She yearned for it. She couldn’t go home to her clan, but perhaps she could have this, if only for a brief moment.
She stepped forward and reached out. Just one more step…
Naavah Ora froze. Something was wrong. Someone was watching, all the way from the haven at Dunhă’s heart.
She gasped. The mists collapsed, and the gateway disappeared.
Naavah Ora sank to the ground. The touch of the grass and the soil on her skin soothed her. Her heartbeat slowed, and her breathing grew normal. To come this far, just for something to go wrong…
She’d come closer on her own than ever before. She was making progress.
Naavah Ora reached out through the clearing, searching for any sign that a corrupted spirit had slipped through, but there was nothing. She was alone. Whatever had seen her, it hadn’t been fast enough.
It was disappointing that her portal had collapsed so easily, but at least nothing had followed her. It wasn’t the success she’d wanted, but not being attacked was a victory too.
She picked up her shoes and made her way back. She’d try again, but right now she needed to rest.
If only she didn’t feel like something was still watching her.
I loved my people and I protected them. He loved knowledge and it consumed him. He became obsessed. We both did, or else I wouldn’t be in this situation.
Chapter 38
Doran
Doran hadn’t taken his eyes off the general area Naavah Ora had disappeared into. Despite her promise to stay close, he hadn’t heard or seen anything. She could be in trouble right now and he wouldn’t know it.
When she stepped back into the camp, he breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t look injured. So whatever she’d done, she hadn’t let a small army of dead into their world this time. Somehow, with the pale light of the moon shining through the branches and casting odd shadows around their dying fire, it wasn’t comforting.
“How did it go?” Doran didn’t like the look on her face. Her eyes kept glancing back the way she’d come. She was uneasy. Something had happened.
“It went all right. I didn’t manage to keep the portal steady enough to step through, but no spirits followed me.”
He nodded. She looked distracted, but she was probably tired by now. A lack of sleep did funny things to the human mind. Not that her mind was human, but how different could it be? She wasn’t used to traveling like he was, and he guessed that opening a portal to the world of spirits was exhausting.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “You’ve still got five to six hours before first light.”
Naavah Ora nodded and curled up by the fire. He hoped his tired mind was misleading him, but his gut feeling knew better. Something had gone wrong, and that she pretended otherwise made the tension he’d felt before she returned worse. Either something had happened but she had dealt with it, or something had happened but she didn’t know what. He didn’t find either option comforting.
He needed to sleep. Fear always screamed louder at night.
Something moved behind him. He spun around, one hand on the hilt of his dagger.
Levi came over, and Doran relaxed.
“Let me take over.” Levi didn’t wait for a response and sat next to him.
“I haven’t been here that long,” Doran said, despite every yearning in his bones to lie down and fall asleep. “You can sleep a little longer if you want.”
Levi didn’t answer and looked up at the sky. The trees stood closer together here, but Doran could still see a few stars shine through the leaves. The many branches made the moonlight even more eerie, twisted and contorted the shadows until he saw the dead in every one.
“I can’t sleep,” Levi said. “I may as well sit here and watch the trees.”
“How come you can’t sleep?”
After all the walking they’d done that day Levi should have been exhausted.
“Too much to think about.” Just as Doran was about to ask, Levi cut him off. “Go sleep. I’ll wake Ash in a few hours.”
Doran needed the rest and Levi didn’t want to talk about what was preoccupying him, so Doran got up and curled up by the fire.
Sleep claimed him within seconds.
“Mengha, wake up!”
Doran blinked and tried to make sense of what he saw.
“Wake up! Spirits!” Ash was frantic, his raised voice wavered under his fear.
Doran’s eyes flew open and he stood. Ash had his back turned to him, but Doran could imagine the look on his face. Three spirits, swords drawn, had surrounded Ash. One look around the camp and Doran knew they were surrounded on all sides.
He gritted his teeth. “I thought you said that nothing had followed you?”
Naavah Ora shot a fireball at the nearest spirit, which screeched and turned to ashes. “Nothing did! I searched the area, I was alone!”
“Well, they managed somehow!”
How could he fight something that was already dead? Naavah Ora had said their bodies had been made physical to allow the spirits to attack. In theory, all he had to do was kill one, but when had the first theory of anything ever proven correct?
A spirit lunged at him, sword raised and with inhuman speed. Doran slashed at where the spirit’s heart should have been, expecting his knife to go straight through—but it didn’t. He felt the resistance and the pressure as his knife buried itself in the spirit’s chest, and stared as the spirit went to the ground and disintegrated.
Just like that.
Just like any enemy.
“Stop admiring your handiwork and fight, thief!” Naavah Ora’s harsh voice snapped him out of it. He’d killed a spirit. He could kill another.
Two spirits came at him at once, but before he could retaliate Levi put himself between them, and took them down without any visible effort. He didn’t fight, he danced. Doran had never seen anyone kill with so much elegance.
“Help Ash!” Levi said.
Doran searched their camp, which had turned into a small but terrifying battlefield within seconds, and found Ash still surrounded. The spirits gained on him while he backed away.
Doran jumped to his side and plunged his knife into the spirit closest to Ash—which made the other two focus on Doran.
Their dead eyes set on him, they let out a bloodcurdling battle cry. They both lunged as one.
Doran sidestepped half a second before he would have been cut in half. He spun around, his knife arcing out, and buried it deep inside the spirit’s skull. He retrieved his knife from the ashes before the second spirit could take advantage of it, and rolled to the side.
The second spirit spoke a language he didn’t understand. It made him shiver under the sweat from the fight. Did it look enraged? Ancients, was that even possible?
A second sword appeared in the spirit’s free hand. Doran gasped. With incredible energy, the spirit threw itself at Doran, who was still kneeling on the ground. He dodged before two blades could pierce his middle.
The spirit buried the weapons in the ground instead. One came free without resistance, but the other was stuck.
Doran jumped and buried his knife in the spirit’s back. It yelped, screeched, and disintegrated like fog in sunlight.
Ash was still huddled on the ground. He’d never been a born warrior, but he had defended himself when necessary. They’d never been this surrounded.