Curse of the Celts by Clara O'Connor (most romantic novels .TXT) 📕

shouting distance. In the city we lived further apart than this and nothing ever happened.”

Marcus thought it over before offering, “My father mentioned that the burn in the blood gets stronger as the handfast goes on; most couples are bound for a shorter period than we have been. Maybe the distance gets shorter too.”

“Or maybe it’s the borderlands,” Devyn said drily. “You’ve got to listen to me. This land is twisted; the war magic, the blood spilt… It’s different here at the best of times. And at this time of year, all bets are off. I am begging you. We have got to get out of here before nightfall.”

Marcus surveyed him, weighing up his words. He looked back at the still smoking husk of the boat on the other side of the river before finally nodding his agreement.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” I said, contemplating my words carefully before attempting to offer what little comfort I could find in the awful situation. I went over and wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened before easing into the embrace and taking what was offered.

“Wait here.” Devyn jogged back to pick up Marcus’s backpack to save Marcus and me having to make the trip.

With one last look back at the burning boat on the other side of the Tamesis, Marcus finally pulled on his bag and we set off. We headed away from the city and the river, which I made out to be roughly northwest. Devyn set a cracking pace as we crossed fields of long green grass, so unlike the land tended by the Shadowers further east, where the fields were full of crops or livestock, stone walls marking out one farm from another. Here, there were no manmade boundaries, no signs of humans, except that I started to realise that certain dips and craters around which we wove were unlikely to be natural, but instead were signs of the fierce battles that had raged over these contested lands for centuries. Which side had created such holes in the ground? Were they the result of gunpowder and the limited technology that worked reliably this near the infamously destabilising May ley line, or were they the result of magical forces? I couldn’t begin to discern.

Initially, Devyn had held my hand as we went along, picking out a path that only he could see, but as the hours passed and the sun rose in the sky, my legs began to tire and I started to lag.

“We need to take a break,” Marcus finally announced. Devyn grumbled that we could walk and eat but eventually agreed to a five-minute break after looking at the heavily wooded hills ahead of us.

We perched on some rocks and rummaged through the well-provisioned bags Matthias had provided. As well as the clothes and waterproof boots of which we had already taken advantage, there were protein packs, hydration pills, pocket knives, rope, and other bits and pieces that I couldn’t identify but which looked practical and survivor-y. At the bottom of each bag lay a primitive gun. Nothing as advanced as the laser-sighted weapons that the sentinels carried in the city – they would be unreliable out here – and Caesar only knew where he had managed to find such things. Matthias had done well by us. I marvelled again at the fact that he had done this for us, that a singularly ambitious and selfish man had, in the end, done right by his son. He saved us when all hope seemed lost. We were somehow alive and free.

I got up and, with a discreet smile, moved away to use nature’s basic facilities. It might lack the faucet and lavatory of our cell, but I was okay with that. I was returning when Marcus let out a startled shout. I ran back, but he was standing looking at the ground, no sign of any sentinels approaching. Devyn too had stepped away and was returning at a sprint.

“What? What is it?” I cried as I ran up.

Marcus looked up and then back down at the ground.

“I don’t understand,” he started. “I was standing in… There was a pool at my feet.”

We all looked at the spot he indicated. There was nothing there but grass and some fallen leaves.

“I saw it. It was up to my ankles. I was standing in…” Marcus shook his head.

“What did you see?” Devyn pressed.

“It was a pool of blood.”

“Bags on. We have to keep walking,” Devyn said, scanning the area, already moving.

Spooked, Marcus lost no time, more than happy to put distance between himself and the disappearing pool. I was less convinced, but the urgency flowing from Devyn was enough to hurry me along. As we headed into the trees, it became strangely dark; the day was golden, a magnificent late autumn gift, and the sun was evident in the sky, but under the trees, the dappled light was less bright than it should be.

My feet struggled to gain purchase as we trudged our way up the hill. I was bone tired: I was tired from the day before; I was already tired from tomorrow. My feet were raw, my legs ached, and my back was bowed in the effort of hauling myself up yet another hill.

To avoid a vast expanse of mud that the boys jumped across, I veered away to pick my way around a tree. I stepped on a pile of leaves and heard a too solid crunch. I looked down to see the sickening sight of a skeleton beneath my feet, then the wind whirled and the carpet of leaves swirled up in the air, clearing the copse and unveiling a sea of skeletons, bones stained with age, all rib cages and legs, skulls and reaching fingers. I shuddered and tried to pick my way through them; the boys had kept moving forwards and were now a few feet ahead. I hurried to catch them, biting my lip, navigating carefully, trying to get back to the path. My