Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3) Read online

  The prisoners watched her as she moved across the room. Word, you’ve brought us this far. Please help us get these men out of Thyra. For their sake, not mine.

  Regessus grabbed one of the torches hanging from the pillar and led the men to the stairs. Rowen stayed near the front while Rory brought up the rear. Many of the men were weak from months of imprisonment and could barely shuffle along.

  A man stumbled behind her, bumping into her as they headed up the stairs.

  Rowen turned and caught him by the shoulder. The man was old, his hair grey and matted to one side of his face, his beard reaching to the middle of his chest. His eyes were blank, dark orbs beneath his eyebrows. He wore a long and tattered robe, the scent of decay wafting off of him in waves.

  Simon grabbed his other side. “Father Karl, are you all right?”

  Father Karl did not acknowledge Simon. Except for the occasional blinks, Rowen would swear Valin had twisted the man. He was more dead than alive.

  “Here, let me help you.” Rowen assisted Simon with Father Karl as they went up the stairs. Father Karl slipped again. She caught him across the chest, her chained hand clanking on impact. “Easy, father.”

  In the torchlight, she caught the look on Simon’s face. He stared at her chained hand. Her heart sank. Please don’t let him ask any questions.

  He gave her a puzzled look but he did not say anything.

  She swallowed the lump inside her throat and continued to help Father Karl up the stairs. The other prisoners hobbled behind them. Simon’s gaze darted between the stairs and her hand. She dropped it from Father Karl’s chest.

  “Why is your hand chained?”

  She shook her head. Not now. If these men discovered she wasn’t human, how would they react? After all, they had been imprisoned by men similar to her. Her stomach clenched. Yes. She was just like Valin and Malchus.

  “What are you hiding?” Simon would not stay silent.

  She kept her gaze forward. “I am also a prisoner of the Shadonae.”

  “You seem free to me.”

  “I am a different kind of prisoner.”

  “Yet you walk without restraint.”

  They reached the next level. Simon eyed her again, but didn’t say anything. They passed rows of barred doors until they reached the next set of stairs and headed up.

  A pale light appeared at the end of the last corridor. Muffled voices broke out and the men moved faster. Even Rowen wanted to leave this place and moved along with the prisoners.

  They stumbled out of Cragsmoor and into the muddy courtyard. Night had fallen and a full moon shone above. Shadows stretched across the courtyard like fingers groping for the prisoners.

  In the moonlight, the destitution of the men was evident. Open wounds and rashes covered their bodies. Their skin was so pale they looked almost white. Their hair and beards were long, and their limbs skeletal.

  Simon helped Father Karl across the courtyard, toward the gates and the street beyond. Most of the prisoners followed.

  Warmth swirled inside her chest, her healing power. But she dared not do anything. There was no time. And exposing her power might not be the best—

  “Who are you?”

  Rowen glanced back.

  A small man covered in tattered hair and oozing sores stared at her. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” Sweat broke out across her body.

  He stared at her hand. “What are you hiding?”

  “Hiding?” She clutched her hand to her chest. “I’m not hidin—”

  He came on her like an animal, his hands out like claws.

  Rowen gasped and took a step back.

  He grabbed her forearms and shoved her down into the mud, his body on top of hers. His fist caught her across the face.

  Smack!

  Her head rocked and her eyes watered. “Wait! Please—!”

  Smack. Stars burst across her vision.

  Rowen pulled an arm out and shielded herself. “You don’t understan—”

  “I know what you are!” He wrenched her arm away and hit her again.

  Stunned, Rowen lay there, feeling only her healing power now, rising up inside her.

  “What the—!”

  The man was lifted off her, twisting and yelling.

  Rory pinned the man to the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Rowen slowly sat up. Mud clung to her dress and legs. Her face throbbed where the man had punched her.

  “She’s one of them. Look at her hand!”

  Rory swore and pulled the man close. “No, she isn’t!”

  Her healing warmth raced across her cheek, soothing the area. But it could not heal that part of her that now throbbed deep inside.

  “Rowen, are you all right?”

  She didn’t look up. Instead, she twisted around and stood. The mud made a sucking noise as she freed herself.

  The man flinched. “Don’t let her near me!”

  “Come now, you’re fine.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Rory escort the man across the courtyard. She staggered to her feet and held onto the wall. Her face no longer burned and the warmth inside receded. She made her way toward the street. By now everyone but Regessus, who waited beside the gate, was gone.

  He looked solemn as she approached. “He didn’t know what he was doing. These men have been locked up for months.”

  “I know.” The words came smoothly to her lips, but they didn’t reach inside. She was numb all over.

  “He saw your hand and reacted.”

  “I know,” she said again.

  But it was the same thing she had experienced before: fear, anger, hatred. Even from those she was helping.

  Rowen reached the street and stepped up. The mud soaked through her clothes and her feet were cold.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Regessus studied her with a frown.

  A block away, the ragged group made their way through Thyra.

  Rowen looked to her right. The senate tower stood far away, but she could still see it. Even now Valin could be looking out of one of those windows. “We need to go.”

  Regessus glanced toward the tower and nodded.

  They caught up to the group. Rowen stayed behind while Regessus made his way through the men, whispering to them. The group moved to the edge of the buildings, keeping close to the walls and shadows, moving from one tree to the next.

  Every few minutes one or two of the men would glance back at her. Ahead in the group was the man who had attacked her. Every time his head bobbed into view, her stomach tightened and the hollowness inside expanded.

  They moved for the better part of an hour, a slow ramble toward the gates. As they drew closer to wall, her heart thawed. Freedom. She was almost finished. All she had to do was help this group leave the city and her job was done.

  Yes, she would come back and help those had been twisted. But it would be a much easier task once the metal glove was removed. Perhaps she would even find a way to stop the Shadonae. Surely there were people outside of Thyra who knew more than she did and could give her wisdom.

  The gates had come into view when she first felt a chill contract around her heart.

  Rowen stopped and held a hand over her chest. Oh no.

  Regessus looked back and saw her. Without stopping the men, he wove his way through the group and came back. “What is it?” he said quietly.

  Her lungs felt like ice shards and her teeth chattered. “A-a shadow.”

  “You can feel them?”

  “Yes.” How could Valin and Malchus stand to be around these shadows?

  “Can you pinpoint where it is?”

  The men were now a block away from the gates.

  Sh
e closed her eyes. Everything inside her urged her to turn and run. Instead, she focused on the chill, reaching outside herself.

  Right . . . there.

  She opened her eyes and looked down the side street. It was still far off, far enough that she couldn’t see it yet. She glanced at Regessus and pointed.

  “How far?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t see it, so at least a couple blocks.”

  Regessus pressed his lips into a thin line. “We won’t make it. Once it spots us, it will be upon us before we can get away.”

  The hollowness returned.

  He stared down the street again. “Down that street, right?”

  A lump formed inside her throat. “I know what you’re thinking, senator, but I won’t let you go.”

  “We don’t have time to discuss this.” He took a step toward the side street.

  Rowen grabbed his arm. “No. I’ll go.” Her mind whirred with a burst of thoughts. “Valin would never have let me wander the city if these shadows were a danger to me.”

  Regessus turned back. “You don’t know that.”

  “Like you said, we don’t have time to discuss it.”

  “You can’t go. We need you.”

  “I know.” She stared past Regessus, down the street. The shadow was not yet visible, but they were running out of time. She could feel it drawing closer. “I’m not meant to leave Thyra, not yet.” Her lip trembled. All I wanted to do was leave.

  “Rowen . . .”

  “Go.” She walked past him.

  “Rowen!”

  She ignored his loud whisper. If she stopped walking, she wasn’t sure she would be able to start again. She crossed the street and entered the side street. She never looked back. If Regessus had any sense, he would leave. Now.

  With each step, the chill inside her grew, until her breath came out in frosty waves and her lungs ached. A block later she stumbled against the wall and pressed her hand to her chest.

  She could no longer hear the men. Her hand began to shake and tears gathered. Her mouth tasted of ash. No, she had no time for this. She wiped her eyes and staggered back up.

  A minute later, she saw the shadow, a fog drifting along the ground.

  The hair along the back of her neck rose.

  It wove its way along the street like a snake through grass.

  She swung around the corner and out of view. She gasped in air and clutched the wrap across her shoulders. The only shadow she had ever met was Velyni. Velyni had looked human. But that thing . . .

  She glanced back around the corner. The fog, a foot wide and five feet long, moved steadily along the street. It was alive, and looked nothing like a human.

  Her hands shook. What if she was wrong? What if these things could hurt her? What if—

  No.

  She straightened and walked around the corner, right into the fog’s path.

  The fog stopped and swirled a couple feet away.

  Her mouth went dry.

  Eyes appeared in the fog, ruby red. It stared at her.

  She stood rooted to the spot. Those eyes . . .

  Just like the black wolves from Anwin Forest.

  She was back in the field outside the White City, staring into the blazing yellow eyes of a black wolf, yelling at Lady Astrea to run for the White City. The same chill rushed through her now, freezing her in place. The only thing moving was her heart thumping inside her chest.

  Long limbs spread out from the fog, like arms. The eyes converged at the top of the fog where a head slowly emerged.

  The edges of her vision darkened. What had possessed her to throw herself in front of this monster? Why was she saving men who beat her and feared her?

  No, can’t think of that now.

  Word, help me!

  A familiar warmth blazed up inside her chest. She lifted her hand. Light shot between the metal glove like tiny sunbeams.

  The shadow, now fully formed, hovered above the street, his gaze moving from her face to her hand. A hissing sound came from where his mouth would be, if he had one.

  Rowen held her hand up higher. Her lungs burned and her breath came out in cold, wispy clouds. A chilly wind blew her hair away from her face.

  The creature hissed again and stretched out its claw-like fingers.

  She lifted her chin.

  Word, give me courage.

  Chapter

  26

  A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “I thought Valin told you to be more careful.”

  Malchus.

  He pulled Rowen behind him and stood between her and the shadow. He stared up at the creature. “This one is not for you.”

  The shadow’s body weaved between smoke and shadow. It raised bonelike claws and hissed at Malchus.

  Malchus lifted his hand, palm out. “I said leave!”

  A war of wills raged between Malchus and the shadow.

  Rowen stood behind Malchus, clutching her wrap across her shoulders. The chill around her heart contracted like an iron band. The moon came out from behind the wispy clouds, full and bright. Its light filtered through the shadow. Whatever these creatures were, they were not corporeal, not like she was. Not like Malchus. Or was he one of them?

  The wind pulled Malchus’s long pale hair to the side, exposing his back and neck. His muscles were bunched together beneath the white tunic he wore. His feet were spread apart in a defense stance, as if he were ready for a fight.

  The shadow hissed again. Malchus raised his hand higher. “Now!”

  The shadow shuddered, then turned and flew down the street.

  She let out a sigh of relief. It did not go in the direction the men had gone.

  The chill in the air dissipated. She took a deep breath and let the warm air fill her lungs.

  Malchus turned. His face, once beautiful, was now gaunt in the moonlight, pulled and stretched across his skull.

  Rowen shrank back. What had happened to him?

  He snarled at her and grabbed the front of her dress, pulling her toward him until she was inches from his face. His breath came out hot and fast, and smelled like sweet wine. His pale blue eyes looked almost white in the moonlight, save for his pupils, which were large and dark. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I-I . . .”

  “Valin told you to stay in your room.”

  She stiffened. “He said I could go wherever I wanted.”

  “He did now, did he? Did he tell you what roams the streets? Especially at this time of night?”

  Rowen shook her head and swallowed. Malchus leaned in even closer until she was forced to turn her head to the side. “Shadows.” His breath moved across her cheek. “Mordra. The biting ones.”

  She wanted tear away from Malchus and run. A sickness clung to him, a rotting of his soul. She could feel it coming off him in waves.

  “I only saved you because Valin wants you.” He said the last few words in a scathing tone. “Next time, however, I will let the shadow have you.” He shoved her away.

  Rowen stumbled across the street and hit the side of a building.

  “Now let’s get you back to your room.”

  She stood and readjusted her wrap. “I can find my way back to the house by myself.”

  Malchus smiled. It reminded her of a dog with bared teeth. “I don’t think so. More shadows roam Thyra. Valin would be most displeased if something happened to you.”

  She looked down the street where Rory, Regessus, and the men had disappeared.

  Malchus looked the same way and frowned.

  “All right.” She turned the opposite direction. “Let’s go.”

  Malchus turned back toward her. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he pointed toward the middle of the city.

  Rowen started down the street. Did Malchus know? Her heart sa
nk. If he suspected, he would check. And if he checked and found Cragsmoor empty, what would he do? She gripped her elbows. What would Valin do?

  Her stomach clenched into a tight ball and a metallic taste filled her mouth. Valin didn’t seem like the type of person who would forgive. And she would find no support in Malchus. He hated her. Why? She had no idea. But Malchus would be more than happy to see Valin turn on her.

  She followed the street to the corner, then turned. Her middle ached. Would they kill her? Or would they torture her when they found out what she had done?

  Should I have freed those men?

  She let out a long breath. Yes. She wouldn’t have been able live with herself otherwise. But it would cost her something. Her mouth grew dry. Everything she did cost something.

  Clouds moved in front of the moon, dimming the light across the city. She passed through patches of icy air, and images of the shadow came back. Malchus said there were more of them here in Thyra. If that were true, how could she escape? Yes, she could feel them, and so avoid them. But if they found her . . .

  A dark pit opened up inside her.

  They reached the house. Malchus stopped by the door and waited, his arms folded and his face cold.

  Rowen reached for the door and opened it. The house was a tomb, silent and full of dead memories. Moonlight poured in from the windows, lighting the hallway. She looked back, but Malchus never moved.

  She shut the door with a thud.

  “I told you she would turn on us.”

  Valin stood beside the window up in the senate tower, his teeth clenched and his knuckles white. The first rays of morning spread across the city of Thyra, painting the buildings red.

  “She is just like her mother. Just like Mer—”

  “Shut up!” He spun around. His body shook and his nostrils flared.

  Malchus stood a couple feet away, satisfaction on his features.

  Malchus wanted this. He wanted to prove him wrong. And he had. Malchus could never envision anyone but the two of them. Valin almost wondered if he had something to do with Rowen’s betrayal.

  “How many are gone?” Valin kept his voice smooth.

  “All of the prisoners.” Malchus clasped his hands together. “So is the guard who was stationed at Cragsmoor. And Senator Regessus.” A hint of a smile played on his lips.