Night Spinner (Night Spinner #1) - Addie Thorley Page 0,113
a scarlet stain spreads through his tunic.
“What happened?” Oyunna’s hand flies to her mouth. “She’s losing so much blood.”
Chanar cuts me a glare. “Enebish decided to spare her sister and sacrificed mine in the process.”
Oyunna gapes at me. I bite my lips and focus on wriggling up onto her horse. I can’t change what I’ve done. All I can do is cooperate and get us to the realm of the Eternal Blue as swiftly as possible.
“Don’t be so sour, brother,” Inkar wheezes as Kartok hefts her onto his horse. She lifts a boneless hand and gestures back toward the palace. “Did you see what Enebish did? This is better … than we could have—” She coughs up a mouthful of bloody phlegm that drenches Kartok’s tunic. It feels like someone is clawing out my heart with blunted fingernails. She’s still defending me, even as she’s dying.
“Save your strength,” Kartok says as he mounts behind her. “You’re going to need it. Our time is clearly up.”
We fly down the streets, churning up the snow-packed dirt. Townhomes and feed shops and vegetable stands blur on either side, but we’re caught in the center, locked in the eye of the storm where every second stretches. Too calm. Too quiet. Inkar isn’t moaning. Is Temujin still conscious? Still breathing?
We dismount in a flurry outside the Ram’s Head. Kartok is off his horse and carrying Inkar through the tavern door before I can wiggle down from my saddle. Chanar, Oyunna, and I maneuver Temujin, and when we reach the dusty bedroom, Kartok has already illuminated the gateway. I stare at his silhouette against the white-hot flames. He has never opened the portal before. He has always waited for me to do it when we transported new recruits. Though of course he would have the capability. Temujin would have given him blue bonfire stones. Perhaps his are reserved for true emergencies?
Despite Inkar’s and Temujin’s injuries, I don’t expect Kartok to join us—he never crosses into the realm of the Eternal Blue—but he strides through the gateway without a breath of hesitation.
We follow, but the crossing isn’t as seamless as usual. The glowing barrier feels sticky and viscous—almost like honey. It drags at my arms and sucks at my boots, trying to hold me back. I heave forward with all my strength, and when I finally break free, I lose my grip on Temujin and crash into the field of globeflowers.
“Did you feel that?” I gasp as Chanar and Oyunna emerge behind me, jostling Temujin between them. “It felt like the gateway was trying to swallow us.”
“Is that your excuse for dropping Temujin?” Chanar glowers. I lower my head and scramble to retake my position, but he barks, “Don’t bother. We’ll be faster without your help.”
As I shrink back, Kartok takes off across the field. We hustle to keep up, stomping through the tall grass. Yellow and orange globeflowers bob around us like pollen in the springtime, but instead of the delicious lemony aroma they usually give off, their perfume is acrid and sweet. Almost like rot. And the plants themselves look sick. The buds droop toward the ground as if melting, too heavy for their stalks.
Frowning, I lean over, but upon closer inspection, there’s nothing to see. The flowers stand as straight as a regiment of soldiers. The delicate petals ripple in the slight breeze. The lemony tang is so intense, the sourness stings my cheeks.
“Stop dawdling!” Chanar digs his toe into the dirt and it sprays the back of my calves.
Get a grip, Enebish.
Summoning so much darkness and starfire has clearly taken its toll. I’m seeing things. Imagining things.
I shake my head and hurry on, but I only make it a few steps before I stumble and crash to my knees. In my frenzy to save Temujin and reach the realm of the Eternal Blue, I’d all but forgotten my wounds, but they refuse to be ignored any longer. Pain corkscrews down my thigh. My foot drags like a plow.
Get up, I tell myself. For Inkar and Temujin.
I blow out a breath and focus on taking one step at a time. Heel, toe. Steady on. But I falter again. And again, and neither my leg nor my guilt is to blame. The ground is moving. Tremors roll across the field in waves, like a constant, rumbling earthquake.
Somehow it doesn’t disturb the others. While I blunder and trip, their strides remain unnervingly steady, their faces impassive.