Page 77 of Shardless

The streets were empty as Skye turned onto the main road and headed for the Gate Watchers’ compound. Taly had stayed behind at the stables, and he could hear her whistling to herself as she tied off the horses. When the sound of her puttering around the stables began to fade, he channeled his aether, using a small amount of magic to sharpen his senses.

A fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. As she was wont to do when she didn’t think anyone was listening, Taly had startedtalking to the various animals in the barn—something about highborn jerks that worried too much. The horses, in voices that sounded strangely like her own, agreed with her and seemed quite sympathetic to her plight.

Skye released the aether augmentation spell and took a long, cleansing breath, attempting to clear his thoughts. The smell of wood, smoke, and wet grass hit his nose, washing away any lingering traces of Taly’s scent. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to find himself turning around and going back to fetch her, something he really didn’t have time to do if he had any hope of accomplishing anything useful.

We should’ve left sooner. Although he had awoken just before dawn, long before Taly had oh-so-stealthily tried to sneak out of their room, he hadn’t been able to pry himself out of bed. Not with Taly curled into his side, clinging to him in a way that almost seemed possessive. Even now, he could still see that waterfall of golden hair glowing in the morning light, still hear the soft kitten-like snores that fell from her lips, still feel her warmth.

Skye stopped, realizing that he had turned and was heading back towards the stables. Shaking his head, he took off for the Gate Watchers’ compound at a jog. Maybe he and Taly needed to spend the evening apart to give him time to clear his head. While he couldn’t deny that Taly had grown into a beautiful woman (averybeautiful woman), he shouldnotbe having these kinds of feelings for her.

This was Taly. His friend. Nothing else.

And besides, even if he did havegenuineromantic feelings for her (which he didn’t), apparently just the idea of bedding him horrifiedand disgusted her.

So… problem solved.

As Skye entered the city proper, moving out of the more sparsely populated outer perimeter and into the tenements, all thoughts of Taly were pushed to the back of his mind. Instead, a sense of dread started to take root. Something didn’t feel right. The streets were empty. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen a single person since he left Taly at the stables.

His steps slowed, and he turned, surveying his surroundings. All around him, the doors to the cramped cottages and apartments hung open, and wagons, still filled with goods and wares destined for the market, were left abandoned. Even the air seemedoffsomehow. Usually, when the Seren Gate was open, he could almost taste the aether flowing in from the fey mainland. But today, the air around him felt dead. Stagnant. Curling his magic between the amorphous, drifting aether, he pulled. Only a few small wisps of energy answered his call—violet threads coiling around his body and then dissipating as he released his hold.

This is bad, Skye thought, increasing his pace. If something were wrong with the Seren Gate, that would throw off their entire timeline for the Aion Gate, and he didn’t even want to try to imagine the effects a failed gate connection would have on the island’s already fragile economy.

The Gate Watchers’ Compound was just ahead. The outer walls were forged from a single block of milky quartz and loomed over the surrounding village, making the patchwork collection of buildings appear shabby and squat in its shadow. The main building, an old, repurposed palace, was housed within, and Skye could just seethe towers of the keep peeking over the battlements. Like most traditional fey architecture, every surface of the sprawling assembly was inscribed with stone latticework and ornamentation. The overall effect, though breathtaking, was, in Skye’s opinion, exaggerated and just a little too much. But that was how he felt about most traditional fey architecture.

Today, the pale expanse of quartz was marred by smoke and ash. The gates were closed, and the portcullis had been locked. A makeshift barricade of overturned wagons and wreckage had been erected a few yards from the walls.

As Skye crossed the deserted market square, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the temperature dropped rapidly, and his breath puffed and hung in the air. He stumbled slightly, his boots slipping as the crunch of ice broke the silence. A thick coating of frost and snow had formed on the ground, and when he took a breath, he could just barely detect the final fading remnants of water magic lingering on the air.

A crackling hiss sounded from in front of him. Glancing up, Skye saw a ball of flame rocketing towards him from the battlements. He ducked, instinctively drawing on his aether to quicken his movements and only narrowly avoiding the fiery blast. The ball of fire struck the spot where he’d been standing, throwing up a cloud of steam and small chunks of ice and rock.

“What the hell?!” Skye snapped, drawing his sword. He turned towards the compound, searching for his attackers. Three mages stood on the outer wall of the compound, peeking above the top of the ramparts and eyeing him warily. Another whirling ball of flame was already beingsummoned in the air beside them.

“Don’t fire!” Skye screamed, waving a hand in the air. “I’m one of you!”

“Prove it!” one of them called. A man—several centuries old at least. “How do we know you’re not with those things?”

“What things?!” Skye shouted back. “What happened here?”

The mages didn’t answer. Instead, they seemed to look past him, their eyes growing wide. Suspicion and doubt soon gave way to fear. “They’re back,” another man shouted. There was more movement on the rampart, and mages started lining up, taking up defensive stances.

A trickle of dread crawled down his spine as Skye turned. Behind him, an advancing horde of… he didn’t have a name for what he saw. They defied nature—their very existence was an abomination. Dead men. They looked like dead men. Their skin hung loosely on their emaciated bodies, marred by gaping wounds that stained their clothing with congealed blood. Their decaying limbs tangled together as they raced forward. Despite their jerky, uncoordinated movements, they moved with an unnatural speed. Even as he watched in stunned silence, Skye could see that they would be upon him in moments.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, backing toward the barricade behind him.

Skye raised his blade, adjusting the grip so that his skin was touching each one of the three shadow crystals embedded in the handle. When he flicked a small switch hidden beneath the guard, the stored aether shuddered excitedly as it seeped into the fire crystals embedded in the swirling hilt, sending waves of heat sweeping across his skin.

A current of flame flowed down the length of the blade, lighting the dull, gray metal with a molten glow. Feeling the energy in the shadow crystals start to dip, Skye pulled at the meager supply of aether in the air around him and stored it away inside the shadow crystals.

The advancing wave of corpses was getting closer, their mouths gaping wildly as roars of rage and pain erupted from their rotting throats. Sweeping his blade in a wide arc, the air crystals embedded in the blade activated, blasting out a gale of fire directly at his assailants. Several of the undead writhed and screamed as the conflagration consumed them, but that didn’t halt their advance. Although their bodies had been set ablaze, they still stumbled toward him even as their skin bubbled and melted away.

Okay, that’s obviously not going to work.There were hundreds of these creatures, and they seemed to be incredibly resilient. He clamped down on the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now.

Sheathing his sword and pulling a shadow crystal from his pocket, Skye siphoned off the magic. The aether seeped into his blood, into the muscles of his arms and legs, overcharging the already adrenaline-fueled energy that pumped through his veins.

His eyes darted to the side, catching sight of a ruined wagon resting along the jagged line of debris in front of the compound. The semblance of an idea fluttered through his mind’s eye, and then he was running parallel to the walls of the compound, a small group of undead peeling off from the horde to chase him. The world was nothing but a blur as his legs surged, the mangledcries of the approaching throng little more than an unintelligible whine.

A moment later, his boots swept up a flood of gravel and dirt into the air as he skidded to a halt in front of a pile of litter and debris. Skye effortlessly lifted the overturned wagon from the heap, and a grim smile tugged at his lips as he felt the muscles in his arms ripple and surge. It wasn’t very often that he got to use the full extent of his augmented strength. Not unless he was sparring with Ivain.

Feeling a tingle of exhilaration, he turned and hurled the cracked, wooden carriage through the air at his attackers. It flew across the square, barreling through the charging horde just as they managed to clear the overturned fountain that used to decorate the center of the market. The force of the blow knocked a dozen of the undead off their feet, severing their limbs and impaling their bodies with splintered wood. Cries of pain and rage promptly echoed above the clamoring din.

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