(Chapter 9: Escape, cont.)

  Ean stopped. Flora raised her hands, the fire in her palms reflected in her eyes.

  The other three villagers stood and closed ranks. One was armed with a large axe; the other two held scythes.

  Flora’s eyes darted between Ean and the villagers. She paused, face tightening in confusion. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s the villagers,” Ean said. “They’re the ones killing the traveling parties. We need to get out of here.”

  “You can certainly try,” said the man with the axe. He tossed it between his hands, his mouth curling into a smile. “Many have fled, but no one’s ever escaped.”

  Outside, the village bell began to toll, clanging loudly through the night. Ean heard a voice call out, then another in response. The town was being roused.

  The villager smiled wider, lips stretching over crooked teeth. “If you drop your knives, I promise you a quick death. You won’t feel a thing.”

  Ean ignored him. Flora was the bigger threat. Her eyes dropped to the man on the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. She took a step back; the fire in her hands died out.

  Ean nodded at her. “Stay behind me.”

  The man with the axe charged. Ean took two gliding steps forward to meet him. Fire Dance. Fast and fierce, well-suited for fighting multiple opponents. The villager swung the axe at his chest. He dropped low beneath it, and then sprang up, like the flicker of a candle. He slashed down with one knife, carving into his arm, and jabbed upwards with his second. It lodged under the villager’s jaw. He fell.

  Ean didn’t bother pulling that blade out. It would waste a precious second and the next man was already on him. He whirled away from the thrust of his scythe and launched into a spin kick, catching the villager across the face. He staggered back and the third man rushed in. Ean whipped a throwing star into his eye, and he dropped with a shout. The second villager recovered and swung again. Ean flipped over his scythe, his momentum carrying him close enough to stab his knife into the side of the man’s neck. He let go of that knife as well as the villager fell backward. Ean landed in a roll to clear away from the last man who stumbled to his feet, one hand clamped over the side of his face. Blood streamed from the throwing star lodged an inch under his eye. Ean frowned at the miss; he should practice more. He drew his thigh knives as the villager snarled at him and swung his scythe, a wild, sloppy attempt. Ean parried, whirled in close, and slashed the villager across the gut. The man grunted and dropped to his knees. Ean finished him off with a knife to the chest and let him toppled the rest of the way over.

  Ean scanned the room, searching for any further threats, but there were none. He turned to Flora. She stared at the villagers, her eyes wide and breathing fast.

  “You alright?” Ean asked.

  She blinked a couple of times. “They were trying to kill us?”

  “The whole town,” Ean confirmed. “The others are getting supplies. We need to leave.”

  Her eyes snapped over to him. “You… you’re not even sweating.” She sounded shocked, and a little disturbed. Her reaction wasn’t uncommon. Seeing a shadow-walker fight for the first time made a lot of people uneasy.

  Ean bent down to retrieve his weapons. In truth, this hadn’t been a fight. It wasn’t even a skirmish. Four men, most of them untrained, were no challenge for a shadow-walker. He wiped the blades clean before returning them to their sheaths. Outside, the damned bell kept ringing. Above it, a scream sounded. Ean’s head jerked up; that had come from upstairs.

  His knives were out in an instant. Footsteps pounded down the stairs and then Bruna burst through the doorway. She was in her bedclothes, a nightcap tied under her chin. She had a knife in her hands—the same one her son had wielded only minutes ago.

  “You killed him!” Her voice shrieked in accusation.

  Ean pointed his own knife at her. “You sent him to kill us. That’s the price that is paid. Go back and see to your other children. I won’t pursue you.”

  “He was just a boy!”

  Ean shook his head. “No boy murders a sleeping man. Only a killer does that.”

  Her eyes tightened. “You’re the only killer here. I’ll have your blood for his!”

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  She ran at him. Ean felt no anger or fear as he batted her knife away. There was no threat here, only a woman out of her mind with grief and bloodlust. He grabbed her arm, twisted her around, and drove his knife through the vertebrae in the back of her neck. She jerked and went limp. He lowered her body to floor and wiped his blade off on her nightdress. He’d given her a merciful death, more merciful than she deserved. No true mother raised her children to be murderers.

  Ean stepped to the front window and peeked out. The village bell had fallen silent, but the damage had been done. The entire town was gathered in the square. Men passed out hatchets, machetes, and scythes. Women held lanterns while older children soothed their frightened siblings. Ean turned to Flora. Her hands trembled at her sides, but there was no fire in them. He grabbed her arm, ignoring the way she flinched when he reached for her, and tugged her to the back door in the kitchen. It opened to a heavily shadowed alleyway.

  “Stay close,” Ean whispered.

  He slipped through the alleyway, Flora at his heels. The tavern wasn’t far from the north road, where the others were gathering, but the townsfolk were out in full force. A dozen men blockaded the streets while others searched the town, their lanterns casting wide circles of light. If Ean had been alone, he would have scaled the tavern wall and fled the village via rooftop. But he had Flora to think about, so he backtracked instead, taking them in the opposite direction to circle around the sentries. He moved quickly, relieved when Flora was able to keep up. A lookout spotted them as they cut around the smithee. Ean jumped forward, taking a slice across his forearm because it meant he could plunge his knife into the man’s throat before he could shout. The lookout gargled over a cry, and beside him, Flora let out a gasp. Ean whipped around, afraid they’d been spotted despite his efforts, but Flora was staring at an empty field tucked in the back corner of town.

  Voices carried up from the street. Ean dumped the lookout’s body into the shadows, then pulled Flora behind a stack of crates. The villagers ran by, their lanterns illuminating the field that had captured Flora’s attention. The ground was uneven, marked by long, rounded mounds, roughly the length of a human body.

  Graves.

  Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds.

  Ean felt his anger return, along with a burst of disgust. How many unsuspecting travelers were buried in that cemetery?

  He grabbed Flora’s hand. Her fingers clutched his. They ran, picking through the sparse forest that surrounded the village. They reached the north road to the sound of shouting and the clang of steel-on-steel. Ean put on a burst of speed, pulling his hand from Flora’s so he could draw another knife. Leo and Asali had been spotted. Five villagers surrounded them. One had already fallen. Leo and Asali appeared to be holding their own, but Ean swept in anyway. He took two out from behind as Leo and Asali dispatched the others. Ean turned to keep the town in his sights.

  “Can we leave now?” he asked, voice testy because he hadn’t agreed with the delay in the first place, plus his arm was starting to throb.

  “We’re waiting for Chadwick and Roarke,” Leo said.

  Ean thought of a thousand curses to call down on his head, but a second round of villagers spotted them. They charged forward with a shout. Ean flipped his knives in hand and stepped out to meet them, but he wasn't needed. Chadwick and Roarke bowled them over from behind, each leading a pack pony.

  “Are we all here?” Roarke asked, as if they were gearing up for a hunting trip and not escaping a town full of murderers.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Ean demanded.

  “Ringing the town bell and stealing ponies,” said Roarke.

  Chadwick grabbed the packs that Leo and Asali had secured and tossed one at Ean.

  Ean bit back a curse as it hit his arm and threw it over one of the ponies. “Why the hell did you ring the bell?”

  “It’s the whole village,” Leo said.

  “There are unmarked graves behind the smithee,” Asali said, a hard note in her voice. She drew her bow and trained an arrow at the villagers who were getting back to their feet. “Dozens of them, and probably more underneath.”

  “We saw them too,” Flora said.

  Ean shot them an irritated look because it didn’t answer his question. Why ring the bell?

  “The whole town is a trap,” said Roarke. “It’s a threat to all of Eastmere.” He looked over at Leo who nodded.

  “We gave them fair warning.”

  “Flora,” said Roarke, gesturing her over. “Would you mind reducing this village to ash?”

  Ean understood now. The bell had been to evacuate the villagers, specifically the children. He turned to Flora, thinking she might need additional encouragement to wage such destruction, but she only paused long enough to push the hair back from her face. She stepped forward, oddly serene, and thrust out her hands. Flames erupted from her fingers. She shaped the fire into a sphere and then hurled it forward. The first fireball smashed through the wall of the mercantile. Wood splintered and boards broke. The flames caught quickly, faster than any ordinary fire. Flora threw a second fireball into the general store and the third into the butcher’s shop. The fourth and fifth went into the tavern.

  A shout went up from the village. Children started to wail. Men and women yelled. The villagers that had been chasing them retreated. Some of them scrambled to form a fire brigade, but from the speed of the flames, Ean doubted they’d be able to save a single building.

  “They’ll have a harder time murdering guests without a tavern,” Asali said with satisfaction.

  “And when word gets out that the village is gone, travel will slow,” said Roarke.

  “When we get back to Balucia, I’ll send troops here,” said Leo. “If anyone wants to rebuild, it will be under the King’s watch.”

  Ean glanced over at the group, grudgingly impressed. It was a good plan, probably the best they could accomplish under such dire circumstances.

  They watched the fire for a few more moments, then turned to the road ahead of them. Despite the late hour, they walked quickly, eager to put distance between themselves, the murderous villagers, and the burning town.