But as much as I wanted to cinder her ass right here and now, I couldn’t. Not until I’d gotten the all clear from Mo. Jess might have taken out one red demon, but the other one still chased after Mia, and two more still circled the island.
I just needed to be patient, even if it went against every instinct I had right now.
“Try something like that again,” the woman shouted, anger contorting her features and making her look even more hound-like, “and she’s fucking dead. Clear?”
There was no response from Jess—it would have given them her location.
“As for you,” the woman continued, “get up. Now. It’s only a fucking flesh wound, so stop the carry-on. Or I’ll shoot out your legs and we’ll carry you across to the island.”
I slowly pushed to my feet. Breath hissed through clenched teeth and, for an instant, everything spun. It might only be a flesh wound, but the bullet had plowed a fairly decent channel through the fleshy part of my upper arm, and it fucking hurt.
I breathed deep, fighting the pain and pushing back the inner fire. Both retreated, and I couldn’t help but wish it were possible to stem the blood that easily. It pulsed down my arm, a warm wet rush that was cooled by the wind by the time it hit my fingers.
My gaze met the halfling’s. I wasn’t entirely sure what she saw there, but hers narrowed, and uncertainty briefly touched her expression.
She raised her gun. “Move, or else.”
I obeyed. I really had no other choice. But this was the most dangerous section of our plan, simply because we really had no idea what Darkside intended.
The bridge’s bounce was more pronounced with three of us on it, which made me walk like I was drunk. I didn’t dare risk gripping the guide cable just in case the inner lightning made a showing.
Thankfully, the bounce eased as we neared the end of the bridge and the archway onto the island. Though the bridge was basic in construction, the arch was the opposite. Time and weather might have taken their toll on the decorative metalwork that adorned its two stone pillars, but it nevertheless remained an ornate and beautiful piece of work. The shield itself was an oddity—aside from being too small to be at all useful in battle, it was completely untouched by the rust that was prevalent everywhere else. In fact, it could have been placed there yesterday.
In the fading evening light, the decorative cross adorning the center of the shield gleamed bloodred, while the white rose that lay across its heart held the luminosity of the moon. The same two symbols adorned the hilt of the fake sword, but not the real one. Did that confirm my earlier suspicion the shield had little to do with Uhtric and was simply another piece of subtle misdirection by Mryddin?
Maybe—but to what purpose? It wasn’t like shields had ever played a major part in the stories of witch kings. At least, not in any of the stories I’d ever been told.
But then, it was becoming increasingly clear that none of us—not even Mo—knew the whole truth when it came to the Witch King’s line.
A bright glimmer caught my attention, and my gaze narrowed. After a moment, I saw it again—a sliver of red light that pulsed around the edge of the cross.
Once. Twice. Thrice. In time with the beat of my steps, I realized.
That was something it had never done before, and there could only be one reason for it doing so now—Elysian. Or rather, the fact that I’d drawn her today.
But if the shield now recognized me—and it definitely seemed to—did that mean it was connected to the first Witch King rather than the last? And if that were true, why had no one ever mentioned it? How had it come to be stuck on this arch rather than in a museum like many other important artifacts?
All good questions I’d only get answers to if I survived the current situation.
I strode through the arch and headed up the long path that led up to the monument. My connection to the earth renewed, and its warming pulse offered enough strength to chase away the pain that came with walking on gritty ground with bare feet. My arm still hurt like blazes, but the blood flow had at least eased. Whether that was due to the energies that moved through and around me or was just a result of my own natural healing ability kicking in, I couldn’t say.
Trees loomed, their branches entwined over the path ahead, their trunks twisted and surreal-looking in the quickly fading light. Mia’s two guards had scrambled back up to the top of the ridge and were now waiting beside the demon whose presence weighed heavily on the ground. The wind remained mute about him; her concentration lay on the remaining winged demons. I wished there was a way to direct and refine the information she was giving me, but that was likely a future lesson.
We came out from under the trees onto the open ground atop the ridge. My gaze darted to the right. Ainslyn lay before us, a twinkling array of lights and life that seemed so far removed from the gloom that currently infused this island it could have been another world entirely.
Damn it, what was taking Mo so long? Surely she would have taken care of the demon tailing the car by now?
I did my best to ignore the churning in my stomach and studied the stone that dominated the skyline. It was a sharp projection of rock that jutted out at an angle on the highest point of the island—therefore earning it the moniker “king’s knob”—and it held the stone in which the king’s sword had been sheathed for hundreds of years.
Of course, neither the knob nor the King’s Stone currently visible were the real ones. Mo had buried them deep in the earth a few days ago in order to prevent any possible attempt Darkside might make to destroy them. This one had been fashioned out of the nearby earth and stone, and only the keenest eye would be able to see the difference—and only then because this version didn’t quite have the same depth of erosion.
The Darksiders here were unlikely to notice. It was doubtful if even Max would, given his attention the few times he’d come here would have been on the sword he coveted, rather than the stone that held it.
The stony path gave way to grass, making things a little easier on my feet. While those grasses covered the majority of the peak, the area within the stone circle was barren—not even weeds survived there. No one really knew why, although, according to Mo, it had happened when Aldred had thrust the blade into the stone—apparently, the last vestiges of the sword’s power had bled into the ground and forever sterilized it. I’d always thought it to be little more than one of her tall tales, but now that I’d actually gained the same connection with the earth, I knew it was no lie. The ground immediately under the stone had been totally and utterly sterilized of life. Even the earth’s pulse was muted there. Which was odd, considering Elysian was merely the means through which all the elements were channeled. I wouldn’t have thought she could kill the life within the soil, given a good percentage of her power came from it.
But maybe it wasn’t the fault of Elysian, given it was possible she’d never been sheathed here.
Movement caught my eye, drawing my attention to the left of the circle. Mia’s two guards stood there, but it was the shimmer between them that caught my attention. It spoke of magic—dark magic, if the tells were anything to go by. It hid the demon who stood so heavily on the earth.
My gaze flicked to the circle of stone monolith beyond him. Though I couldn’t see Luc, I nevertheless knew exactly where he stood. His presence sang through me, a joyous note of heat and desire that warmed my insides and chased away at least some of the trepidation.