The Darkness That Hunts
Chapter 20

We keep to a side path hewnfrom the thorns and brambles by some large creature we’d rather not meet. Theair turns cloying and rank as the shriveled dead trees around us shirk backfrom the border of the Hallow Wastes. Brambles give way to squat brown shrubschoked with cobwebs and skittering Black Widows. The soft ground of decayedvegetation gives way to dry, hard packed soil until finally we wrestle free ofthe Onyx entirely.

We pause at the edge of asteep embankment and stare at the endless grassy savannah that sprawls belowus. Dry riverbeds crisscross the Hallow Wastes like infected scars. Stunted, scraggytrees dot the flat countryside and cluster in small groups as if forprotection. The crimson sky boils and bleeds above us while dark clouds eat atthe slight curve of the horizon, devouring it by slices.

Kamion scratches the back ofhis neck. “Looks like we landed in the Midwest.”

“After an atomic bomb,maybe,” Dace modifies.

I can feel the tingle of thetether’s location pressed against my pelvis. I spin on the balls of my feetuntil I face the northeast. “The Sepulcher is that way.”

We follow a switchback downinto waist-high grass the color of rotted wheat. With no canopy of branches to blotout the sky it seems to stretch for eons but does not provide any suitablelight. We replace a narrow trail that cuts across the savannah in the generaldirection we wish need to go and we follow it.

“You say there are werewolvesout here?” Dace’s attention darts left and right. I can almost feel his uneasiness.With each step the tension coils tighter around us so that we jump at eachsmall sound.

“Among other things, yes.This is their territory.”

While we shuffle across theWastes, I tell them about Gjinna, how she befriended me and in our brief timestogether taught me about the politics of Ater’s inhabitants. I share with themwhat I’ve learned from the occasions that Andhakar placed me on display to hiscourt, dangling from a cage like an exotic bird. I detail the different kindsof creatures I’ve seen, their perversities, their frightening abilities andruthless pursuit of power.

“How are our weapons goingto protect us against monsters like that?” Bitterness taints Dace’s voice.

I shake my head.

“Do you have any idea whatthe druid meant by believing in our patron elements?” Kamiron turns to Zakk,eyeing the ink staining his skin.

Zakk’s thick lashes shieldhis eyes as he gazes at the lifeless soil crunching beneath our feet. Hissilence stretches a full minute before he shrugs. “No clue.”

Kam grunts but before he canpress on, Zakk silences him with a quick motion. “But I can speculate.” Hepauses and balances the shaft of his polearm in his hand. “These were not giftsfrom Divine, but the elements. They are manifestations of our connection tothem. When we pulled out these weapons, we formed a bond. As that bond deepens,further manifestations will occur. Most likely in the form of blades.”

We gape at Zakk. He blinksself-consciously. “What?”

“Look at you, Gandalf, alleducated.” Dace teases, shoving his friend playfully.

Zakk’s smile is rueful. “ButI didn’t say how we get our powers tomanifest. My guess is there has to be a need--”

Zakk’s sentence falters whena howl arches through the Hallow Wastes and is joined by a series of similarwails. I drop to my knees so that the grass conceals me. The boys follow suit.

“That what I think it is?”Kamiron whispers.

My heart thumps wildly and Ireach for my longbow. “Something’s happening.”

The howling continues but it’smoving. Coming from both the west and east, the commotion converges north ofour position.

“How could they have known we’re here? We’ve barely been walkingan hour.” Kamiron adjusts his grip on the steel haft of his weapon, prepared towield it like a club.

“They don’t. They’re justgathering,” Dace offers, peeking between the blades of grass. We follow hisgaze but see nothing in the darkness but the gentle sway of grass stalks andthe squat dot of tree clusters.

“How . . .?”

“There’s line of them--justthere. Come on, they’re in plain sight.”

“Take off your glasses,”Zakk suggests. Quizzically, Dace complies. His pupils dilate, struggling tocapture the ambient light that filters across the Wastes. “How the hell can youguys see anything?”

I recall that Divine blewacross Dace’s glasses. “He must have enhanced your sight.”

Dace wipes the grime fromhis lenses and replaces them. He gazes across the savannah, taking in dimensionsof details that we can only imagine. “It looks like--well, it’s hard toexplain. When I want to see something closer, I just zoom in. Like a camera.”

The howls circle ahead. Zakknudges Dace’s shoulder. “What do you see?”

Dace peers above the grassand at the horizon. “These . . . creatures are gathering in three groups, rightin the direction we want to go. Shari’s right, they don’t look like normal werewolves.They’re standing upright, and they’re carry what looks like spears.”

Zakk nods. “They speak,they’re intelligent. Don’t think of them as animals, that’s only theirappearance.”

Kamiron cocks his head tothe side at another howl that shreds the air. It sounds irritated, aggressive.Anticipatory. “Something’s going down.” He shuts his eyes and a crooked lineforms between his brows. “A grievance must be addressed. They’re going to fightone another, the winning pack will gain exclusive use of disputed huntinggrounds.”

We stare at him, startled byhis certainty but Kam doesn’t notice, too busy listening to things we cannothear.

“We’ll have to swing wideand work our way around.” I unroll the map and trace a line heading westtowards Andhakar’s citadel. “We can’t go east, it will take us back towardsUnseelie territory, but the closer we are to . . .”

“Andy,” Dace supplies.

I tap TheDarkness-That-Hunts’ insignia that marks the Andhakar’s home. “The more of Andy’sfollowers we’ll encounter.”

“We don’t have much achoice,” Dace voice is grave. “We can’t take those things. Not with sticks.They’re like nine feet.”

I’m all too familiar withthe ferocity of the lobisomem andhe’s right. “Right. Keep low, keep close, and Dace, keep an eye out.”

I take the lead and am sureto keep my shoulders and back hunched so that I don’t break the line of grassas we beeline west. We don’t speak and pause only to check our direction orcatch our breath.

“Whoa--wait.” Dace catchesmy arm. He squints behind his lenses. “Something’s ahead.”

My voice catches. “What doyou see?”

His hesitation doesn’t inspireconfidence. “It looks like a wall.”

I straighten and gaze acrossthe sea of grass, focusing on the bleak horizon. I can’t tell what it is, but adark line snakes along the ground. Atop it several shapes pace back and forth.

“Other lobisomem?” Zakkwhispers.

“Yeah. We can’t keep thisway. It leads to some kind of village.”

My heart sinks. Oh, this isso not good. “What do we do? Turn around?”

“We can’t.” Kamiron liftshis head, his ears drinking in sounds beyond the hiss of the wind between thequivering stalks of grass. “I hear fighting. Chaos. Death.” He falls quiet foranother minute and his full mouth forms a grim line. “Sounds like it’s nearingits end.”

Dace curses. “Not a lot ofoptions.”

I chew my lower lip and mygaze wavers north. “We’ll have to avoid the village. Get as far north as we canand then head east. If Kamiron’s right and the fight is near its end, then thewolves will be heading back to their dens soon. We don’t need to be betweenthem and their homes. Kamiron, keep listening, and Dace, let me know if you seeany more villages.”

We run parallel to thevillage, sure to keep it on our left and the battle on our right. We make itjust past the village before Kamiron stiffens and skids to a halt. Before hecan speak, a series of triumphant howls travels on the breath of the wind.

“Guess it’s over,” Zakkmumbles. Sweat plasters strands of his light brown hair to his forehead.

“We’ll make it,” I try toreassure but Dace only shakes his head.

“We’ve got company.”

“But the village is miles aw--”

“An outpost from the looksof it. It’s not far from here. I don’t think they see us exactly, but they’re headed in our direction. Maybe going tomeet the war party at their village?”

“Then we’re okay.”

Zakk’s eyes close for amoment. He sighs. “Not if they catch our scent, Shari.”

My heart drops and I stareat the beige grass that sways at my hips. “The wind’ll give us away.”

“How long until they’re inrange?”

“Not sure, but it isn’tlong.”

“We’ll have to make a standhere somewhere.”

“Exactly how do you supposewe do that, Z?” Dace holds up the leather-wrapped hilts of his weapon. “Did Imention they’re like nine feet?”

Zakk doesn’t respond.Instead he starts jogging east, his gaze scanning the grass. It finally partsbefore a dusty bank that clings to a narrow, dry riverbed. He motions for us tostep down into the pit.

“Be still,” he orders. Withprecise movements, he navigates the banks of the riverbed, humming. A faintglow bleeds through his aketon, spreading around Zakk’s ribs. The butt of hispolearm digs into the dry dirt, scarring some kind of wavy line into the land.The glow on his ribs starts to flicker, and Zakk moves more quickly, circlingus with the strange line until he connects it to the rim of the riverbed justbefore the glow on his body winks out.

He looks pale when hefinally joins us in the center of a broad box. He wipes the sweat from his eyeswith shaky fingers. “Don’t step outside this area,” he warns.

“What did you do?”

He presses a palm againsthis ribs and grunts. I suddenly recall him showing us the tattoo there. Whatarcane embodiment did it represent?

“Heads up,” Dace alerts, hisattention locked ahead. My heart screeches in my ears and I forget to breathe.

“Won’t they see us? We’repretty exposed here.”

“They’ll hear us or smell uslong before they see us,” Zakk whispers. “Get ready to fight.”

The grass undulates with theapproach of the wolf party. Stalks break beneath the hulking forms of six lobisomem,jogging on all fours with weapons crafted from bone strapped to their backs.They form a tight circle on the outskirts of the bank a yard south of us. I’mstunned they don’t seem to see us, though all they have to do is look up the bank.Kam’s hand grips mine and he gives me a firm shake of his head. Does he thinkI’m going to wave to them and shout, “Hey, werewolves, over here!”?

The group of lobisomemstraighten to their full nine-foot height. Andhakar’s brand glows red on theirforeheads, contrasting with the blue-white glow of their eyes. Their dingy coatshang in disgusting ropes and thick, matted knots. Parts of the wolves’ fur haveshed, revealing patches of festering black sores that dig pits into theirrotted skin. The lobisomem ignore their weapons and scan the flat landscapebefore one that I assume is their leader motions to the others.

“Start here and move outward.”

The six blanket the area ina loose semicircle, keeping at least fifteen feet apart. The pair closest to uslifts their legs and the overwhelming tang of warm urine taints the air. Dacegags beside me and I use my sleeve to cover my mouth and nose.

Zakk’s voice is barely awhisper. “So they’re here to reinforce their border. If we’re lucky, they mightmove on and not smell us over their marks.”

“You think packs Bitterskulland Lurkingshade will appeal?” a wolf with a missing ear asks. His voice soundslike broken nails.

The leader crosses theriverbed and marks a spot there. Our eyes water at the stink.

“They have lost. If theyhave a disagreement with our rightful claim, we’ll settle it again. PackRottenmaw has nothing to fear from such weaklings. We now control the besthunting grounds.”

“Too bad I couldn’t tastethe throat of Brokentooth. The look on his face when Lurkingshade lost claimwould have been priceless.” This from the wolf closest to us. He seems thesmallest of the party with a frame that is more emaciated than the usual.

A series of growls andsnorts that sound suspiciously like laughter ride the wind.

“If you were a warrior, youwould have been with the war party,” someone snickers, “Instead you’restationed at the outpost with the rest of us.”

If the wolf is offended bytheir amusement, he is careful not to show it. Instead his mottled left eartwitches and his nose presses against the wind.

“Smell that?”

“Get ready,” Zakk cautions.

Adrenaline spikes through meand my nails dig into the unyielding wood of my longbow.

Noses thrust into the airand the wolves take deep drags. It sounds like thunder.

“Mortals.”

Tails thump in anticipation.Clawed hindlegs dig deep furrows into the earth. Excited yelps escape frombetween bared teeth with canines as long as my fingers. I can’t help butimagine the pain as those teeth ravage my supple flesh as easily as scissorscutting newspaper.

Dace is right. How can wepossibly take on one of them, much less six?

You took down the Steel Fang and she is more powerful than thesewelps.

The male voice from beforehas returned. Or rather my smartass masculine alter ego has returned, thoughthat sounds insane and makes even less sense. Nevertheless, I decide to ask forhis (my?) opinion.

What do you suggest?

No initial response, andthen: Find your belief in the connection,just like before when you reached into the flame.

Completely not helpful.

Lowering themselves to allfours, the wolves bury their noses into the cracked floor of the riverbed andstart weaving back and forth, following our scent ever northward.

“I’m going to blind themwith light,” Zakk alerts, “Then we attack. Try your best to maim their eyes.Force them to rely on smell and sound.”

My body trembles as Zakkstarts murmuring in some language I’ve never heard. Another tattoo starts toglow beneath his clothing, this one along his calf. Sweat drips into my eyes,makes my fingers slick as I hug my longbow to my chest. Fear quakes through me,unstoppable and fierce. It tastes sour, like lemons gone bad.

Don’t let fear paralyze you, the voice warns in a calm,confident tone. A tropical breeze stirs my hair and seeps into my quakingbones. My hands stop trembling. A tingle shoots down my spine and flares acrossmy hipbone. Slow your breathing. You willsee their moves before they attack. Do not let your mind get in the way.Anticipate, react on instinct.

My eyelids drift down,almost as if I’ve entered a trance. My chest rises and falls rhythmically butthen there is a flash of arcane light that sears the darkness of the HallowWastes. If the wolves didn’t know our exact location, they do now. I’m sureboth the villagers and the war party saw Zakk’s magic flare.

All my earlier calmevaporates as the converging lobisomem yelp in startled surprise. Rising ontotheir hind legs, their arms flail uselessly, claws shredding through empty air.Tears drip from their closed eyes.

Kamiron is the first toattack. His steel handle makes a bone-crunching noise as it collides with theskull of the nearest wolf. The lobisomem drops and Kamiron swings again,bashing in its head. Thick black ichor dyes the parched ground of the riverbed.It sprays across Kamiron’s face, drips down his neck and soaks the head of amassive sledgehammer. Kamiron pauses, noticing the manifestation of the missingpart of his weapon and then sprints off in search of another flailing werewolf.My body is refuses to move and I do nothing but stare at my friends as theyfight for their lives.

Dace scuttles back from thechomping maw of a werewolf. Fear tightens the skin around his eyes butsomething else stirs at the edges of his mouth. The lobisomem snaps again, theblazing blue-white of its eyes black with blood. Dace lashes out with a scissorkick, his feet flying. The werewolf grunts and rolls onto its back, clawing atits snout.

Pay attention, you fool!

The hostility of the voice’soutburst startles me and I instinctively dive to my left. Instead of impalingme, a dagger crafted from bone merely grazes my side. I crash to the ground, myshoulder jarring with the impact. My longbow slides from between my numb,sweat-slick fingers and skids across the ground. My attacker leers at me for amoment and his sockets, filled with a blue-white glow, glance at my longbow andthen the dagger that rests a few feet away.

He expects me to go for the dagger,I realize and can almost see the events unfold. I’d scramble towards thedagger, he’d be on me in two blinks, his teeth ripping into the back of my neck. . .

So that’s a no go. But maybeI can use his assumptions to my benefit.

I make as if to scramble forthe dagger. In seconds the lobisomem is on all fours and charging. But I’m notinterested in the dagger or even my longbow. The wolf is a second too slow andI’m already there. Just as he lunges, thinking to sink his maw into my flesh, Iroll. My hand lashes out and sinks matted fur. It’s surprising soft though issmells of charnel. I scramble onto the werewolf’s back, my knees locking aroundhis ribcage to keep my balance. He rears up. I don’t think, I simply react. Myleft hand anchors into his fur, holding on as he reaches behind himself, tryingto grab me. My other hand pats him down.

I know I saw it . . .somewhere.

My palm skims over somethingcurved and solid. My fingers lock around it. His second dagger. And then I’mstabbing and he’s whirling. Thick wet heat saturates my arm, my face. Myfingers are so slick with ichor that I barely maintain hold of the hilt, but Idon’t stop. The sky darkens as thick clouds coalesce. The Hallow Wastes spins,going first left then right, stopping and then whirling right to left.

I keep stabbing.

And then I’m falling.

The lobisomem and I slam tothe ground, him half on top of me. The dagger breaks off in his ribs and Icurse. I struggle to wiggle out from beneath his twitching body. He wheezes anda greenish purple tongue lolls out of his mouth. The smell is enough to send meheaving.

Something growls and I peerover the dying werewolf’s shoulder. Another lobisomem studies me and then hisdead packmate. He doesn’t attack outright but instead calculating and cunning.Neither bodes well. The cacophony of fighting assaults my ears as I squirm. Thewerewolf stalks towards me. He favors his left leg and I notice smoke waftingup from a burn somewhere along his thigh. Injured, but he gives no notice toany pain.

I cast my gaze around forany weapon. My longbow is some leagues away. The broken dagger embedded in mydead attacker is useless. The other dagger is lost in the stalks of grass. The lobisomemraises a club fashioned from the skull of one of his victims, another werewolffrom some opposing pack.

I kick with all my might.The dead wolf budges just an inch. It’s enough, but my attacker notices that Iam seconds away from freedom and he springs.

I shriek.

The lobisomem’s back arches.He goes rigid for a split moment before bursting into flames. I scramble out ofhis way as he falls on top of his companion’s corpse. The curve of a circularweapon sticks out of his spine.

“You okay?” Dace jogs up tome. Ignoring the blaze that consumes the corpse, Dace reaches into the flamesand pulls out his weapon. A wicked looking chakram, its steel edges cracklewith blue flame. The fire extinguishes as soon as Dace tugs it from the corpsebut the flames continue to burn along the blade, boiling away black ichor.

I stare at the roastingcorpse and then at Dace’s chakram. The leather-wrapped hilts form the center ofa discus, the blades curving into a perfect ring that can be separated to formtwo crescents. “How--?”

“Z was right. It’s ourconnection. We can’t question it, we simple use it. It happened for me becauseI had a real need to use it--saving my own ass.”

To our left, Zakk impales a lobisomemwith his polearm--a naginata. The naginata’s three-foot blade rips throughflesh and fur with little resistance.

Dace frowns. “Where’s yourbow?”

I hurry to retrieve it. Itfeels warm in my hand, the yew thrumming like it’s anxious to be used. One lobisomemremains, the leader. Kamiron and Zakk join us and we each flank the werewolf,sealing of all possible avenues for escape. The leader keeps us at bay withspear and claw and watches us, not with fear but curiosity.

“Who are you?” he demands.

When we don’t answer, heonly smirks. It looks like his mouth is crammed full of too many teeth. Manyare crooked and yellow, jutting out of diseased gums. “You’ll talk soon enough.My pack will enjoy feasting on such strong essences.”

“Funny, but from where Istand, you’re pretty outnumbered, Lassie.” Dace shifts just a half-inch closer.

A niggling sensation tugs atthe back of my thoughts. Something feels wrong.

“It will take more than youfour to best me.” As if to prove that he has nothing to fear, he stabs hisspear into the ground.

Why does he show no concernfor his own life? I expect him not to care for his dead packmates--theirweakness caused their death--but he should be more worried than he is.

Dace continues to bait him,trying to provoke him into attacking or distract him from noticing that Kamironand Zakk are closing in.

Distraction.

Oh, crap.

“Dace!” My attention snapsto our surroundings. Of course I can’t see very far in the gloom, but hulkingshapes seem to cut through the grass, moving like sharks in water. Silent,creeping death. “It’s a diversion!”

He curses and turns.

The split second is all thelobisomem needs. He is a blur of fur and teeth. He ignores the guys and chargesat me, the weakest. The one without a useful weapon. I get my longbow betweenhim and me just in time to keep him from severing my entire arm off but histeeth still clamp down on my forearm.

Kamiron’s maul smashes intothe lobisomem leader’s hip with such force and power that I hear every boneshatter from the impact. The werewolf yelps as he is knocked away from me. Heskids across the ground and then settles into a lump. I turn away as Zakkfinishes him off.

Heat blazes up my forearmbut I shove it away. Can’t afford to focus on the pain or it’ll overwhelm me.

“We’ve gotta go,” Dace squeaks,“There’s dozens and they’re almost here.”

“Where can we go?” I wheeze,“We can’t outrun them.”

Haunting howls rend the airlike the wail of banshees. They are answered from a set of different howls. Thewar party.

“Can you do something, Z?”

“No, Kam, I don’t haveenough strength left to perform any spell of the magnitude needed to save us.”

“Then this is it.” Dace alerts.“The first wave from the outpost is here.”

We follow his gaze and I seethem clearly. At least ten, maybe more. They don’t charge us but spread so asnot to make themselves easy targets. But I have a bow. Surely I can cull a fewto even our odds? If I take down enough, maybe I can make an opening and we canrun for the outpost. Not sure what that’ll do but we’ll cross that bridge whenwe get to it. If we get to it.

Fire flares up my arm when myfingers tighten around the longbow’s grip but I grit my teeth against it. Itake aim, locking my sight on the nearest werewolf. I don’t have arrows or abowstring, but I pretend I do. I draw a phantom arrow from a phantom quiver. Fitit against a phantom nock point. Pull back on a phantom string.

Deep breath.

Sight target.

Correct aim.

Release.

. . . Nothing. The wolvescontinue their steady approach. An army marching along. Somewhere behind me, Ihear Kamiron murmur that he can see the war party approaching our backs. Atleast thirty strong. They have us boxed in.

Discouragement seizes me andI nearly drop my bow. This is useless.

I shake off the negativethoughts. Dace said need would cause my weapon to fully manifest. Zakk said Ihad to trust in my patron element and our connection.

Again, I reach into aphantom quiver--no, not phantom. Phantom implies it isn’t real. A thoughtstrikes me. What if my quiver isn’t a physical sack of weatherproofed leather,but the air itself. Could I not then draw arrows from the very air I breathe?

The lobisomem are startingto pick up speed now. They spot me and suspect I have a ranged weapon. Theylaunch into basic evasive maneuvers and weave in and out of the thick grasslike garden snakes. I pull an arrow from the air. I imagine its power, the longshaft ending in the deadly tip of the arrowhead, the soft fletchings thatstabilize the arrow’s flight and flank the nock at the rear of the arrow. I fitthe nock against the nocking point and tug back, imaging the nothingnessforming a taught string. I build the image until I can feel the bowstring’stension near my cheek.

Deep breath.

Sight target.

Correct aim.

If you are truly connected with me, Air, help me. Manifest.

Release.

The arrow glitters likeorange selenite. Sleek and vaguely transparent, it corkscrews through the air, sweepingbetween blades of grass and buries itself in the eye of the nearest werewolf. I’munprepared for the impact. An amber colored shockwave bubbles out, catching twonearby werewolves, and catapults them into the sky. They land with bonebreaking velocity.

Before I even realize it,I’ve nocked another arrow and am releasing it. It smashes into its target withdeadly accuracy and launches another werewolf into the air. The lobisomemscatter.

“We need to get to theoutpost!”

To my left, Kamiron’smuscles bunch as he lifts his weapon above his head and holds it there until astrange green-black glow envelops the sledgehammer’s twenty pound steel head.His gray eyes are like chips of granite as he stares at the oncoming enemies.He slams the weapon into the ground like he’s driving a railroad spike onto atrack; the Hallow Wastes buckles under the assault. A shockwave belches soiland grass into the air and zigzags through the ground. The earth tears apart inits wake and a chasm swallows the lobisomem too slow to escape.

The last of the outpost’s reinforcementsflees. I train an arrow on the lone lobisomem but Dace beats me. He throws hischakram. Twin crescents arc through the grass, whistling like falling bombs.They spin and whirl and their glow pulsates with a strange scarlet light. Thefirst severs the lobisomem’s legs from his torso. The other decapitates him.Like boomerangs, the chakram complete their circle and whistle back. Dacecatches them effortlessly.

Zakk angles east and eyesthe approaching war party. They are charging full speed and I can see the denseline of their hulking bodies against the crimson sky. The ground tremorsbeneath their paws and their blue-white eyes blaze like candles in the Wastes’gloom.

“We’ll never make it. We’llhave to slow them down,” Zakk warns. He leans on his naginata. The weapon iselegant and menacing even with black ichor staining its blue feathers. “I cantry a last spell, turn the dry riverbed into an actual river, but I’ll beuseless afterwards.”

Zakk’s statement gives me anidea.

“Kam, Z, start for theoutpost.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Kamironargues. I pull three arrows from the air. They shimmer in the darkness of Aterlike shards from the sun. Unlike my arrows from before, these arrowheads areblunt.

“You’re not. I’ll be rightbehind you, I promise. Hurry.”

Kamiron and Zakk fleetowards the outpost, skirting the miniature canyon that Kamiron’s created. I nudgeDace and motion for him to follow me. We run a few yards back from theriverbed. My arm burns madly and my body shakes with the exertion but I onlysqueeze my three arrows and longbow.

You can do this. Just a little longer,I coach myself. Anything to keep from fainting. A stitch in my side forces meto stop. Dace glances at my festering arm.

“That bite doesn’t look sohot.”

I wave off his concern.“When I give you the signal, make your chakram flame and then touch eacharrowhead.”

He looks skeptical but nods.I face the war party. They will cross the riverbed in mere minutes. I have noidea how this will turn out--or if I can even pull it off, but I can’t affordto not try.

A zephyr shimmies across myshoulders and I relax into it. Tranquility slows my actions while transformingmy senses. A hyperawareness of my surroundings settles over me. Colors oncedull grow more pronounced and dispel some of Ater’s gloom. Each blade of grass sharpensinto focus. I take in minute details that I had never really noticed before,the mottled grass, the huddle of trees off on the horizon, the way the sky seemso fathomless and yet boils and writhes as if tortured. All this I perceivebetween one breath and the next. Like with the lobisomem before, I can nearlysee how my plan will unfold. It will work, and it will be a spectacular sight.

I balance the arrows betweenmy fingers. I fit their nocks against the faint glow of string that is littlemore substantial than pure air. I draw back but this time I tilt the longbow towardsthe sky. I gauge the distance, counting for velocity and the direction of agentle breeze that rustles the tight curls at the nape of my neck.

I ignore the trumpetingcalls of the war party. The thunk of paws treading earth. The clank of armor,claws, and weapons. Like when Sandra was guzzling my soul from my very skin, Ienter a state of Zen, almost like a trance. I adjust my sight on instinct.

“Dace.”

A flash of flame so hot itburns blue and he’s touching the blunt arrowheads of each arrow. Flames engulfthe round tips and turn the arrowheads into mini fireballs, but the flamedoesn’t flow down the shafts.

Not that that stops theonslaught of pain that steals my breath and threatens to derail everything. I’mburning. The flesh around the hand clutching the longbow’s grip blackens andpeels away, revealing boney fingertips. The stench of searing meat, smellinglike pork, makes my eyes water. Don’t letgo, Shari. Just ignore it. Don’t. Let. Go.

I grit my teeth and adjustmy wavering aim.

“Shari--they’re almost onus. If you’re gonna do something . . .” Dace doesn’t give any indication thathe sees my skin burning away. Could it be just in my head?

“Almost,” I wheeze betweenspasms of burning pain. Both hands feel as if they are on fire now. Flames lickmy cheek where the fletchings tickle my jaw. Wind kicks up around me, whippingmy hair out of its ponytail. I can see Andhakar’s brand on thirty foreheads.The werewolves are ten paces from the riverbed.

Six paces.

I release the arrows and theburning sensation evaporates instantaneously. My hands are sore, my breathinglabored, but I replace no third degree burns. My skin is unharmed. Flesh stillcovers my fingers. The cloying odor of roast pork remains, but the wind dragsit away.

The three arrows arc acrossthe sky like sapphire comets. Just as I had foreseen, the arrows’ trajectoriesdivide. One drifts north, the other south, the third stays on course. Theyhover in the sky a moment longer and then gravity ensnares them, dragging theminto the embrace of the Hallow Wastes. They slam into the dry riverbed at threeseparate points just as the war party attempts to cross.

Yelps and screamscontaminate the Wastes as a massive blue firewall climbs the sky, spreadingfrom the spot where each arrow has landed. The flames link each of the threearrows and form an impenetrable curtain of fire as tall as the skyscrapers ofdowntown Atlanta. The smell of burning lobisomem cannot distract from theawe-inspiring sight.

“Holy shit!” Dace whistles, pushing up his glasses. I see a pair ofminiature firewalls reflected in his dirty lenses. “Remind me not to piss youoff.”

I latch onto his arm asweakness steals into my body. My head feels funny. Fuzzy. Hot.

“Dace, help me. I can’t . ..”

He wraps his arm around mywaist, his chakram digging into my hip. Though I’m taller and heavier than him,he attempts to carry me towards the outpost where Kamiron and Zakk will bewaiting.

But we both know I’ll nevermake it.