Iron Breakers: The Floodgates (Iron Breakers Book 3)

by Zaya Feli

  Ren might have cried out. Struggled. Clawed at Anik's arms. Anik just held him. Ren was vaguely aware of people talking around them, but he didn't hear what they were saying. He wanted to run to his and Anik's room and get the wolfsblood, but the part of his brain that knew better kept him where he was. Ren's muscles burned from the pain of sobbing. After, he simply sat there, wide-eyed and staring at the stretch of fabric in front of his eyes until Anik's voice gave him something else to focus on.

  “We can't sit here.”

  Slowly, Ren raised his head. Anik's grip had loosened a little. His muscles ached when he stretched. He stared into Anik's eyes. They were red-rimmed and glassy. “He could still make it,” he whispered. His throat felt raw. “He could still live.”

  “Ren.”

  “No,” Ren said, panic rising again. He wrapped his hands around Anik's elbows, holding on tight. “You don't understand.” Thais couldn't die. Not Thais. He was meant to get his happy ending, to be king, to fix this mess.

  “I do understand.” Despite the redness of his eyes, Anik's voice was steady. So were his hands when he raised them to cup Ren's cheeks. “I understand. It's too late.”

  Ren looked around. The room had been cleared. They were alone. No, Jayce was there, too, sitting in a chair by the doorway, eyes downcast.

  Slowly, Ren got to his feet, joints clicking from sitting on the cold, hard floor. He turned. The blood stained cloths were gone and someone had removed the blanket and brought in a new one. It covered Thais' body from head to toe.

  Ren reached out. With Thais' head under the blanket, he'd get too hot. He couldn't breathe under there. Ren's hand froze in midair. He knew how irrational his thoughts were. Like this, it didn't even look like it was his brother lying under the blanket. It could be anyone. Just the night before, they had been eating and laughing and talking at Lady Tilla's dinner. Thais couldn't be dead. There'd been a mistake.

  “Let's leave it there.” Anik's voice was soft when he took Ren's wrist and lowered his hand.

  “I don't get it,” Ren said, voice rough from crying. “He was fine.” He looked at Anik, eyes narrowing. “He can't be dead. He was fine.”

  “Let's get out of here,” Anik said, stroking Ren's arms, keeping his hands there as if he was afraid Ren was going to fall again.

  Ren didn't. Instead, he swallowed past the dry, raw patch in his throat and let Anik lead him out. He knew he should say something to Jayce, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him. It felt like a dream, like he was still in bed having nightmares and this was a continuation of the horrors. Only, these horrors were real.

  Anik led Ren back to their room. Ren hardly registered it when Anik sat him down on the edge of the bed and handed him a glass of water. Ren didn't drink until Anik nudged his hand up to his mouth. The cool water soothed his throat, but Ren hardly cared.

  “He wasn't sick. I don't get it,” Ren repeated. He stared at the wall. Someone had tried to soften the rough appearance of the stone with a painting of running dogs, but it just looked misplaced.

  The bed dipped when Anik sat down next to him. Ren heard his deep sigh. Anik ran a hand over his eyes and let it linger there before he dropped it in his lap. “No one noticed you've been sick. He's been hiding it as well as you.”

  Ren put the glass down and hid his face in his hands. How long had Thais been keeping that secret? Weeks? Had he been sick in Aleria? Ren tried to think back, tried to remember any time he had seen Thais coughing, but he couldn't. Then he thought of the time since their reunion and choked back a sob before it could turn into something uglier. “He's been tired ever since we met up with him. He swayed in the saddle and he woke up late every day, but I thought he just wasn't used to being on the road. I thought he was weak. If I had only- ” His throat constricted, cutting off his words. A new wave of despair made his shoulders shake and he took a deep breath to hold it at bay. He felt Anik's hand on his shoulder, drawing him against his warm side. Ren turned to him, soaking up the comfort.

  “It wasn't your fault,” Anik said. “If I had been paying closer attention, I would have noticed the signs like I noticed yours. Blaming yourself for something already done isn't going to help anyone. Ren, look at me.”

  Ren didn't want to obey, but he did anyway, his weak mind desperate for something to soothe it.

  “Thais wouldn't want you to beat yourself up over it. It's not your fault and he didn't think so, either. It runs in your family to carry burdens that you don't have to bear.”

  There was a knock at the door and it began to open, but a sharp shout from Anik had it closing hastily. Ren was thankful. He didn't want to see anyone, didn't think he could handle looking anyone in the eye and thanking them for their pity and their sorrow.

  “What the fuck are we going to do now?” Ren said, “We can't... I can't...”

  Anik hushed him, stroking a hand up the back of his neck. He told Ren not to worry and made sure Ren could sit by himself before getting up and heading for the door. He called for a servant, who returned with something Jayce had given him to help Ren sleep. Ren drank it with the wolfsblood tea that he no longer felt he deserved. It should have been for Thais.

  As the tops of the pines released their grip on the sun outside the window, Ren grew drowsy. When his head drooped, Anik helped him under the blankets. Just when everything was starting to go right again, it came tumbling down, a hundred, a thousand, a million times worse than before. Thais had been right all along. Bastards were bad luck. It was the last thought in Ren's mind before he fell asleep.

  * * *

  It was raining again – big, fat droplets sliding down the windows. The storm had moved east, but it was as if it had ripped a hole in the sky that wouldn't close. It was midday, but outside, it was so dark it might have been twilight.

  Anik hadn't left Ren's side since he'd fallen asleep. The effect of the herbs should have worn off by now, but Ren hadn't woken. Maybe it was the mind's way of protecting itself from the horrors it would have to face when awake. Anik was glad. It was easier on the soul.

  The crown prince was dead.

  Anik rubbed his brow, then leaned against the wall.

  Not even seventeen years old. Far too young. How long had the kid been sick? All along? Anik had been so focused on watching Ren that he hadn't noticed the signs at all.

  He had spoken to Jayce about it briefly in the doorway, their voices hushed to avoid disturbing Ren. Blood lungs was a fast-moving disease. It could take months or just a couple of weeks depending on the strength of the inflicted, but the process was always the same. The sick were bed-bound days before death, burning with fever and barely able to stand. For Thais to be able to fool them right up until his death would have taken immense strength of both body and soul.

  Anik looked down at Ren's sleeping form. His eyes were swollen even in sleep. The tension hadn't quite left him and his hands were clutched against his chest above the blankets. Anik didn't envy what the bastard prince had been through. The loss of his brother and surrogate father, exile from his home, betrayal from friends and family, the revelation of his heritage, and now the death of his remaining brother and their last shred of hope. Ren had endured more than any person should. Anik didn't know much about bloodlines or what it took to rule a country, but he could tell that Thais' death had been a blow not only to Ren, but to them all.

  The fort was silent as a tomb. After Anik had shouted at the first person who tried to enter, no one but Jayce had been by to see them. People crossing through the courtyard below the window spoke too quietly for him to hear and moved with their heads bowed under the awnings.

  Beside him, Ren stirred and Anik instinctively froze, wishing for him to be able to sleep a little longer, but he was already surfacing from sleep, sighing as he grimaced and stretched under the covers. Anik had to watch his expression change from the bliss of sleep into something awful when he remembered the morning's events.

  Ren rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with one hand
. He stayed that way for a long time, long enough that Anik turned his head away and let his eyes track around the room. There wouldn't have been enough wolfsblood thistle for both Ren and Thais. A full-body shiver rolled through Anik at the thought of having to watch Ren die like his brother. After everyone Anik had ever cared about had slipped through his fingers like sand...

  “How long did I sleep?” Ren's voice was hoarse.

  “It's almost noon,” Anik said, turning to look at him.

  Ren pushed himself up to slouch against the headboard. He stared blankly ahead for a long time.

  “I'll have the servants fetch something for lunch. You should try to eat,” Anik said in the same quiet tone.

  Ren shook his head. “I'm not hungry.”

  Anik didn't argue. He was about to get up and go to the door when Ren closed a hand around his wrist.

  Ren's face twisted into a grimace before he got himself under control. “I don't know what to do now. Everything's lost.” He shook his head slowly.

  Anik turned towards him, prying Ren's hand off his wrist and instead lacing their fingers together. Ren returned his grip with surprising strength.

  “It's not lost,” Anik said. “We can still press on. With an army, we can defeat Halvard.”

  “There's no one to take the throne.”

  Anik parted his lips to speak, then swallowed the words. Ren wasn't ready to hear what was on his mind. Not yet, not in this state. He'd reject it, maybe for good. Instead, he said, “Trust your people, Ren. They'll help you like you're trying to help them.”

  Ren nodded slowly. His blue eyes were bloodshot. Another long moment of silence passed between them. Anik didn't push, but let Ren settle himself.

  “I don't want...” Ren paused, swallowed, and tried again. “I don't want him buried in Skarlan.”

  “What do you want to do?” Anik asked, aware of Ren's hand in his own. It was something he'd once have considered a danger.

  The breaths Ren took were deep and measured when he closed his eyes. “I-I don't know. We can't ride back. He should be buried with Hellic and his father, but...”

  “We can cremate him,” Anik suggested.

  Ren looked like he was about to protest, parting his lips to speak, but he only sighed.

  “What's wrong with it?” Anik asked.

  Ren shook his head. “Burning, it's so...conventional. Unremarkable. They burn the bodies of people they can't find room for in the soil. He'll just be dust.”

  “Not dust,” Anik corrected. He reached out and tilted Ren's chin up with two fingers, then brushed a lock of hair from his face. It seemed to startle Ren and make him forget his own sadness for a moment.

  “Ashes are life,” Anik continued. “For my people, burning the dead means they stay a part of the cycle of life and death as much as those who are buried. We spread the ashes of our dead in the woods. It helps the trees and plants grow stronger and creates food for the wildlife we need to survive.”

  “Really?” Ren said. His eyes were wide as a child's.

  Anik nodded.

  “That doesn't sound so bad.”

  Anik smiled. “It's not. And it's certainly not unremarkable. If you don't want his ashes spread here, we can send a rider back to Frayne.”

  Ren nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Okay.” He trembled, as if simply talking about it made his whole being want to protest, but Anik could also see relief spread on his face. It filled Anik's chest with warmth.

  “How about I get some food up here. Something light,” Anik said. Food was as important as the herbs to fight off the sickness that gripped Ren's lungs. “Don't let Frayne lose all its stags.”

  Finally, Ren nodded and released his hand.

  Anik crawled out of bed and crossed the room. Ren's voice made him pause in the doorway.

  “Tell Jayce thank you. I know he tried.”

  “I will,” Anik said, closing his hand against the warmth that lingered in his palm.

  * * *

  There were no bells. No flags of mourning, no deer with black ribbons around their antlers. The rain had stopped, but that was the only kindness the world had to offer. Ren shook in the cold, arms wrapped tight over his chest where he stood on the open field behind Fenn and watched his little brother burn.

  Heat radiated in waves off the pyre, but it didn't reach Ren. Only when Anik wrapped an arm around his shoulders did the trembling begin to subside.

  What kind of funeral had they given Hellic and Callun? Evalyne had assured him they had both been buried in the family grave. Ren would like to think that the court and the public wouldn't have let them spare anything, that they'd been buried with the dignity they deserved.

  There was unease in the ranks. Ren could tell Anik had given strict orders not to disturb him and he knew Evalyne had spoken to the men, but he had no idea what she had said. He knew they were waiting for him, but he wasn't ready. It still felt unreal, and a part of him was still waiting for the bad dream to end.

  A section of the pyre collapsed inwards, sending a cloud of sparks into the air. Everything was too quiet. Ren could hear the cries of the crows circling overhead and the sound reminded him of Feywic and the pile of rotting corpses that had met them in the courtyard, decaying, eaten by birds. The breath hitched in his throat and he tore his gaze from the fire and looked at Anik instead. Their eyes met and Anik must have seen his desperation, because his arm around Ren's shoulders tightened.

  Anik spoke, but Ren didn't understand the words. They were soft and flowing, quiet and light, and Anik dragged them out, changed their rhythm. A song, like nothing Ren had heard before. He watched Anik's lips because he didn't want to look back at the fire. They moved with his song and it grew a little louder. Not because Anik raised his voice, but because others were joining.

  Ren looked around, and he wasn't the only one. All around him, Skarlans and Frayneans turned their heads towards the sound of the Lowlanders' song. One after one, they fell in, joining the deep and haunting tune. Ren didn't understand the words, but some part of him still understood their meaning. The song rose like the calls of wolves on the breeze.

  Ren's gaze returned to Anik. Anik was looking at him still, and his voice stood out above all the others. He'd had no idea Anik could sing. Ren felt the sound burrow under his skin and settle in his bones, bringing with it a calm that eased a bit of that dark, twisting sorrow in his chest. Ren closed his eyes and clung to it until it drowned out everything else. He could no longer hear the cries of the crows.

  * * *

  Leaving Fenn behind was harder than Ren had thought it would be. There was a gaping hole behind him in the formation where Thais used to ride. Leaving Fenn was like leaving his little brother. Some irrational part of him yearned to go back and get him.

  After the pyre had died down, the soldiers had returned to Fenn to prepare for the journey ahead. They stocked up on water, food, and everything else they would need. Evalyne spoke to Ren briefly, informing him in a tone so sympathetic that it gnawed at his heart that she had informed the men that the plan hadn't changed.

  When the ashes had cooled sufficiently, they had returned to the burnt-out remains of the pyre and gathered the ashes. Ren couldn't do it; his hands shook too much. Instead, he watched from a green patch on the field as Anik and a few of the Fraynean soldiers gathered as much as they could into a leather sack and sealed it tight.

  “Cainon will ride back to Frayne with the ashes,” Anik had told him, a hand on Ren's shoulder and his voice low. “When he's finished, he'll ride north to the border and meet us there as we turn east from Iskaal. “I'd trust him with my life, Ren. He'll keep Thais safe.”

  Ren hadn't trusted himself to speak, but had nodded.

  Ren looked to the east, stroking his gelding's warm neck. Somewhere out there, Anik's friend rode with Ren's brother's ashes in a bag. Cainon would spread the ashes in the woods on the Fraynean side of the border. It seemed so surreal.

  Ren knew it wasn't what Thais w
ould have wanted. He would have wanted to go back home, to rest with their parents and Hellic. Ren hoped he'd have understood. He couldn't even remember the last things they'd said to each other. They hadn't exactly been the best of friends. The more Ren thought about it, the more tangled his thoughts became. He wasn't sure what would happen now, but Anik was right. They had to keep going.

  As they moved further north, settlements began to dot the landscape. Ren was thankful for the change, because it gave him something to focus on besides his thoughts. This close to Iskaal, they had to be careful, and woodland was scarce. At least the cliffs were better cover than the open, bare hills of south-eastern Frayne. Evalyne's scouts rode out often and returned with groups of people with swords strapped to their belts.

  Evalyne kneed her horse towards Ren. “There's a gorge about an hour away. A dry riverbed, maybe sixty feet deep. We can hide the army there to send Rafya and his men ahead to Iskaal and wait for their return.”

  Ren nodded, then turned in the saddle and shared a look with Anik.

  Anik closed in, his horse and Evalyne's boxing Ren in.

  “If anyone stumbles upon us or decides to raise the alarm in the city, a gorge will be a death trap,” Anik said.

  Evalyne's expression was grim. “Yes, I'm aware, but there's no cover at all from here to Iskaal. My grandfather had the landscape flattened in a two-mile radius around the city. No forests, no hills, nothing except for the rocky landscape to the west. It can hide small numbers of people, but not an army the size of ours.”

  “Then I guess we have no better option,” Anik said, pulling his horse away.

  They reached the gorge, as Evalyne had predicted, an hour later. It was easy to imagine that a magnificent river had once carved the pale rock. It twisted its way from south to north and curved west, widening as it went. All that was left of the rushing water now was a narrow stream that trickled along the bottom of the gorge.