Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(52)

Lysander’s movements are sure and swift, carrying us across a stream where we have to jump from bank to bank, then through a grove of silver maples.

After some stretch of time has passed, immeasurable by the Deadlands’ frozen moon, the bear’s pace begins to lag. We cross the same stream again, and the same maple grove, and I thank Death that the landscape hasn’t changed on us yet.

“We’re going in circles,” Jax grumbles as he takes the bear’s chain from Simeon. “I’m starving. It’s probably morning back in Karthia. And our maiden in distress is probably dead by now.” He shakes his head. “If she was anyone but Evander’s sister, I’d say it was time to give up.”

I blink at him, stunned, but it’s Simeon who voices my thoughts. “Jax, you haven’t said his name since—”

Lysander’s moan drowns out Simeon’s words. The bear halts in the middle of an overgrown flower field and hangs his head. He moans again, higher than before, and it raises the hair on my arms.

“Death be damned,” I say softly. “We’re too late.” My heart sinks as I gaze around the field and imagine the disappointment in Evander’s eyes. In Elibeth’s.

I wade deeper into the field, kicking flowers out of my path. It reminds me of the field I stood in yesterday, and as I’m busy scanning the ground for the charred remains of the three Shades, I don’t notice the spirit of a solemn, willowy girl until she’s right in front of me.

Her hair is shoulder-length and pale, her face heart shaped and undeniably beautiful, cold and distant as a midwinter moon. But what’s even more remarkable is the long arrow sticking out of her middle, as filmy as the rest of her.

“Firiel?” I call softly over Lysander’s moans and the sound of my heart racing. It just might be her, Meredy’s girlfriend. The ghastly wound in her stomach certainly looks like the result of a hunting accident.

“Who’s she?” Simeon demands, frowning at the spirit.

I hold up a hand, telling him and Jax to wait a moment. When the spirit blinks at me, acknowledging her name, I ask, “Where’s Meredy? Is she still alive?”

Firiel nods, then raises a transparent arm and points north several times, to the trees beyond the field. Her eyes are pleading, her mouth sad.

“See that? We have to hurry!” I turn to glance at the others, and to my relief, Jax, Simeon, and Lysander are already running in the direction she pointed. The bear’s chain twinkles in the faint starlight as he bounds ahead, seeming to have found new reason to hope.

“Let’s go save your girl,” I say to Firiel, extending a hand.

Quick as a blink, Firiel plucks a perfect lily and drops it in the palm of my shaking hand, then turns as if to leave.

“Wait! Once we find Meredy, we can fetch your body and perform the ritual to bring you back.”

She faces me but shakes her head, her frown as deep as Grenwyr’s western river.

And suddenly, I understand. “You want to stay here. You don’t want to be raised and live a second life behind a shroud.” When Firiel nods, I swallow hard and make another guess. “But you don’t want Meredy to die just because you’re here.”

Firiel gives me a sad smile, and I get the strange feeling I’m letting Meredy down. I nod a farewell to Firiel and dash after my friends. I wonder if she’ll stay in the Deadlands long, or if she’ll be one of those who quickly lets the river carry her away to the mysterious place beyond.

I hope Evander’s found his way there, too, somehow. I hope he can see me now, doing what I think he would, so that he knows in some small way, he still lives on while I do.

Up ahead, Jax and Simeon have stopped, crouching behind a broad tree. Jax’s arms strain as he struggles to keep Lysander from charging through the brush at the three figures in the clearing beyond.

Two men and one woman, just like Jax said.

And on the ground at their feet, bleeding from several stab wounds on her arms and back, is Meredy. Her eyes are open and glassy, like Evander’s were the last time I ever saw him. But unlike Evander, Meredy is still breathing.

Silently as possible, Simeon draws his sword. He’s going to try to get a jump on the necromancers before Jax unleashes the bear. And while Simeon isn’t the swordsman Evander was, he could be deadly with a moment of surprise on his side.

Lysander rears up despite Jax’s efforts, knocking him backward. The bear roars a battle cry that makes my teeth clack together.

So much for surprise.

“We have company!” the female Shade-baiter shouts, pointing to our hiding place.

The taller of the two men whips his bald head around and locks eyes with me despite the curtain of branches between us, and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes aren’t like any other necromancer’s I’ve seen. They’re the palest shade of blue, misty as a riverbank on a chill autumn morning.

He’s blind, yet somehow he still seems to know exactly where I’m standing. His keen awareness makes me shiver.

Lysander crashes through the trees, blazing a trail straight to Meredy’s side.

Simeon, Jax, and I run after him, as Lysander nuzzles Meredy’s neck and growls softly.

The female necromancer raises an age-blackened sword, and I scream a warning as I run. Lysander’s too focused on Meredy to react. The necromancer lunges, her blade aimed at the bear’s ribs. With a casual swipe of his massive paw, he knocks her clean across the clearing and into a tree, never taking his eyes off his fallen master.