Page 44 of Ashes of Aether

“Arly,” I gasp. I can’t let go of him. If I do, I may never again hold his hand.

“Rivus!”Heston snarls.

Dark magic surges toward us.

“Muriz!”Arluin calls, forming a barrier of aether around us. The shadow bolt slams into the wall. He grits his teeth, desperately holding the shield in place. “Reyna, go!”

I know I must go, but I fear what will happen to Arluin. How his father will punish him for this treachery.

Arluin glances at me from over his shoulder. Desperation strains his brow.

Heston stalks nearer, anger blazing in his gray eyes. If I hesitate for a moment longer, I will be unable to escape. Arluin’s efforts will be in vain.

I draw in a shaky breath and turn my back on Arluin, fleeing down the nearest alley. My heart pounds as I run. Blood thunders in my ears.

“After her!” Heston barks.

Shambling footsteps hurry after me. As do guttural growls. I don’t look back to see what ghastly creatures Heston has sent. I run as fast as I can, unable to pause long enough to mutterlaxusand teleport to safety.

I reach the end of the narrow street. But before I turn the corner, I hear a cry of pain.

Arluin.

My pace falters. I glance back. Heston looms over him, shadows encasing them both.

I don’t have time to stop and see if he is moving—whether he is alive. The ghouls and wights are almost upon me.

I break into a sprint once more. Tears spill onto my cheeks, blurring the alleyway. I run so hard that breathing burns my nose and my throat.

I can’t slow, not unless I wish for Heston to capture me again. To serve as my father’s undoing.

Neither can I allow Arluin’s sacrifice to be for nothing.

I choke at that last thought and pray that I’m wrong, that Heston would not kill his only child. The reason he turned to necromancy was to revive his wife. Surely a man who can’t let go of his loved ones will be incapable of killing his son, no matter how much the betrayal may infuriate him.

I tell myself that over and over as I run. Yet I cannot shake away the fear snaking through my mind, threatening to extinguish any hope for Arluin’s survival: The Heston who has returned to Nolderan is not the same Heston who was exiled five years ago, and there’s no telling what a man as wicked as him will do.

The footsteps of the undead draw closer. And louder. Fatigue sears through my legs. Though I tire, the restless undead do not. Their strides quicken, gaining on me.

I will not last much longer.

If only there was enough time to teleport away before the ghouls reach me. Maybe I can cast a fireball but in my haste, it would be weak. Then what will I do when they are upon me and I’m unable to cast a second spell as their decaying hands wrap around my neck? As their teeth rip through my flesh?

The street opens to the main road. I suck in a breath. The air scolds my throat. It feels like swallowing venom. Ahead, a crowd of magi fights the undead. If I can reach them before my pursuers catch me, maybe I will stand a chance of survival.

Drawing in air and forcing my legs onward is becoming increasingly difficult. I don’t know how many more steps I can take. I glance back to see how close the undead are.

Their gnarled hands are mere inches from me.

I return my attention to the path ahead. But I am too slow. One cobblestone is broken and juts out. When my foot meets it, I am thrown off balance.

I slam into the ground. My shoulder hits it first, the one Kaely injured. It isn’t fully healed yet, and the resulting pain is excruciating. Though trying to move is unbearable, I force myself to do so.

But the undead are already upon me. And there is no time left to run.

Thirteen

Theundeadstalktowardme.Theirstrangledgroanssoundalmostlikesneers.