“Watch it, wretches,” she yells at them as we press against the railing. But they’ve already moved on—a few of the beasts use the plank to disembark, the rest hurl themselves over the airship’s side to drop the fifteen feet to the rock wall surrounding the inner city.
By the time the ship’s emptied, only Bron soldiers are left with Rasha and me.
“So you’re going to let them do the dirty work, then follow when they’re done?” I sneer at the large Bron guard.
“I’m going to lead my men as I see fit, when I see fit,” he says without looking at me.
I follow his gaze to where the other airships are unloading. Their wraiths are slipping down around roofs and archways, busting through houses made of stone and clay, crawling over each other to breach the thickest part of the fortress. It’s like a host of diseased, flesh-eating birds poured out in a mass on the land. And the people living in it are at its mercy.
Except something tells me there will be no mercy. Every person they find will be torn apart by these aberrations, just like Rasha’s guards.
I yank against the wrist straps again, but the cords must have metal woven in because they won’t give and my hands are bleeding from trying. I look around for Lady Isobel who should be leading her pestilent army. Is she still on the ship, or did she disembark in the chaos of wraiths?
And where’s Draewulf?
“We have to do something.” Rasha’s face has gone pale. She nods to the cliff face, where standing against it is a line of Terrenes ripping up slab after slab of stone from the surrounding rock and sending them at the Dark Army. They’re managing to crush two or three with each strike as well as some of their own buildings, but it’s not enough. The half-dead beasts keep coming in a swarm.
I keep my tone steady but it’s laced with a chill. “I believe I suggested we dispose of Lady Isobel yesterday.”
She acts like she doesn’t hear me. “We need to stick to the plan. If we can get access to Myles, he can confuse Lady Isobel’s powers, as well as some of the ships’ capt—”
“Myles could have if Draewulf hadn’t taken his powers. And we don’t even know where Lady Isobel is.”
“You could’ve killed Draewulf.”
“I tried. Twice,” I whisper.
There’s a loud yell of, “Find the king!” and when I glance up, Lady Isobel is standing with the wraith general a quarter terrameter away on a rampart attached to the Castle’s main spire.
She’s shouting orders at her troops, sending them like waves ravaging a coastline as they move up from the center streets toward the cliff. When they reach it, they use their bodies to batter against the walls of rock where the Tullan people have sealed themselves in.
The icy poison slips down my spine.
Muffled shrieks break out directly below us where wraiths are pulling a group of men from a broken wall. Two of them are Terrenes based on the fact they’re splitting the ground open and using it to swallow the wraiths. But a fresh group of the half-dead steps in, and before I can look away, they slice the men limb from limb. Lady Isobel’s expression as she watches is sickening. As if she’s enjoying it.
I close my eyes and focus on the energy coming from her, on the energy around me emanating from the wraiths. I allow it—will it—to connect with my blood and rip up my spine as, beside me, I hear Princess Rasha begin to vomit.
A sound across the deck says a door is opening, and suddenly Draewulf is ten feet away, walking to the ship’s edge where he leans over. His face is gloating and proud. Like a father. Except in this case he’s watching his creations demolish an entire civilization with the abilities he birthed in them.
“Have they located King Mael yet?” he growls to the large Bron soldier guarding Rasha and me.
“Lady Isobel is working on it, Your Majesty. It should only be a short time more.” His voice is cold and lifeless, but I swear something in his gaze stares uneasily at Eogan-who-is-Draewulf. A second later he turns his eyes to me, then up at the captains’ quarters before looking away to the cliff wall where a few of the Tulla men seem to have rallied to create stone weapons. They’re using them as spears and knives.
My skin ripples, reacting to the hunger. I focus in on it and call up the power in my blood, willing it to expand quicker, to extend the vortex in Draewulf’s direction. Maybe if I can begin to seep more of his energy from here, I can give us a fighting chance.
One of the Terrenes hurls a spear made of marble up at our ship. It skims the railing and lands at Draewulf’s feet.
With a swish of his wrist and a curse, Draewulf takes the man out from fifty feet away by hurling him against the side of the cliff. Two seconds later, Draewulf sweeps his arm again and takes down another three Terrenes.
Cold anger swells into my mouth.
“This is taking too long,” he snarls. He begins muttering in that foreign language, and there’s a rumbling beneath us as the sealed face of the rock fortress starts to shake. Dust rises and chunks from it crumble and fall, crushing the wraiths battering against it. More rush over them into the slowly growing openings until, from inside, there emerges the sound of fresh, throat-slicing screams.