What family had lived here? Were the statues a likeness of the people who had called this place their home? Surely not. No one was so handsome in real life.
Amicia stopped in front of a knight. His armor had been carved with such detail she could see the scratch marks from battles long before. Staring up into his cold, vacant eyes, she lifted the torch higher just so she could see more of the details.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
The carved figure was so lifelike, she would have sworn the marble eyes turned to look at her and his lips pursed as though he would answer her.
Something shattered down the hall, glass or perhaps some kind of pottery against the floor. Amicia ducked into the small alcove behind the knight.
What was it her father always said? Where there is one Dread, there are many.
As if in slow motion, the back of the knight shifted. A large slab of marble had propped it against the wall, holding it up for all eternity. But when she moved behind it, the statue shifted.
Amicia put her back against the stone and wedged her feet against the wall. Another shard cracked. She caught it just before it hit the ground, but also dropped her torch as well.
The fabric at the end hit the floor while the wooden handle thankfully landed on her foot. All the sounds were muffled.
Please don’t be loud enough for something to hear, she thought.
Amicia remained frozen in the shadows, hidden behind the blocky form of the knight, holding it in place. Her fire flickered, then guttered out. Something approached down the hall. She knew the sound all too well, and it made her breath catch in her chest.
Strange tapping, followed by the slow slithering of a tail.
The Dread had found her. How? She had been so careful, and none of them had seen her cross the lake or she would have heard the flapping of their wings. Her footprints wouldn’t be left in the snow, not with the wind covering them.
She held herself still. The Dread was nearly upon her, but this time there was another sound attached to its movement. The sound of something heavy being dragged.
Holding her breath, she shifted position and peered around the knight’s shoulder. The Dread walking toward her pulled a body behind itself. A man, unconscious and limp. The creature held the man’s collar and pulled him down the long hall. It didn’t seem inconvenienced by the additional weight.
As she watched, time seemed to slow. The Dread pulled the man past her and she stared down into a familiar face. Remy. He’d survived Little Marsh--perhaps others had, too. A bloom of hope grew in her chest.
An unkempt beard covered his chin, and Amicia had told him many times to cut it. Remy wasn’t old enough to grow a beard, even though he was a man now. He wanted people to think of him as older, so he didn’t mind if his beard was patchy. At least he looked like he was trying.
The Dread stomped down the hall but did not enter the kitchens as she feared. Instead, it went through a different door on the left she hadn’t noticed, then disappeared from sight with her townsman in tow.
Amicia’s fingers had yet to find feeling in them. She was cold, tired, and scared out of her wits. This place was infested with the Dread. It seemed there was nowhere she could hide from them.
Her knees shook and her palms slicked with sweat. She was frozen in place, incapable of moving even the slightest. She was stuck. Where could she go when she had wandered into the den of beasts?
Her father’s voice whispered in her ear, Rational thinking, dear one. Think.
A chateau this large must have some kind of cottage nearby where the huntsmen might have lived. That would be safer than staying in this building teeming with the very creatures who had hunted her people down.
A single woman couldn’t save anyone from the clutches of hundreds of beasts. They were stronger. It didn’t matter her gut told her to help. She couldn’t save Remy. She shouldn’t even try, else she lose her own life.
Amicia searched the hall for any of the other Dread. No one stepped forward, and the only sound was the whistling of the wind. A gust of air brushed snow onto the marble floors through the nearest broken window.
Carefully, she let the statue lean back against the wall, propped once more. She hopped down from the alcove and took one step toward the window. Though the shards of glass made it more dangerous, she could step out onto the grounds and be gone in a moment’s notice.
From the door on the left, came a shout of fear.
“No!” Remy’s voice echoed through the hall. “No, please don’t!”
She winced. The window was so close. Her freedom was right there, and there was nothing she could do to stop Remy from whatever fate he now faced.
Don’t, she warned herself. Amicia, don’t.
But her feet turned on their own accord. She reached down and pulled off her boots. And though her toes ached with the cold, she was still silent in each step closer to the door.
The Dread were just beyond.
Amicia pressed her hand against the closed entrance. She could almost feel the panic in the room beyond where Remy continued to shout for mercy. There would only be one chance, and if they saw her…
She didn’t want to think about that.
Slowly, she eased her shoulder against the door and let it swing open just enough for her to poke her head through.
Arches outlined the long hallway that led to a throne. A second level above the arches made it look like a monastery, or perhaps a courtroom where prisoners awaited judgement. Each arch was carved out of white marble, lilies of the valley and English ivy decorating every inch. The floor was white and black checkered, seeming to draw the eye to the throne at the end of the hallway.
Amicia’s eyes found him. The largest Dread she had ever seen, and the others were much larger than a human. But this one? This one could only be their king.
He lounged on the throne, so tall his crimson wings draped over the back and their tips folded onto the floor. His legs were as large as tree trunks, his tail coiled around an ankle and tipped with a wicked barb. The other Dread were gray skinned, but his skin was like charcoal. Twin horns rose from his head, larger than life and twisted back toward his skull. Matted dark hair hung between the horns and rested atop his arms, his hair nearly longer than hers.
She’d seen nothing like him before.
The Dread dragged Remy to the throne where it tossed him like a child dropping a doll. Remy turned onto hands and knees, begging the large Dread to release him.
“Please,” he whimpered, his words echoing in the hall. “I am but a poor servant. I’ve done nothing. I beg you for mercy.”
She’d never heard the Dread speak. And this creature was no different. When he lifted a hand, the sound of a hundred wings beat through the air.
Amicia looked up at the second level of arches. Twin walls of the Dread stepped forward to stare down at Remy. There were more than she could count, all standing at attention, their wings folded back, their gray faces grim.
There would be no mercy here. And there was no way for her to save Remy, not with so many of the Dread who would kill her on sight.
Her fingers clenched on the door. She stared at the largest of the Dread, who had his hand raised. Slowly, his fingers curled into his palm, his thumb remaining up. Then, he tilted his hand down until the clawed thumb pointed at the ground.
“What does that mean?” Remy asked, his voice frantic. “What does that mean?”
The Dread behind him stepped forward, lifted a clawed hand, and brought it down upon Remy’s back. Three ragged tears sliced through Remy’s shirt. Three bloody lines appeared, blood oozing from them and dripping down his back.