A Heart of Blood and Ashes

by Milla Vane

  “Being on a horse stops my stomach from swinging like the sea.”

  Kelir accepted that with a nod. “Fassad, you ride with him. We will meet in the hollow north of the glass fields—and if for any reason we cannot stay there, your wolves can track us.”

  The warrior nodded, while Yvenne’s heart beat faster. The glass fields—near Temra’s altar. Where she might finally marry Maddek.

  If he still intended to marry her. For he would have no need to after Zhalen attacked them in Parsathean territory.

  But he put no distance between them yet. He rode at her side until they made camp; when they settled around the fire, he sat close to her as the new members of their party spoke of the realms they’d traveled to and of all that they’d seen. And in his furs later, Maddek gave her a long, slow fucking that had her clinging to him long after her shudders faded, her head pillowed on his broad chest.

  In the quiet afterward, she said softly, “It is as you wanted, then. Syssian soldiers from the outpost invade the Burning Plains. And so my father declares war upon Parsathe.”

  His arms tightened around her. “But you will not suffer at his hands.”

  As if Maddek could prevent it. It was lovely that he would try, yet Yvenne had no hope that she would escape her fate. “Vela has said that I will.”

  He gave a derisive grunt.

  Lifting her head, she peered down at his shadowed face. “Do you think she lies?”

  “No. But she does not clearly speak. That is why Parsatheans prefer Temra—she makes no promises except to always be beneath our feet. And Rani, who is always truthful in her purpose and clear. Why would Vela not say how and why you will suffer, so that we might prevent it?”

  “I do think she speaks plainly,” Yvenne said. “She told Toric why she gives no easy answer. She believes that some things must be experienced to be properly learned.”

  His jaw clenched. “You do not need to suffer to learn anything.”

  “Then perhaps it is something she cannot prevent, and only prepares me for it.”

  “Then plainly she should say that.”

  Yvenne huffed out a quiet laugh. Even though Vela looked through her eyes, Maddek did not hesitate to criticize the goddess. “As plainly as you speak?”

  He grunted his own amusement. “Vela knows very well what I think.”

  So she did. But knowing what the goddess thought in turn was impossible to guess, so Yvenne did not try. For when her mind did wander that way, she wondered if the suffering at her father’s hands meant something entirely different from what she assumed. Vela had said she would suffer more for choosing Maddek, but perhaps that was only because Maddek had taken a route north to lure her father, and Yvenne might have traveled another direction. They knew not for certain whether Zhalen rode with the soldiers from the outpost. He might still be in Syssia, and Yvenne’s suffering at his hands might not come from what he did to her, but from whatever horrors he might visit upon her people.

  Yet such wonderings helped no one. If Yvenne tried to imagine all of Vela’s possible meanings, and tried to make choices based on what could not be known, she would be paralyzed with indecision. Better to forge ahead as best she could, and meet her fate when it came for her.

  She would suffer. But whatever form that suffering took, she would be strong enough to survive it.

  So instead of fretting over what could not be known, she held Maddek close, and slept.

  CHAPTER 33

  MADDEK

  When they finally passed through the hills east of the river and crested the ridge overlooking the Burning Plains, Maddek’s bride was rendered speechless. Ahead of them stretched endless red blossoms—a riot of fireblooms, their petals so red and numerous that the plains appeared aflame.

  His chest tight with emotion, Maddek watched as she urged her mount a short distance up the track, seeking a higher viewpoint. Her face was alight with wonder, much as it had been the first time she’d glimpsed the beauty of the sea. Yet now it was his home that she regarded with the same wonder and astonishment.

  Mounted beside Maddek, Kelir asked quietly, “You do not marry her? I thought you would when your feet touched the ground.”

  Seven days past. Maddek would have wed her then. But for one thing. “She deserves to marry a king.”

  Especially after she’d put so much work into him.

  That amused the other warrior. “And if you are not named Ran?”

  “Aezil must die,” Maddek said easily. “I will kill him and take the Rugusian throne.”

  “You would be taking your bride’s throne.” Kelir laughed. “She is next in line after Aezil.”

  And would be queen of that realm in truth, then, after they destroyed that sorcerer.

  “Toleh, then,” Maddek decided.

  Kelir grinned. “And would you shave your beard as a Tolehi man does?”

  With a bare chin. “I could not. My bride would have nothing to yank when she wants my attention.”

  “I think she would,” Kelir said dryly.

  So she would. And did often. Maddek grinned.

  Flushed and happy, Yvenne rode back from the ridge that overlooked the plain. “Shall I hunt our suppers?”

  As she had every day since they’d been off the ship—for themselves and the dozen other riders who’d remained in their group. “You should.”

  Her gaze swept the nearby grasses and flowers. “What do I look for here?”

  “Many animals are underground, so require a stick instead of an arrow,” he told her. “Those aboveground are small, so many times all you will see is the shivering firebloom.”

  “There.” Ardyl pointed.

  Yvenne aimed, loosed. Within range, she always hit. Danoh rode over and swept up a grass rodent.

  Murmurs came from watching warriors. They had seen that display many times on this journey, yet never did it fail to impress, nor did they grow tired of it.

  With a grin, Yvenne looked to Maddek. “I should try for a drepa next, and boast a claw around my neck.”

  He shook his head. The simple kill was not why their claws had such significance, because drepa were no harder or easier to hunt than any other dangerous animal. Instead the drepa claw boasted either surviving a pack—or being such a stealthy hunter that the pack did not know what happened. “Make certain to count your arrows first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Drepa are not like other animals we have hunted. If you injure or kill one, the rest do not flee. The drepa will attack. So be certain that you have enough arrows to fell an entire pack.”

  “I see.” She eyed the claws around his neck. “Did you have to fight off a pack?”

  “I did not fight them off. Three of these, I happened upon one and it was surprised as I was.” Then he survived as many Parsatheans did. “If you ever have not enough arrows, lie upon the ground as if dead. They will ignore you.”

  “You have done so?”

  Maddek nodded. “Many times.”

  Her gaze turned to the horizon again. Faint creases formed in her brow. “How far to the Scourge?”

  “Four days’ ride. You see it?”

  “The head and shoulder, I think.”

  “It is turned on its side.” Silver-fingered Rani had done so when she’d split its belly open to retrieve her dragon.

  Yvenne straightened slightly. “There are riders coming from that direction.”

  “How many?”

  “Two. A woman and a girl. The girl is even younger than Toric, I think, though she is dressed as a warrior. The woman is perhaps the same age as Banek—and is a warrior. She wears drepa-skin armor and her hair in braids. A ragged crescent scar is on her right shoulder.”

  Kelir let out a whoop that nearly startled Yvenne out of her saddle. “That is my mother and sister,” he told her when she looked at him i
n surprise. “Toric must have sought her out and told her we are following behind.”

  They met Kelir not long after with laughter and embraces.

  Nami approached Maddek more soberly. Her embrace was tight. She was the leader of the firebloom tribe—a position his own father once had. Many times in his childhood, his family had visited hers. “No words were left unsaid?”

  His throat thick, Maddek told her, “There were none.”

  She patted his arm. “That is the most we can ask for.”

  He nodded, then introduced her to Yvenne, who had carefully dismounted and joined them. “My bride.”

  Nami took Yvenne’s hands in her own, met her gaze briefly. “I have seen those eyes before. You are Nyset’s heir.”

  “I am.”

  “And you are to unite us against the Destroyer.”

  “I will try,” Yvenne said.

  Maddek asked, “Toric has told you of our journey?”

  “I would hear more,” Nami said.

  “I will tell you as we ride,” he promised.

  Seri took place beside Yvenne, Maddek noted, with Banek on the other side. When he lifted her into the saddle, Yvenne’s attention had already been captured by the girl.

  “I have heard that you are a better warrior than even your brother,” Yvenne told her.

  Kelir’s sister grinned. “So I am.”

  “I am learning to hunt,” Yvenne said. “But I am not accustomed to the plains or detecting prey. I need someone to be a guide for my eyes. Will you do me the honor?”

  Seri flushed with pleasure. “I will.”

  A good match they made. A young warrior eager to demonstrate her skills, and a new warrior eager to learn them.

  Nami’s solemn voice drew Maddek’s gaze away from the pair as they rode ahead. “Is it truth that she spoke a lie?”

  If Toric had told her that, then no doubt he’d also told Nami the circumstances of it. Yet Maddek knew that when he stood before each tribe’s elders, he would have to explain it again and again, and would have to find the words to sway them in Yvenne’s favor.

  As one of those elders rode beside him now, he might as well begin practicing those words. “She lied to an enemy to save her life and the lives of her people.”

  Nami huffed out a laugh. “You would take your enemy as a bride?”

  “I would have no other. And she is no enemy now but a fierce and clever ally.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So you would make a mere ally our queen?”

  “She will be one of the finest warrior-queens that Parsathe has ever known, and our marriage will strengthen both of our realms.”

  “A warrior-queen?” Nami scoffed. “She sits her horse uneasily and a girl teaches her to hunt. She is not the bride your mother would have chosen.”

  What did that matter now? “Yvenne is stronger than she appears.”

  Dismissively she said, “Then you are clearly blinded by your love for her.”

  “No.” Other emotions had blinded him. “Love has made me see her more clearly.”

  Her expression softened. Yet her gaze was still sharp, her inquiry not done. “Then tell me of that strength, and why she would be a fine queen.”

  So Maddek did.

  CHAPTER 34

  YVENNE

  Yvenne had learned that even her vision could not see everything, for the ever-moving horizon hid the world beyond it. She knew not how far away the horizon was, except that it was more distant when she was on a tower or a ridge. And when she stood upon the ground, ridges and towers could be seen from farther away, as well, even if she could not see what lay at their base.

  So when they entered the Parsathean camp, she knew not how far the horizon stretched—yet in every direction, there were warriors and horses, spread out so that there was grazing and room for all.

  And not just the Parsathean army, she learned, though not much difference could she see in the camps. For many of the warriors who had gathered in Kilren to name the new Ran had accompanied Enox and the army to the glass fields—with news that even more Parsatheans were coming.

  Many slept under the open sky, but studding the landscape were also tents of mammoth hide, bleached pale by the sun. All smelled of horses and grass and cooking fires.

  They rode toward the largest tent, where the leaders of each tribe and clan had gathered. Into that tent, Maddek went, along with Nami and Seri, and five members of his Dragon.

  Only Banek remained outside—to watch over Yvenne, who had been introduced to many of the tribes’ leaders outside but was not allowed admittance into the tent, for she was not Parsathean or yet married to Maddek.

  She sat with Banek at a nearby fire, instead, eating roasted meats and speaking with the warriors who joined them, and trying so very hard not to let her frustration at being excluded from the meeting burn hot upon her tongue. So far she had come. So much she’d set in motion with a letter to Parsathe. Now no say did she have. Her future lay in Parsathean hands. And although she tried to tell herself that this was no different than Drahm, when she made use of a warrior and his strength . . . not truly could she persuade herself of it. For that battle against her brother had been truly of steel and blades. Yet this was a throne room, where she should be most useful to her warrior.

  Except that it was also a throne room that one day would be his. She had to trust that Maddek could fight this battle. But she’d have rather fought it at his side.

  At least there was much to learn outside that tent. The warriors she and Banek spoke with told them that a company of Syssian soldiers had indeed left the outpost and headed north, accompanied by larger numbers of Rugusian soldiers. Zhalen had been identified among them with some certainty, especially after Yvenne mentioned the scar on his neck. Her father’s army had come as far north as the Scourge, and not yet farther.

  That news turned her gaze south. She could not see the soldiers that her father had brought with him, or the base of the Scourge, yet that giant demon’s corpse was in clear sight, only a day’s ride distant.

  Yet the Scourge was not all that was near. To Banek, she asked, “We must be close to Temra’s altar?”

  The old warrior’s brows pulled together. “Close to it?”

  “To where Ran Bantik stood and implored the tribes to unite.”

  His confusion cleared. “We are near that spot. But Temra’s altar is . . .” He made a sweeping gesture. “Everywhere.”

  “Everywhere?”

  “Everywhere.” He pounded his fist into the ground. “This is Temra’s altar. That is why we build no temples to other gods upon it. All of it is hers.”

  Her chest hollowed. “Temra’s altar is the earth?”

  He nodded.

  “All of the earth? Or just Parsathe?”

  “Anywhere there is solid ground.”

  Which was why Maddek could not marry her at sea. But they had reached solid ground ten days past.

  Throat thick, she said, “But it is true that you must be married upon it?”

  “That is truth. And it is where a Ran stands when he is named.” With a lift of his chin, he indicated the tent where Maddek was.

  Surprise burned away her hurt. “Is that what they are doing now—naming him Ran?”

  He shook his head. “All must raise their voice. But the leaders of the tribes and the clans will first speak with him, and hear what he has to say—so they may carry it back to their people, who will know whether he is worthy of speaking for all of us.”

  “What will they ask of him?”

  “Many things.” Banek stirred the fire, sending up crackling sparks. “Likely they began with grief for Ran Ashev and Ran Marek. Then they would ask the questions that their clans and tribes want to know of a warrior who might be Ran—and of the woman he would make his queen.”

  “They will ask him about me?”r />
  “So they will.”

  “And what they know of me might influence whether the Parsatheans name him Ran?”

  “It will.”

  And Maddek might not become king if they did not approve of her? She looked toward the tent in renewed frustration. “I would rather speak for myself.”

  Banek grinned. “In time, they will call you before them. Our gathering is not set yet. And never have we been pushed to name a Ran even as another army approaches. Likely they will decide to delay the true gathering until that battle is fought—because your father’s death will change much.”

  So it would. She would be more patient, then. As Banek was.

  As Banek was with her, especially. “From the day we met, you have been a good friend to me,” she told him now. “I am grateful for it.”

  A smile touched his mouth. “As I am grateful to you. Much have you given me.”

  “I do not feel as if I have.”

  “But it is truth.” A touch of melancholy came over his face as he stirred the fire again. “All that I loved was lost when the Destroyer came. There were many of us left with emptied hearts. Some filled theirs again with children and family. Others with rage.”

  As Danoh’s mother had. “Or purpose,” Yvenne said quietly. As her mother had. As Maddek’s parents had.

  He nodded. “Mine . . . I did not fill it again. Not with wife or children. I was afraid to lose it all again. I have fought these many years, and I have always done what was needed to be done, whether it was standing against the savages on the Lave or slaying a dark warlord, yet it was merely . . . doing. Because there was nothing else for me.”

  Sometimes doing was all that was left. And then all that mattered was the manner of fighting and doing. “But you have fought and done it all honorably. Vela herself noted it.”

  “So I have. And so she did.” His voice thickened. “And her favor gladdened my heart. Yet it is what you have set forward that has filled it. Because I do not merely fight. Now, I fight for something. And my heart is full as I never thought it would be again.”

  Throat aching, she asked softly, “Do you think then that you will now have that wife and child?”