Page 62 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

Her head began to throb, sweat dampening her tunic at the back of her neck, and it was an effort to pull back, to stop what she’d started, to not let herself unravel a little more. But she willed herself to focus on the feel of the dirt beneath her fingers, the sound of Holt’s breaths, his heartbeat, his sweat-slicked scent, the sensations in her own body all weaving back together.

Then a shriek broke through the ringing in her ears, and an arm bracketed her waist, tugging her to her feet.

“Pull it back,” Holt warned her. Her magic, as if he’d known precisely what she’d been doing.

Zylah slipped free of his arm, willing her sight to return, but nothing happened, panic fluttering in her chest. “I can’t see,” she murmured, drawing her sword and focusing on his position from what she could feel, hoping he couldn’t hear the fear in her voice.

Click. Click. Click.

“She’s here.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Holtbolsteredherrootsand vines with his, that much she could ascertain by sound alone. Zylah summoned the staff Nye had set aside for her, her grip still tight on her sword. Nothing attacked. Either the vines were holding the smaller creatures at bay or they were hanging back in Rhaznia’s presence, Zylah couldn’t be certain; only knew that she needed time for her sight to return.

“What did you do with Ranon’s grandson?” Zylah asked, her face angled in Rhaznia’s direction.

“You didn’t seem too concerned with his welfare when you left him with me,” the monster said.

Zylah half expected some reaction from Holt at that, but he was quiet beside her, and she imagined the impassive look that would have settled across his face, his mask of indifference firmly in place. “I’m concerned he lived,” she admitted.

The telltaleclick click clickof Rhaznia moving closer had Zylah instinctively taking a step back, Holt moving with her.

Rhaznia made a guttural sound. “First my children. Then you insult me.”

Shadows flickered first in Zylah’s vision, the cloth still firmly over her eyes. But it was enough combined with her hearing for her to know precisely where Rhaznia stood.

“I meant no insult,” she said, hoping to stall Rhaznia a little longer. “Only that he’s a danger to your children.”

Rhaznia’s laugh was barely a chuckle. “As much of a danger as the two of you. Ranon’s grandson took an eye and a horn from me; I suppose he felt it retribution for me taking your sight. You’re blind.” She would have taken one look at the cloth over Zylah’s eyes to reach that conclusion.

But the few moments of back and forth had been enough to allow Zylah to develop a narrow field of vision, a tunnel of sight directly in front of her. And within it, the jagged stump where Raif had snapped Rhaznia’s horn, the gaping wound where he’d gouged out her eye. Combined with the burns Zylah had inflicted, it was a ghastly sight to behold.

She didn’t dare turn her head to check on the other spiders, but from the little movement at the edges of the tunnel, she knew they were either dead or bound by roots and vines.

They could leave. Maybe they should. But if there was a chance at getting her sight back, Zylah had to take it. There was no use in telling Holt to go. If he wanted to, he could at any moment, which meant he’d chosen to see this through just as she had.

Rhaznia dragged a clawed hand over the roots binding the spider nearest to her, setting her child free one leg at a time and running a hand over the spider’s body with something akin to affection. “We will enjoy feasting on you both.”

“I’ll take Rhaznia,” Holt murmured, and she realised he’d have likely thought she still couldn’t see. Admittedly, she could see very little, but it was enough. It would have to be.

“Don’t let her touch you,” Zylah warned. He hadn’t asked her to leave, either. So she did the only thing she could think of to give him a second’s advantage; she swung her staff in a wide arc as if she truly were blind, clipping the leg of the spider at Rhaznia’s side.

Rhaznia laughed, and Zylah didn’t dare tear her tunnelled vision away from the smaller spider as Holt and Rhaznia moved for each other.

But her attention couldn’t remain on them. Spiders came for her, legs swiping and spider silk covering her hair, her face. Zylah swung the staff again, her sword following its path. Some of the spiders had freed themselves of their bindings, others had descended from above, pressing in from all sides.

Zylah cast the staff aside as they closed more tightly around her, both hands grasping the hilt of her sword. Magic might risk what little vision she had remaining, and they would need everything they had against Rhaznia, enough to get away when they had what they wanted.

So she fought, her blade swinging and striking at the creatures, web covering her limbs and settling over her torso. She hacked at it wherever she could, rolling and narrowly missing a leg slamming into her sternum.

Zylah thrust her sword into the spider’s chest, yanking it free and moving to the next, her tunnel vision faltering as Holt used his magic to bind more of the spiders.

Rhaznia was taunting them, letting the other spiders wear them down. As if she had so many they were merely expendable. So much for her beloved children. But Zylah didn’t need her sight to know she and Holt were overwhelmed.

He hadn’t used his blast of power; Zylah wasn’t sure whether it was a case of couldn’t or wouldn’t. Wouldn’t risk his mind, and she couldn’t fault him for that. But the more he used his magic, the less she could see, the tunnel vision becoming shadows, until the shadows turned to darkness.

She swung her blade, spider silk catching it, catchingher, throwing the weapon from Zylah’s grasp and knocking her off her feet.

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