Syan crumpled down to her knees, gasping, and her zaryas fell with her, thunking down into the dirt. That glowing blue had vanished from her hair, leaving only flat black, and, in a few places, new strands of dull gray. I didn’t know a whole lot about magic, especially not Super Mysterious Red Waster magic, but I’m pretty sure that meant it was gone.
The camp was still for one second, one second that stretched into eternity, and then everyone still alive moved at once. My father rushed over to Syan’s side, catching her with his bound hands as she collapsed. Marlo stumbled toward Garrus, wrapping a thick cloth around his mangled hand. Zell stepped away from the wall, lowering his swords. Our eyes met with wordless gratitude, with breathless relief, with the knowledge that no matter what else happened, we’d at least have another day together.
I staggered toward him, the enormity of what had just happened catching up to me along with the soreness in my legs and the burning pain in my bicep. We’d won the battle, I guess, but the war wasn’t looking good. We’d been found. The camp lay in ruins. Moans of the wounded and dying filled the air. Looking around, I could see maybe thirty Unbroken left standing.
Galen broke the silence with a scream, at once triumphant and furious and agonized. He rolled off the body of the Westerner he’d been choking, who I’m pretty sure had died a good five minutes ago, and staggered up to his feet. He kept screaming, his whole body shaking, and he kicked the corpse again and again, smashing the heel of his boot into the head until it collapsed in with a meaty crack.
“Galen, enough,” a voice called from behind me. Ellarion. He’d made it, thank the Old Kings, and Lyriana had too, walking alongside him with an arm draped over him. Her shoulder was wrapped up in a bandage, and she ran one hand idly along it, Rings glowing the gentle green of a healing Art.
The sight of her seemed to calm Galen down, or at least jerk him out of his fury. “Your Majesty,” he said, crossing to her side. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” she replied, staring out at the smoldering camp around us with a look of utter anguish. “By the Titans…how could this happen?”
The remaining survivors were huddling closer to us, drifting from the fringes of the camp, limping our way. I could hear their voices above the moans, the urgent questions getting louder and louder, and I could see their eyes, their anger, turning toward the back of the camp, where my father sat by Syan’s huddled form.
He had to know where this was going, so he stood up, staring down the crowd pretty much ready to tear him apart. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I had nothing to do with this,” he said. His face was caked in dirt, his wrists bleeding from where the chain had dug into them.
“Bullshit,” Ellarion said. “You must have tipped Miles off.”
My father shook his head with weary indignation. “If Miles himself had known your location, he would have sent a hundred men and Jacobi, and probably flown out here himself in the Skywhale. My guess is that this was a local garrison. And if you’re wondering who tipped them off…” He jerked his head toward the limp forms of the two Unbroken soldiers who’d attacked Lyriana. “I’d start with those two.”
Right. Ein and the veteran. With the chaos of the bloodmages, I’d forgotten about them. Even now, I didn’t want to think about it, because the idea of our own people turning on us was too much. All of this, it was too much.
Lyriana crossed to the two of them and hunkered down. The veteran was as dead as anyone could be, his entire chest ripped out, but Ein was still breathing, barely, tiny choking gasps that made blood bubble out of his lips. Lyriana gently lifted his head in her hands, and he stared at her, this boy of no more than sixteen, stared at her as he drowned in his own blood. “Why?” she asked.
But Ein didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. He didn’t need to, not really; that enormous bounty for my father’s capture was answer enough. He just lay there, in Lyriana’s arms, letting out those sad, gasping wheezes, staring up with those wide terrified eyes. He breathed once, twice, three times, and then went still, and Lyriana gently laid his head back down in the dirt. Her own eyes were shut, but I could see a single golden tear streak down her cheek. Even after what he’d done, Lyriana could still cry for him.
“Titans have mercy…they’ve destroyed us…” a trembling voice said. Marlo, still huddled by Garrus’s side, cradled tight in one of the big guy’s meaty arms. “What do we do now?”
“We keep fighting,” Galen replied, his eyes hard narrow slits. “For every man we lost today, we take a dozen of theirs. We make them pay in blood!” He slammed a fist into his chest as he talked, hard, and at least a half-dozen of our survivors let out grunts of agreement. I got the sentiment, in theory, but right now, more blood was the last thing I wanted. “We need to move now. Collect everything we can and head east, into the mountains. We can lay low there for a few weeks, gather our strength, marshal up some new recruits, come up with a new plan of attack. Maybe move into the Eastern Province, take aim at the grain supply. With Queen Lyriana at our side, we can—”
“No,” Lyriana said, and every head turned, mine included. She was standing now, hands at her side, and that look of anguish had been replaced by something else, a resolve, a determination.
“What do you mean, no?” Galen asked.
“You can do that. You should do that. But I’m not coming with you.” She turned to the back of the camp. To Syan. “I’m going with her.”
The Red Waster girl was still sitting where she’d fallen, hunched low on the ground on her hands and knees, breathing hard. She looked up at Lyriana when she spoke, and even though her expression was hard, guarded, I could swear I made out a glimmer of relief.
“What are you talking about?” Galen demanded. “Going with her where?”
Lyriana walked over to Syan and knelt down next to her, extending a hand. Syan eyed it warily for a moment, then reached out and took it, clasping Lyriana’s hand just above the wrist. And maybe I was just imagining it, but it felt like when they touched, something happened, something subtle and indefinable but real nevertheless. It was like the light around them vibrated, glowing just a little brighter, like the air hummed with the undercurrents of simmering magic. Lyriana’s Rings flickered, the tiniest hint of pink, and the strands in Syan’s hair let off a soft glow. They stared at each other, eyes locked, with something unspoken passing between them…. Understanding? Connection?
“Thank you,” Syan said.
“No.” Lyriana turned to look at the camp, at the dead bloodmages, at the zaryas lying still in the dirt. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, I know a whole lot has happened, but I’m pretty damn sure I’m missing something.” Galen paced over to Lyriana and I followed, along with Zell and Ellarion. When he spoke now, his voice was low, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that the rest of the camp couldn’t hear. “What’s happening here? What are you talking about?”
“I wish to bring the Queen to my home in Benn Devalos,” Syan said. “She may be able to convince the other Torchbearers to join your cause. To defeat the Inquisitor and prevent Zastroya.”
Galen just stared at her.
“More mages like her,” I tried to clarify. “You saw how powerful she was, right? How she pretty much just saved all our asses? Now imagine fifty more of her, fighting at our side, but only if Lyriana can convince them to.” I paused for just a moment, because I didn’t really have to think about what came next. “I’m going with them, by the way. In case that wasn’t obvious.”
“As am I,” Zell chimed in, and Ellarion nodded and said, “Me too.”
“We’ll travel light, then. Just the five of us,” Lyriana said, and unspoken in that was the sentiment Only people I can trust. “And we’ll return with an army that can change the tide of this war.”
Galen sucked in his breath, choosing his words carefully, like a parent patiently explaining to his son why he can’t be a bear when he grows up. “Look. I understand the appeal of that, especially now. But it�
��s just too dangerous, too unknown. We can’t send the last two adult Volaris, our only claims to the throne, off into the unknown with some complete stranger, on the promise that there might be more help out there. We just can’t do it.”
“And I can’t keep doing this,” Lyriana said. “Hiding on the fringes of the kingdom, measuring our victories only in how many men we execute, so worn out from fighting that even our own people are turning on us…” Her gaze flitted over to Ein’s prone form. “We need something else, Galen. We need hope.”
“There’s a difference between hope and madness.”
“I’m not so sure there is,” I chimed in, which earned me Galen’s withering glare. I knew intellectually that he was probably right, that this was a bad idea that would end in disaster. But my heart was with Lyriana, and maybe always had been. She’d put into words the despair and hopelessness that had been festering within me for the past six months, the sense of uselessness that cast doubt on every raid, no matter how successful. I wouldn’t say it out loud, because Galen would probably blow his lid, but I’d rather die chasing hope than keeping on living the way things were.
Galen’s brow furrowed in concentration, and he switched his approach to tactical. “And how exactly do you plan to get to the Red Wastes? The only way there is through the Southlands, which, you might recall, is a war zone crawling with the armies of the Inquisitor. And in case that wasn’t enough, just to get there you’ll have to somehow cross the biggest river in the continent!”
“If I may speak,” my father said, and every head spun to him. “I might be able to help there.”
“You’re lucky I don’t end you right now,” Galen growled, but Lyriana silenced him with a raised hand.
“Speak,” she said.
“Yours wasn’t the only rebel group I was feeding information to,” he said. “I have contacts at the border. A group of fighters that smuggled supplies into the Southlands. They should be able to get us into the Province safely.” Even on his knees, hands bound, he talked with the confidence of a man in charge. “You’ll need to take me along. As a hostage, of course.”
“Why don’t you just tell us about the rebels, and we’ll meet them ourselves?” Lyriana asked.
“Because then you’d have no reason not to kill me.” My father shrugged, brutally honest. “If you want to get to the Southlands, you need my help. It’s as simple as that.”
Lyriana glared at him for a long time, then let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s right. We have to take him.”
Galen laughed out loud. “You can’t trust him….”
“I trust that he wants to take down Miles,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t make it worse.
“And the second he moves to betray us, I’ll cut his throat,” Zell said, matter-of-factly, and my father just shrugged.
“Then it’s settled,” Lyriana said, and I felt a lightening in my chest that might have been relief. “You take care of the Unbroken, Galen. Do what you do best. Rebuild our numbers and hold down the line.” She reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder. “And when we return, we’ll win this war together.”
He glanced down at her hand uneasily. “Is that a promise from a friend? Or an order from my Queen?”
Her eyes flared up to meet his, burning a regal gold. “Both.”
“I would like it noted, officially, that I think every part of this is a terrible idea, and you’re dooming us all.” Galen turned away, exhaling slowly. “But you are my Queen. Your word is my command.”
“Thank you. My friend.” Lyriana smiled, a sad smile with more pain than joy. We could cling to hope as much as we wanted. But the odds were, we’d all die before seeing each other again. Which was something I’d gotten awfully used to thinking.
Just like that, it was settled. For better or for worse, we were really doing this. We were heading to the most dangerous region of the continent to find a secret society of mages, led by a girl we’d spoken to for, maybe, twenty minutes. That was actually the plan.
And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited.
IN A BETTER WORLD, WE would’ve packed carefully, and made sure we had everything we needed for a long journey into the south. But we had no idea who else knew the camp’s location, or when the next company of royal soldiers would arrive. So after a frantic hour scrambling to throw together what we could, an inspiring speech from Lyriana to the crowd, and a tearful good-bye to Marlo and Garrus, the six of us set out on horseback. Ellarion led the way, with Syan and Lyriana close behind, then me and Zell, and last of all my father, his bound hands hidden under a blanket even as he held his reins.
Galen took the rest of the Unbroken into the hills of the east, which was both safer and more predictable. They’d find allies there, but it’s also where Miles would come looking once he got word that a whole company of his soldiers had been wiped out. Heading south meant no one would be looking for us, but it also meant we’d be totally on our own.
Just to be safe, we kept off the main roads and stuck to the forest, trotting together through those spindly trees, slowed only by the occasional bubbling creek or mossy hill. And for some reason I couldn’t put my finger on, I actually felt…good? Or at least less bad, lighter, like I’d been poisoned by some horrible toxin for months and was finally getting it out of my system. Maybe it was the residual adrenaline from the attack, or maybe the promise of a new way forward, or maybe I’d just finally lost my mind. I couldn’t tell you what the reason was. I found myself breathing easier, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, breathing in that lush forest smell and listening to the whispering of the briarbirds in the thickets.
And also? I couldn’t stop looking at Zell. He was dressed simply, a tight gray shirt, cloth pants with riding boots, a leather sheath over his back with swords crossed. But there was something about how he looked that day, riding through the woods on horseback, gazing forward with a look of solemn determination, black hair sparkling in the sunlight…
He caught me glancing one time, and arched an eyebrow. “Sorry. Just the way you look today…brings back memories.”
“Of our ride through the West,” he said with a smile. “I was thinking the same thing.”
I guided my horse a little closer to his. “I can’t believe that was only a year and a half ago. It feels like it was a lifetime.”
“So much has changed since then. We’ve been through so much.” He glanced down at his hands, at the nightglass knuckleblades holding the reins. “Feels like we were different people.”
“Is it weird that I kind of miss it?” I asked. “I mean, we were terrified and fleeing for our lives, but…I don’t know. A part of me would go back there, if I could. Things were simpler, at least.” I shot him a playful grin. “Know what I miss? Early morning fight trainings.”
“You miss me throwing stones at your head and pinning you to the ground?”
“Let’s be totally honest. We both liked the pinning.” I grinned, and then there was a soft cough from behind me and I turned around to see, oh, right, my father, his face blank, his gaze averted. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, which, really? The man was a tyrant, a mass murderer, a remorseless killer destined to hang for his crimes. And I still felt mortified at him overhearing me flirt with my boyfriend.
This was going to be one long journey.
We made camp as night fell, tethering our horses to some trees in a mossy grove. We ate dried meat and gathered mushrooms, and, by the flickering light of a campfire, huddled up as Ellarion unrolled an elaborate yellowed map. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but the Southlands is a big, messy Province. Where exactly are we headed?” He glanced over his shoulder to a tree on the grove’s edge, where my father sat alone. “That’s a question for you, Kent.”
My father didn’t move. “The rebels I was corresponding with were in a town called Torrus, right on our side of the Adelphus’s eastern branch. They should be able to help us cross, far from Miles’s army.”
“Funny how it’s now Miles’s
army, when I’m pretty sure you’re the one who declared war.” Ellarion clenched and unclenched a fist, knuckles grinding together. “Fine. So these rebels get us into the Southlands. Then we make our way to the Red Wastes?” He pointed at the map’s bottom edge. “All the way down there. South of the Province.”
“Literally off the map,” I said.
“It’s quite a wide border,” Lyriana mused. “Syan, do you know where we should be heading?”
Syan scooted forward up to Lyriana, wiping some crumbs off her chin as she glanced down at the map. Despite the fact that she was sitting next to the rightful Queen of Noveris (not to mention a bunch of armed strangers), she seemed completely at ease. She took a long look at the map and shrugged. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Why not?” Lyriana asked.
“We don’t use maps like this,” she said, as if the very idea was beneath her. “It is not our way. But…if you’re asking me where to enter Izteros, I believe we should start with Tau Lorren.”
“Izteros is what she calls the Red Wastes,” I whispered to Zell, and he nodded, like, obviously.
“Tau Lorren,” Ellarion repeated, tapping a broad circle near the map’s base. “The capital of the Southlands, home to the Dyn and most of his army. Why would we possibly go there?”
“One cannot simply ride into Izteros on horseback,” Syan replied with an incredulous little scoff. “We will need provisions, gear, terzans.” She didn’t bother explaining that last word, and no one asked. “There is an Izterosi community in Tau Lorren. They helped my brother and me when we made our way here. I believe they will help us return.”
War of the Bastards Page 10
