I dismounted my horse, only to reach my feet and feel so stricken, so weakened by this sight that I had to squat down. Had to set my elbows on my knees and put my hands to my head to keep from feeling faint. Had to sniffle at the building moisture in my eyes and nose. Innocent people. Defenseless people. And Hazlitt had slaughtered them.
“Gods,” I whispered, “shelter their spirits better than we have.”
Nira squatted down at my side, her own head dropping with grief. “I never thought…”
From behind us, I could hear the rest of my rangers dismount and walk up, and while a few of them murmured their own prayers or sentiments, most of them said nothing. They stood in mournful silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the flames. But it was a shifting silence, the outrage at this injustice budding the longer we looked.
“Soldiers!” one of my rangers hollered.
Nira and I shot to our feet, watching a flood of Hazlitt’s men come out from behind the buildings around us. They moved quickly, weapons drawn and circling until they’d trapped us all with our backs to the burning bodies. The rebels who’d been staying in this village had fought and managed to kill a good amount of the soldiers, but they still outnumbered us two to one. Only, they weren’t attacking. They surrounded us and stopped as my allies raised their weapons.
“Hold!” I shouted, not wanting my rangers to attack yet because the soldiers were waiting for a reason.
A few mumbles of protest went up from my troops, but I ignored them as I locked eyes with one of Hazlitt’s men. He was more heavily armored than the others, and with a helm adorned in a commander’s symbol. What stuck out more than anything, however, was the burn scar in his neck. I recognized it because I’d seen it before. His was much smaller, but the branded shape of the crow was an exact replica of the massive scar on Ava’s back, and of the emblem in Hazlitt’s crown. I’d hardly finished taking in what that scar meant when it began to glow the same deep red as I’d seen Ava’s do once. His eyes filled too, so that he was watching me with a burning stare the dark color of blood.
“Kiena,” the man said in a singsong voice, and though his voice was his own, I knew the tone. Knew the jeering.
“Hazlitt,” I growled.
The man smirked. “I was hoping you’d come. I’ve heard about the marks you’ve been leaving for me. The one you left when you took Ava back.” He stepped forward and began to pace along the circle of soldiers in front of us. “The Vigilant,” he said, and let out a huff of laughter as he motioned to the burning bodies behind us. “That’s what I think of your rebellion.”
My fist clenched at my side, and I wished more than anything it was actually Hazlitt standing in front of me right now. “We’re coming for you,” I threatened.
“I gave you a chance to escape all this!” he roared.
And that, his even implying that he’d done me some kind of a favor by killing Albus and taking Ava, it made me furious. I reached out, latching onto the dark magic that allowed Hazlitt to control this commander, and I squeezed the same way Hazlitt did when his magic had gripped me six months ago. I squeezed so hard that the commander grimaced and fell to his knees.
“You made a mistake letting me go,” I said. As I spoke, I could feel Hazlitt trying to relinquish his control over the commander. I could feel that he was trying to leave the man’s body, because he felt this pain as though it were his own. “You might have gotten stronger.” I took in a focused breath, tightening my fist with every bit of concentration I could, and I held Hazlitt there. I locked him into the commander’s body because I wasn’t done. “But I have too.”
“You can’t kill me like this.” The man let out a pained laugh. “You still have to go through an army to get to me. Two armies by the time I conquer Cornwall.”
I glared right into those glowing hot eyes, and then closed my own. There was so much anger and frustration and hate in my chest that every muscle in my body was coiled tight. More than anything, I wanted Hazlitt dead, but he was too far away. Killing the commander wouldn’t kill him, but I could make him fear me. With my eyes closed, I focused on the corruption and decay around us, on the death, and I picked out the soldiers. Using my newest magic, I singled out Hazlitt’s fallen men and I manipulated that death. My hand steadily lifted, and with it rose those soldiers. I reanimated as many of his decaying troops as I had the strength to, lifted them to their feet, and turned that lack of life into a lack of rest. And before Hazlitt could give an order for his soldiers to fight, I instilled my will in the dead and set them loose.
There were nearly as many dead soldiers as there were of us rangers, and while I was only able to rouse twelve of them, that they were already dead made every strike of a living soldier’s sword useless. There was no way for them to defend against something that couldn’t be rekilled. My rangers were safe while Hazlitt’s men clashed, as swords pierced through armor and flesh. Hazlitt was still trapped in the commander’s body, and it forced him to watch as his soldiers were attacked. As they were slaughtered as easily as he’d slaughtered the men, women, and children in this village.
The fight didn’t last long at all, and once the final living soldier had been killed, I released my hold on the dead and let them rest. Hazlitt was still trying to leave the commander’s body, but I kept him there a little longer and strode over.
“An army,” I mused, squatting down to meet the level of those glowing red eyes. And it was my turn to be smug, because I doubted he could see through my bluff. “Hazlitt,” I chuckled, “not even two armies can save you.” I materialized a current of sparks, holding it close to the commander’s face. “You will answer for all you’ve done.”
I let Hazlitt go and shot that current into the commander, dropping his lifeless body to the dirt. It was an accomplishment that we’d avoided a small battle, but for a long span of seconds, I just stayed there, taking in what Hazlitt had done, and what I’d just done. I’d used the dead. Disturbed them. Sure, they were the enemy, but somehow I still couldn’t shake the feeling like it had been wrong. Nor had it been a fair fight, and the only small comfort to me was that those men hadn’t given the villagers a fair fight either.
“Gods, forgive me,” I muttered.
“Kiena,” Nira laughed, pacing over while the rangers behind me erupted into murmurs. “Goddess, that was—” She pulled me to my feet. “A little bit terrifying, I admit. But incredible!” She slapped my shoulder. “I’ll bet Hazlitt is cowering as we speak! He’s no match for you!”
I was grateful that she was impressed, but certainly Hazlitt was more of a match for me than she thought, and this didn’t feel like the time for celebrating. I turned to my rangers, telling them, “Search for survivors.”
There were none. They searched the entire village, every hut and home that wasn’t on fire. Not a single person was left alive, and Hazlitt’s soldiers had burned all of the food and supplies we’d been storing here. The ride back to the caves was quiet, and though no one left at Northpond needed medical attention, we hurried. Once we returned, I shed my armor and went to find Kingston to deliver the news, locating him in the war room with Oren and a couple others, standing over the large table map. The moment the explanation of what happened at Northpond left my mouth, two of the four councilors bellowed their outrage.