Guilt sat heavy in my gut. Many of these men and women wouldn’t survive this fight. But if they remained here, they were as good as dead anyway.
With a groan, Rían stomped forward to where Ruairi stood with his arms outstretched so Rían could show our audience how to strike. “Shadow guards are mindless minions, controlled by one witch,” he said, pacing at the front of the ranks. “They have one mission and one mission only: to destroy. They feel no pain. They show no mercy. Don’t bother begging for your life; they will not spare it.”
So much for boosting morale. Those whose faces I could see were visibly paler than they had been a few moments ago. Telling them the truth of what they were about to face was important. I only wished it wasn’t so dire.
“Your job is to draw them away from the Queen by any means necessary,” he announced.
A grogoch near the back raised a trembling hand. “If they never stop, then how do we defeat them?”
Rían came to a halt in front of Ruairi. “Excellent question, Mortimer. You cannot kill a shadow guard by stabbing them in the heart because they don’t have one. There’s no sense trying to disembowel them, they’ll continue striking.” Rían spun around and pressed the tip of his blade to Ruairi’s gullet. I still hadn’t gotten used to the blackness in my mate’s eyes. “The only way to keep them from attacking is to impale their brains or decapitate them.”
Murmurs lifted into the air as those gathered exchanged confused glances.
“Decapitate, sire?” someone at the back asked.
Rían dropped his dagger and loosed a resigned sigh. “You know, lop off their heads. Make them this much shorter.” He held his hands apart at approximately the size of a human head.
A woman’s voice lifted from behind the dais. “But if you can find a way to stop them without cutting off their heads, that would be far better.”
My stomach tightened. Keelynn sauntered in from the door behind the dais, her eyes narrowed on my darling brother. What was she doing here? She was supposed to be helping Eava in the kitchens.
I jogged down to meet her, lightly gripping her arm and steering her back into the dark room. “My love—”
“You told Aveen we were going to try and save the guards. You promised.”
“And once the Queen is dead, we will. But until her hold on them is severed, we cannot restore their hearts.” And even then, we’d need her blood to access the wards and ensure each individual heart had been returned to its rightful owner. The amount of magic we’d need to expend was astronomical. I wasn’t even sure it was possible.
At this stage, there was only one thing I knew for certain. “You haven’t seen these guards fight. They’re vicious, merciless creatures.” I gestured back toward the room, the clashing of swords ringing through the air. “We are already asking so much of those who’ve volunteered to help us. They must be able to defend themselves.”
“I know…I just…” A sigh. “Those guards are human, like me. I cannot help but feel so sorry for what she’s taken from them.”
I slid my hands up and down her arms, stealing some of her warmth. “I may not be human, but I feel the very same. We will save as many as we can, I swear.” Even if it took a decade, we would find a way.
* * *
Back in the great hall, the volunteers had split into pairs to practice wielding their weapons. The longer I watched, the more disheartened I became.It’s only the first day.It’ll get better.
A shattering crash echoed to my left, where one of the men had put his sword straight through the feckin’ window. If this was the quality of the next group too, were in right trouble.
I shifted the glittering shards to the bin, but the panel would need to be replaced by someone who knew what he was doing.
Ruairi demonstrated how to properly swing a short sword to the women. All of them looked appreciative for the tutorial—although I had a feeling they appreciated the instructor more.
Where had Rían gone? He wasn’t in here, that was for sure. Because if he had been, he’d be cursing up a storm and calling everyone pathetic.
I found him a few moments later in the hallway, with a young man backed into the corner next to the staircase.
“How old are you?” my brother snarled.
Was he trying to make the poor man piss himself? The lad looked whiter than a feckin’ sheet.
“N-nineteen,” the boy replied.
“No, you’re not.”
“Fine. I’m eighteen.”
Rían’s scowl morphed into a sneer. “I can smell lies.”