Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 40

Renit is losing strength with every passing minute. We knew the crystal would have an effect on him; we knew it'd make him weak when the time came to alter Silas's version of reality, but Renit can hardly stand. We didn't think it'd take this much of a toll on his ability to remain conscious.

I lean over him, my arms braced underneath his arms to keep him upright. When his head falls forward, his hand slackening around a screaming Silas's, I shake him back awake. Blood streams from his nose and dribbles down his chin, and his body shaking in my grip unsettles me to the core. I don't want to see him fall; I won't let him fall.

Silas is still struggling. We've made some effort with the king's control over him, like a rope tied around his heart and tugging him in the direction of the castle, but his dark power still holds sway. Sweat beads along Silas's brow, and every time he throws his head back against the trunk of the tree, I wonder how many times he can do it before his skull cracks.

We're running out of time. The outside of my shield is hot—Bren's fire is near. Whatever he's using it for, whatever is out there, I hope he has enough strength to quell it. I hope Tesha is in the trees, climbing from branch to branch as silent as a phantom being and shooting down enemies within the split second it takes for them to realize she's there.

Binx has to be helping. He has to be. If he created an illusion, and it didn't work, that means the king has more than one witch of deflection amongst his army. More than the one guarding Silas's tower. He knew where we were headed all along and in a last-ditch effort to save the one key piece he had left in this fight, the king placed his most valuable soldier at the bottom and waited.

He couldn't be with Silas the entire time. In the hours he couldn't warp Silas's thinking, he kept a witch of deflection there to do the work for them. I have strong reason to believe there's another out there now, not the one Renit or I killed, but one that is still standing, walking, and directing the king's army in the correct direction of where Binx's illusion is casting.

I hope they're still alive. Every weak corner of my body is praying to the ancient witches that they're alive. We only have so much time if Bren's fire weakens and Tesha runs out of arrows. Weapons among witches can only do so much and with an entire army on our heels, we can't stand up to the test of them. Bren and Tesha, along with Binx, will fall.

When standing as one, in a line, our powers are strong. But against what the king has, rows and rows of endless soldiers, we're nothing more than dust in the wind. We'll be swept away with one wave of his hand.

Renit weakens again and I shake him back awake. Over his shoulder, I watch him blink himself back to reality and squeeze tighter onto Silas's hand. He's weak, Renit is failing. If this is what it takes to bring Silas back...no, I can't think that. It is worth it. I can bring Renit back from unconsciousness but I can't bring the crown prince back from the dead.

This is worth it.

The king's power continues to call Silas. The ropes have dug a considerably deep cut into his neck and blood streams into the collar of his tunic, but he's not fazed. At least his body isn't allowing him to feel the pain, or he does, and is doing whatever it takes to deal with it and the king's control at the same time.

He bit his tongue. Not only is blood covering him like a second skin over his neck, but it dribbles down from within his lips, coating them in a fresh layer of sickly paint. Through the thrashing and the screaming, Silas is doing more damage to himself than we ever could've done if he would just sit still.

I know the call of the king's command. The summoning tears a victim to shreds, it feels like every part of your body is going against you, and your organs are being ripped from your body—one by one. The dark circles underneath Silas's eyes are only getting darker, his skin is becoming slicker, his entire soul...hollower.