Age of War (The Legends of the First Empire #3)

With candelabra in hand, she charged. A good swing struck its head, but instead of hearing a satisfying crack, Persephone felt like she’d hit a bag of sand. She never got a second swing. Clawed hands struck fast as snakes. Persephone didn’t feel the pain—not much, just a sting. She actually said, “Oww!” which was an absurd utterance, given the amount of blood that followed.

She backed away. The candelabra fell out of her hand. She hadn’t let go, didn’t mean to at least, but she’d heard the metal ring when it hit the floor. Persephone hit the floor, too. Her legs had folded on their own. One minute she was standing, the next she was sitting with her back up against the bed. She clutched her stomach as a dull but growing pain spread. She wanted to get up, but her legs wouldn’t have it. Something else—her nightgown clung, slicked to her skin.



How did I get so wet?

Her nightgown was shredded. The ivory cloth no longer white.

Persephone wanted to scream again but couldn’t find any air. She wanted to get up and run to the door, but her legs refused to do anything more than slide around in the slippery puddle that formed beneath her. The only thing she could do was sit and watch as the raow continued to ooze through the little window. An outstretched and bony hand extended into the room, straining with grasping claws, reaching for Persephone’s face.

“So soft, so sweet, so hungry. Don’t move. I can taste you already.”



* * *





Reaching the fourth floor, Tesh saw two spears blocking the corridor. They might have fallen that way, if there was any reason for two spears to have been left in the corridor. The pair of poles leaned at an angle, their points digging into the wood of the keenig’s chamber door, bracing it shut.

Tesh was out front with Brin right behind. Sebek—who couldn’t know the importance of the race—followed, a close third. Others were coming, too. Tesh heard the rapid footfalls of a dozen people, but they were far below and still had to climb the stairs.

Without effort, Tesh cleaved through the spears, freeing the door.

“Stay back!” he shouted to Brin as he flung the door wide.

Inside, Keenig Persephone sat slumped near her bed. Coming in that window was a ghoulish creature with red eyes, clawed hands, and black hair.

Raow.

The thing was about halfway through the narrow opening, still trapped at the hips, a single outstretched hand reaching for the keenig. The raow looked up, first at Tesh and then its eyes bulged when seeing Sebek. Its lips snarled, and with a hiss and one final swipe for Persephone that missed, the beast began to retreat.



Tesh stared in amazement, the way he’d once watched a snake swallow a whole mouse. That’s impossible, he thought, watching the raow melt back out the window. Almost like it doesn’t have bones.

Sebek didn’t seem impressed in the least. Without hesitation, he leapt toward the window, drawing Lightning and Thunder as he went. The raow shivered and jerked as it struggled to escape.

Too late, Tesh thought.

The thing was trapped, caught as a rabbit in a snare, and Sebek was on it.

Tesh expected a quick death for the raow. Lightning and Thunder were coming, and the raow wasn’t big and didn’t look too strong. If anything, the creature resembled a shriveled old woman.

Just as Tesh would have done, Sebek thrust a straightforward stab. There was no need to complicate things. But to Tesh’s surprise, the raow slapped the blade away. Its long nails made a teeth-grinding scrape across the bronze blade. Then, fast as an adder, it swiped with the other hand, forcing Sebek to block.

And then it was gone. The raow slithered through the opening with a grunt and fell out of sight.

Sebek stared at the vacant window. “Culina brideeth!” he shouted and slapped the stone wall.

Turning, the Fhrey glanced at Persephone. “She’s hurt.”

Tesh didn’t need Sebek to tell him that; neither did Brin. “Oh, dear Mari!” she cried.

The rush of feet reached the stairs, and seconds later Moya entered, her bow strung, an arrow fitted. “What happened? We heard—” Seeing Persephone, she froze and dropped the bow. She shouted at Brin, “Get Padera!”

With a quivering hand over her mouth, Brin backed away in wide-eyed horror. “Moya?” she said in a pleading tone. “Moya, she’s…”

“Go. Now. Get Padera! Run!”



Brin blinked, nodded, then flew out the door.

“We have a healer here in the Rhist,” Sebek said calmly. “He’s good.”

“Get him!”

Sebek strode out of the bedroom, leaving Tesh to watch as Moya fell to her knees beside Persephone and applied pressure to the gaping wound. The keenig’s eyes were open, staring at nothing. Her mouth hung agape, but she made no sound. Persephone was soaked in blood, her nightgown trapping puddles in its folds. She was breathing—that was good. That was about all that was good.

Moya put an arm around the keenig, helping to hold up her head, which had flopped to one side.

“Moya?” Persephone said in a soft voice. Her eyes found the woman’s face and a small smile appeared.

“I’m here. I’m too damn late, but I’m here.” Moya held Persephone’s head with both hands, focusing on her eyes. Tesh wondered if she did that to help the keenig see her or to avoid looking at all the blood.

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