Chapter 43

Godsdamn it, Torin was right, was my last thought as I hurtled downwards, arms pinwheeling futilely.

My magic failed me somewhere past Thorndale, my momentum giving out a few miles later.

I slammed into the canopy of trees, grasping at something—anything—to slow my fall, branches and leaves slipping through my fingers like water as I crashed down and down and down through the darkness until I hit the forest floor.

I tried to lift my head, but my battered body wouldn't move.

My arm was broken, one shoulder dislocated, at least three ribs cracked, and I'd punctured a lung. Fucking gods.

If Anaria saw me now…No, I wasn't doing that.

Thank the gods the soil beneath me was soft. Smelled of rich, fertile earth.

By some freakish stroke of luck, I'd landed in a section of wood untouched by the blight, surrounded by a dozen stranded males desperate enough to pin me down, rough, calloused hands stripping away my weapons.

I nearly screamed when they rolled me over, my broken arm twisting beneath me. I couldn't see their faces in the dark, could only listen to their heavy breathing and grunts as they searched every pocket.

One male stepped away, the pendant catching the moonlight as it swung from the chain, gripped between filthy fingers. "Oy, what's this? Looks to be worth a few gilder." I reached out feebly, but the beefy male jerked my prize away with a bright flash of teeth.

"Worth doesn't matter, Bran, if you can't eat the godsdamned thing." An older, tired voice muttered while I got my bearings. Grim focus took over when I realized two things.

I was magicless, weaponless, and until my body healed, I was completely at their mercy.

And also, the overgrown fuck had slid my amulet into his pocket with a grin that told me I'd be fighting him to get it back. And I was in no shape to be fighting anyone, least of all someone twice my size. I tried to move my aching body and every broken bone ground together.

"Who the fuck are you, and how did you get from up there"—Bran pointed a grimy finger at the star-filled sky—"to down here? And don't be spinning any clever lies, either, or we'll be slitting your throat."

They were out of food.

The bark on the trees methodically stripped, the ground bare of ferns and bracken. Another mouth to feed meant we'd all starve faster, and I didn't have to be a genius to do the math.

"A dragon, if you can believe it." Every word cost me, my collapsed lungs fighting for air. "I came from Solarys. Was heading to Varitus. A gust of wind blew me off, and here I am."

"Dragon?" One the men scoffed. "There's no dragons anymore."

"Not true," someone else muttered gruffly. "I heard rumors of a dragon in Solarys a few months ago. Big and black as night. Heard the whole story from my sister's husband."

"Was this the same husband who claimed to see an army of Reapers marching across the plain before the forest sprang to life?" Someone laughed. "No one believes your stories, Kael."

"Fuck off, Dunstan," Kael grumbled defensively. "If he said he saw an army, then there was a godsdamned army."

"Oh, there was an army, alright," I put in, gingerly moving my busted body into a sitting position as their eyes widened comically. "Ten thousand Reapers heading straight for Solarys. Some foul magic at work there, I tell you."

If there was anything that would override desperation, it was gossip, and capturing their full attention would buy me time to heal. Time for my magic to replenish enough to defend myself. "There are still Reapers circling over Tempeste, but I expect you know that already."

The older male crouched down. "We heard rumors, but we're not from the city."

"From south of here?" I tried to get my bearings. All I saw were trees, and I had no idea if we were a mile from the border or fifty miles. My nails were shredded, my fingers and palms lacerated. Every fucking bone in my body ached as they began the slow, painful process of knitting back together, yet I forced myself to ask, "You were trapped here by the blight?"

The older male nodded. "We heard a foul sickness was coming from the north, so we headed south, but then the forest got all confusing, and we ended up walking in circles."

"Not my fucking fault, I tell you." Bran, who'd stolen the amulet, whined. "How was I supposed to know everything looked the fucking same in here?"

"Shut up, Bran, nobody said getting lost was your fault."

"You're all thinking it, though," he snapped, and several of the other males winced, slowly backing away. "Even you, Finnian. Don't tell me you aren't."

"Where is this dragon of yours?" the older male—Finnian—asked, scanning the brightening sky through the thick latticework of branches. "He's coming back, isn't he?"

"If he can find me, he will. Like Bran rightly pointed out, the trees look the same. Luckily I landed here where there's no blight. Otherwise, I'd be dead."

A chorus of agreement met my statement, and except for Bran, their stances relaxed enough I knew they wouldn't be killing me out of hand, because a dragon offered everyone a chance at survival.

"Why come out this way?" Finnian's eyes dragged over my shorn head, the battle-worn armor, and this time, when his gaze returned to mine, there was a different sort of wariness there.

"Seems like you're a long way from home."

I cradled my broken arm so the bones would heal right. "That I am. I'm on a reconnaissance mission for the queen. The blight has almost reached Blackcastle, and she wanted a status report on Caladrius and Varitus. In case we have to evacuate the city, she wanted to know what areas remained safe so her people had somewhere to go."

Murmuring filled the small grove before Bran cut them off.

"What queen?" one of the other men sneered. "Solarys doesn't have a queen."

"It does now. Queen Anaria," I told them with no small amount of pride. "She killed the Shadow King and took his place."

"That's the story I heard," Kael, the male with the deep, gravelly voice, said. "New queen, big black dragon."

Someone added, "We heard the wall on that side of Caladrius fell too. Is the Varitus ward still holding? That's where we were heading before we got trapped here."

I surveyed the small island of green around us. No bigger than fifty feet in diameter, the safe zone contained some untouched trees, a few clumps of thorny bracken, and somewhere beyond echoed the faint sound of running water.

But all around us, that shifting blackness waited.

"There's a stream here?"

"Contaminated," one of the men immediately supplied. "You'd be a fool to drink the water; it's black as coal. We've been collecting rainwater, but we're down to the last few drops. Let's hope today brings more rain."

I pushed to my feet, half expecting my legs to give. Surprisingly, they held. Now that I was up, the men's eyes bounced between me and Bran, whose chest puffed out like a turkey's.

"Show me this stream."

Not to drink, but as a possible way out of here.

Tavion had explained how they'd washed the black ooze off. Maybe I could use the stream like a road and walk out of here. The idea was worth investigating, and I had to keep moving.

Better than sitting here spinning tales to keep myself alive.

"Does anyone know how far we are from Varitus?"

"A few miles, maybe." A blond-haired male muttered. "Hard to say since the forest is so overgrown, but before the blight cut us off, we passed a farmhouse where I used to sell sheep. Way I remember, that farm was less than three miles from the northern gate."

Finnian cuffed him on the back of the head. "You never fucking thought to mention that before?"

The sheep herder gave the old man a sullen stare. "Didn't think it was important, Fin, given we're fucking trapped."

I headed toward the fast-running water, hope flaring when I saw the swollen stream. So much water running so swiftly, the color was dishwater gray. Not safe enough to drink, but maybe we could walk through it.

Tendrils of black stretched up the shoreline like veins of rot, stretching over rocks but going no further. I spun in a slow circle, wondering what strange magic kept the blight at bay. A tumbled pile of moss-covered stones sat to the side of the stream arranged in an almost perfect circle.

"What was that pile of rock?" I asked the sheep herder. "Do you know?"

"Legend has it a witch used to live in this part of the woods. The old woods, not the new forest, mind you. But that was a few centuries ago. Those stones are all that remains of her hut."

A few of the men crossed themselves and sent up prayers to the Old Gods.

I held in my snort.

So witch magic really did keep Corvus's magic at bay. And if that was true, then perhaps such magic would work on the Oracle too.

"This is our way out. We follow the stream as far as we can, hopefully all the way to Varitus."

"And if it ends in a blighted area, then what?" Bran asked caustically. "You're asking us to follow you to certain death?" He crossed his arms over his wide chest. "No, thank you. I'll take my chances here." Several of the others murmured in agreement.

"One thing I know for certain…" I scanned their faces, seeing nothing but distrust.

"Staying here, without food or water, is certain death. Movement means survival, inactivity means you'll all perish. That's just the way of things. But when you do decide to leave, that stream is your only way out. If you try to enter the blight, that darkness will kill you within the hour."

Finnian's eyes shifted toward the water. "I'm willing to give it a go. Lead the way, stranger, but if I decide we'd be safer here, I'm heading back."

"Fair enough." I widened my stance and faced Bran. He stood a full head taller than me, outweighed me by fifty pounds, but I had one good arm, and I could breathe. Best of all, my magic was slowly refilling, enough to give me a boost if I had to fight the bastard.

"Give me back the amulet. You can keep the knives, but I need the pendant."

He tipped up his chin. "It's mine, fair and square."

"For fuck's sake, Bran, stop being an arse and give the man back his necklace."

With a curse, Bran slammed the thing down so hard into my cut palm I winced. But I caught him by the wrist before he could pull away, squeezing tight enough his eyes bulged.

"Next time you steal from someone, you little shite, know this. You might be the biggest bully here on this little island, but out in the real world? You're nothing but a blustering coward." I twisted his arm hard enough to send him to his knees and looked at the others.

"If you listen to him, you will all die. He's too arrogant to admit when he's wrong, and you're out of food. Out of water." I peered up at the sky. "You'll be dead in a matter of days. Come with us and save yourselves."

I looked into Bran's hate-filled eyes. "Or stay with him and take your chances."