“She didn’t tell me why. I figured it was premarital nerves. She must have been so stressed. After the argument, preparing for the patrol, and with the wedding a couple days away. I told her to take the next day to think while she was out walking in the woods. But then….”
“I see,” I nod. “Well, she’s safe now.” I try a reassuring smile like I’ve seen Riordan do.
“Yes, that she is. At peace.” Lysandra fakes a smile too.
Katrielle’s belongings in tow, I kiss Lysandra’s cheek and head home. As I turn the corner of the hut to take a shortcut behind the tents, I’m met by three brilliant sets of eyes in the dark.
“Shit!” I jump, swinging my load of books at the nearest body.
“Sorry, Keres, we didn’t mean to scare you,” Thaniel says.
I look him over, noting he isn’t wearing his guard leathers like Silas and Indiro are. A casual tunic and linen pants. Brown hair in disarray and a sleepy look in his eyes. Did they wake him up for this? Whatever this is.
Silas steps up, golden-brown eyes smiling. Indiro is beside him.
“This can’t be good.” I huff at them, passing the heavy books into Silas’ strong arms. He offers to take the pouch too, but I shake my head and fasten it to my belt.
“Keres,” Indiro says in hushed tones. I lean closer, looking around for anyone else who might overhear us. “Last night...” He stares at me.
I stare back at him. “You knew,” I breathe. “It was me,” the Death Spirit hisses.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Indiro shakes his head. “You were getting justice for our own, and you handed their asses to them. They blamed Hishmal and attacked because they were looking for you. We know it, you know it, but we all know it’s their nature that burned Hishmal into the earth. You didn’t tell them to do it.” His voice is shaky, I’ve never heard it this way before.
“That’s bullshit, Indiro. My actions got an entire clan killed. And now—"
“Now, we want to go with you. We want to hunt,” Silas says. “We can’t go out against them without you. This is war, Keres. Nilo was my cousin. No matter how much it hurts, we have to expect and accept that any of our actions may cost lives.”
“It’s a war nobody else seems to be fighting. The four of us, it’s not enough,” I say.
“Technically, there’s five of us,” Thaniel pipes up.
“Who is the fifth?” I ask.
“Come to hear what we have to say, Ker.” Silas’ voice turns silk-soft.
I puff a stray hair out of my eyes and nod my head toward the war tent.
“Too risky. Someone will hear us.” Silas protests.
“Then where will we go?” I ask, wondering if we’re quickly becoming rebels against our own leader, my father.
“Let’s take a walk.” He gives me a crooked smile. He slings my books over his shoulder and saunters into the forest. Indiro shrugs, pushing Thaniel forward by the neck. I follow the three scoundrels into the dark.
9. THE FIFTH & THE TENTH
Silas strikes a campfire to life. The flames devour everything in the pit, puffing up and boasting a brilliant red. Its fragrance fills my head, heavy in my lungs, and its warmth is an enticing relief from the cold air of this dark autumn night.
“Someone will see that,” I warn him.
Silas gives me a smirk and shrugs. “We’re doing nothing wrong. Simple Elves huddled around a simple campfire. Are you scared of the Sunderlands’ wolves or of Man?”
“I fear no Man. I am one of the Sunderlands’ wolves.” I rub my hands on my shift. “Gods be damned, it’s freezing though.”
“Well, I hope your blood’s hot,” Indiro says as he plops down and unfurls a map on the ground. Silas and Thaniel peer at it as I lean closer to examine his markings. “We’re here.” He drags his index finger across the illustrated trees, scraping his too-long nails against the paper. “And the attack on the nine happened here. The attack before that happened here. And now… Hishmal.” His finger lingers on the marker.
Thaniel confirms, “They’re moving south.”
“Yes,” Indiro sighs. “Hishmal,” He jabs his finger into the center of a large angry ‘x’ on the map, “Has fallen. We know the Elistrian army responded to their horns, but it was too late.”
Silas and I exchange glances. He offers me a comforting smile, but I look away into the swirling fire, bringing my shawl around my chest.
“I spoke to your father,” Indiro looks up at me. “And he has no intention of sending out more scouts.”
Silas stands up, crossing his arms. Indiro watches him. I continue staring into the fire.
Thaniel asks, “Are we supposed to be blind out there?”
Indiro raises rubs his scruffy chin. “It would seem our chief would prefer we don’t go ‘out there’ at all.”
“Not sending out scouts is foolish. If we can’t see when and where they’re coming from, how can we defend ourselves?” Silas spits on the ground.
“Kaius wants to wait for the kingdom’s reinforcements,” Indiro says half-heartedly.
Riordan’s voice echoes in my head. “No help has come from anywhere. No one is coming.”
“They haven’t outright attacked any clans before this morning.” Thaniel says.
“And now that Hishmal has fallen, who’s to say they won’t attack us or any others?” Silas replies
I try to memorize the patterns of the flames in the seconds they exist, whipping like flags in the wind. What makes them move that way? Is it because they have mere breaths to be free, to shiver and sputter in the face of an unforgiving force— the very force that gives them life? I glance from the fire to Indiro, to Silas. The map unfurled in the dirt, only visible because of these desperate flames.
“Oh, so we’re just supposed to sit on our hands?” Silas asks.
“No,” I say, eyes locked on the fire. My cheeks feel warm, my palms are sweating. My stomach feels empty and quivers like the flames. In one breath, a seething pillar of brilliant red and blinding smoke, in the next, ash. We are like these flames, and the wind is like our Gods. Breathing life into us in one moment, snuffing us out in the next.
Three sets of eyes are on me. I look at the fire reflecting in their eyes. Leaning forward, I warm my cold hands and the beads of sweat evaporate.
“No, we will not.”
“That’s my girl,” Indiro claps his hands together. I smirk at him.
“What will we do?” Thaniel plants his hands on his hips.
I look at Thaniel. “There isn’t much we can do. You all know the consequences of hunting Men. But I refuse to sit on my hands. There has to be something we can do.” I look to Silas. “You said there were five of us. Who else?”
If we could get more support, perhaps, the clans could form their own coalition. Without the aid of the kingdoms.
Silas bends to poke the fire with a twig. “Maybe Darius,” he shrugs. “He’s pissed about Hayes.”
“Pissed is an understatement.” I shake my head. “They murdered his brother. But where is he? Lysandra said he went to Massara to be with family.”
“Aye, left this morning. But not to be with family, to get his armor.” Indiro says. A shiver chatters my jaw.
“Darius is not enough. We need to rally the clans.” I scoff.
“We don’t have time for that,” Silas replies to me. “Darius just got back an hour ago. He’s eating supper and will come to meet us here.” He scans the trees. “Our numbers aside, I don’t think it matters a great deal with the Coroner amongst us.” Silas flashes a smile at me. “A red dragon amid mortal men.”
He hisses through his teeth as he drums his fingers down my back.
“I may be the Coroner, but I am one person.” My stomach flutters at his touch. “Like I said, it’s smarter to reach out to Massara and Allanalon.”
Indiro contemplates my suggestion, his jaw ticking as he stares into the fire.
“A coalition. A militant force—” I say.
“Militant? We’re not an army.
No amount of preparation will enable us to battle with the Dalis. Ro’Hale and Massara combined would still not be enough.” Thaniel adds, “We have more hunters of animals than slayers of men among us. Women and children— our people will never fight.”
“Alright, ye of little faith.” Indiro holds up his hands. “It’s an idea. This is the reason for this meeting. To discuss ideas.”
Silas nods. “Well, we can’t make plans without Darius. He’s one of our advantages.”
“What’s so special about him? Is he such a fierce warrior?” I ask.
“He’s been my right hand since childhood. I know his true strengths and weaknesses. Plus, he’s a brute in battle. Besides you and Indiro, he’s the only one out of us who’s killed Dalis Men. Trust me, we need him.”
My legs stretch out, toes toasting. Too many times, my eyes wander to Silas. I find him watching me, I catch him smiling.
Struggling not to think of the horrific reasons we meet in this dark, I allow myself to smile back. I doubt it’s an attractive smile without an ounce of heart in it. I think of Ivaia’s words, “You tear souls from this world with a smile on your face.” Self-image forever distorted, I turn away from Silas. He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into with me and the psychopathic, homicidal guest my being houses. He’ll never understand.
“If we hate him so much, we could just kill him.” The Death Spirit’s laugh echoes in my skull. We don’t— I don’t hate him. I blink away the intruding thoughts. I don’t hate him. I hate the Dalis. The Dalis we can kill.
“More than nine?” The beast asks. I ignore it and focus on another thought: Mrithyn chose me for a reason. Mrithyn has a plan.
Indiro lights his smoking pipe. He and my father have a matching pair. I remember the pipes Katrielle and I had stashed in a sack, stuffed in the hole of a tree by the river. We’d smoke herbs until our heads spun and the only safe place for us was the ground. Clouds rolled over us, turning hours over in the sky. I look up at the clouds above, glimpsing them in patches as they pass over the thick branches. I wish I could go back to lingering beneath purple skies and story-telling clouds with my best friend. Or even further back than that to the day I—
A rustling in the shrubbery behind us lifts us all to our feet. I glance to my left, feeling Silas’ arm brush against mine. He’s armed. I’m not. But even my bare hands belong to Mrithyn. The bushes rattle as something large pushes through them.
Silas curses and we all lower our weapons.
“By the Gods, Darius, if that’s your idea of joining a secret meeting, you’ll get us all killed.” Silas sheathes his knife. Jaw tightening as he stares at the gigantic soldier who’s emerged from the shadows.
“Hey, Darius,” I wave, eager to meet the one Silas spoke so highly of.
Darius’ face drains of color. “What’s she doing here?”
I furrow my brows. “I beg your pardon?”
His footsteps crunch leaves and snap twigs as he stalks towards me. “I cannot pardon you for what you did.”
Silas is between us faster than I have time to react, his knife at Darius’ throat.
“Speak that way to her again and I’ll rip your tongue out from beneath your chin.”
“Guys,” I put a hand on either of them. “Closest companion one moment, an enemy the next?” I ask Silas.
Indiro interrupts, “Sit down, Darius. You’re misinformed.”
Darius pushes Silas out of his way, glaring at me as he takes up his spot next to Indiro.
“Misinformed? Or is she lying?” His massive muscles coil like pythons under his too-tight tunic. His chest heaves in a deep breath as he calms himself. His brown curly hair is tied atop his giant head. Eyes like coal burn into me.
Darius isn’t just a mountain of solid muscle and raw physical power, he’s a volcano. His temper rivals mine. But I know why he’s angry.
“Darius,” I speak up.
His eyes flare.
Silas flips his blade and catches it by the hilt. He goes on twirling it as he sits down, eyes like daggers aimed at his friend.
“I wasn’t there,” I say.
Darius jumps to his feet. “Ahriman’s arse you weren’t!”
Indiro’s hand flies to Darius’ forearm, the size difference unsettling. “The lot of you boys have learnt better under my wing than to talk without thinking! Listen to the girl.”
“Where were you? You were to lead that group of scouts. I saw the orders. I saw your name on that list.”
Silas spits into the fire again. The flames protest, finding new paths into the smoke-filled air. Indiro mumbles something about boys and men under his breath.
Darius cracks his knuckles and awaits my explanation. I watch his massive hands kneading out the tension between his bones.
“I wasn’t there,” I repeat.
Our eyes search each other’s for a glimmer of weakness. Neither of us finds it.
“I was at my mother’s grave,” I say.
His face pales, his muscles uncoil, and he sits again. “The full moon.”
Everyone knows I visit my mother’s grave under the full moon. Not because they care but because they watch me. Fearfully.
Readjusting my shawl, I stab the burning logs with the stick Silas dropped. Darius’ eyes lower but I keep mine fixed on him. Deepening lines slither across his face, cracking his perfect skin. He snaps his attention back to me, eyes smoldering like the campfire.
His heart is pounding against his ribs and the monster within me knocks on mine in response. The blacks of his eyes dilate. I can even hear the hairs rising on his skin. Muscles tensing, his knuckles popping. Teeth grinding. I sense it all and I understand it better than a spoken word. If there’s one thing Death has taught me, it’s that bodies don’t lie, and Darius’ truth is atavistic: Fire. His body is relaying one promise. “If you touch me, I’ll burn you.”
“My brother. Hayes didn’t deserve to die so young,” Darius growls.
“None of them did, lad. It’s good you’re angry, because now we will do something.” Indiro frowns.
Darius glares at me once more, “Kaius isn’t allowing the scouts out. He said—”
I thrust the stick into the fire, “Fuck what my father says. That’s why I’m here, you ass. Don’t you get it? We’re going after them.”
Indiro and Silas smirk at each other. “Aye, Lass.”
Darius clears his throat, “Alright, princess. Well, you must know,” He looks at each of us, “We heard you deserted. That you led the group out and when they came back you were nowhere to be found.”
My jaw drops, “Who said that?”
“Lucius’ father said he was in the war tent when they wrote the orders. He also saw your name on that list. You were the tenth, Keres.”
“I heard it too,” Thaniel chimes in.
“Doesn’t matter, my sweet.” Silas pulls my attention off the others by taking hold of my cold hand. My sweet. I feel my face heating and not from the campfire.
“Mackeron? A lie!” Indiro spits on the ground. “Mackeron is an honest, Hishmal-bred Elf. He’s been my friend and second in command for twenty years, ever since I came to the clans. He knows of Resayla’s full moon tradition. He should have expected where Keres would be. At her mother’s grave.” He stands. “Besides. I had her name removed. I went with her to honor her mother. We refused to let the barbarians steal that right from us. And so, the nine went out instead of ten.” Indiro clears the air.
Darius pockets his hands, “Fine, whatever you say, Indiro. Just tell me how I can help?”
“You can start by never calling me princess again,” I say.
Silas chokes on his swig from a calf-skin canteen. Silas passes the canteen to Indiro who takes it and snorts, “Aye, Darius. Last poor sod who called her that ended up cold in the earth.” Followed by a healthy gulp of whatever is in it.
Darius rolls his eyes, locking his inflated lips around the canteen when it’s his turn. Thaniel looks warily into the canteen when Darius
passes it to him, and sniffs it, “What’s in this?” With no one’s answer, he tests a sip and coughs.
I grab the canteen from his hand and finish it.
“Damn, Ker!”
I quirk an eyebrow at Silas as I pass it back to him. “I know you’ve got more where that came from. Liriene is no secret keeper.”
He reaches down into his rucksack, producing three more canteens.
We pass all three around, sampling the varying liquors. Conversation about the nine can’t be ignored and Darius is the first to tell a story about his brother Hayes. I remember the story, it’s a funny one. Katrielle told it to me. Silas and Darius reconnect, mourning the loss of their third companion, Darius’ twin brother. Thaniel speaks fondly of Leander, and Indiro curses Cassriel for dying. We say each name aloud, all nine. In my mind’s eye, the faces of the nine humans I killed appear and disappear with each name. Indiro redirects the conversation to the map and goes over the plan.
“And that’s where you come in, Keres.”
I cast a wary eye at the spot he’s marked on the map, before taking another swig.
Head starting to spin, I lean forward on my knees and point to another spot on the map, “Who’s that?”
Indiro laughs at my slur, “Me, ass.”
I nod and a shiver sneaks down my spine. Silas’ warm hand runs from the point between my shoulders to my lower back and stops. I look into his honey eyes, and Gods know if it’s the liquor, but I smile again, only worse this time. More like an idiot.
“Alright, it’s time to move out.”
“I second that,” Thaniel stands and stretches.
Silas lifts me under my arm, “I’ll escort the fearsome Coroner home. I know she doesn’t want to wait for you saps to finish pissing in the dirt every other mile.
“Miles!” I burst out laughing.
His eyes widen and he loops his arm under mine as I stand on unsteady legs. “That’s right, did you not notice how far out we came?”
I cover my mouth as if I can stop my giggles from falling out of it. “No!” I pinch my eyes shut, swinging my head, “No! I was thinking about Kat!” I drop my weight against his shoulder, as tears and laughter pour out of me in tandem.
The Sunderlands Page 9
