Looking to the mountains, he grinned, the thought spreading through his ranks. “Bring anyone who wants to rebuild this world there. Go. But tell no one of this location. Ever.”
The army roared, galloping through this city of ruins, and pleasure raked through him. He knew they would spread through the country like a plague. Soon the world would know his name. Adair started walking toward the Draken mountains, and he was remade. Everything was a distant detail, and he was his power. Listen to us, and you will be unstoppable. The smoke curled around him, and he took off, cutting through the air, less of a man, and more destruction. It was seconds before he was standing before the face of the mountain, and giggles sounded in his mind as he rolled his neck. He flipped his palm over, and on the opposite hand, a talon replaced his nail, sharp and dark green. He cut deep and slowly as his blood welled, dripping onto the dirt. Placing his hand on the cool stone, he dragged his flesh over it, tiny splinters of rock entering the wound. Stepping back, he looked at the blood-red slash and grinned madly as the stone exploded to dust under his blood, creating a doorway. All of Might, our Dark King. Alone, Adair stepped into the bowels of the mountains and didn’t look back.
26
Brokk
He thundered deeper into the woods, two snarling monsters closing in on their heels. Froth collected at the corners of his mouth, and he wanted to stop. He wanted to give in. Memphis’s shirt was in his mouth, his friend unconscious and thrown across his back, the bloodied fabric the anchor between them. Stumbling, he snapped at himself and pushed harder, his quaking muscles drained of energy. Flashes went through his mind, leaving Emory, their idea of raising forces against Adair. Memphis, crazed and broken. He knew his friend wanted to leave, but he couldn’t let him, no matter how mad they were at each other. Even though Memphis could be a prat, he loved him.
A day had passed since Emory, since the fall of the Academy. A night of endless running, the once comforting blanket of night turning against him, harboring screams, breeding nightmares. Snarling, he leapt over a decaying log, his back paw catching, and they were both flung. They landed hard, and he swayed to standing, looking at his friend who didn’t stir. Snarls sounded behind him, and he knew he couldn’t run anymore.
He spun, sides heaving as he took in the two circling dabarnes. They snapped their teeth, daring him to prove their dominance wrong. His hackles rose, and he dove down deep into his motivation for staying alive. And then he charged them, his growls guttural and deep. They clashed, claws ripping fur and skin, spittle and froth flying. Brokk sank his teeth deep into the rotting flesh, choking and gagging. He was body checked, flying violently as the second dabarne caught his throat, dragging him down. Its teeth lightly held him, any movement on his end would tear through his flesh. The second one prowled up to him, saliva dripping from its maws. He flattened his ears, his growls intensifying, fear lancing through him. A flicker of movement flashed to their left as a wild scream cut through the woods and a young girl charged toward them without hesitation, without fear. He was in awe of her courage and stupidity.
The monsters stalled, and Brokk felt renewed energy surge through him as he shifted back, slamming his fist into the creature’s jaw, sending teeth flying onto the ground. The girl was pale and covered in dirt, her electrifying blue hair unbound. A small curved blade flashed as she sank it into the side of the dabarne, and it screamed. He parried, shifting back, and threw everything he had left at the wounded one to their left, and with a crunch of bones, dropped. The girl growled at the other one, but another scream tore from their right, and the three most unlikely people he ever thought to see ran past the trees. Alby. Wyatt. Jaxson. They threw themselves at the monster, blades sparking. The wet thud of steel into flesh echoed around him. He was frozen, dumbfounded. Once both forms were still, they chortled, relief flooding into their voices.
Alby croaked, “Brokk! You guys are alive?”
Wyatt spat, eyes narrowed. “Who’s the girl?”
Jaxson wrung his hands. “No one else survived. Alby hid us, but then we heard howls, and followed them.”
Overwhelmed, he ignored the flaring questions, and faced the girl. “Who are you?”
Jutting her chin out, she snarled. “Bryd. My name is Bryd.”
Tilting his head, he didn’t want her to answer the question that rolled off of his tongue. “Why are you out here?”
Shrinking back, she stared at the blood staining the forest floor. “My village—” her chin wobbled, “—was destroyed by those creatures. I was one of the only survivors to escape. The rest of my village who didn’t perish left with them on the promise of glory with the Dark King.” A heavy silence fell over them as he raised his eyebrows to his friends, all of them knowing exactly who this Dark King was. She locked eyes with him. “Please. Help me.”
Running his hands through his hair, he exhaled. “As long as we are out here, we are targets. Where can we hide where Adair won’t find us?”
Alby croaked, “I can hide us until we figure it out,”
Shaking his head, he paced. “No, look how drained you already are! I’m not having your death on my hands as well.”
“I can hide us,” Bryd spoke calmly.
They all faced to her as he whispered, “How?”
She
