31 - ARROW RAIN

Justinia’s eyes were bright in the moonlight. More and more shouts filled the air. For a moment, I felt frozen, caught between Justinia’s gaze and the death I had just dealt to four strangers.

A strange thing, killing. In some ways, so easy to do. Often, at the time of doing it, you don’t even feel anything. It’s like flicking a switch.

And then afterward, the flood of sudden emotion.

Guilt. Horror. Shame.

Four bright, opal flames rose from the corpses. Souls ripe for harvesting.

I ate them, of course. All four. Absorbed them quickly, neatly, folding them into my own aura, growing my power one inch at a time. It was my way of honoring them. Of ensuring that nothing went to waste. That their deaths, at least, would contribute to a greater good.

The eastern gates began to close with a deep, mechanical grind.

“Run!” Camillan bellowed.

We bolted for the gate. Arrows rained down out of the darkness, clattering against the rough stone, one breaking in half, another bouncing. One flashed past my face, missing me by a hair’s breadth, but I didn’t slow, didn’t stop. There could be no stopping. We either made it through the gate, or we were all dead. That’s all there was to it.

Several of the Terarch Guard were waiting for us just beyond the gate, rectangular shields locked, spears lowered, steel tips glinting. My limbs were leaden from commanding the shadows, but even still, I could take these Guardsmen if I needed to.

The difficulty, the real difficulty, was that their eyes were so wide, so bright, so full of life. Their fists were wrapped around the shafts of their spears so tightly that their terror was in evidence. Normal people just doing their job. I faltered. How could I? How could any of this be justified?

Justinia sprinted past me.

She leaped into the air, shockingly fast, shockingly agile, an ax in each hand. The spears came for her, but too slow; she slammed into a shield, pushed a Guard back. Her axe went over the top and there was an audible crack as bone split. A scream rang out. The Guard fell back, attempting to make room, to surround Justinia, but she threw one ax, snapping a head back, and tackled another Guard. On top of him, her ax rained down, down, biting into the poor fellow’s head, smashing through his helmet, his bones, his face.

Justinia fought like a demon. There was no supreme grace, no subtly, no beauty to it. She was raw, savage power, overwhelming force personified. Everything she did she did with pure, lethal intent. She gave no ground. She never stopped. She threw herself at one person after another, relentless, until they were all dead, and she stood there, illuminated by moonlight, drenched in blood, her eyes wild and her grin savage.

I was, I’ll confess, a little afraid of her at that moment.

A courtyard stretched out before us, walls on all sides, the Tower itself directly ahead. More arrows rained down around us. Justinia slapped one out of midair with an ax, caught my eye, and grinned. Just behind me, Felice cried out as an arrow grazed her arm.

But they weren’t firing directly at us—only around us, attempting to prevent us from getting any closer to the tower.

They were afraid of hitting Akios, I realized.

I grabbed the governor, shoved him forward, holding his arms. “Forward!” I called to the others. At the same time, through the link I shared with Stumbles, I commanded the cat to give the signal to the rest of the Thorns outside of the complex. In a moment, they would swarm out of the alleys and backstreets, dressed all in black and armed to the teeth. That, at the very least, would distract those on top of the walls, and prevent us from being penned in from behind.

More members of the Terarch Guard poured out of the Tower. A dozen. Two dozen.

I drew the knife I’d brought along for this very purpose and held it to Akios’s throat.

“Stand down!” I called to the Guard. “Stand down or I cut the governor’s throat.”

The Guards hesitated.

Now it was time for the finishing touch.

I looked at the Terarch Guard that Justinia had just torn through. Six corpses, broken and bloody, their souls on full display to my necromantic vision. I formed a quick link to each of them, tethering them to my aura with Soul Chains.

“Rise,” I whispered.

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The corpses twitched. Stirred.

Sat up.

Slowly, silently, they rose to their feet, eyes open and lifeless. I commanded them forward, toward the living Guards, who immediately saw them coming and attempted to call out to their brothers-in-arms. Of course, the corpses did not respond. They simply stumbled forward, clutching their weapons in loose grips, swaying from side to side.

I felt the burden of them. The drain on my energy and focus. One Soul Chain was easy for me to contain, but it became exponentially more difficult with each additional soul. Coordinating six at once was no small feat, and without the souls I’d recently consumed, I wouldn’t have had the power to manage it.

A new figure pushed their way past the living Guards.

A man, tall and thin, dressed all in black, cloak fluttering in the midnight wind. He was bald, gaunt, and so pale that he also seemed to glow in the moonlight. He wore no insignias, no ranked badges, and carried no visible weapons. In that way, I immediately knew that he was an operative of the Seeking Hand.

The operative pointed at the shambling corpses, shouted, “Shoot them down!”

The arrows were almost immediately redirected. They hissed through the air, one immediately punching through the lead Guard’s head. The corpse didn’t stop. They wouldn’t stop until it was no longer physically possible for them to continue.

We advanced behind the corpses, using them as a moving shield, my hand still clutching the knife that hovered only an inch away from Akios’s throat.

“Careful with that thing, boy,” the governor murmured. “I hope your hand is steady.”

“Steady enough,” I snapped.

“With me!” The operative cried, waving on the Terach Guard. “Cut down those abominations. Take the governor alive. Now!”

The Terarch Guard locked their shields together, drew their weapons, and came forward.

A stab of panic. The plan had been for them to simply let us through; that they would be so afraid of any harm coming to Akios that they would step aside for now. The corpses had been meant to seal the deal, terrifying them into submission.

Yet now they were rallying.

The sounds of combat reached us from behind, shouts and screams filling the air, metal clashing against metal. That meant the Thorns had engaged. With luck, they would quickly overwhelm the defenders on the walls, secure the eastern gate, and then reinforce us. But time was against us. Already I could hear, from the western gate, an alarm ringing out; more Guard would flock to us, as well as Sun Knights, operatives, and perhaps even the Autarch himself.

The chances of us pulling this off were rapidly dwindling.

Something drastic needed to be done—but what?

“What’s the plan now, boy?” Camillan growled at me. The living Terarch Guard had engaged with their dead counterparts, tearing into them. I commanded the corpses to fight back, and in response, they sluggishly swung their swords, but they were weak and slow and lacking in skill. It would not take them long to be cut down, even with their ability to absorb punishment.

And then there was the operative. I couldn’t see him anymore. Where had that bastard gone?

“Surrender,” Akios said through gritted teeth. “It’s not too late. Your plan has gone to shit. Surrender and you might get to live.”

I didn’t think that was true. No matter what, if we didn’t get through that portal, we were dead.

Camillan loomed up in front of me, catching my arm. “Boy, if you can do something to make a difference, fucking do it. Use that power of yours.”

“I’ve already—”

“Do more.”

My face was taut. “There are limits. I can’t just—”

“If there are limits, break them. Do whatever the fuck you can, no matter the cost, because otherwise, we’re all going to die right here and right now. Because you best believe the Autarch is on his way. We might have mere minutes. And the second he arrives…” Camillan fell silent and shook his head, pale and withdrawn. He stepped back and drew his sword. “Please, Aurion.”

And then he turned away from me and threw himself into the melee.

I took a deep breath. There were, as I’d tried to tell him, limits to what I could do.

Necromancy had a cost. The magic of death had a price that was often paid in life. I could kill myself. I could kill the people I loved. I could open gateways to the Void and let loose unspeakable entities.

I could.

But I wouldn’t. I would succeed. I would do this thing.

It was my destiny.

Felice’s hand on my arm, a comforting reminder.

“Alright,” I murmured to myself. “Alright.”

The Deathlord Prime. Not a title I had ever liked. But that was what I was. What I had been born to be.

My mother hadn’t liked it either. Too dramatic, she’d said. Too dark.

Instead, she’d preferred to call me her little master of bones.

My hands curled into fists. I saw Justinia cut her way through one Guard and then another, covered in so much blood that she was nearly unrecognizable. Even still, she, like me, like everyone, had her limits, and more of the Terarch Guard were pouring out of the complex as the alarm bells rang out coldly.

I focused. The newly dead began to twitch.

Come to me, I whispered to their skeletons.

Their bones jerked. There came a wet tearing of flesh. Screams, then, as the living Guard witnessed what was becoming of the fallen.

And the dead rose.