Into the Fire (The Unseelie Court Book 4) by Gwen Rivers (latest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

They turn and pull forward another, repeating the process.

“It’s an assembly line.” At the far end of the pool, a hand flails. It grasps for something to hold, snags an outcropping and pulls itself from the water. Behind it, another of the Draugar reaches out and grasps for something to hold while it clambers to be free.

“A what?” Harmony looks at me, confusion in her eyes.

I pull her and Freda farther away. “The dead. Those glowing marks above the water. Those are runes. They need to put the bodies in the bespelled water. Otherwise, they won’t animate. The Draugar drag more corpses into the water. They aren’t just rising at the second of death. They need to be brought here.”

“But why?” Freda hisses.

“Because the magic comes from runes.” I stare at the glowing marks on the ceiling. One that means life, the other that means time. I turn to face the seer. “What do you know about runes?”

“Only that some of them were lost to time.”

“Unless you are a fate,” I say. “And I know just where we have one of those.”

We make our way back to where we left the others and fill them in on our discovery.

“This is foolish,” Harmony says. “What of Aiden?”

“If I’m right, we’ll buy ourselves enough time to fix everything. But we need Addy to do it.”

“It’s an awful risk,” the seer cautions. “What if your Fate won’t help?”

“Oh, she will. Everything Addy does is for a reason. Do you really think Underhill could have kept her here if she wanted to escape?”

The tunnel narrows again, and then opens back up. The constant stop-start of the pace is maddening. My task list is growing, but I know this is the right thing to do. Addy knows how the magic of the runes works. She can turn back the clock, the same way Underhill had once done for me. Our army can grow from a handful to thousands if only we can work the magic right.

“There.” Jasmine points and I skid to a stop at a branch in the tunnels. The veins of moonstone glitters under the torchlight, enough to spy the enormous boulder Nightweaver had led me to earlier.

“Nic?” Freda asks.

I gasp. “Taj, can you move it?”

The Seelie king shakes his head. “No. My roots deflect off it. Only the power of Underhill can open it.”

The air shimmers and as one we are surrounded by the dead of the Wild Hunt.

“First.” Nightweaver inclines her head to Freda. “The Second sends her regards and suggests that if you can’t go through the door, you ought to make a new one.”

“A new one?” Freda looks blank.

I hold up Seelenverkäufer. “You mean we should make a tear through the stone the way we do the Veil?”

“That’s not possible.” Freda shakes her head. “The Soul Reaper cuts through spirit, not solids.”

But my eyes are on the ghost. “I trust Nahini’s judgment. Stand aside.”

The others back away and I hold the sword with two hands. It thrums in my grasp. The buzz of power fills me, intensifying until the entire cavern seems to hum with light and intention.

I make a slice through the air. Though I am expecting the clang of metal on rock, there is no sound. Only a great bleeding gash that pulses with life magic. As one, the dead of the Hunt dive for it, stretching the cut open the way Taj’s tree roots opened the tunnels for us.

The inside is dark as pitch.

“Harmony, the light.” I snap.

The seer steps forward and extends her flames.

I spot Nahini first. She’s chained to a wall on the far side. Her head is slumped forward as though she no longer possesses the strength to hold it up.

I cross over the threshold. A gust of air rushes through the space, cooling the seared edges the ghosts and the blade left at the entrance to the cell.

“Nahini?” I ask.

Her dark head lifts, the beads on her multitude of braids clicking. “Nic? I knew you’d come. Is it truly you?”

She’s not asking out of a sense of awe or wonder. We’ve been tricked too many times by shapeshifters.

“It’s really me,” I say. “Nightweaver can vouch for me.”

Freda is hot on my heels, a small knife in her hands. She shoves it beneath the bolt that holds Nahini’s chain. “Hold on. We’ll have you free in no time.”

I scan the dank space. It smells of unwashed flesh and waste. Bard is collared to the wall. Soladin is shackled at the far side of the space.

No sign of Addy.

I shift my gaze to the soul plane once more and spot her golden signature. Addy is sprawled on the unyielding ground, curled up in the fetal position, her silver and jet braid lying limp. I’m glad to see that she wears her own form again.

“Hey you,” she whispers when I rest a hand on her arm and call her name. “It’s about time.”

Tears fill my eyes. “I’ve missed you. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“Can’t,” she coughs.

“Nic, hurry up.” Harmony strides closer, bringing the light with her.

It’s then that I see the blood.

Through the Man’s Eyes

Underhill’s carriage stops before the cavern. The Draugar line the path on either side, ready to close in at her command.

Rodrick tosses Aiden out onto the ground. He lands face first on the hard-packed dirt. His teeth sink deeply into his lower lip and he tastes blood.

“Why are you helping her?” Aiden spits at the fey general. “She’s going to kill everyone.”

Rodrick stares at him a beat. “Better serve the devil than get in her way.”

“You know,” Pharaildis murmurs as though to herself. “I should have just moved the castle closer to this place. Then again, you probably didn’t mind the long carriage ride, did you, Váli Sigynjarson?”

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps.

“Afraid I will wield power over you.” Pharaildis shakes her head. “Little wolf, I hold the ultimate power over you. The power of life and death.”

He stares at her. “You are about