Give the Dark My Love(95)

“Hold!” a general in the front shouted.

Nedra walked forward as if the castle were her home. Her revenants swarmed around her. Their wounds did not bleed; their blood was not fresh enough for that. Some had limbs dangling; some staggered unevenly. But they showed no signs of pain. Nothing but obedience.

“Hold!” the general called desperately, his voice trembling.

Swords clattered as some of the guards ran in terror.

But others remained.

“Go,” Nedra said casually, flicking her fingers.

Her revenants ran to the swords, crashing against the blades without stopping.

Nedra turned to me. Her left eye stood out, bright white against the smear of blood on the side of her face. “They’re distracted enough,” she said. “Lead the way.”

My ears were full of the screams of the dying, the squelching sound of sword meeting flesh.

“To the tower, Grey,” Nedra said, an edge of command in her voice.

I nodded. My heart ricocheted around my rib cage. I turned from the battle, leading Nedra into the castle, to the tower where the Emperor hid behind the men he had sent to die.



* * *



? ? ?

As we broke from the main hall, there were still guardsmen to fight. Nedra had not brought her army of revenants with her—we could still hear their battle raging, no matter how deep into the palace we went—but she had brought her sister’s shell.

Ernesta moved with inhuman strength. She easily took out the straggling guards who cornered us in the ballroom, striking with machine-like precision as she snapped necks and broke arms and snatched eyeballs. Was this a reflection of the necromantic power with which Nedra had imbued her sister’s corpse, or did this emotionless killing come from some other, darker source Nedra had accidentally tapped into? I found that I did not want to know.

“This way,” I said in a shaking voice as Nedra walked over the bodies of the men her sister’s corpse had killed.

Near the throne room, I heard my name being called. I was so numb with shock I almost didn’t stop, but then Master Ostrum stepped out. Governor Adelaide trailed behind him, a ghost of her former self, so weak she seemed barely capable of standing.

“Astor?” Master Ostrum said again, his eyes wide with wonder. “And Nedra—oh, thank the gods. You have it?”

Nedra held up her crucible for a moment, then let it slide behind the material of her shirt again.

“We have to be quick,” Master Ostrum said, taking over as he led us deeper into the castle. “The Emperor’s Guard attacked soon after you left, Greggori. I was able to hide Adelaide, but . . . it’s tonight or never. I don’t know how he got the word out to his guards. He’s stronger than we thought.”

“How did he know we were coming?” Nedra asked.

“Does it matter?” Master Ostrum said. He turned a corner, and I picked up my pace, trying to keep up, but when he drew up short, I slammed into his back.

Ten red-coated guards stood in front of the stairs leading to the iron room and the turret.

“Nessie,” Nedra said in a low, easy voice.

The shell of her sister flew into action. She ran at the guards, senseless to the pain any attack against her brought. Nedra, meanwhile, looked past the fight, to the stairs and the iron door beyond.

“Can you get through?” Master Ostrum asked. Behind us, Governor Adelaide made a noise; a vocalization that meant nothing. Her hands were clasped together, her body shaking.

Nedra’s eyes skimmed the door, moving her head around so she could see past the guards who screamed as Ernesta killed them, one by one. She seemed to be reading something in the wall, but I couldn’t see whatever she could. “Yes,” she said finally. “I think I can do it.”

As more of the Emperor’s guards fell, Nedra strode forward. She ran her fingers along the iron door, circling the rings that looked so much like the ones Governor Adelaide had given us for the graves on Burial Day. Nedra withdrew her crucible.

Power crackled around her. Her eyes seemed both focused and unfocused at the same time, as if they were pulling apart the threads of a tapestry I couldn’t see. Her voice made a guttural noise, and then I recognized that she was chanting runes. I tried to decipher them, but they were unlike any runes I’d used before in medicinal alchemy.

“Yes.” Master Ostrum’s voice reached me through the sounds of the dying battle.

A crack echoed through the hall, so loud that the stones rattled in their mortar.

Nedra reached forward, pushing the door open.





SIXTY-FIVE


    Nedra



Darkness swarmed around me.

And in the darkness, I heard a voice.

“Hello?” It was weak, pitiful.

My eyes adjusted to the dim light, then an oil lamp flared to life. I blinked away black spots.

A boy about my age crouched against a wall. He was emaciated, his skin pale, his cheeks hollow, his arms wrapped around his middle. “Hello?” he said again, straining to see.

“Emperor Auguste?” I asked.

“You’ve come to save me?” There was so much hope in his voice.

Master Ostrum shoved past me, a knife in his hand, raised over his head.

Kill the necromancer, kill the necromancy.

I felt for Nessie; she still battled against two guards. No—only one now.