Page 27 of Of Kings and Thieves
“I know,” he said, eyes full of understanding. “But we must keep moving. The longer we linger, the more danger we face.”
I nodded. As Killian led me onward, I closed my eyes once more, refusing to give in to the horrors that lurked in the shadows. Instead, I focused on the warmth of his hand, the sound of his steps, and the frantic beat of my own heart.
But the horror didn’t end there. I heard the approach of The Harrow’s soldiers—the jingle of mail and horses. A muffled thump hit the ground beside me, and my eyes flew open to find my friend Flint lying at my feet, reaching for me, cruel arrows protruding from his back.
Bile rose in my throat at the sight of Flint’s broken body and agonized cries. The memory of watching him die tore through me, reopening the still-fresh wound. His tortured howls filled the air as he writhed, soaked in too much blood. I trembled, tears falling as I beheld the twisted vision, far worse than the reality had been.
“Samara,” he rasped. And then, as if attacked by an invisible sword, his head severed from his body. Flint’s eyes stared as his head rolled, his mouth still calling my name even though it should have been impossible. His hands grabbed my legs, smearing them with blood.
“Dammit, Samara, close your fucking eyes!” Killian roared, wrenching me from the nightmare. “Close them now!”
I slammed my eyes shut, clinging to Killian like a lifeline in this sea of nightmares. My heart raced as I fought to block out the gruesome images.
Killian’s breath was hot on my ear. “The way out lies ahead. Keep moving,” he growled sharply, pulling me from my thoughts. I nodded. “Just get through this, and your family will be waiting.”
Yes. My family waited for me.
“Keep their image fresh in your mind. It will guide us to them.”
I summoned my most vivid memory—Laney playing by a stream on a sunny day—and held onto it.
After more walking, Killian halted. “Anything look familiar?”
Hesitantly, I opened my eyes. Twisted shadows of mountains towered above us, forests aflame with eerie fire. Barren valleys lay shrouded in icy gloom, too desolate for life to take hold. And the river... gods, the river. It looked like the one near my village but horribly wrong, its waters running red as blood. The stench of decay filled the air, nauseating me again.
“The river,” I choked out.
Killian’s fingers dug into my arm. “You recognize it?”
“Y-yes,” I stammered, fighting panic. Though the river flowed red, I knew its shape like my own hand. “It leads to the Fell Marshes. We must follow it.”
We trudged along the riverbank. A wispy mist drifted over the river, pale and wraithlike. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, but it formed into an arm, then a ghastly face with hollow eyes that peered into my soul. A wraith.
I gasped, stumbling back as the wraith fully took shape before us, undulating. An unearthly wail shrieked from its gaping mouth, shredding my nerves.
“Steady,” Killian muttered, raising his staff.
The wraith swooped forward, gnarled claws outstretched. We darted apart, and it veered after me, shrieking.
Panic surged through my veins as I fled. Dimly, I heard Killian shouting, felt the rush of air as his staff sliced through mist and shadow. The wraith’s snarls echoed inside my skull, urging me to run faster.
A root snagged my boot, and I tumbled to the ground. The wraith descended, its hollow gaze freezing me in place. Bony fingers wrapped around my throat, lifting me until my feet dangled above the earth. I gasped uselessly for air, spots dancing before my eyes.
Roaring, Killian charged the wraith, his staff hacking through its arm. I dropped to the ground, choking and sputtering. The wraith’s wail thundered as it wheeled on Killian, who stood ready to face it. His staff gleamed red in the eerie light.
Gasping, I staggered to my feet and fumbled for my dagger. With a shriek of fury, I hurled it at the wraith. To my shock, it sank into the creature’s back.
The wraith wavered, its form distorting, before its unearthly cries faded and its body dissipated into the mist. Silence fell, broken only by our ragged breaths. The wraith had taken my dagger with it—Col’s dagger, the one he’d gifted me when we met.
Killian pulled me along. Five paces later, a familiar tune drifted to us, Laney’s voice ringing out sweet and clear. My heart swelled—she was singing the lullaby I used to sing to her as a child. I broke into a run, following the song as it led me to the riverbank where Laney and I used to play.
There she knelt with her back to me. Her dark hair tumbled down, just as I remembered. But why was she alone and unguarded?
I briefly registered Killian calling my name, but I ignored him.
“Laney!” I raced forward and spun her around, eager to see my sister’s face again.
But it wasn’t Laney. It was a pile of small bones, picked clean by carrion. A ragged sob tore from my chest. “No, no... Laney!” I screamed into the shadows, searching in vain for any sign of her.
