by T. A. White
Ajari stopped outside the entrance and placed Shea’s palm against the stone. It gleamed yellow. The rock began moving, closing off the archway of moments before.
Then they were out, standing in the bowl with the butte behind them.
Ajari dumped her on her feet. She wavered but remained upright, blood coating her skin.
He took the necklace she’d given him, snapping it in half.
“Covath wanted that,” she stated, not particularly caring one way or another. The events had drained her. It was hard to think, let alone feel.
“That thing is pure evil. It subsumes the will,” Ajari said, his eyes flaring and a slight growl filtering through his voice. “It cannot be allowed to exist.”
Shea didn’t bother protesting. At least she hadn’t been the one to destroy it. Covath could take it up with his friend.
“What are you doing here?” Shea asked Trenton.
“You didn’t think I was going back to my warlord without you, did you?” he replied. “Your friend over there helped me survive.”
Shea looked up at Ajari, suddenly all the times he’d disappeared toward the end began to make sense.
“Is that thing dead?” Trenton asked.
“Doubtful,” he replied. “Though he’s significantly weakened. I had not thought to see a blade dipped in silveright again. We believed all of them had been destroyed. You’re lucky. That’s probably the only reason we escaped with our lives.”
Shea didn’t feel lucky as she held the Lux to her chest, its gleaming light a dim shimmer. In fact, she was struggling to feel anything at all.
The Lux had done something to her, drained her of those bits that made her Shea.
The journey home stretched before her, a vast, insurmountable obstacle, when all she really wanted was to lie down and sleep for a thousand years.
Shea’s movements were weary as she turned back the way they’d come earlier that day. She trudged away from the butte—the only thing keeping her from toppling over was the knowledge that Trenton would be forced to remain with her if she did so—well that and the promise she’d given Fallon. It seemed unimportant now, but something inside wouldn’t let her give up.
“Shea,” Trenton called.
“Time to go home,” she told him in a tired voice.
“What about that thing?” he asked.
She shrugged. “If my ancestors couldn’t destroy it with all the power at their disposal, I’m not going to assume I can do any better.”
She’d done her part. She’d recovered the Lux, given the mythological back his charm, and killed her first love. She didn’t have anything left to give. Someone else could deal with putting an end to the dark for good.
A small part of her said it wasn’t possible. Fear, hate and anger fed him. There was no shortage of any of those emotions in the Broken Lands. Until they were non-existent, he would be a clear and ever-present danger to those who lived there.
Still, for now, she’d won, taken care of the most pressing threat and set him back years, even if it didn’t feel like she’d come out victorious at the moment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Going home turned out to be easier said than done.
Shea and Trenton were still trapped near the heart of the Badlands with little in the way of supplies. The confrontation in the butte had left her wounded. Granted the wounds were small, the grass hadn’t been long enough to do serious damage, but there were many cuts. The blood loss left her woozy and tired.
Trenton lent a supporting hand more than once, keeping her upright and moving in a straight line when she would have stumbled around like a drunken bee.
To her surprise, Ajari hadn’t wandered off. Whether that was because of some sense of duty or he was waiting until he got hungry to eat them, she couldn’t guess.
Either way, his presence at their side meant many of the beasts inhabiting the Badlands gave them a wide berth—a fact she was grateful for. She wasn’t sure she had enough strength to help fend off any attacks had it just been Trenton and her.
For the most part, the trip passed in a haze. Shea preoccupied herself with simply setting one foot in front of the other as they made the arduous journey away from the heart.
Their walk lasted an eternity, the breaks few and far between. Shea knew if she sat, if she rested, she wasn’t getting back up. For that reason, she pushed on. Trenton trailed after her, the ever, diligent guard. It was for his sake as well as hers that she eventually stopped long enough to sleep and replenish her water.
She made a small sound of protestation when Trenton took the water Ajari found for them.
“It’s not the first water here I’ve drunk,” he assured her. “It’s already done its damage.”
Shea’s half-hearted protest remained locked behind her lips. They really had no choice. The water Ajari brought her soothed her throat and filled her with a brief warmth. Even with the coldness that gripped her, it was hard not to demand more, to not find the nearest source and bury her head in it.
It was near nightfall when Covath landed on a tall rock formation near them.
Shea knew she should feel surprise, fear or any array of emotions, but she didn’t. His appearance seemed somewhat appropriate.
Trenton stood from where he’d been crouched examining something, his gaze watchful as Covath leapt down in a graceful move, landing not far from them.
Ajari straightened, his shoulders stiff as his gaze locked on the dark wings that flared behind Covath before he folded them, holding them tightly to his back.
Covath’s gaze was dismissive as his attention moved between Shea and Trenton before being caught by the mythological at her side.
There was a relationship there. Though neither showed any emotion at the sight of the other, there was the slightest softening in Covath that spoke of relief. Or maybe he just had gas.
At least someone in this motley band was happy, Shea thought.
“You kept part of the bargain, human,” Covath said. “Now for the rest. Where is the controller?”
Shea just stared at him.
“It’s broken,” she told him. “It snapped in the fight.”
She opened her hand to show him the two pieces Ajari had handed back to her. She ignored Ajari’s gaze, too busy staring Covath down.
His lips pulled back in a sneer that flashed his sharp fangs. “That was not part of the deal.”
She shrugged, the motion careless. “You never said it had to be in one piece.”
Covath gave her a look of disgust. She watched with emotionless eyes as he walked over to the mythological. “Let’s go.”
Ajari looked at her, for the first time his face unsure.
Shea gave him a tired wave. The dark at the center of the heart had burned out much of her self-preservation, taking fear with it. If he wanted to leave, she wouldn’t stop him. He’d stayed with her far longer than she had any right to expect. It wasn’t like she’d be alone anyway. Trenton wouldn’t abandon her.
It was clear, now that their common enemy had been slain, Covath was more than willing to return them to the way things had always been. Humans, mythologicals, and beasts— enemies only. If he wanted to remain mired in the past, doomed to repeat its mistakes, Shea wasn’t going to argue. She simply didn’t have the energy to tell him what a short-sighted nincompoop he was being.
Maybe he would figure it out on his own. Maybe not.
Orion landed a fair distance away, his hooves making a clopping sound as he pranced across the hard ground.
Covath looked at him in surprise. “Orion, I did not summon you.”
The horse shook its head, his mane flying everywhere, before he reared onto his back legs.
Ajari seemed to find his voice at Orion’s arrival, stepping forward and lifting his chin in a challenging manner. “I owe her a life debt. Transport out of here would make a start in its discharge.”
Covath didn’t look happy with Ajar
i’s statement, his face resigned. “Fine.” He turned his gaze on Shea. “We’ll give you a ride out of here in thanks for your services.”
“And Trenton?” she asked.
Covath curled his lip. “That is up to Orion.”
The horse tossed his head and reared, pawing the air with his hooves. A loud nicker escaped him. Another whicker answered him as another one of Orion’s herd landed not far from Trenton.
“There are others we left behind as well,” Trenton said, seizing advantage of the seeming goodwill. “One of them has a broken leg.”
Ajari watched Orion before giving Trenton a respectful nod. “They know. Some of their herd have already offered them a ride.”
Trenton’s face reflected surprise. They hadn’t thought to be so fortunate.
“You grow soft in your old age,” Covath told Orion in a dour voice.
Orion let out an ear-splitting neigh. He stomped his front hooves and gave a violent shake of his head, glaring at Shea.
She took it as her cue and trudged toward the horse. If this meant she didn’t have to walk anymore, she wasn’t going to look the gift horse with wings in the mouth or question its motives.
It took some doing, but Shea managed to mount with Trenton’s help, arranging her tired, aching body over Orion’s back.
“We’re not going to speak of this when we get home,” Shea told him in reference to his assistance. The Trateri would never let her live it down if they knew. They believed only invalids and the weak needed help with mounting.
He gave her a thinly hidden smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. “There she is. My prickly battle queen—the one convinced she can survive anything. I have missed her.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
He patted her leg and stepped back. “We all have our secrets. I’ll thank you not to scare me like that again. I saw visions of my death by torture at Caden’s hand when we found your father and he told us what had happened. It is not an experience I wish to repeat.”
Shea could see how that might be. “Thank you for coming for me.”
He gave her a respectful nod. “I will always come for my battle queen, even if my warlord had not commanded me to do so.”
The words touched that spot deep inside Shea that had seemed encased in ice since the confrontation. It warmed her, just barely.
Trenton stepped back and walked over to his horse.
The jolt as they took to the skies barely registered, the fear of falling that had plagued her on the previous journey was gone. She looked behind her to see Covath take Ajari into his arms and leap into the air, his wings beating as he followed.
Shea laid her head against Orion’s neck, his mane brushing her face as she watched the world pass by under her, a tapestry of hills broken by steep canyons, treacherous ravines and wide-open plains.
Every wing beat taking her further from the heart lifted a weight from her, making the darkness shrouding her thoughts just a little bit lighter. The numbness inside still clung to her, but it wasn’t as all-encompassing.
She simply existed in the moment, trying not to think, letting the world drift below her. Worry was impossible. She was grateful to be free of its burden.
*
It was on the morning of the ninth day that they passed the ruins of the first demarcation. It was also the first day that Shea felt something like relief. She wasn’t safe yet, not by a long shot, but things were better than they had been the day before.
Sometimes that was all you could ask for.
It wasn’t until Orion let out a sharp whinny that Shea started paying attention again.
She looked ahead to where he nodded. A miles long line of dust rose into the air.
She sat forward on the winged horse’s back, faint curiosity taking hold.
It took the better part of an hour to get close enough to see what had caused that strange phenomenon. A long line of people on horseback marched in a steady progress toward the border of the first demarcation.
They looked tiny at the moment, but Shea thought their armor and banners looked familiar. It occurred to her she was looking at a warband, riding rapidly for the ruins of the wall.
The horse flew lower, proving her guess correct. Those banners belonged to the clans. She recognized them.
“Fallon,” she said in a soft voice.
She shook her head. Impossible. She’d left him close to death. There was no way he would have recovered quickly enough to lead an army to the Badlands’ doorstep.
Either way, they were Trateri. She should probably stop to let them know their assistance was unnecessary.
She leaned forward and tapped Orion on the shoulder and pointed down. He let out a snort before changing course. Trenton’s horse did the same.
Orion flew in a wide circle over the army, letting Shea get a glimpse of those who’d followed her. They saw her too, pointing and gesturing. Weapons were drawn, though no one released any arrows.
Orion finished his flyover, ending at the frontline of the army. He landed a short distance away, before trotting toward the banner that flew higher than any others—a hawk on the bluest of backgrounds.
It followed Fallon into every battle. She’d never seen it fly when he wasn’t present. That hope deep inside strengthened.
As she drew near, a horse broke from the rest, slowly cantering towards her. The man on its back was as familiar to Shea as her own face.
A few more emotions broke through the dam in her heart—relief, happiness, joy, touching her before sliding away.
His face was a hard mask as he neared, fire and lightning in his eyes. His gaze traveled over her, noting the blood-stained clothes, the gaunt look of her form—she’d lost weight. Her eyes were haunted, and she looked like she might topple over at any second.
Neither spoke for a long moment.
Shea found her eyes drawn to his chest, her mind throwing up images of the way he’d looked lying on the floor of their home, blood pouring from him, his face as pale as the clouds above.
“I’m surprised you’re upright,” she finally said.
Fallon shifted in his seat. “Yes, well, when one’s battle queen jaunts off to take on the entirety of the Badlands alone, you’re not given the luxury of remaining behind to nurse your wounds.”
Shea flinched. Her eyes rose to his. Those words felt like an accusation—one she probably deserved. He had every right to be angry. She’d left him hurt and alone. Maybe her reasons were good, but that brought cold comfort.
His lips parted and he looked like he might speak, his face softening slightly. His gaze turned to Trenton as her guard dismounted from his winged horse and approached the two of them with trepidation.
“I should have you killed, right after thanking you for bringing her back safe,” Fallon rumbled, his voice a dark threat.
Trenton inclined his head, his expression resigned as he accepted his warlord’s judgement.
“You won’t do anything of the kind,” Shea responded in a strong voice. “He did as his battle queen ordered. By your own words when you offered me this title, you cannot challenge that.”
Fallon’s gaze returned to her. He didn’t look happy to have his orders challenged. Before he could say anything, Covath landed beside her. He was alone and she assumed he’d found a spot to set down Ajari before coming here.
He looked between the two of them, his lip curling at the sight of Fallon. “You reek of weakness.”
Fallon observed Covath with an expressionless face, not reacting to the words, ones that would sting the proud man he was. “And you stink of desperation,” Fallon said in a remote voice. He looked the mythological over and arched an eyebrow. “I suppose I have you to blame for my battle queen’s involvement in this mad scheme.”
Shea smothered a sigh.
“Fallon, this is Covath, the leader of his people. Covath, this is Fallon Hawkvale, Warlord of the Trateri, conqueror of the Lowlands.” To Fallon s
he said, “Play nice. He’s considering an alliance.”
Covath’s shoulders lifted at that statement, his wings rustling behind him.
Fallon gave him a once over, his gaze assessing. “Are you now? Strange way of showing it.”
Covath gave him a sneer before flicking a gaze Shea’s way. He stared at her for a long moment before his chest expanded. “We had thought your kind useless, prone to treachery and subterfuge. Your battle queen has forced us to reconsider that assumption.”
Fallon lifted an eyebrow, seeming unsurprised as his hands firmed on his reins pulling his warhorse up short when it would have tried to bite Covath. “Shea has that effect on people.”
“I am beginning to see that.” Covath didn’t sound pleased about it. He studied the two of them before gazing at the army stretched out behind Fallon. “My flock has had treaties with humans in the past. They’ve never held.”
“The world has changed in the centuries your kind have been gone,” Shea said. “It’s not what it once was.”
Covath stared off into the distance, his thoughts locked behind an inscrutable expression. “Ajari says you’re different. He has been quite insistent on it,” he told Shea. “He’s interested in seeing what else you’re capable of. He seems to think if it’s with you, then an alliance might benefit us both.”
Shea didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m honored to have his regard.”
Covath gave a small grunt. “Ajari is our guiding light. If he thinks this is possible, we will consider a temporary alliance. Be aware, we will judge you harshly, and at the first sign you’re not to be trusted, we will return to being enemies.”
Fallon inclined his head. “We would expect nothing less.”
Fallon lifted his leg over the horse, dismounting with a stiff gait. Shea noticed the pain he was masking, the tentative way he moved. Her gaze went to where she knew his wound was, expecting to see blood. There was nothing, but that didn’t reassure her.
Covath didn’t move, watching as Fallon approached him with slow steps. Fallon held out his dominant hand in the way of the Trateri. Covath looked at it with some confusion before he understood what Fallon wanted. With hesitation, Covath clasped it.
