Page 105 of Kingdoms of Night

Feron slashed off two of its fingers. It howled with rage and swatted at him like a fly. Feron tumbled and rolled before skidding to a halt and righting himself, but he’d torn away one of its arms.

Blood soaked into his fur, and he favored one side. Sick, poisoned, and hallucinating, there was no telling how much more of this he could take.

She shoved her feet into the dirt, pressing hard into the wovencactlion her feet. Then she thrust one palm on the ground and the other over the wood piece.

Rot like this was easy when she was this close to the soil. Fungal spores, dampness, bacteria, grains, insect carapaces, and more, it all lurked within this dark-brown soil. “Honina, macha kopri val pwestwi.”

Feron ran back toward the spriggan. He’d gotten one arm off, but already it was growing back. His jaws snapped onto its other arm, and he shook it ferociously as the wolves tore at his legs.

The spriggan roared again and tried to smash Feron with its fist.

Hmmm. The soil wasn’t as fertile as she’d expected. She poured more energy in, her head starting to spin. It took more effort to say the words.

The wood piece bloomed with rot, the air thick with its musty earthy smell. She picked it up, blackened bits falling off. “Hey, spriggan!”

She threw the rotting piece.

The spriggan turned as the piece spun end over end at him. It cracked into the spriggan’s chest, black fragments flaking and exploding with contact.

The spriggan’s wooden eyes widened as the rot spread, faster and faster now. Though the spriggan clawed at its chest, it was too late.

An uncomfortable lump settled in her throat. She’d tried to warn it.

Feron growled again and lunged at the spriggan. He charged like a bull, landed in the dead center of its chest, and forced it down.

The spriggan fell backward, striking the hard earth. Its body shattered into thousands of blackened fragments before they settled in the middle of the meadow.

The earth shook, but it stopped almost as soon as it started.

She stood there, praying the rot wouldn’t spread to the other trees. The spriggan lay in the center of the meadow, and the wind was not blowing. No trees showed any sign of catching the rot. Thank the Creator.

She exhaled with relief.

Atop the broken spriggan corpse, Feron swayed, sometimes on three paws, sometimes on two.

Her entire body tensed, muscles tightening.

“Feron,” she called out, running to him. Hawthorn and Buttercup nuzzled him with their snouts. “Feron, are you all right? Come back to the fire and rest.”

She’d barely reached him before he collapsed.

His battered, wounded wolf form fell away, leaving him naked and bleeding.

CHAPTERTWELVE

IDALNO

Idalno struggled to drag Feron back to the fire.

He was lean but surprisingly heavy, especially for a naked man. It took almost all her strength to get him there. Then she had to decide what to do next. The man was clearly in no condition to walk, was he?

The waxing gibbous moon peered down at them from a cloudless sky, signaling a couple hours away from midnight. Time was passing at the wrong pace. Aside from the circle of firelight, all had gone silver and gray. Fog rolled off the lake, the air taking on a colder, flatter taste.

But she paused, scowling as she stared back at the lake. Had there been silver-white lilies on the water before? Or pale pink flowers among the tall green rushes?

She shivered. Were they night blooms? That could happen. Still...there was something unnatural about them. Perhaps it was just her nerves. Or perhaps just common sense. She and Feron were open and exposed in this meadow by the lake. A spriggan had already attacked them. Who knew what else might come during the night?

The murky waters caught the moonlight, giving everything an uncomfortable air in an already unnatural quiet. Where was the insect song? Perhaps there weren’t singing dragons and humming cabiza monsters here, but most places had some sort of night bird. Something to call out and break the steadiness of the dark.

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