Page 65 of Heart of the Shadow King

“There’s only one way to help her now,” Maylin says grimly. She pulls me to my feet, her skinny old arms surprisingly forceful. “Come! I hear more of them. They’ve got wind of our presence and will be after us like hounds on a scent. We haven’t got time to lose.”

She drags me back up the passage as I crane my head for a last glimpse of the child. That tiny creature, trapped both in that chamber and in her own mind. I could help her. I’m sure of it. I’ve purged this poison before. I’ve just got to—

More snarls rumble in the shadows all around me, followed by sounds of scrabbling hands and feet. My heart lodges in my throat, threatening to block all breath as I stagger after the witch. We emerge from the tomb-like house back into the street. Movement on my right draws my gaze—jerking, writhing, unnatural. Low, growling, ravenous voices. But worst of all is the cloud of fear rolling up the street in a churning dark mass shot through with red violence. It washes over me. My knees buckle, and I sag in Maylin’s grasp. “They’re coming!” I gasp.

Maylin looks down the street and spits a curse. “This way,” she says and yanks me after her.

“What about your morleth?” I pant, struggling to keep up with the witch. “Can’t you summon it?”

“No time.” The witch tightens her grip on me and doubles her speed. I stumble, nearly planting face-first in the paving stones. On one side the street ends in an abrupt cut-off, nothing but churning river far below. On the other are more of those empty houses from which a cacophony of chitters and howls echo. And everywhere, everywhere so much fear.

“Call up yourjor,girl.” Maylin looks back at me, her eyes sharp in her crystal-crusted face. “Do you want them to tear you apart? You need to protect yourself!”

It’s too late. The tide of emotion has me in its thrall. I cannot find that quiet space inside myself to anchor thejor.

We pass a cavernous doorway. Shadow movement catches my awareness just before a huge trolde form bursts forth, knocking into the two of us. Maylin lets out a grunt, her small, crystal-wrapped body thrown to the ground. I stagger back, managing to keep my feet. “Maylin!” I cry. But the massive trolde stands between us. He’s as big as a wall, broad as a boulder, with flakydorgaragskin. Madness rings his shining eyes. His lips roll back, displaying diamond-sharp teeth.

“Halt, villain!”

The trolde freezes. Blinks. Looks up.

A golden figure illuminated inlorstlight appears in the darkness overhead, riding a massive morleth. Behind him sits a warrior, who holds him before her in her saddle while he waves a gilded sword. “Stand and declare yourself!” he bellows. “Will you fight me man-to-man?”

I have just time enough to breathe, “Theodre, no!” before my brother swings a leg over the morleth’s neck and springs free. He comes down hard in the space between me and the trolde, staggers, and falls to his knees, groaning. The jewel-hilted sword slips from his fingers. “Ugh,” he groans. “That was a bit farther than I thought.”

The trolde gapes down at this bizarre apparition which has dropped suddenly between him and his prey. For a moment, even theraogin his system subsides, giving way to pure surprise. The next moment, he raises his two great clubbed hands above his head, intending to smash my brother’s skull to jelly. “Oh, gods!” Theodre gasps and rolls to one side as those fists break the stone where he had lain an instant before. He catches up his sword, points it in vaguely the right direction as the trolde rounds on him.

A club hits the trolde in the side of the head, knocking him back. Hael streaks passed astride her morleth, carried away by the momentum of her attack. She swoops over the heads of the troldefolk now swarming up the street behind us. One of them leaps, snarling, and grabs Hael around the waist. She cries out, and her morleth banks sharply. They plummet beyond the light of thelorst,Hael’s roars echoing against stone as she descends.

I get to my feet, standing with my back to Theodre, who’s still on his knees, panting hard. “Up,” I say, motioning with one hand. Dozens of trolde-eyes reflect thelorstglow. Their mouths open in hungry snarls. Something is holding them back. Perhaps they fear Hael’s imminent return. But they won’t wait forever. “Up, Theodre.”

“I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Get up or die.”

Cursing bitterly, my brother scrambles to his feet and limps to my side. He looks down the narrow road. “Not a friendly bunch, are they?”

“They’ll tear you apart with their bare hands.”

“Damn.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t think I can run, Faraine.”

No sooner have the words left his mouth than the first trolde breaks from the pack and barrels toward us. She heaves a massive cleaver overhead. It whistles as it slices the air, aimed straight for my skull. With an unmanly yelp, Theodre leaps between us, sword upraised. He manages to deflect the blow. The cleaver hits paving stones, its wielder momentarily bent over. But she heaves her weapon up again, and this time she hacks at my brother.

I don’t think about what I’m doing. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to do it at all.

As it is, there is no thought, no feeling. Only movement, smooth, almost serene, as crystals erupt from every part of my body. Is there pain? I don’t know. I don’t care.

I step between the trolde and my brother. Her cleaver strikes my gut. Moments before, it would have spilled my entrails in the street. Now the blade shatters against crystal.

The trolde stares into my eyes. Madness gives way to fear, fear to awe. She opens her mouth as though to speak.

I lash out with one hand, send her hurtling backwards to the edge of the road. Arms wheeling, she teeters on the brink, but her own weight works against her, and she falls out of sight.

“What in all the nine hells!” Theodre breathes behind me. “Faraine! You’re . . . you’re all . . .sparkly?”

I turn slowly, face my brother. The same fear and awe which had burned in the trolde woman’s eyes is now reflected in his. “Come, Theodre.” I hold out a hand studded in crystals. “We must go.”

“I, um . . .”

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