A Time of Dying (Araneae Nation) (23 page)

It was as if the harbinger had set a task before them: kill every living thing in the camp. The rope was not alive. Therefore it was invisible to their notice. In the heat of battle, it presented not even a danger as an escape route. Or perhaps figuring a chain of events was impossible for them.

When the fight came to the wall, I grasped the rope in a white-knuckled grip and held on.

With a flourish, Bram shouted one last time to the others, then grasped the rope and climbed. I was not surprised that he valued his life above theirs. I was shocked he had the gall to leap onto the rope and pull himself up to me without even glancing back. He was safe. That was all to him.

Fury made my hands tremble as I helped him onto my ledge then shoved him aside to clear a way for the next. But it was too late. They were backed to the wall, and every swing from their swords endangered each other as much as harmed the risers. There was no escaping. Three males could not climb one rope at once, and the risers would yank them to their deaths if they had tried.

Time seemed to slow in those final moments. Murdoch risked a last glance at me, apology in his eyes.
Run,
he mouthed. I shook my head violently as I held the rope.
Climb,
I mouthed back.

Dismissing me and my foolhardiness, he resumed the fight for his life.

“I won’t leave you,” I yelled.

He didn’t hear me. He couldn’t have. Not over the din of the wailing risers.

To a man, the Mimetidae turned fiercer. As if they had accepted death but refused to make it easy. If the risers wanted their blood, then they were going to pay for every drop with a casualty.

Tears blurred my vision. Bram touched my arm, but I shook him off and spat, “Coward.”

The male nearest Murdoch fisted his collar and yelled in his face. Murdoch shook his head and dove back into battle. An instant later, the same male cuffed him upside his head to no avail. The male’s wild gaze touched on the rope, then me, and I understood he begged Murdoch to flee.

Once more, Murdoch shrugged him aside and poured his entire focus into ending the risers.

Can’t kill what’s already dead…
The familiar refrain ran circles through my mind.

Seeming to give up on Murdoch, the male grasped his friend and yelled an order at him that blanched his face white as death. His friend nodded, his head bobbling on his neck. Together, the remaining guards loosed a battle cry that made my heart weep, and plunged into the sea of risers.

Given a second to gather his wits, Murdoch was left with two choices. Either he climbed the rope shaking in my eager hands, or he joined their charge and reduced their sacrifice to nothing. I gasped a sob of relief when he chose the former, propelling himself up the rope and into my lap.

When he embraced me, he trembled, whether with grief or exhaustion, I couldn’t say. His face, when he revealed it to me, was wet with blood and yellow ooze, with a hairline cut cheek to chin.

Shrill cries drew my gaze past Murdoch’s shoulder. The risers clung to the guards, grasping their arms and legs, lifting them high over the crowd. In their frenzy, the risers rent the guards in halves, then into quarters. Their parts were fought over, passed around and used as fresh meat to sate their ravenous hungers. All the while, the harbinger swooped, singing commands above us.

Those tents in the valley…they were housing this—this horde. It had not occurred to me that risers were nocturnal. No wonder the valley was silent as a grave. It had been filled with corpses.

“Move.” That was Bram. “Before they’re done and come looking for another easy meal.”

He fisted Murdoch’s shirt and pulled him to stand. Shrugging out of his grip, Murdoch lifted me, scooped up the pack, and we ran. Bram fell back once it became apparent he was lost. It was left to me to guide us all down the mountain. Pursued as we were, there was no time to pause and consider the wiseness of our barreling through the pass we had devoted hours to fearing might be guarded. The sounds of stampeding feet on our heels stomped our previous concerns to dust. The danger to us now came from behind and above. Ahead, there was nothing but darkness where the pass cut below the earth. Gasping damp air, I spun to get my direction, then led us through what I had thought to be the most difficult part of our journey. The risers’ awakening made it simplest.

Bursting through the pass’s far end, I spotted the start of crystal pavers inset into the rock.

The path to my clan home caught the moon’s rays and spun them into whirling rainbows. At the paver’s end, the famed crystal city rose from the mountain’s feet to tower over us. Here there were no walls. The mountain was our guardian on two sides, while the Theridiidae had defended the others. The sight of her shimmering buildings brought hot tears spilling down my cheeks.

Amid the crush of buildings, one rose more magnificent than all the rest, a manor house that flickered with red and gold, lit from within. The sky choked on plumes of twining smoke curling under the moon’s round chin. My already tender heart split when I beheld my home at long last.

I had been wrong. The harbinger hadn’t followed us. By coming here, we had followed her.

My beloved Titania was engulfed in flames.

Chapter Twelve

Fire can mesmerize, and I was captivated by the prisms of my city’s destruction.

“We can’t stop now.” Murdoch clasped my shoulder. “Hold yourself together.”

I bobbed my head, certain his hold on me was all that kept me from flying apart.

He glanced behind us, paled, then asked me, “Where do we go now?”

“I—I don’t know.” My city was ablaze. My people ruined. Death was on our heels.

“Damn it, think.” Bram stepped in front of me. “Where can we hide? Where is safe?”

“There are no safe places left,” I mumbled. This travesty proved I was right.

“There must be somewhere…” Murdoch stepped away, studying the fork in the pavers.

Behind Murdoch’s back, Bram slapped me hard across the face. “Snap out of it.”

Blood filled my mouth, twisted my head sharply on my neck, but the shock began fading.

I didn’t see Murdoch throw his punch, but I heard its impact.

Bram sprawled on the ground. “Now would be a good time to bloody well say something.”

“The caverns,” I choked out at last. “Come on. This way.”

I lit off down the path and left them to chase me. As I ran, my mind cleared more, the wisps of smoke and grief parting while I darted down twisting, glittery paths as familiar to me as my name.

While thinking of a hidey-hole for us, I realized, “If there are survivors, they’ll be here too.”

“Are there other ways out?” Murdoch panted. “In case the fire catches up to us?”

“Several.” The entrance we sprinted toward led to the central hub and, from there, dozens of tunnels branched in all directions, spreading far beneath the city, into the mountains and beyond.

“Good.” His thoughts mirrored mine. “We can lead the survivors out, then.”

Numb as my chest was, I swear his words swelled my heart. That same desperate purpose as before filled me. If there were survivors, we would save them. I would not leave them to burn or starve. I would gather them to Cathis and, along with my proof, I would throw myself on Vaughn’s mercy. It was a thin plan laced together with fragile hope, but I must believe it would be enough.

“If there are survivors,” Bram asked, “won’t they defend the tunnel?”

“How would we defend it?” I snarled. “With gem pickaxes and silken wires? If we had been capable of defending ourselves against the risers, would our city be burning?” For that matter… “I see not one Mimetidae guard. Where are they? Why aren’t they here, and why didn’t they help?”

Murdoch answered for him. “Those were not their orders.”

“What were they, then?” I demanded. “To defend the border—the one they share with us?”

Hadn’t he warned me not to think them kind? That their mercy was conditional?

At my elbow, Murdoch mashed his lips into a hard line. “Their orders were to prevent attack on the two borders they guarded. The mountain is a defense in and of itself. Beyond that they—”

“Let’s not argue, children,” Bram called over my shoulder. “Bickering solves nothing.”

He was right, though I would never admit it to his face.

“Wait.” Murdoch threw out his hand to stop me. “There’s fresh smoke up ahead. See it?”

“The cavern’s mouth.” Knees week, I sagged against Murdoch. “It was burned out.”

All hope my clansmen had found shelter there vanished. I dropped my face into my hands.

“We’ve come this far.” Bram ventured closer. “There’s nowhere else for us to go.”

Murdoch softened his voice. “The risers herded people here and then smoked them out.”

“It’s stone,” Bram pointed out. “What’s to burn other than a scrap of wood here or there?”

“He’s right.” I wiped my face dry and cleared my throat. “There are several tunnels. If risers led people here, some must have escaped. There are too many other passages for them to remain in this one while they were slaughtered.” Now that I’d said as much, I believed. “It’s our only hope of escaping Titania. We can exit through the back of the mountain or, if we’re careful, near the woods near our shared border.” I swallowed my bitterness. “Perhaps we can find help there.”

Murdoch kept quiet. Bram, for once, did too.

“So.” Bram glanced over his shoulder. “Who wants to tell me what those things are?”

I knew the silence was too blessed to last.

“Kaidi calls them risers.” Murdoch saved me from answering. “They’re the corpses of those infected with the plague. The female with wings is called a harbinger. She raises the dead, and it makes them hers to command. More than that, I can’t say, and there’s no time to discuss it now.”

“Yes. Let’s not discuss strategy.” Bram scowled. “Let’s keep secrets until the bearers die.”

With great patience for the male here on Isolde’s behest, fulfilling her secret schemes, I said, “The risers are dead. We can’t kill them. So what do you propose? They’re mindless cannibals.”

“Ah.” He bared his fangs at us. “So they have something in common with Murdoch, then?”

Murdoch clenched his fists. I put my hand over his. “Beat him to death later if you must. We should continue to the cavern. If any remain…” I steeled my spine. “We must save all we can.”

“Prepare yourself.” Murdoch lifted my hand to his mouth. “If the risers were here…”

“I should expect to see bodies.” I released him and withdrew my spade. “We should go.”

Indecision had cost us precious minutes. Though the risers and my earring both were quiet, I didn’t trust they would remain that way. It would take the harbinger minutes to determine where we had fled. We had no hope of outmaneuvering her on land when air lent her vicious precision.

Caution guided my feet nearer the cavern. Ornate wood that once framed the entrance was a charred mess. Embers hissed and crackled warnings we ignored when we crept inside the tunnel.

Hot air laden with ash pushed at my face, carrying the stink of burnt hair and roasted flesh.

My knees buckled, and I hit the ground on all fours. My palm rang a shallow pool of sticky, cold fluid that smelled of metal. When I outstretched my fingers, they brushed the matted hair of a male burned past recognition. Bile rose up the back of my throat, but I could not choke it down.

I retched all of the berries Murdoch had so carefully prepared for me.

While I dry heaved, I became aware of a hand rubbing my back. Murdoch comforted me as best he could, but his attention was elsewhere. His gaze darting, lips flattening. He was making a detailed inventory to share with his paladin later, I was sure. The thought made me queasy again.

“If she’s done,” Bram said, stepping over my mess, “we must go deeper.”

“Give her a moment.” The chill in Murdoch’s voice made me shiver.

“He’s right.” I held up my hand, too sick to feel ashamed of asking for his help. Once he got my wobbling legs under me, I let him wipe my mouth and then my hand clean with fabric he tore from our bedroll. I hoped his gesture didn’t mean that he doubted we would live to need it again.

The deeper we trekked, the cleaner and cooler air became until breathing no longer burned.

What smoke there was came from the torches we kept lit throughout the cavern for safety.

“We still access the chamber from here?” Murdoch kept his palm on his sword’s hilt.

“After all this…” I covered my tender stomach, “…you still think we need her as proof?”

“The more proof we have, the more clans we can convince to stand against the risers.”

“You’re right.” I sounded too calm, because the males exchanged a nervous glance.

Proof was all around us, above us, staining our clothes and bodies. Proof I had in excess.

The thing I wanted most was not evidence to parade before a council of wizened elders with inflated senses of self-worth. No. What I wanted was revenge on the being that began my decline into madness. I wanted Lailah. I wanted Hishima’s mother. I wanted to pluck each of her wings.