Fear made my hand clammy around the torch. Cold sweat dripped down my brow. I could not recall being so frightened since the night Karpov killed my uncle, so many years ago.
We reached another intersection and I had to make a choice, because there was no way we were splitting up. I closed my eyes, reaching out with my senses. I could usually sense vampires when they were near, and I knew the feel of Egar’s magic. I had to try.
Steifan and Tholdri didn’t speak a word. They trusted me. It was nice to know I had good friends, especially since we all might die before nightfall.
My senses found nothing but darkness. The running water seemed impossibly loud. I cursed under my breath. I didn’t know which way to go.
I was about to take my chances and head left when I felt a prickling at my back. It didn’t feel like Egar, it felt like Ryllae. Was she still alive? Had she sensed me and managed to reach out?
“This way,” I whispered to the men. “Be prepared.”
I turned right, breaking into a run with the torch’s flame wavering wildly. I took countless turns, and knew if I managed to survive, I might have trouble finding my way back out. Tholdri and Steifan’s footfalls echoed at my heels. Just as my lungs started to burn, I sensed it. Great, concentrated magic. Egar’s lair was near.
My sword awoke, sensing the magic too, but I didn’t slow. Egar would know I was coming.
I reached another bend and turned with Tholdri and Steifan breathing hard behind me. I turned again, running down a more narrow passage with no water flowing through it. Parts of the walls were crumbled, strewing rubble across my path. If I couldn’t sense the magic so strongly, I would have passed the entrance. But I did sense it, so strong it was nearly overwhelming. What had once been a doorway was now half-filled with debris.
I halted so abruptly Tholdri had to reach out his arms, bracing on either side of the narrow tunnel to stop himself from running into me.
I drew my sword in one hand with the torch in the other, then squeezed through the narrow opening, which led into a vacant tunnel with a long-dry canal. This must have been part of the original canal system, long since replaced with newer tunnels. Further down, soft light emanated from a doorway.
I approached cautiously with Steifan and Tholdri following close behind, slowing as I neared the doorway. The smell of blood was so overwhelming for a moment I thought we were too late, but then I realized I could still feel Ryllae’s magic urging me forward.
“Greetings hunters,” a distorted voice echoed from within the chamber.
I handed the torch back to Steifan, gripped my sword in two hands, then entered the chamber.
My stomach lurched. The floor was coated in blood, both old and new, with body parts strewn about. In the center of the room was Ryllae, lying eerily still on her back.
Egar hunched over her, clutching her small body with long claws. He lifted his face, catching the candlelight in the room to show rows of sharp teeth dripping with Ryllae’s blood. I took a step closer to see a wound at her neck.
The Seeing Sword’s magic flowed through me, eager to slay the monster before us.
Egar’s glistening eyes looked past me. “I see you have brought me a feast.”
He meant Steifan and Tholdri, but I didn’t dare look back at them. “Step away from her,” I ordered. “It is time we end this.”
He stood, and if I didn’t know any better I’d say he’d grown taller. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood from his malformed mouth. “It is too late. The Sidhe’s blood has strengthened me. I will cut off your legs and keep you here to feed from in the future.”
His glamour slammed into me. Everything went gray, then I felt a sharp stinging pain at my throat. I staggered back, clutching the hilt of my sword for dear life. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear. I didn’t know where Steifan and Tholdri were.
The Seeing Sword came alive, pushing back a small measure of the glamour. I felt blood trickling down my throat, but the wounds caused by Egar’s claws seemed shallow. He could have killed me in that first rush, but either his desire to draw things out—or to keep me alive for later—had stopped him.
I still couldn’t see, but I could sense Egar’s movements. He circled me, and I was able to move my feet to follow his pacing, keeping my sword between us.
Egar stopped moving. “Tricky girl with your strange sword. But can you sense your companions? Are they already dead?”
My hands trembled so violently that I nearly dropped my sword. It urged me to remain calm, but my fear was winning. Why could I sense Egar, but not Steifan and Tholdri? Had he killed them as soon as he blinded me?
A different kind of magic seeped into my consciousness. Ryllae. She was still alive. Her old words coursed through my mind. I had forgotten to use them, but she was using them for me now. The gray began to lift from my vision.
Egar’s shriek of rage was the only warning I had. My sword moved, but I didn’t remember moving it. It was as if it guided my arms and not the other way around. I felt it slide into Egar’s flesh.
He shrieked again, but more importantly, his glamour lessened. I was finally able to see the room. Tholdri still stood in the doorway, staring blankly. Next to him, Stefan blinked, as if trying to focus his eyes on me.
I tore my gaze away from them and advanced on the Nattmara.
He pressed his back into the corner. I could feel his glamour tearing at my mind as he clutched his
