“Caorthannach,” Kalyll shouted the name and it echoed through the space.
The only response was the dripping sound of the water.
“Show yourself, Caorthannach. Come and take your curse from me.”
There was a skittering sound, like hundreds of claws clicking on the hard ground. My insides turned to mist at the sound. I peered into the darkness beyond the rock formations. Shadows scurried about like ink blotches without true substance.
Everyone except Kalyll unsheathed their swords. They zinged, the sharp metal sound reverberating throughout. What good could those be against shadows? Wouldn’t light have been a better weapon? I took a step closer to Jeondar, moving further into the circle of the torchlight. His normally calm expression was tight, full of worry. He offered me the torch, and I took it, held it with both hands in front of me. I wanted to turn away from the approaching entities, but I was hypnotized by my own terror.
The shadows skittered closer. How their insubstantial shapes could make that horrible sound, I didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.
“You insult me by sending your spawn,” Kalyll spat. “Come out and face me. You know who I am. You know you mustn’t trifle with me.”
A couple of the creatures reached the edge of the torchlight, and they immediately stopped being only shadows. I nearly screamed when Caorthannach’s spawns took shape.
The dark blotches were still there, reflected on the ground and the rock formations, but when touched by the light, the creatures casting the shadows were suddenly visible. They were hideous, humanoid in shape, with sparse strands of greasy hair sprouting from their pale scalps. Their spindly figures crawled on all fours, all bones with blue-gray skin hanging loose about their frames. Their eyes were completely black, and they wore no garments. Sharp, black claws at their hands and feet were responsible for the awful skittering sound. More and more appeared, their dark eyes fixed, their rotting mouths half-opened. They looked hungry, starved actually.
“You will soon be like them,” an eerie female voice called from the depths of the cavern. “Just like once, they were like you.”
Oh, God!
“I will not. I am Prince Kalyll Adanorin, Dragon Soul, Defender of the Realm. I will never serve you.”
“But you already do. I feel you every night. The deaths you cause feed my power.”
Anger rippled through Kalyll.
“I feel you now,” the voice said with delight. “Your anger festers. It is pure. Tasty.”
Whoever was talking—Caorthannach, I supposed—sounded gleeful.
“Take this curse away or face my wrath,” Kalyll growled.
High-pitched laughter filled my ears. She was mocking him, showing no hint of fear at the threat, and her dismissal resonated with me because how could seven Fae warriors, no matter how dexterous, defeat the dozens of spawns that hid in the shadows?
“Have it your way.” Kalyll unsheathed his weapon and attacked.
Moving like a tornado on a path of destruction, he sliced his sword from side to side, cutting down everything that stood in his way. Rock fragments and pale limbs flew through the air. Caorthannach’s spawns barely had any time to react before Kalyll was there, tearing them to pieces. Loud screeches of pain tore through the creature’s mouths, and as they hit the ground, their bodies turned to black shadows and disappeared completely.
More spawn advanced from the depths of the cave, their skittering claws announcing their approach.
Jeondar, Kryn, and the others jumped into the fray, the former dolling out orbs of fire, turning the creatures into lumps of coal that quickly flatten into patches of gloom, then were gone.
Three spawns came at Arabis all at once.
“Look out!” I screamed, my heart jumping into my throat.
Moving on lithe feet, she seemed to dance out of the way, her sword sweeping with her like a ball gown flowing with her movements. She cut two spawns in half. Their bodies fell with a wetthud, then vanished. The third one overshot her and as it spun around, it received the brunt of Arabis’s Susurro skill.
“Your brethren are your real enemies. Attack!” she commanded, her voice like a physical slap.
The spawn turned on one of its own and pounced, sinking sharp claws into its belly and pulling out its innards as they both screeched.
Silver used his elemental power, freezing the creatures as they flew at him, then shattering to smithereens with a blow from his sword.
Kryn and Cylea delivered their own deadly blows, moving across the ground with ease and tremendous agility. They worked in unison like a well-oiled machine of death and ruination, crossing each other’s paths and never once getting tangled or disoriented.
But it was Kalyll that left me speechless. He was something to behold. He fought with such assurance, with such undivided attention and deadly accuracy, that he made the others look like clumsy toddlers.