The Fire Prince (The Cursed Kingdoms Trilogy Book 2) (55 page)

“Flin, you’re not responsible for the corpses, or the breathstealers,
or
the bounty on your head. And as for Ebril and Katlen, Innis claims those deaths as her fault, for not changing shift with Petrus sooner.”

“What?” Harkeld frowned. “They’re not her fault, they’re
mine
.”

“Actually, Ivek is to blame,” Rand said. “As he is to blame for all of this. So stop fighting for a share of the guilt, the two of you.”

Innis shook her head. “If I’d woken Petrus when he asked me to—”

“You did what you thought best at the time,” Cora told her. “And you were right; Petrus
did
need the sleep. And there was no sign of any threat to us. Now, enough of this nonsense, both of you. When I think one of you
is
to blame for someone’s death, I promise I’ll tell you.”

Innis shook her head again and looked away—and stiffened. “There’s a breathstealer.”

Everyone jerked their heads around. Steam curled across the ground. Harkeld held his breath, staring as hard as he could.

“I can’t see anything,” Rand said.

“About a foot above the ground. Where the steam is thickest.”

Rand shook his head. Harkeld did too.

“What exactly do you see, Innis?” Cora asked.

“Its eyes. Black eyes.”

“Disturbing,” Rand said. “To know it’s there and not be able to see it.”

Harkeld nodded. The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably.

Innis turned her head, scanning the darkness. “There are more of them.” She climbed to her feet and unsheathed her sword.

“Rand, Flin, to the tent,” Cora said calmly. “Innis, check it for us, will you? And Hew, perhaps it’s best if you shift now.”

Harkeld scrambled to his feet. “Will you be all right?” he asked Innis. It felt cowardly to leave her to face the breathstealers alone.

“I’ll be fine.” Her eyes weren’t on him. She was watching something he couldn’t see.

Cora brought a handful of candles and two brass soldiers’ lanterns. One lantern, she placed inside the tent, the other she hung from a branch above the entrance.

“If you have any trouble, Innis, just yell,” Rand said.

B
REATHSTEALERS WATCHED FROM
within the writhing steam, seeming to float a few inches off the ground. Innis gripped the sword hilt. Those black eyes were unnerving.

One creature, bolder than the rest, drifted towards the tent.

Innis cut it in half and flicked both pieces away. A pungent stink filled the air.

A second breathstealer came a few minutes later, closely followed by a third and a fourth, drifting in the tendrils of steam. How did they hunt? Did they smell human breath?

The rain became heavier, drumming down. The white billows of steam didn’t dissolve; they grew thicker, piling up from the ground, breathstealers hidden in their folds. Every so often Innis peered into the tent, checking none of the creatures had found a way inside. Cora and Rand and Prince Harkeld slept crammed side-by-side in a tent made for two, their faces illuminated by candlelight.

Midnight came and went. Petrus glided down and shifted shape. His white-blond hair was plastered to his skull. “That’s forty-six, by my count.”

“What?” Innis pushed back her dripping hood.

“Forty-six of them. So far.”

She spotted another breathstealer hovering at the tent entrance, trying to slip inside. “Forty-seven.” She grabbed it, killed it, tossed the body away. “How many of the wretched things are there?”

“Could be thousands. There are so many vents round here, the jungle looks like it's smoking.” He echoed Cora’s words: “Thank the All-Mother you haven’t finished your training, Innis.”

Innis lowered the blade. “Ebril...”

“Don’t.” Petrus stepped closer and put his arms around her. “Don’t say it, Innis. It wasn’t your fault.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.
But he was still breathing when I first checked. If I’d just been a few minutes earlier...

“Ebril would be the last person to blame you for his death. You know that.”

Innis leaned her forehead against his damp, bare chest, trying not to cry.

Petrus tensed. “Innis, the tent flaps are moving. I think there’s—”

She pushed away from him, grabbing the breathstealer before it could slip inside.

“I’d best get back up there,” Petrus said, once she’d killed it. “You don’t need any distractions. I just wanted to check you’re all right.”

“Thanks.” Innis tried to smile. “I’m fine.”

She watched him shift and leap upwards, his wings catching the air. Petrus seemed to have forgiven her for willfully breaking a Law. Ebril’s death had erased the awkwardness between them.

But what a terrible way to become friends again.

Innis checked inside the tent. No breathstealers crouched over the sleepers’ faces, sucking their life from them. Rand stirred as she watched, muttered, rolled over, sank into sleep again.

More hours passed. The carpet of steam thickened, swirling around her hips. Innis lit fresh candles in the lanterns. Her count of kills crept above one hundred. The stink of the breathstealers’ deflating bodies grew stronger, choking in the back of her throat with each breath she took. The smell didn’t deter the creatures, though, nor did the occasional high-pitched screams when she failed to kill with her first stroke. The breathstealers were as relentless as the corpses had been, as unafraid of death.
No, not unafraid; uncomprehending
. There was no intelligence behind those gleaming black eyes, just a dumb, vegetable cunning, as if they sought human breath the way plants sought sunlight.

“One hundred and eight.” Innis flicked the body aside, and jerked around at a sudden rush of movement. Petrus swooped low over the embers of the campfire. Three owls followed, shimmering slightly. Shapeshifters.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

T
HE SHAPESHIFTERS LANDED
and changed into human form. One, a woman, flicked her fingers, relighting the fire. The other two were men; one she didn’t know, but the second...

Innis put a finger to her lips as the younger male shapeshifter grinned at her and opened his mouth.

His eyebrows rose and he obediently closed his mouth. She ran across to him, hugged him. “Justen!” she whispered. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

He hugged her back. “Ach, how could I not come, knowing you were all here?”

“Where is everyone?” the other male shapeshifter asked in a low voice, looking at the single tent.

“And what are those things?” asked the woman, pointing at the tiny pink corpses visible beneath the swirling steam.

“Breathstealers,” Innis whispered. “Wait here, I’ll wake Cora and Rand. If Prince Harkeld wakes, you need to shift, Justen. He mustn’t see you.”

Justen’s brow creased. “What?”

“Cora will explain.”

She hurried back to the tent. A breathstealer was halfway through a gap between the fastenings. Innis jerked it out and killed it, then undid the ties and crawled inside. “Cora,” she whispered, shaking her gently. “Wake up.”

Cora’s eyes jerked open.

Innis laid a finger over her lips, then pointed to Rand and jerked her thumb outside. Cora understood. She quickly, quietly woke Rand. “There’s trouble?” Cora whispered, as she crawled from the tent.

“More shapeshifters have arrived.”

Cora’s worried frown lifted. “Thank the All-Mother.” She hurried towards the fire, the mist curling around her as if she was a ship cutting through waves.

Hew had found the new shapeshifters blankets to wrap themselves in. They stood, the flames illuminating their faces. “You must be Justen,” she heard Cora say.

“Yes.” Justen’s brow creased slightly in bewilderment. “And you are...?”

“Cora. And this is Rand. Sit down, all of you, we need to talk. Hew, set some water to boil. I’m sure our friends would like something hot to drink.”

“First,” Rand said, halting them with an upraised hand. “The rest of your party... they’re not camped in the jungle, are they?”

“Aboard ship, a couple of miles off the coast,” the male shapeshifter said.

“Ah, good. Then have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

The two strangers sat, but Justen walked a few steps towards Innis. “I see Petrus and Hew,” he said. “But where’s Ebril? And Susa and Frane? Are they all right?”

Her expression must have told him. His face drained of color. He shook his head. “No.”

“Susa and Frane died a while ago,” Innis said. “And Ebril...” Her throat tightened. “He died yesterday.”

Justen shook his head again.

“I’m sorry.” Innis hugged him tightly, tears choking in her throat, then gave him a gentle push towards the fire. “Go sit. Cora will explain everything.”

C
ORA AND
R
AND
and the shapeshifters talked for more than an hour, their voices low murmurs. Hew bustled around the campfire, setting water to boil, steeping herbs. He brought Innis a steaming, fragrant mug. For the length of time it took to drink, the scent of peppermint pushed away the stink of the breathstealers. At one point, Rand stood and fetched a creature she’d just killed, carrying the limp corpse back to the fire for the newcomers to see.

Innis watched in quick glances, studying the strangers’ faces, trying to guess what they were like. The woman was small, with olive skin and black hair and an expressive face. The man was barrel-chested and bearded. His voice rumbled below everyone else’s.

The shadows of Ivek’s curse had rested only lightly on the newcomers when they’d arrived, but as the three of them drank, the shadows darkened. Innis’s skin prickled as she watched the curse take full hold of them.

The male shapeshifter noticed. He brushed his skin, as if trying to rub the curse shadow off. The rumble of his voice became louder for a moment: “...must say these are horrible...”

Her gaze kept straying to Justen.
We got the shape of his nose wrong. And the color of his eyes
. And even though it was marvelous to see him, she felt terror. What if he died too? Wouldn’t it be better if he was a stranger? Someone she didn’t like so much?

At last everyone stood. The shapeshifters put aside their blankets. Justen came to her with quick steps, churning the mist, and hugged her and whispered, “See you later.” The newcomers changed shape and flew away.

Cora and Rand and Hew sat again. Cora and Rand talked, heads bent together, while Hew listened. His was the only face she could see. It was impossible to tell anything from his serious expression.

Dawn lightened the sky, but the heavy rain didn’t ease. Visibility was less than a hundred yards. The river rushed and foamed.

With the dawn, the breathstealers stopped coming. Innis sheathed her sword and crossed to the fire. Cora looked up with a smile. “This makes things so much easier!”

Innis nodded and crouched, holding her hands to the flames.

“Have you met Serril and Linea before?”

Innis shook her head.

“Excellent Sentinels, both of them. And Hedín is with them, and Nellis and Bode, and they managed to recall Malle in time, which is what I’d been hoping for, so
she
’s here too.”

“And it looks like the ship will be able to land,” Rand put in. “So we won’t have to slog our way through the jungle to Krelinsk.”

Innis nodded. “Who’s Malle?”

“A water mage.” Cora looked years younger than she had last night, as if she’d sloughed age along with worry. “An extremely strong one. We’ll need her once we’re in Sault.”

“That we will,” Rand said. “Innis, did you wake Flin?”

“No.”

“I’ll put some gruel on and roust him out.” Rand stood and stretched and headed for the piled packsaddles. His step was jaunty.

“You’ll still need to sleep during the day, unfortunately,” Cora continued, flicking her plait back over her shoulder. “You’re the only one who can see the breathstealers. But Justen can patrol for us, and Petrus and Hew won’t need to stay shifted for so long any more. And did you notice that Linea looks remarkably like you, once she’s shifted?”