEY’RE CLOSE,” SVEN mumbled.

Fuck.

My heart jumped to my throat.

The elven encampment was just ahead, over the next hill. In less than a footfall field, we would be there.

“You’re right, cadet,” Hersir Kelvar said, as if we needed his input to believe the expert senses of my wolf shifter. “They’ve followed us.”

“What is it they want with Elayina?” I asked Corym, closing my hands into fists.

He shook his head. “I don’t plan on sticking around to find out. Not much further.”

He took off running up the hill. The rest of us followed, grinding and powering through our tiredness to reach the summit. My thighs ached something fierce, my head was pounding. We reached the top—

The wind snapped as an arrow whistled in front of us and thudded into the ground two feet in front of Corym’s charge.

I hissed. Tossing a look over my shoulder, down the hill, my worst nightmare was realized.

All seven of the remaining dark elves, plus Frida, emerged from the trees and fanned out, hurrying after us.

“Fuck!” I yelled.

“Gah!” Grim roared, and I noticed his arms and legs bulk up and flex with popping veins. The man was this close to losing it and vanishing into his berserk state.

Maybe that’s what we need right now! A last push to see us through to the end!

We ran like Hel, like Elayina’s life depended on it. In our two-hour travel, she had already started to look worse. Her old face had gotten an ashen gray texture, like she was withering away—a plant starved out of oxygen and nutrients, dying from the harsh elements.

At the top of the steep incline, we didn’t bother looking behind us. We kept pushing toward the cabins now coming into view. The bloodstained snow and grass, with so many bodies left behind wherever we went.

I nearly tripped on one of the dead Huscarls in my haste to make it to the cabin. It was less than fifty feet away now. I ground my teeth together and yelled in fury alongside my mates, groaning and pushing and doing whatever we needed to keep fucking moving.

Another arrow flew in, this one careening wide of Arne to my right.

I chanced another look—they had gained on us. Somehow the dark elves were not as tired as we were. They could partake in another battle, if needed.

It will be a slaughter if we stop now, without our surprise attack.

My confidence was dwindling. My fear was rising. With a body soaked in sweat, I Shaped the air and left a wall of fire behind me.

It was more like a small fence of fire because I hadn’t had time to flare it large enough, and the elves easily barreled through it.

Arne skipped backward, Shaping to throw up an ice wall.

A second later—

BOOM!

The wall shattered in a million crystal fragments.

Our defenses were hopeless, futile.

Thirty feet away now, almost able to taste the sap and thick pollen of Kiir’luri in the air.

So close!

Blackness closed in around us, hemming my vision as I fought off whatever dark arts the Dokkalfar were trying to hit us with.

“Just a little further!” I screamed, my voice hoarse.

Ten feet. The cabin door was still open. We only needed to jump in—

Patches of darkness to my left and right turned into shadowy, smoky tendrils in my peripheral. Closing in. A circle of black opened directly in front of us, like a sewer hole or an entryway into Hel itself. The black hole was so sudden we barely had time to shift our trajectory to avoid the spell—

And Magnus didn’t.

My stomach sank as the bloodrender cried out, tripping over himself as he tried to turn on his heel at the last second and stumbled into the inky patch.

He disappeared.

My heart seized. “Magnus!”

My feet skidded through snow, kicking up a plume of powder as I spun around no less than a stretched arm away from the portal—

To find Magnus reapparing from a black patch twenty feet behind , a few steps in front of the closest Dokkalfar, the one with the white man-bun atop his head.

Magnus was on his hands and knees, staring up into those crimson eyes the same color as his hair.

The Dokkalfar smirked over Magnus at me, drawing his cruel black blade as he lowered his outstretched hand and finished his evil spell.

The sewer grate shadow portal between our groups closed up.

My other mates spun at the same time as me, jaws slackened, everyone perplexed and stunned as we waited for the elf to plunge that blade into the bloodrender.

Everyone except Hersir Kelvar.

The Whisperer put a hand on my shoulder, wordless, and gently shoved me, widening my shadow in front of him—

Which he stepped onto and vanished.

In the blink of an eye, Kelvar was in front of Magnus as the dark elf reeled his arm back.

Kelvar, quick and silent as he was, had no time to react or cast or do anything other than shield Magnus. The dark elf had no time to alter his attack, a split-second hesitation making his eyes widen—

As he plunged the black blade into Kelvar’s gut.

I let out a sound of shock, hand going to my mouth.

Arne stepped forward and acted, waving his hands in the air and tossing a sheet of ice toward our foes. Grim and Sven both worked to do the same with their own magic, while Corym could do nothing as he held Elayina, only watching as Kelvar crumpled in front of Magnus.

The bloodrender bellowed from his hands and knees and bit his fingers into the snow.

The dark elf pulled his blade out, bringing a gout of blood with it from Kelvar’s body, and prepared for another strike.

Magnus was faster, rumbling the earth with his fingers in the snow, shaking the dark elves and Frida off-balance.

It lasted only a heartbeat. It was all Kelvar needed, having the presence of mind to fall into Magnus—the Whisperer still conscious—and hug him before rolling them into their conjoined shadow and vanishing—

Landing a step behind me in my own moonlit shade.

It all happened in less than ten seconds.

The dark elf leader roared as our spells flew at him a breath later. His comrades used their weighty magic to swallow up our runes and defend themselves with dark purplish swirls of energy.

The air stank of sulfur, copper, ice, and evil.

Grim and Sven hurried to Magnus’ side.

I backpedaled. We had everyone, the portal was right there . Bleeding or not, we would make it.

The picture wasn’t right: humans escaping Midgard, standing between the dark elves and the portal to their own realm. Like our worlds had shifted.

Before I could move, the leader of the dark elves spoke, freezing the blood in my veins and my feet where I stood. Because he spoke our language, deep and guttural and thick with accent.

He faced Frida next to him, frowning as he sheathed his sword. “You said this would be easy, human.”

Frida paled, eyes wide. “I—”

“It has not been easy.”

Tilting his head like he was examining a stray dog, the dark elf crossed his arms over his chest.

Frida opened her mouth to argue.

In a lazy display, the dark elf lashed out with his hand in a blur, grabbed the top of Frida’s skull—

And twisted .

The sound of Frida’s neck snapping as her head turned fully around was sharp, jarring, and tilted my world on its axis. I stared stupefied as her body fell in a heap in front of the elf.

Arne let out a bloodcurdling cry of anguish—a short, inhuman bark that came from the very bowels of his soul.

He fell to his knees in disbelief.

My thundering heart lodged in my throat as the elves casually stepped past Frida’s corpse and marched in our direction.

Fight or flight kicked in, snapping me from my daze.

“G-Grim!” I stammered. “Grab him!”

I turned around, clutching Sven while he dragged Magnus to the door—the bloodrender still holding onto a bleeding Whisperer.

Grim strode forward, hauled Arne up in a bear hug, and stormed around into the portal, leaving the iceshaper kicking and screaming over his shoulder, trying to get at the descending dark elves.

Corym, with Elayina in his arms, was the last to enter the portal.