Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) by Brad Magnarella (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

“Scratch that,” he said, straightening. “We’ve got a rowdy bunch of stone giants coming our way.”

Moments later, a thundercrack sounded and pieces of stone began showering around us. I swore as a fragment the size of a desk buried itself only a few yards away. In the distance, a chorus of whoops rose.

“Sounds like they’re clubbing boulders,” Bree-yark said. “C’mon!”

We ran into the forest and past the scattered cairn. Ahead, a path wound through the trees. At our backs, more shards rained down through the canopy, one smashing a tree to splinters. We didn’t slow until the rumbles and whoops faded far behind us. I peered around, my cane and cold iron amulet drawn. The forest crowded the path now, and strange bird calls sounded from the thick branches overhead.

“This will take us all the way through?” I whispered.

“Straight to the other side,” Bree-yark confirmed. “Though it does twist some.”

Through my wizard’s senses, I picked up traces of the old fae magic that sustained the path.

“Then let’s go carefully,” I said, “but fast.”

I tried to keep watch on all sides as we advanced at the equivalent of a speed walk. More than once, I felt like Bilbo journeying through Mirkwood, and I half expected to see giant spiders or devious wood elves.

Every time I felt my mind starting to adapt to our surroundings of dense, twisting trees, I redoubled my vigilance. Though I’d never been to the Fae Wilds, I knew one of its prevailing enchantments was getting visitors to relax their guards. By the time they realized they were in trouble, it was too late. I suspected that was why I’d been so slow to activate my potions upon our arrival.

For Bree-yark’s part, he stomped along, eyes fixed ahead, ears perked to the sides. At length he muttered, “Place is kinda grim.”

“You think?” I said.

We’d been walking for a couple hours when a deep shadow fell over the forest and bird calls became insect chirrups. Through chinks in the tree canopy, I could see brilliant points of starlight. Bree-yark pulled up so suddenly, I almost ran into his back. Even inches away, he was consumed by darkness.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “The sun was straight overhead when we entered.”

“Kinloch Forest has decided it’s nighttime,” he grumbled. “And I can’t see a frigging thing, even with my goblin vision.”

The path ahead had disappeared, absorbed by the same enchanted darkness that now hid the trees and the path behind. I swore under my breath. I’d read of fae forests playing with time, but did it have to pull this stunt now?

“How much longer until it decides it’s day again?” I asked.

“When it gets tired of it being night, I guess. I packed some candles, but the trees here are touchy about heat.”

“Better we don’t use them, then.”

“Can you cast one of your light balls?” he asked.

“Not without burning through our potions.”

We’d come this far undetected, and something told me the second the forest sensed company, we’d be getting all kinds of visitors. As if to confirm the thought, a blood-curdling scream sounded nearby.

“Damn,” Bree-yark whispered, backing into me. I grasped his shoulders, but my heel snagged on a root and we both tumbled to the ground. Thankfully, our spheres of stealth contained the commotion.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“Do you know what that is?” he whispered near my ear.

The scream sounded again, closer this time. “Banshee?”

“Banshee,” he confirmed.

I stopped trying to disentangle our legs and froze. Banshees were the cursed spirits of fae, and hella deadly. Their screams alone were capable of killing. It was only by the grace of our neutralizing potions that Bree-yark and I were thus far unharmed. But banshees were also highly attuned to the living, the more powerful spirits able to perceive beyond veilings. And that included stealth potions.

The banshee’s next scream was closer still. A terror I’d never quite felt wrapped my heart in icy talons. Bree-yark’s compact body began to quiver. His next whisper was barely more than a tremulous breath.

“Twelve winters ago, a single banshee wiped out half a goblin battalion. I don’t wanna die like that, Everson.”

“Then we need to keep still and stay very, very quiet.”

I peeked up at the canopy, hoping for signs of morning—banshees were strictly night creatures—but the stars sparkled as brilliantly as ever. Thanks, Kinloch Forest, I thought fiercely. You big prick.

Worse still, the stealth spell enveloping us was going to need replenishing soon. But the magic to activate the potions would be like sending up signal flares. Bree-yark squeezed my hand hard enough for my bones to creak.

“Hey!” I complained.

“See that?” he asked.

A female specter in tattered robes drifted beyond the trees. The halo of light surrounding her was pale and sickly. From inside a tangle of hair, vicious eyes roved back and forth, searching, searching. Breath clamped, I hunkered lower with Bree-yark, but our position on the path was too exposed.

The banshee’s gaze swept past us, stopped, and then backtracked slowly.

I adjusted my grip on my amulet at the same time Bree-yark slid his goblin blade from its sheath.

A scream split the air as the banshee flew at us.

12

The banshee’s scream felt like an axe cleaving my skull and wedging deep into the brain matter. My thoughts fragmented. My vision went blurry. An unnatural terror shook my core. But throughout the banshee’s vocal attack, I maintained a death grip on my cane and cold iron amulet and repeated a single mantra:

If I lose my nerve, we’re done.

As the scream faded, I pulled myself together. The banshee sharpened into focus. She was rushing us headfirst, empty eyes wreathed in white flames, lips stretched from a mouth of ghastly teeth.

The time for stealth was over. I’d deal with the consequences later.

With an uttered Word, warm energy filled me, burning through the remaining effects of the potions and haloing my amulet in blue light. The banshee passed through the final tree separating us. I stepped over Bree-yark,