“Queen Hero is harboring women like Saber. Illyn refugees from Lamentar. Their children,” I say,
They exchange a glance.
“Where is this Monroe now?” I ask, stunned.
“In the Cenlands at the Imperium,” Ivaia says.
“Why didn’t you take me to the Imperium? Why didn’t you bring Monroe to live here?”
“Monroe is our child, but he is also a powerful mage. He’s better off with the Ministry.”
“Better protected, too. I made enemies as Magister,” Ivaia says thoughtfully.
“I can’t believe I never even thought… that you might have children of your own.”
“We tell no one of Monroe to protect him,” Riordan assures me.
“The daughters of Ro’Hale have many enemies,” I ponder. It raises another question. If not Hero, who would want to kill Queen Herrona?
“Hero told me a story about Herrona’s death. Said she saw it happen and detailed the whole thing to me.”
Ivaia perks up, fidgeting with the hem of her gown.
“She said a man killed her with a poisoned apple.”
Ivaia’s face turns gray.
The sound of a moaning horn interrupts us. We all jump up, spilling tea, and Ivaia drops her cup. It shatters on the floor.
The horn is bleating frantically.
“The clan!” I gasp.
We disperse like ants from an anthill that’s just been doused with water.
We all know what that horn means:
War.
28. THE ASSUNDERANCE OF CHILDREN
I never knew fear until I saw him. For a moment, I thought he was Mrithyn in the flesh.
I’ve forgotten to breathe.
Move, dammit.
I will myself to take a step but can’t. My ears fill with the sound of my blood rushing to my head. Somewhere beyond this pulsing sound, Ivaia’s muted voice is screaming at me to move. My peripheral vision is blurred. I’m still not breathing.
“Move!” A sharp voice cracks through my stupor. A body slams into mine pushing me out of the way of the charging mare. We narrowly escape the hooves of the massive black stallion with red eyes. The great sword wielded by its rider clips his shoulder as it sails toward us in a wide, low arc. I’m on the ground. The last bit of air has been knocked from my lungs.
Breathe.
Breathe.
My chest is heaving, caving in.
“Breathe!” His voice cuts into me again.
I take in a sharp breath. Wafting smoke makes me cough and I gasp for air.I try to lift myself up.
His hands are on me; his powerful arms are lifting me up from the ground. His hands steady me as I get my footing. There’s no time to thank him. He saved my life from the Death-like sentinel on the Night Mare.
People are screaming. Somewhere to my left there’s an explosion.
“We have to go, Ker!”
I look up and am met by honey eyes. An angry gash crosses his brow. I lift my hand to his face, to his blood. Silas saved my life.
He grabs my forearm and leads me around the back of a tent. I look around for Ivaia and Riordan but don’t see them. I don’t see anyone else I know. I only see hundreds of humans: The Army of Dalis Soldiers.
“My bow!” I dropped it. I’ve never dropped my bow before.
“No time, use the blade!” Silas orders.
My hand goes to my hip where the short-hilted scythe is bound to my belt. Its cold iron feels like an electric shock to my palm. The curved black and silver blade smiles at me, moonlight winks off it. I smell blood.
We evade attackers, trying to get wherever Silas is leading. There’s so many of them, I don’t know how we manage to stay out of sight. Am I in shock?
“In here,” Silas ushers me into a tent.
“Keres!” My sister steps out of hiding. With her comes Attica, the weaver. The drawing in my mother’s closet. The woman with the golden scissors. Attica was my mother’s servant? The one mother showed her necklace to in the vision I had when I wore her shoes. The necklace Nadia stashed in my rucksack.
“Oh, child! You’re safe.”
“We are not safe. What’s going on?” I ask stupefied.
“They attacked at nightfall,” Attica says.
“Where is father?” I ask.
“He’s out there fighting.” Liriene frowns.
I turn to Silas. “Then we go too.”
He nods and draws his sword.
“What? You can’t go out there!” Liriene squeaks at us.
Nearby footfalls rattle the tent.
“It’s not much safer in here, Liri. We should move out. Now!”
Attica and she look at each other.
“Alright,” They agree.
Silas takes the lead. Attica and Liriene crouch behind him and I bring up the rear.
“Where’s Thaniel?” I ask. Will he turn traitor in this fight? Defend the Men and his lover Mathis? I don’t like loose ends. They can strangle you.
“Where’s Ivaia?” Silas asks.
I weigh the two. “We find Ivaia first.”
“Where is Indiro?” Attica asks.
She stops, Liriene stops behind her, and I’m forced to stop too.
“We must find Indiro,” Attica insists.
“When was the last you saw him?” I ask.
“He went with Kaius,” Silas says, beckoning us to move into cover.
“When the attack first happened, he and Kaius went to the front lines.”
“No, no,” Attica’s hands fly to her wrinkled head. She takes Liriene by the hand. “He’s supposed to be here. Not you,” she sneers at Silas.
“Attica—”
I’m interrupted by a man’s scream.
I evade his sword, sinking low, and swing back my scythe. The blade hooks around his throat and nearly tears his head off.
I’m already covered in blood.
“We have to move!” I shout.
“To the gates!” Attica screeches. “We must find Indiro.”
“She’s right, the battle began at the gates. They broke through—” Another attacker charges us, this time aiming for Silas.
We’re faster. Silas quickens his steps and flurries his sword. I lunge and hook my scythe around the man’s arm, severing it from his body. He falls over as I dance around him. He drops his weapon: a wooden club with blades jutting out of it. Silas runs him through with his sword. Chains and manacles jingle when he hits the ground. I stoop and take inventory of his body. Not much to offer.
“Chains. Are they taking captives?”
“Young women your age and hers,” he tilts his head at Liriene. “That’s why I hid her.”
“That’s why we need Indiro!” Attica urges. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Has she Seen something of this battle?
Pushing around the edges of the camp, we round the walls, killing Dalis stragglers as we go. Lightning and fire erupt out of the center of a fray and strike a tree. That must be Iv. I mentally mark her position and listen for her voice. I don’t hear her, but I sense her magic coming in waves of power as it sweeps over the battlefield.
I start to pick faces out of the warring crowds. Lucius’ father, Mackeron, is fighting two men. A bent-boned elder is dead on the ground. We step over bodies, hurrying toward the gates where the fight is still the thickest. Our people don’t have the numbers or weapons these humans do. But we’re using the walls and the forest we know so well. They can attack our land, but they don’t know it like we do.
Many of us are fighting, winning little battles here and there. It all blurs past us. As we go, Silas and I jump into skirmishes and defend helpless kinsman. Dead older women and young children are scattered around the campgrounds.
We were unprepared for an attack like this. Even Indiro’s efforts would not be enough in preparing our pacifistic people for outright war. We don’t stand a chance without reinforcements. Osira said my people needed me. I came too late. I went back to the palace— wasted time on Moriya
and Seraphina. I could have been here when the gates were broken down.
Osira was right. My belief that she was right about Hero solidifies too.
The gates are in view; badly splintered and nearly unhinged. More and more Dalis soldiers file through, pushing against a wall of shields marked with White Stallions. My people are fighting like the hope’s been sucked out of their bones. Brittle and fracturing.
The sounds of steel shattering wooden shields and clanging against iron ring in the air in pulses and echoes.
Screams. Curses. Barked commands.
“Hold!” I hear a familiar voice. I know that temper anywhere.
“Where is he? I hear him. It’s Indiro.” I try to see above the crowd.
I duck the next breath, and a sword whirls above my head.
“Liri— Attica!” If I go down, they do too.
I kill the assailant. Blood erupts from his sliced throat, spraying my face. I spit out the taste and wipe my eyes, spinning to look for Liriene.
She’s on the ground.
Her knees are pressed into the dirt, hands busy— trying to stop the blood gurgling in another warrior’s throat. Blood and dirt streak her sweaty face. Attica’s pulling at her, trying to get her to leave him, one of our own. I kill a Human who lunges for them, and in the momentum of the killing blow, tumble to the ground beside Liri.
“No!” I gasp as I right myself. My voice disappears from the strain of shock. “No!”
Tears blur my eyes. Her fingers are trembling, inefficiently plugging the wound to his throat. He sputters, choking on his blood. Weakening by the second, but that’s not the worst of it.
His armor is shattered, cracked open like a walnut. His innards have spilled out through the massive gash splitting him from navel to sternum.
“Girls, I’m sorry but we have to go!” Attica’s screaming.
“Ker!” Silas shouts. “Liri! Leave him, there’s nothing we can do.” He grunts as he crosses swords with an attacker.
“He’s still alive!” Liri screams, “Papa!”
I’m forced to stand, to avert my eyes. Bury my father in my heart and am the first to leave his body’s side.
“Liriene.”
“No! Papa!” She sobs.
His choking stops, the blood seeps from his throat as his chest stills.
She’s rocking on the ground next to him. I pull her up from under her arms with a new found strength rooted in anger.
Tears threaten to compromise my vision. He’s dead. I send a rushed and ragged prayer after his soul.
“Liri, I have to get you to safety!” I groan as I pull her weight.
She kicks and swings her fists at me, fury and tears blinding her.
She screams his name. Every word is a prayer for his revival.
My voice is weak with shock. With pain. “Liriene, he’s gone now.”
This is the war I craved? Answer to my prayers? I begged Adreana in secret alongside Katrielle… for this? This isn’t what I wanted!
“Hold!” That voice comes again.
“It’s Indiro!” Silas points his sword.
Liriene still fights me but I get her to her feet. I’ve got her under my arm, and we are exposed in a clearing amid fighting soldiers.
“Fetch Indiro!” Attica orders Silas.
“I’ll move her.” I nod at him.
We split up. He dives into the fight, hurtling for that wall of shields near the gates. As he goes, I watch him pick up a shield off a dead body. Then he’s gone.
I drag Liriene away from our father’s body without sparing him another glance. I can’t bear it. If I look, I will get us killed. Maneuvering through our enemies and comrades requires my attention, my energy.
Liriene is mumbling incoherently and her eyes glaze over. When we make it closer to our walls, she pushes out of my hold and sways, staring at the starlit sky.
“The sun,” She spins in place.
“Liri! Stand not amazed!” Attica calls to her.
She wanders toward two Humans who have their backs to her. She’s staring up at the sky.
“It’s so bright.” She cries. “My eyes! What’s happening?”
I look up at the moon and stars and am baffled by what she’s saying. There is no sun.
I feel Attica leave my side and chase her toward Liriene. She reaches my bewildered sister first and takes her by the shoulders.
“What do you see?” Attica shouts in Liriene’s blank face.
Horror spans across her eyes as she stares into the sky. Her eyes are wild; an ocular shiver like she’s reading an invisible book.
“The black wolf hunts the white hart.”
What? Where have I heard that before?
“What’s happening to her, Attica?” I snarl.
“She’s Seeing!” She answers me.
I look into Liriene’s eyes, trying to keep the outskirts of my attention on the battle happening around us.
“You mean—”
She cups Liriene’s face in her bony, callused hands. “What do you see, Liriene?”
“God.” She points to the sky, “The sun God. The world.” She twirls.
Liriene’s elation turns to sadness and she weeps.
“A black wolf.” She points into the battle and tears pour from her gray bulging eyes.
“The black wolf hunts the white hart!” She’s screaming now.
Something startles her, and she turns as if someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“You.” She says to no one. Her body relaxes, her expression is peaceful.
“Liriene,” I grab her by the shoulder. The smell of blood is luring the beast out of me. I grip her, trying to grip my own sanity as well. She ignores me and continues staring into nothing. I get in front of her, trying to make eye contact, but she looks around me and then back at the sky.
“What’s your name?” She asks nobody.
Attica’s watching her, as stunned as I am.
“Who’s there, Liri?”
She scowls.
“Don’t talk to—”
“Thane,” Liriene says.
“Who?” I ask Attica. She shrugs.
“He’s coming.” Liriene smiles. Finally, she looks back to me. “For you.”
My reserve shatters. I grab Liriene and shake her roughly. “Liriene, stop.”
She continues smiling but is still crying. “He is.” She grabs my shoulders too.
“I will—” She says.
“Ah!” Attica’s voice breaks. I push Liriene aside in time to stop the assailant from stabbing her through the back, narrowly avoiding his blade myself. Attica’s behind him on the ground, blood spurting from her chest.
“Agh!” I throw every morsel of my power into my swing. My scythe lobs his head off and I kick his body to the ground.
Liriene turns and looks at Attica’s body. “She tried.”
I whirl back to her. Grabbing her by the wrist I pull her further along the wall.
Ivaia where are you? I need you.
“You need me, not Ivaia.” The Death Spirit clamors into my thoughts.
“This way, Liri.” I lead her onward. We leave Attica dying on the ground. She struggles to speak as we go. “Eyes… open!”
I can’t risk a moment of mourning; I can’t stop to comfort her in death. I’m not the Coroner today.
Today, I am Mrithyn’s Hound.
My Other half claws at my rib cage, beating against it with every heartbeat, begging to be unleashed.
“Come out to play,” I invite the Death Spirit to the surface of my mind.
I see Cesarus in my head, guarding Osira. That’s me, next to Liriene— I am the beast.
I scan the battlefield for a familiar face. I smell blood and excrement wafting on the biting wind. It’s intoxicating. I welcome the tangy flavor of the blood on my lips, and a feverish hunger for souls gnaws at my belly. I prowl into the thick of the war.
My sister is a lamb and I am her wolf.
No one can have her. No one can tou
ch her.
I cut down Man after Man, baring my fangs and cleaving their souls from the bodies. They scream when they see me, and I know they see the eternity in my eyes. I hunt them shamelessly. Digging the fingernail of my blade under their skin and spilling their lifeblood onto my bare feet.
The phantom breeze caresses my face, kissing the part of me that is so like it.
“Go, Keres,” Mrithyn’s voice hisses.
So bitter. So brutal, and unforgiving. My mind swims with the smell of blood thickening the air. Mrithyn is here; His power takes hold of me.
I am his blade. I am his right hand. His might reaches for souls through my very fingers.
Silas and Indiro are nowhere to be found. Dalis break the barricade of shields our warriors had made. Most of our warriors lie dead at the front. Humans pour into the campgrounds, cutting down everything in sight.
A bolt of lightning shoots into the sky. “There you are.” I follow that beacon.
One is hand locked with Liriene’s, the other on my scythe. I pull her behind me. She’s walking too slow, still staring at the sky.
“He’s so beautiful.”
“Thane?” I ask, making conversation to steady my nerves as I usher her through the middle of the battlefield, toward sounds of volcanic eruptions and lightning strikes.
“Oran. His beauty is terrible.”
“You see Oran?” I try to keep her mind occupied, lest she lose it.
“Yes, I am his family.” Liriene giggles deliriously.
A Human vaults toward us. I yank Liriene behind me and deflect his knives with my scythe blade. He stumbles back but lurches for us again. I push Liriene aside and catch his wrist with speed that startles him. Coming alongside him, I break his arm with unnatural strength. His scream delights me. As he falls to his knees, I catch him by his hair. I pull his hed back to expose his neck.
“You should have worn better armor,” I say and drag my blade across his throat. I reach out and Liriene slips her hand into mine.
We move on.
“Liri, try to focus.”
“I see all.” She lists dangerously to one side.
“Liriene!” I tug on her hand and she stumbles after me. I can’t fight pulling her around like this, but I won’t leave her. For a moment, I bristle, realizing I’m endangered, vulnerable. Only as strong as my weakest link, which is her right now.
The Sunderlands Page 34
