Harrows.
CHAPTER 14
GIDEON
It sounds like a massacre.
I push Riot to top speed, risking missing the directional marks Marcus left with his scythe. Riding slow isn't an option, though, or I'll be too late to save anyone.
The Arabians are screaming-horse sounds I've never heard before-and the Harrows are making a crazed pack-hunting noise-something between wolf and hyena howls.
Cordero and Ben were screaming, too. A little while ago.
Not anymore.
The pull I feel to fold with Riot is intense. And futile. We could reach them in seconds as fire, but we're stuck as horse and rider.
The woods have been dead still since the minute we came through, but now the wind is rising, shearing off leaves and making the branches bend and groan. A burnt wet smell like floods and fires stings my eyes and throat.
"It's them!" Daryn says, thundering beside me on Shadow. We weave through the trees, all four of us, our horses leaping over roots, smashing through smaller branches. "They've surrounded us."
Movement blurs past my peripheral vision-too heavy and fleet to be shadows.
Marcus, who's a few lengths ahead, looks back and catches my eye. "I'm going!"
"Yes, go!"
He sinks lower in the saddle and couches the scythe to his side as Ruin accelerates and surges ahead, Daryn and Shadow following right behind him.
Jode, who's with me, our horses much slower, sends me a look. Splitting up is a mistake. But I need everyone to stay alive.
In moments I spot four Harrows closing in. Skeletons in hoods, ragged and bony. Loping on all fours with predatory speed.
"On my right!" Jode yells.
I look and see nothing, then realize he means "Get on my right" because, with my useless robohand, my left side is vulnerable.
Before I can make a move, something leaps directly in my path.
Riot twists to the side and collides shoulder-to-haunch with one of the Arabians. The horse caroms off Riot and hits the ground with the gritty sound of the air emptying from its lungs. It rolls over, legs thrashing in the air, and springs back up. Cordero's white horse freezes for a moment, looking at us, its saddle askew, blood staining its white neck; then it shoots off again in terror.
Looping the reins around my prosthetic, I push to catch up to Jode. The acrid stench is more powerful as we draw close, burning my throat. The reports of several handguns as well as Maia's rifle fill the air, and I hear Low shouting something over and over.
The fear in his voice shocks me.
When we fought the Kindred, Low kept his calm even when he was gravely wounded; I can't even think of what could scare him.
Then I see our group and I understand.
The B Team's on the opposite end of the clearing, where we came through, and is divided in two. Both groups are under siege by Harrows-an attack style that reminds me, suddenly, of crows diving on a bird's nest.
Suarez and Maia are with Cordero and Ben-the four of them huddled close. Suarez and Maia are firing at Harrows that bolt from all directions, charging to swipe at them with claws and snapping teeth. They're managing to hold off the bulk of the attack with a steady flow of rounds but I know our ammunition is limited.
Marcus is protecting them on one side with big swings of the scythe.
Forty yards away, Low is alone with the Arabians, making up the other part of the B Team. A force of one. He's trying to untether the horses, but it's chaos. The animals crash against each other and scream, tossing their heads, desperate to flee. As I watch, Daryn rides up and I see them shouting at each other.
Jode nocks an arrow and fires at a Harrow. It disintegrates along with the nearby trees to concussive cracks that fill the air and pop my ears. I haven't seen the full destructive power of his bow in months, but I haven't forgotten it. There's an instant of silence in the aftermath, like someone hit pause; then I hear the crackle of fire in the distance.
Jode looks at me, a quick frustrated expression crossing his face. His bow is too powerful for close-range combat, like taking out an ant with a bomb. He won't be able to do much without endangering the people we're trying to save.
We need to get out of here.
We need the orb.
I put my heels to Riot, going for Cordero. Then I sense the first Harrow coming at me from dead left, my weak side.
It has no eyes. I knew from Daryn's briefing, but seeing it is another thing, a chilling thing.
The Harrow leaps at me like it's weightless, on springs. I wheel Riot as I swing my sword. It connects where the Harrow's neck and shoulder meet, the blade resisting more than I expect. The thing is all bone and sinew, like a body made of pure tendons, but it's mortal. It tumbles to the ground, writhes for a second, and stops moving.
Another comes from the left. Riot and I have done this before and we're good at it. I take the thing's head off and make my first offensive attack, picking off a Harrow that's working its way toward Marcus.