49. Chapter Forty-Nine

I was admittedly putting on a brave face for Kieran, but the second he’d put the word Leshy in my mind, my mouth went dry and it was an effort not to shiver. Even though I had successfully played it off, the hair on the back of my neck still stood on end.

I wasn’t a fighter. Regardless of the strength of my Resonance, a Leshy was so far beyond my skill set that I was half-tempted to listen to Kier when he told me to stay put, but I couldn’t let him go alone.

It was sentimental stupidity and I knew it. The same stupid urge that had me drawing my blade on Cragg a few weeks back when he’d been talking shit. It didn’t matter that Kieran was one of the youngest captains the Elder Guard had ever seen, or that his martial prowess went so far beyond what I could ever hope to attain that it was almost laughable.

In the short time that I’d known the man, he’d made it clear that he always had my back. I would have his, for whatever that was worth.

And so I followed him silently through the woods, attempting to mimic his stealthy prowl, leaning forward in the same way he did as he dodged his way through gnarled branches and bushes. I did my best to match his graceful, silent strides.

Before I was truly ready for it, we had gotten within range, and a discomforting noise shot through the forest. It sounded like an unnatural cross between a wolf’s snarl and the harsh creak of snapping branches. We hadn’t reached a clearing, and the woods were thick enough here that I couldn’t see the Leshy yet either, but the sound was quickly growing closer. Shit.

Kieran’s voice rang through my head again.

Breathe, Arken.

I ran through his instructions. Avoid the talons. Aim for the base of the throat, or under the ribs. Light it up if I can get a clean hit. I could do this. He hadn’t fought me when I demanded to come along.

I’m good, I sent back through the raven, the strange psychic mail sprite he seemed to have summoned from thin air.

His reply was almost immediate.

I know.

My chest tightened a bit at the vote of confidence. If Kieran truly believed I could handle being his backup for this fight, then I could handle it.

It’s almost here. Let me step into the clearing first and get its attention, okay? When I drop the cloak, it’ll probably go into a frenzy for the aether. Once it’s fully focused on attacking me, slip into the fray with your Light blades when you see openings, but don’t take any unnecessary risks. You’re clever, Little Conduit. Put that big brain of yours to use. Dodge first, strike second.

Aye, Captain.

I couldn’t see it from behind him, but I could practically feel him roll his eyes in response.

We reached the clearing just moments before the Leshy did, and as Kieran dropped his cloak of Shadows, the dark creature charged.

I had seen what Kieran could do with a sword before, hanging around the guardsmen as he ran them through training exercises in the past, but I had never seen him in true combat with his weapons of choice. Not even when he’d been showing off with Hans and Jeremiah last quarter. Not like this.

As the Leshy howled and tore across the clearing towards him, Kieran transformed into something both beautiful and terrifying. His jagged daggers in hand, his Shadows rippling off of him like a second skin…

I realized this man could easily rival the monster he fought for the crown of darkness incarnate.

He moved faster than I could really fathom when the horrid daemon attempted to swipe at his ribcage, Kieran catching its clawed arm with one of his daggers. As the dark metal blade cut into the Leshy’s mottled flesh, it drew blood—a black, oily ichor—that hissed and sizzled as it hit the forest floor. I made a quick mental note to try and avoid the substance as it slashed out at him again, forcing him to throw up arcane shields around himself, too.

I was briefly distracted by how stunning they were—the shields glimmering like he’d pulled the darkness straight from the night sky—but then a loud and ugly snarl of frustration escaped the creature’s maw, and my focus returned.

Terrifying, muscular looking tendrils shot out from below ground, aiming for Kieran’s ankles, and for a moment I thought he was screwed. Somehow, the guardsman remained two steps ahead, slashing each rope of muscle and vine before they could reach him.

By now, the raven on my shoulder had dissipated into smoke—there was only so much aether you could wield at once, and Kieran was hitting capacity. He had to be. He was shielding himself, shielding me, and channeling his Shadow into every strike and blow.

The crunch of the Leshy’s gnarled fist against Kieran’s shields caught my attention, and I watched with horror as the Shadows appeared to splinter and crack. When the monster found its way through and landed a hit, Kieran stumbled back—just an inch or two, but it was enough to send anger and adrenaline surging through me.

Fear gave way to fight, and I found my opening. Aetherblades in hand, I sprung forward, flanking the beast. As it raised an arm overhead, preparing to strike at Kieran again, the beast paid me no mind. It was clearly focused on the larger threat.

That was its first mistake.

With a snarl of my own, I shoved one of my blades precisely where Kieran had instructed—just below what looked like it once might’ve been a ribcage. The Leshy let out a blood-curdling screech of pain, attempting to twist its torso away from me—but with grit teeth, I shoved the blade in further.

“Atta girl!” Kieran shouted.

Half of my forearm was inside the creature’s strangely hollow body now, and I could feel those freakish vines constrict around my wrist.

“Don’t look at her, you ugly fuck. Look at me,” Kieran continued with a taunting grin. “I’m the one that’s going to kill you.”

Like Hel he was. This thing had ruined a perfectly calm evening, and I wanted my pound of flesh… or bark, or whatever the fuck this thing was made of. Light it up, he’d told me. While it was still distracted, I shoved my other blade into the space between its gnarled shoulder and neck, and the dark creature continued to scream into the night.

Gods, the screaming. How could it even scream so loud without a damned mouth?

My ears were ringing, but I tugged at Kieran’s Shadows, preparing to unleash a world of hurt when it whipped a thick vine straight into his chest, knocking him to the ground before he could dodge.

Heart pounding with fear and rage, I lit the damned thing up like kindling. Instinct and emotion took over, and the aether I unleashed within the Leshy’s body wasn’t Light… It was Fire.

Fuck.

I could already smell the smoke, and my mind was racing as I watched Kieran quickly scramble to his feet, vague confusion flickering in his eyes before it was immediately replaced by panic.

Before I could even process whether he was panicking about the monster, or catching me flame-handed, the Leshy’s claws ripped into my ribcage, and suddenly I was the one screaming.

I fell to my knees on the forest floor, keeling over in agony. The gashes were significant, yes—but that wasn’t the source of the pain. It burned. This burning was unlike anything I’d ever known, and when I pulled my hand away from my body, it was slick with blood.

I had to get up, I had to fight back, but—my ribs, my lungs. It felt like my chest had been doused in acid, like the wound was immediately festering, the ichor eating its way into my flesh. I tried to draw on my Light, just to craft a shield, a temporary bandage to stop the bleeding, anything… but I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel any of my Resonances. What the Hel?

I could vaguely hear Kieran shouting as my vision began to blur.

Why did he sound like he was underwater? And was I seeing double, or had a second fiend joined the fray? My tongue felt thick, my senses dull and delayed, and my body… Heavy. Much too heavy. I could barely keep my head up.

Stay away from the talons, he’d told me. The poison works fast.

Shit.