Gilded Serpent, page 29
“You can.” He hauled her to her feet. “One step at a time. One mile at a time. Now walk.”
* * *
The sun flew across the sky even as time seemed to crawl, each step a lifetime.
The world faded in and out of focus, her vision pulsing, her head throbbing, her lip bleeding. She’d lost track of the number of times she found herself on her hands and knees in the snow with no memory of falling. Of the times Marcus had forced water down her throat and then hauled her back to her feet. She couldn’t remember when he’d pulled her arm over his shoulder, only that it was there now, him half-carrying her as they staggered up and down the rolling hills.
And behind them, the sun was setting.
Teriana’s toe caught on something hidden beneath the snow, and she staggered, dragging Marcus down with her.
“It’s only two more miles.”
His voice sounded distant, and though she knew he was tugging on her arm, it was as though she were watching it from outside her own body, not feeling it. She was upright, but her knees wouldn’t hold, wobbling and bending and buckling beneath her.
“Come on, Teriana!”
She tried to rise, but the effort made her retch, muscles twisting with spasms, her stomach forcing up bitter bile even as the fit consumed what little strength she had left.
“Get up!”
The snow was soft. Inviting. She curled in on herself, knees under her chin, vaguely aware of Marcus pleading for her to keep going, of the fear in his voice. But sleep was beckoning her. If she could just rest for a few minutes—
A howl split the air, pulling her back to consciousness.
“Teriana, they’re coming! We need to go!”
Marcus had her under the arms, was dragging her through the snow. But he only made it a few yards before he stumbled and fell, rising to his feet only to repeat the motion.
They wouldn’t make it like this. The wolves were too fast.
“Go.” She whispered the word. “Just go. Get back to Celendrial and make Cassius free my people.”
“No!” He gasped out the word. “That’s something you need to do.”
“Please.” They were both going to die out here if he stayed. And that meant her captured people were doomed. That her mother was doomed. “Please go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Please!” she sobbed, even as the air once again filled with howls, the noise coming from all directions and none.
“No!” He was in her face, tears running down his cheeks. “It’s two miles, Teriana! Are you going to condemn your family because you couldn’t find the energy to crawl two bloody miles?”
She looked away, because it might as well have been two hundred. She had nothing left.
The howls were louder now. She didn’t know why the wolves were being so loud when before they’d always pursued in silence. Perhaps it was because they knew revenge was in sight.
“Your family needs you.” Marcus’s lips pressed against her forehead. “I need you.”
Get up.
She rolled onto her hands and knees.
Move.
She climbed to her feet.
Fight.
The soft thud of paws filled the air, and fear pushed through her exhaustion, adrenaline giving her some strength.
But it was too late.
The wolves were coming up from behind them, minutes away. Seconds.
Marcus pulled his weapon, and Teriana fumbled for her knife, clenching the hilt as she turned.
There were a dozen of them, shapes outlined by the dying rays of the sun. The front-runners bunched their legs, teeth glinting—
Then something shot past Teriana from behind. Wolves, fur black against the white of the snow, raced around her and Marcus, colliding with their pursuers with snarls and flashing teeth.
Another pack.
Teriana stared, fixated on the fight between the enormous creatures, but Marcus pulled on her arm. “This is our chance. Can you walk?”
With the battle raging behind them, Teriana did better than walk. She ran.
53
LYDIA
Being back among the Maarin was both a balm to her soul and a knife to the heart, for as they journeyed, the captain told both her and Dareena what they knew of the fate of the Maarin imprisoned in the Empire, as well as the status of the Empire’s incursion into Arinoquia. And for her part, Lydia told them her own story, Lena and Gwen listening with wide eyes as she explained her flight through the xenthier stem, her meeting Killian, and the deal they’d made.
Of Teriana, the Maarin knew little. Only that she was alive and kept under close guard at all times. But not entirely helpless.
“She managed to secrete a letter out of their camp by way of a healer,” the captain said. “Took some time, but it eventually reached the right hands in Revat.” She gave a rueful shrug. “Kaira rounded up every crew in port at the time and threatened to fill our ships with pig shit if we didn’t break Madoria’s mandate and tell her all that we knew.”
Dareena burst into laughter. “Kaira is a delight.”
“She’s a force not to be denied,” the captain agreed. “Her intent was to turn her eyes to defeating the invaders, but I fear those plans suffered catastrophic disruption with the loss of the fleet in Mudaire’s harbor.”
“That is no coincidence,” Dareena muttered, rubbing her chin. “Lydia, if the legions were to discover and control xenthier paths they could use, how many soldiers could they send to Arinoquia?”
Lydia bit her lip, considering. “They won’t be rash,” she finally said. “They are methodical and strategic in their conquest, and the Senate won’t risk losing control of the provinces for the sake of gaining new territory.”
“A number, Lydia.”
She cursed herself for not having paid more attention to her father’s discussions with his peers. “Ten legions. Somewhere between forty and fifty thousand trained soldiers.”
Dareena’s eyes went distant, then she shook her head. “Kaira could hold back that many. They only have a handful of ships, which means they would need to go by land, and the terrain is bad.” Pointing on the map in front of them, she said, “This is all mangrove swamps, so they can’t march up the coast. They’d have to cross between the swamps and the Uncharted Lands.”
“And then they’d need to get across the Orinok,” the captain said, naming the massive river that formed Gamdesh’s southern border. “It isn’t bridged, which means they’d have to ferry all their soldiers and supplies across. Seems to me their commander picked a poor location to set down roots.”
Unlikely, Lydia thought, shivering at the reference to the man who’d tried to murder her. “He’ll probably build a bridge.”
Dareena made a noncommittal noise, her brow furrowed, and Lydia quickly said, “Don’t discount the young man in command of the legions. He’s tremendously clever, known to win as often with guile as with force. He’s as great a threat as Rufina, of that you can be sure. And…” She swallowed.
“And…,” Dareena pressed.
“Ten legions is only the beginning of what they could rally, if they thought the prize worth the risks,” Lydia said. “They could send another hundred thousand men.”
Dareena’s eyes flicked to the captain. “Is this so?”
The man nodded, his black braids swaying around his face. “Why do you suppose we went to such lengths to keep the West secret from them?”
“But a secret no longer,” Dareena said. “And unless we unite to fight back, the heart of the West will soon be pinned between an army of the godless”—her eyes flicked to Lydia—“and an army of the undead.”
* * *
Using a xenthier path located at sea, the Maarin ship had delivered Lydia to a small port town on the southern coast of Mudamora only days after leaving Mudaire. “I’ll carry on to Serlania to rally the High Lords,” Dareena had said. “You ride fast to Rotahn and track down Killian—it’s a well-traveled road, so you’ll be safe enough. If your theory about tenders and the blight is correct, we need Malahi. And he’s best equipped to get her back.”
Now Lydia stood outside the fortress city of Rotahn as black storm clouds raced west toward the distant mountains, the smell of coming rain heavy in the air.
Stone walls encircled the fortress city, with soldiers in red uniforms patrolling the parapets, their eyes watchful. A steady stream of traffic flowed through the central gate, the soldiers inspecting both people and their carts.
Is he here?
Lydia’s heart skipped, then her pulse sped at the thought Killian might be on the other side of those walls, and she wasn’t certain whether she was excited or terrified. Possibly both.
You’re here to tell him about Malahi, she silently reminded herself. You’re here because you need him to help you rescue her.
But the reminder couldn’t erase the countless hours of daydreams she’d had where their reunion had an entirely different focus. Daydreams where she’d felt his lips on hers, desire curling hot in her belly as she imagined his hands on her body, what it would be like to have him peel the clothes from her skin. What it would be like to have him.
“He is not yours!” she snarled under her breath. “And falling into a bed with Killian isn’t why you’re here.”
Digging her heels into her horse’s sides, she cantered toward the line of traffic, falling in with the people who’d come to market.
As she reached the guards at the gate, she pulled back the white hood of her robes, watching as they inclined their heads.
“Marked One,” the taller man said, “you need not have waited with the common folk.”
“It was no trouble,” she answered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the way everyone was eyeing her with reverence. “I need to speak with Lord Calorian. Can you direct me to him?”
The man’s face shadowed, and unease filled Lydia’s chest. His reaction reminded her of how people had reacted to Killian before he’d won at Alder’s Ford. Back when they blamed him for the invasion. “General Calorian is in his camp north of here,” he answered. “But you’ll need an escort to make the journey.”
“I’ll manage on my own, thank you.”
He shook his head. “The conflict with the Anuk is worse than it has been in a generation,” he said. “They’ve been attacking Mudamorians near the border, and while they wouldn’t hurt a healer, they’d take you. You need an escort, which I’m certain Lady Ria would be glad to arrange.”
Lady Ria was King Serrick’s niece and Malahi’s cousin, and Lydia had little interest in speaking to her. But if what this man said were true, perhaps it was the prudent path. “Very well.”
The soldier assigned an escort to take her to the palace, which was a monstrous building that would have fit in well in Celendrial. A liveried stableboy hurried out to take her horse as another servant came swiftly down the steps, crimson towel across her arms, a golden basin held in one hand. “Marked One,” the woman said as the first drops of rain fell from the sky, splatting against the ground, swiftly turning to a downpour as they moved inside.
“My name is…” Lydia hesitated, because the last thing she needed was word of her presence making it back to Rufina. “Gwen. I seek Lady Ria, as I need an escort to General Calorian’s camp.”
“I will take you to her ladyship directly, Marked One,” the servant answered, leading her through the hallways, which were rich with the smell of scented oils. Her boots thudded on the tiles, which were a gold-veined marble, the endless alcoves filled with artwork in golden frames.
The woman took her to a courtyard garden filled with fountains and flowers, though the sound of them was drowned out by the roar of falling rain. And standing out in the middle of it, her hair plastered to her face and her gown soaked, was a woman.
“My lady?” the servant asked hesitantly, this behavior clearly unexpected. “One of the Marked is here to see you. Healer Gwen.”
The woman lowered her face from the storm, a smile moving to her lips. “Welcome, Marked One. What a glorious moment for you to have arrived. Gespurn has blessed us with early-winter rains, which mark the end of the season of war with the Anuk. Tonight, we will celebrate.”
Rain or not, celebrations weren’t in order, because the Anuk were the least of Mudamora’s concerns. But Lydia inclined her head. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lady. But in truth, I seek only an escort to General Calorian’s camp.”
“He is in no need of healers,” the woman answered, stepping under the cover of the building and accepting a towel from a servant. “The rains make passage through the mountains nearly impossible for the next two months, so his camp will be idle. You could do more good helping those in need within the city, as we’ve long been deprived of a healer’s touch.”
She didn’t have time for this. But before Lydia could open her mouth to politely insist on an escort, the bellow of a horn split the air, making her jump. “What was that?”
Ria blanched. “Impossible. They wouldn’t dare.”
A heartbeat later, a soldier strode rapidly down the corridor toward them. “My lady,” he said, inclining his head. “Marked One. Excuse the interruption, but we’ve received word that a significant force of Anuk is on the march toward the mines.”
“That’s impossible.”
“They’re coming, my lady. Visibility is bad due to the rains, but estimates put their force between two and three thousand.”
Ria’s eyes widened. “The Six help us…”
“General Calorian has moved to intercept, but he’s requested reinforcements. I’ve men gathering, ready to ride at your order.”
“Do it. Then have the gates closed and our walls manned in case Rotahn is attacked.” Ria turned on Lydia. “If you are agreeable, I’d have you go with our forces with all haste. Our losses are destined to be catastrophic.”
Lydia’s blood chilled. “Why do you say that?”
“Because,” Ria answered. “Until reinforcements arrive, General Calorian is outnumbered three to one.”
54
KILLIAN
The scent of rain was thick in the air, the storm rolling in from the south ready to break against the mountains, where it would then dump all the water it carried with it onto the dry ground.
If only it had come a day sooner.
Finn raced toward him, a full quiver flopping on his back, which he handed to Killian.
“You stay here,” he ordered his young friend. “If we call for retreat, you head with the rest of the camp to Rotahn, understood?”
Finn scowled. “I can fight. You know I can.”
“Not this time.” He caught Finn by the shoulders. “You will abide. And if I catch you disobeying me, we’re through.”
“Fine.” The word was clipped, the boy’s eyes shadowed.
“We’re ready to move out, sir!” one of his men shouted over the thunder. Killian nodded, slinging his quiver over his shoulder. But then in his periphery, he saw a large winged shape fall from the sky. Turning, he watched the enormous hawk land on the ground, its outline moving like liquid until what stood before him was not a bird, but a man.
A man he knew.
“Niotin?” The shifter lived in the north and scouted for Dareena. What in the name of the Six was he doing in Rotahn?
“Killian.” The shifter panted for breath, his eyes bloodshot and hooded, one hand braced against a hitching post. “I’ve fell news from the King.”
His blood turned to ice. “What’s happened?”
“The blighters overran Hegeria’s temple,” Niotin said between breaths. “The King and the Royal Army have regained control of the city, but the losses were devastating.”
He couldn’t breathe.
“The King gave me orders to relay: you are to remain in Rotahn and hold the border against the Anuk at all costs. We cannot afford to lose ground against them.”
The words were nothing but noise. “Devastating,” he repeated. “The healers…”
“All dead.” Niotin scrubbed at his eyes. “I was there for their last rites. Rows and rows of them, all dead. And Dareena is missing.” His voice cracked. “Serrick fears her lost.”
All dead.
A dull roar filled his ears, the world around him growing brighter and brighter.
Lydia is dead.
And he’d known she’d been in danger. Known that she needed his help, but instead of being there to protect her, he’d been caught up in Ria’s and Serrick’s plots. Had been slaughtering Anuk raiders when he should’ve been fighting to save everything he loved.
Twisting away from Niotin and Finn, he stumbled to his knees, retching into the mud.
She’s dead.
Dimly, he heard Sonia’s voice. Finn’s frantic explanation of what was wrong. But none of it mattered.
“Killian.” Sonia was next to him. “Your pain is my pain, but we must go. The Anuk are less than an hour away.”
“She’s dead.” Tears flooded down his cheeks. “I should’ve been there.”
Sonia pulled him against her, his forehead pressing against her armored shoulder. “I grieve for her. She was my friend. But we cannot abandon the living for the sake of our grief. The Anuk come for vengeance, and they won’t care that the harm done to their people was at the hands of only Ria and her minions—all living in and near Rotahn will fall to their blades.”
Lydia is dead. He squeezed his eyes shut, seeing her face. Seeing those green eyes that had captivated his soul from the moment he’d first set eyes upon them. “You take the men. You lead. I can’t…”
“You must.” She pushed him back, then gripped the sides of his face and forced him to look at her. “We need you. Do not dishonor everything Lydia fought for by giving up now.”
Get up.
The command echoed in his head, and though he wasn’t sure who’d given it, he obeyed. “Let’s go.”
* * *
They raced up the steep paths leading into the hills, the mountains forming the border barely visible through the thick clouds, the air streaked grey with the deluge of rain falling upon them. The endless narrow streambeds that wove down from the peaks would no longer be dry, instead filled with debris and water, merging together into rivers as they flowed toward the great washes that drained onto the plains.
* * *
The sun flew across the sky even as time seemed to crawl, each step a lifetime.
The world faded in and out of focus, her vision pulsing, her head throbbing, her lip bleeding. She’d lost track of the number of times she found herself on her hands and knees in the snow with no memory of falling. Of the times Marcus had forced water down her throat and then hauled her back to her feet. She couldn’t remember when he’d pulled her arm over his shoulder, only that it was there now, him half-carrying her as they staggered up and down the rolling hills.
And behind them, the sun was setting.
Teriana’s toe caught on something hidden beneath the snow, and she staggered, dragging Marcus down with her.
“It’s only two more miles.”
His voice sounded distant, and though she knew he was tugging on her arm, it was as though she were watching it from outside her own body, not feeling it. She was upright, but her knees wouldn’t hold, wobbling and bending and buckling beneath her.
“Come on, Teriana!”
She tried to rise, but the effort made her retch, muscles twisting with spasms, her stomach forcing up bitter bile even as the fit consumed what little strength she had left.
“Get up!”
The snow was soft. Inviting. She curled in on herself, knees under her chin, vaguely aware of Marcus pleading for her to keep going, of the fear in his voice. But sleep was beckoning her. If she could just rest for a few minutes—
A howl split the air, pulling her back to consciousness.
“Teriana, they’re coming! We need to go!”
Marcus had her under the arms, was dragging her through the snow. But he only made it a few yards before he stumbled and fell, rising to his feet only to repeat the motion.
They wouldn’t make it like this. The wolves were too fast.
“Go.” She whispered the word. “Just go. Get back to Celendrial and make Cassius free my people.”
“No!” He gasped out the word. “That’s something you need to do.”
“Please.” They were both going to die out here if he stayed. And that meant her captured people were doomed. That her mother was doomed. “Please go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Please!” she sobbed, even as the air once again filled with howls, the noise coming from all directions and none.
“No!” He was in her face, tears running down his cheeks. “It’s two miles, Teriana! Are you going to condemn your family because you couldn’t find the energy to crawl two bloody miles?”
She looked away, because it might as well have been two hundred. She had nothing left.
The howls were louder now. She didn’t know why the wolves were being so loud when before they’d always pursued in silence. Perhaps it was because they knew revenge was in sight.
“Your family needs you.” Marcus’s lips pressed against her forehead. “I need you.”
Get up.
She rolled onto her hands and knees.
Move.
She climbed to her feet.
Fight.
The soft thud of paws filled the air, and fear pushed through her exhaustion, adrenaline giving her some strength.
But it was too late.
The wolves were coming up from behind them, minutes away. Seconds.
Marcus pulled his weapon, and Teriana fumbled for her knife, clenching the hilt as she turned.
There were a dozen of them, shapes outlined by the dying rays of the sun. The front-runners bunched their legs, teeth glinting—
Then something shot past Teriana from behind. Wolves, fur black against the white of the snow, raced around her and Marcus, colliding with their pursuers with snarls and flashing teeth.
Another pack.
Teriana stared, fixated on the fight between the enormous creatures, but Marcus pulled on her arm. “This is our chance. Can you walk?”
With the battle raging behind them, Teriana did better than walk. She ran.
53
LYDIA
Being back among the Maarin was both a balm to her soul and a knife to the heart, for as they journeyed, the captain told both her and Dareena what they knew of the fate of the Maarin imprisoned in the Empire, as well as the status of the Empire’s incursion into Arinoquia. And for her part, Lydia told them her own story, Lena and Gwen listening with wide eyes as she explained her flight through the xenthier stem, her meeting Killian, and the deal they’d made.
Of Teriana, the Maarin knew little. Only that she was alive and kept under close guard at all times. But not entirely helpless.
“She managed to secrete a letter out of their camp by way of a healer,” the captain said. “Took some time, but it eventually reached the right hands in Revat.” She gave a rueful shrug. “Kaira rounded up every crew in port at the time and threatened to fill our ships with pig shit if we didn’t break Madoria’s mandate and tell her all that we knew.”
Dareena burst into laughter. “Kaira is a delight.”
“She’s a force not to be denied,” the captain agreed. “Her intent was to turn her eyes to defeating the invaders, but I fear those plans suffered catastrophic disruption with the loss of the fleet in Mudaire’s harbor.”
“That is no coincidence,” Dareena muttered, rubbing her chin. “Lydia, if the legions were to discover and control xenthier paths they could use, how many soldiers could they send to Arinoquia?”
Lydia bit her lip, considering. “They won’t be rash,” she finally said. “They are methodical and strategic in their conquest, and the Senate won’t risk losing control of the provinces for the sake of gaining new territory.”
“A number, Lydia.”
She cursed herself for not having paid more attention to her father’s discussions with his peers. “Ten legions. Somewhere between forty and fifty thousand trained soldiers.”
Dareena’s eyes went distant, then she shook her head. “Kaira could hold back that many. They only have a handful of ships, which means they would need to go by land, and the terrain is bad.” Pointing on the map in front of them, she said, “This is all mangrove swamps, so they can’t march up the coast. They’d have to cross between the swamps and the Uncharted Lands.”
“And then they’d need to get across the Orinok,” the captain said, naming the massive river that formed Gamdesh’s southern border. “It isn’t bridged, which means they’d have to ferry all their soldiers and supplies across. Seems to me their commander picked a poor location to set down roots.”
Unlikely, Lydia thought, shivering at the reference to the man who’d tried to murder her. “He’ll probably build a bridge.”
Dareena made a noncommittal noise, her brow furrowed, and Lydia quickly said, “Don’t discount the young man in command of the legions. He’s tremendously clever, known to win as often with guile as with force. He’s as great a threat as Rufina, of that you can be sure. And…” She swallowed.
“And…,” Dareena pressed.
“Ten legions is only the beginning of what they could rally, if they thought the prize worth the risks,” Lydia said. “They could send another hundred thousand men.”
Dareena’s eyes flicked to the captain. “Is this so?”
The man nodded, his black braids swaying around his face. “Why do you suppose we went to such lengths to keep the West secret from them?”
“But a secret no longer,” Dareena said. “And unless we unite to fight back, the heart of the West will soon be pinned between an army of the godless”—her eyes flicked to Lydia—“and an army of the undead.”
* * *
Using a xenthier path located at sea, the Maarin ship had delivered Lydia to a small port town on the southern coast of Mudamora only days after leaving Mudaire. “I’ll carry on to Serlania to rally the High Lords,” Dareena had said. “You ride fast to Rotahn and track down Killian—it’s a well-traveled road, so you’ll be safe enough. If your theory about tenders and the blight is correct, we need Malahi. And he’s best equipped to get her back.”
Now Lydia stood outside the fortress city of Rotahn as black storm clouds raced west toward the distant mountains, the smell of coming rain heavy in the air.
Stone walls encircled the fortress city, with soldiers in red uniforms patrolling the parapets, their eyes watchful. A steady stream of traffic flowed through the central gate, the soldiers inspecting both people and their carts.
Is he here?
Lydia’s heart skipped, then her pulse sped at the thought Killian might be on the other side of those walls, and she wasn’t certain whether she was excited or terrified. Possibly both.
You’re here to tell him about Malahi, she silently reminded herself. You’re here because you need him to help you rescue her.
But the reminder couldn’t erase the countless hours of daydreams she’d had where their reunion had an entirely different focus. Daydreams where she’d felt his lips on hers, desire curling hot in her belly as she imagined his hands on her body, what it would be like to have him peel the clothes from her skin. What it would be like to have him.
“He is not yours!” she snarled under her breath. “And falling into a bed with Killian isn’t why you’re here.”
Digging her heels into her horse’s sides, she cantered toward the line of traffic, falling in with the people who’d come to market.
As she reached the guards at the gate, she pulled back the white hood of her robes, watching as they inclined their heads.
“Marked One,” the taller man said, “you need not have waited with the common folk.”
“It was no trouble,” she answered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the way everyone was eyeing her with reverence. “I need to speak with Lord Calorian. Can you direct me to him?”
The man’s face shadowed, and unease filled Lydia’s chest. His reaction reminded her of how people had reacted to Killian before he’d won at Alder’s Ford. Back when they blamed him for the invasion. “General Calorian is in his camp north of here,” he answered. “But you’ll need an escort to make the journey.”
“I’ll manage on my own, thank you.”
He shook his head. “The conflict with the Anuk is worse than it has been in a generation,” he said. “They’ve been attacking Mudamorians near the border, and while they wouldn’t hurt a healer, they’d take you. You need an escort, which I’m certain Lady Ria would be glad to arrange.”
Lady Ria was King Serrick’s niece and Malahi’s cousin, and Lydia had little interest in speaking to her. But if what this man said were true, perhaps it was the prudent path. “Very well.”
The soldier assigned an escort to take her to the palace, which was a monstrous building that would have fit in well in Celendrial. A liveried stableboy hurried out to take her horse as another servant came swiftly down the steps, crimson towel across her arms, a golden basin held in one hand. “Marked One,” the woman said as the first drops of rain fell from the sky, splatting against the ground, swiftly turning to a downpour as they moved inside.
“My name is…” Lydia hesitated, because the last thing she needed was word of her presence making it back to Rufina. “Gwen. I seek Lady Ria, as I need an escort to General Calorian’s camp.”
“I will take you to her ladyship directly, Marked One,” the servant answered, leading her through the hallways, which were rich with the smell of scented oils. Her boots thudded on the tiles, which were a gold-veined marble, the endless alcoves filled with artwork in golden frames.
The woman took her to a courtyard garden filled with fountains and flowers, though the sound of them was drowned out by the roar of falling rain. And standing out in the middle of it, her hair plastered to her face and her gown soaked, was a woman.
“My lady?” the servant asked hesitantly, this behavior clearly unexpected. “One of the Marked is here to see you. Healer Gwen.”
The woman lowered her face from the storm, a smile moving to her lips. “Welcome, Marked One. What a glorious moment for you to have arrived. Gespurn has blessed us with early-winter rains, which mark the end of the season of war with the Anuk. Tonight, we will celebrate.”
Rain or not, celebrations weren’t in order, because the Anuk were the least of Mudamora’s concerns. But Lydia inclined her head. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lady. But in truth, I seek only an escort to General Calorian’s camp.”
“He is in no need of healers,” the woman answered, stepping under the cover of the building and accepting a towel from a servant. “The rains make passage through the mountains nearly impossible for the next two months, so his camp will be idle. You could do more good helping those in need within the city, as we’ve long been deprived of a healer’s touch.”
She didn’t have time for this. But before Lydia could open her mouth to politely insist on an escort, the bellow of a horn split the air, making her jump. “What was that?”
Ria blanched. “Impossible. They wouldn’t dare.”
A heartbeat later, a soldier strode rapidly down the corridor toward them. “My lady,” he said, inclining his head. “Marked One. Excuse the interruption, but we’ve received word that a significant force of Anuk is on the march toward the mines.”
“That’s impossible.”
“They’re coming, my lady. Visibility is bad due to the rains, but estimates put their force between two and three thousand.”
Ria’s eyes widened. “The Six help us…”
“General Calorian has moved to intercept, but he’s requested reinforcements. I’ve men gathering, ready to ride at your order.”
“Do it. Then have the gates closed and our walls manned in case Rotahn is attacked.” Ria turned on Lydia. “If you are agreeable, I’d have you go with our forces with all haste. Our losses are destined to be catastrophic.”
Lydia’s blood chilled. “Why do you say that?”
“Because,” Ria answered. “Until reinforcements arrive, General Calorian is outnumbered three to one.”
54
KILLIAN
The scent of rain was thick in the air, the storm rolling in from the south ready to break against the mountains, where it would then dump all the water it carried with it onto the dry ground.
If only it had come a day sooner.
Finn raced toward him, a full quiver flopping on his back, which he handed to Killian.
“You stay here,” he ordered his young friend. “If we call for retreat, you head with the rest of the camp to Rotahn, understood?”
Finn scowled. “I can fight. You know I can.”
“Not this time.” He caught Finn by the shoulders. “You will abide. And if I catch you disobeying me, we’re through.”
“Fine.” The word was clipped, the boy’s eyes shadowed.
“We’re ready to move out, sir!” one of his men shouted over the thunder. Killian nodded, slinging his quiver over his shoulder. But then in his periphery, he saw a large winged shape fall from the sky. Turning, he watched the enormous hawk land on the ground, its outline moving like liquid until what stood before him was not a bird, but a man.
A man he knew.
“Niotin?” The shifter lived in the north and scouted for Dareena. What in the name of the Six was he doing in Rotahn?
“Killian.” The shifter panted for breath, his eyes bloodshot and hooded, one hand braced against a hitching post. “I’ve fell news from the King.”
His blood turned to ice. “What’s happened?”
“The blighters overran Hegeria’s temple,” Niotin said between breaths. “The King and the Royal Army have regained control of the city, but the losses were devastating.”
He couldn’t breathe.
“The King gave me orders to relay: you are to remain in Rotahn and hold the border against the Anuk at all costs. We cannot afford to lose ground against them.”
The words were nothing but noise. “Devastating,” he repeated. “The healers…”
“All dead.” Niotin scrubbed at his eyes. “I was there for their last rites. Rows and rows of them, all dead. And Dareena is missing.” His voice cracked. “Serrick fears her lost.”
All dead.
A dull roar filled his ears, the world around him growing brighter and brighter.
Lydia is dead.
And he’d known she’d been in danger. Known that she needed his help, but instead of being there to protect her, he’d been caught up in Ria’s and Serrick’s plots. Had been slaughtering Anuk raiders when he should’ve been fighting to save everything he loved.
Twisting away from Niotin and Finn, he stumbled to his knees, retching into the mud.
She’s dead.
Dimly, he heard Sonia’s voice. Finn’s frantic explanation of what was wrong. But none of it mattered.
“Killian.” Sonia was next to him. “Your pain is my pain, but we must go. The Anuk are less than an hour away.”
“She’s dead.” Tears flooded down his cheeks. “I should’ve been there.”
Sonia pulled him against her, his forehead pressing against her armored shoulder. “I grieve for her. She was my friend. But we cannot abandon the living for the sake of our grief. The Anuk come for vengeance, and they won’t care that the harm done to their people was at the hands of only Ria and her minions—all living in and near Rotahn will fall to their blades.”
Lydia is dead. He squeezed his eyes shut, seeing her face. Seeing those green eyes that had captivated his soul from the moment he’d first set eyes upon them. “You take the men. You lead. I can’t…”
“You must.” She pushed him back, then gripped the sides of his face and forced him to look at her. “We need you. Do not dishonor everything Lydia fought for by giving up now.”
Get up.
The command echoed in his head, and though he wasn’t sure who’d given it, he obeyed. “Let’s go.”
* * *
They raced up the steep paths leading into the hills, the mountains forming the border barely visible through the thick clouds, the air streaked grey with the deluge of rain falling upon them. The endless narrow streambeds that wove down from the peaks would no longer be dry, instead filled with debris and water, merging together into rivers as they flowed toward the great washes that drained onto the plains.
