Page 50 of Heart of the Shadow King

“Not that we’ve encountered. But there are Orrian Lancers, mercenaries from Lunulyr. And reports speculate between three and five hundred Noxaurian foot soldiers, all mad onvirulium.”

The news just keeps getting better and better.Virulium,known by some as the Demon Kiss, is a powerful drug, commonly used to inspire Noxaurian forces to berserker rages. They must either kill or die—the rage demands blood one way or the other.

“But worst of all,” Artoris continues relentlessly, “are the damned Licornyn Riders.”

I shoot him a sidelong glance. “The Licornyn are here?”

“Yes. They run rampant across Cruor.” Artoris leans his elbows against the battlements, gazing out across the landscape. “Like us, Ruvaen’s people are prey to the black lightning and what it brings. They have developed their own paths for crossing this blighted land but travel them with dread. The Licornyn, by contrast, seem to be immune to the culling. They roam at will.”

I wear a deep hood to protect my eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun overhead. Even so, it beats down on me from its blue oblivion, filling me with terror I dare not acknowledge for fear it will take over my mind and steal my reason. Three days and three nights have not dulled me to the horrors of this realm. I would not dwell in such a place if it were the last haven offered to me. The troldefolk would rather be crushed in the rising doom of Arraog than choose such a fate.

Yet the Licornyn live here. Even under threat of that hideous darkness. Perhaps it is theirs. Perhaps they summon and control it in some way. It was once believed unicorns could not be ridden, but the Licornyn mastered and tamed them. Who’s to say they cannot perform worse deeds?

To the mage I say only, “I have faced Licornyn before. And vanquished them.”

“Then you have not faced Licornyn here in Cruor,” Artoris answers darkly. “They are stronger on this side of the wall. And their leader—theirking,as they call him, though he’s little more than a tribal chieftain—is as vicious a brute as you can hope to meet anywhere in the worlds. Even the Noxaurian berserkers are meek by comparison.”

“I welcome a challenge.”

Artoris snorts. “If it’s a challenge you want, I can readily supply it. My latest intelligence from the citadel is that Ruvaen has grown tired of trying to blast through the ward spells. He’s brought new reinforcements through from Eledria.Cyclopi.”

“What?” I turn sharply, fixing my gaze on the young mage’s profile. “He brought those monstershere?How? No man alive could manage such a feat!”

“Ruvaen is not like other men.” Artoris raises an eyebrow, shifting his glance my way. “Still keen for a challenge, King Vor?”

I grimly face the horizon again, that twisted, tortured sky which only hints at the battle awaiting. We’ve encountered horrors enough already on this mad journey. Of my five hundred riders, I’ve lost more than a dozen, all seasoned warriors. Their losses are gaping holes in the ranks, and we’ve yet to face a single foe.

The sun has begun its slow descent. Across the battlements, wayposts light up, brighter and stronger than those which marked the path we traveled. No black lightning can penetrate the spell of light which surrounds this human fortress. But we will leave the safety of this shimmering shield and ride without protection across the open plain. Deeper Dark spare me! I would rather face whatever monstrosities Ruvaen has managed to dredge up from across Eledria than spend one night under the open sky of Cruor.

But we are not escaping this place until my pledge is fulfilled.

“We ride at sunset,” I tell Artoris, my voice firm as bedrock. “We will face Ruvaen and we will triumph.”

Artoris chuckles mirthlessly. “I wouldn’t be so confident. The citadel has been under siege for the better part of a month now.”

My teeth flash in a snarl. “It ends tonight.”

21

FARAINE

I come to with a gasp, clutching my bedclothes and struggling against some unseen foe. Terrible images flash in my head—images of war and death. Of hideous monsters swarming, mutilating, devouring. Of great giants crushing and grinding.

And Vor. In the midst of it. Weaponless and alone, valiant against impossible odds.

Vor facing down his doom.

The trapped air in my lungs won’t release. Darkness creeps in on the edges of my vision before I’m at last able to let out a long exhale. I’m seated upright in my bed, and the room is gloomy withdimnessshadows. A shudder creeps down my spine. Sagging against the hard stone wall, I relish the feel of cold rock against my fevered flesh. Yet it cannot drive out the clamor in my head.

What is happening to Vor? Does he even now battle for his very life? Or does he already lie dead and bleeding in the midst of some horror scape? Did he think of me before he died? Did he regret every choice which led him down this road to destruction? Did he . . . does he . . . ?

“Damn!” I snarl, biting the word as it leaves my tongue. Before I can reconsider, I reach for the small fruit knife lying on the bedside table. I’ve taken to keeping it near me just in case need arises. Like now.

With a quick flick, I run the blade across my thumb and watch blood well. Closing my eyes, I press the blood into the wall and concentrate. Concentrate on all those little pinpoints of life vibrating within. Drawing those vibrations to me, I channel them with the resonance of my blood, pull them closer, wrap them around me. Blocking out my fear, my dread, my anxiety until there is no feeling left. Only hard, stone calm.

Slowly, my eyes open. The world around me is faceted and gleaming once more. I look down at my arms, covered in crystals which jut from every joint in jagged protrusions. It’s become so much easier over the last three days to summon myjor. After that first success in the garden, I’ve replicated it multiple times, strengthening with each iteration. But there’s still so much to learn.

I rise, moving stiffly. My limbs are heavy and feel foreign as I adjust to this version of myself. By the time Vor returns, I expect to have mastered the transformation. By the time Vor returns, I will have made myself into the queen he needs. No more useless, shrinking shadow princess. I will be a weapon. I will be a warrior.

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