Bershad whispered curses to the nameless gods. He longed for the death that refused to arrive.
Days later—he couldn’t be sure how long—Bershad awoke gasping from a fever dream where the women and children Vergun had hung from the trees outside Glenlock Canyon had cut themselves down and stalked him through the forest. Their glowing red eyes cut through the darkness. They muttered to him, mouths filled with bloated black tongues.
Vera was in his cabin—sitting in a chair on the far side of the room. She had taken her boots off and looked like she’d been watching him for a long time.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“What do you think?” Bershad growled. He spat off the side of the bed and rummaged around for a bottle of rice wine that wasn’t empty. Didn’t find one.
“You need to stop drinking.”
“Growing bones all day would make you thirsty, too.”
“It goes slower when you’re drunk,” she said. “I have been watching. We’ll reach Burz-al-dun in less than a week and you need to be ready.”
He fell back into his sweat-stained mattress and looked at her through half-closed eyes. “You should leave me down here. Slip away with Felgor and find your princess. Let me die in this shithole.” He rubbed his throat.
“If you rot away on this ship, you’ll leave our work unfinished.”
“Good. Everything I’ve done in my life has ended with the blood of innocents. Glenlock Canyon. All those dragons. And now I got my donkey and my only friend killed. The longer I live, the more people I’ll hurt.”
“I feel responsible, too,” she said. “We should have listened to Felgor and found another way into Balaria. And on the deck, I should have…” She trailed off. “We all had chances to prevent it, but there’s nothing to do except move forward.”
“I can’t. Not after all this.”
Vera looked at him for a long time. “You’ve been muttering about Glenlock Canyon for days. What really happened there?”
Bershad frowned. “Thought you didn’t care about my past.”
“Unless it was going to fuck with my future. And it’s starting to.”
Bershad didn’t say anything.
“Why did you order that charge, Silas?”
Bershad had been lying about Glenlock Canyon for fourteen years. But down in the hold of that ship—with a head full of nightmares—the truth seeped out of him on its own.
“Hertzog Malgrave didn’t send me to negotiate new terms with Wormwrot Company. He sent me to kill them all. Being honest, I didn’t have a problem with the order. Vallen and his men were bastards, and they’d been leeching off the people of the Dainwood for years. But I screwed it up. My attack was sloppy, and Vergun slipped away with most of his men. I pushed his retreat back toward Glenlock because there’s no way out of the nearby box canyon, but he rode through the town and took hostages before I cornered him. Strung them up in a line at the mouth of the canyon. All those women. Children, too. They were so scared.”
Bershad paused. Talking about it made his chest and throat tight.
“Glenlock isn’t far from Floodhaven. I sent a letter to the king telling him Vergun had taken hostages, but all I needed was time and some gold for ransoms, and I could save them. I thought I could fix it. But Hertzog sent me a letter back telling me that my father had been arrested for treason.” Bershad swallowed. “He also said that if I completely destroyed Wormwrot Company that day, he would pardon my father. Send him to a country across the Soul Sea and let me rule the Dainwood in his stead.” Bershad pressed two fingers against the wound on his wrist. Gritted his teeth at the pain, and at the memory. “So I did it. I traded hundreds of innocent lives to save my father. But Hertzog killed him anyway.”
“The king betrayed you.”
“I betrayed myself. My father wouldn’t have wanted it, but I was afraid of losing him.” He paused. “I can still see their bodies swaying in those trees when I close my eyes. I deserve what happened to me.”
Vera didn’t speak for a long time.
“Protecting Kira was not my first assignment as a widow,” she said eventually. “A day before I returned from my training on Roriku, a group of pirates kidnapped one of the empress’s cousins. She was just a little girl who’d been playing by the ocean, collecting shells. They snatched her. My ship was heading to the capital, but I was diverted and tasked with getting the girl back. I was eighteen years old, just like you were. Strong. Confident. Reckless. I snuck onto the ship at night and found the girl. Thought I could fight my way out with her, too, but…”
She looked down at her hands.
“You can have black deeds and mistakes in your past without being rotten down to the core. You can keep moving through this world, even if there is no redemption for the things you left behind you. That child’s life taught me that lesson. Rowan understood it, too. He saw something bigger in you, swimming beneath all the guilt you carry. And he sacrificed himself so that you could keep on going. It is time for you to stop hiding your true nature and start using it for something worthwhile. Otherwise Rowan died for nothing.” Vera leaned forward. “Do not forget the promise you made to Ashlyn Malgrave. And to me.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Bershad said.
“Good.” She pulled her boots on and stood. “There’s something else, too. Devan and Liofa are on this ship with us. So stop drinking. Once you’re healed, we will kill them.”
Vera left. Bershad stared at the ceiling. He felt something different inside his body as he healed. There was a restless energy tangled up with his pulse, like an animal scratching against a cage. Bershad could feel the movement of the boat and then a thousand movements beyond that—the electric crackle of fish heartbeats swarming outside the hull. The vague, magnetic pull of dragons in the distance. The only other time he’d felt something similar was right before he’d passed out in the dragon warren at the top of the Razorback Mountains.
Vera didn’t fully understand what she was asking him to do. If he dropped all the chains and removed all the masks, Bershad didn’t know what he’d find underneath. It might be just as destructive as the emperor’s cull of the dragons. It might be worse.
But she was also right. He’d made promises. And one way or another, Bershad wanted to watch the life drain out of Devan’s eyes before the end. He threw the last, half-full jug of rice wine across the room, where it shattered. Then he scooped another handful of moss from the cask Vera had found and pressed it into the worst of his injuries. Lay back and let the pain of healing consume him. Tried to clear his head. He remembered the glass vial of warren moss Rowan had given him. Checked his hair to make sure it hadn’t broken. He could eat it now and heal the wounds in a few seconds, but he resisted the temptation.
If Bershad used the vial now, he wouldn’t have it when he found the emperor in Burz-al-dun.
30
ASHLYN
Almira, Castle Malgrave
“What do you mean there’s been no word?” Ashlyn asked Godfrey. The pigeon shit on his shoulders was particularly thick that day.
“I’m sorry, my queen. I have sent two versions of the messages you requested every day. Two to Mudwall and two to Deepdale, all of them ordering every Malgrave warden back to Floodhaven immediately. There have been no responses.”
One or two birds could get lost, especially on the long flight down to Deepdale. But it had been seven days since Cedar Wallace had disappeared. Twenty-eight messages had flown from Floodhaven since then—she’d nearly emptied her dovecote with the task. The only way that many birds could fail to arrive was if someone was systematically shooting them down. But that meant Wallace had surrounded Floodhaven with hidden archers before trying to assassinate her and given them orders to shoot any pigeons that flew out of the dovecote. Cedar Wallace was unmatched when it came to battle tactics, but this level of forethought surprised her.
“Maybe the sentinels will turn something up,” Ashlyn muttered. After it became clear the pigeons weren’t worki
ng, Ashlyn had dispatched two score of sentinels to deliver messages on foot. She expected them to return before nightfall.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how are things in the city?” Godfrey asked, lowering his head.
Ashlyn looked at him. “Order is being maintained.”
After the attack at her coronation, Ashlyn sent ships along the coast and wardens into the woods to search for Cedar Wallace, but he’d disappeared. She’d also instituted a curfew in the city. Carlyle Llayawin and his remaining wardens had volunteered to guard the walls on their own—the last time she’d taken his report, the man looked like he hadn’t slept for days. Linkon Pommol’s wardens had continued to help patrol the streets, but Korbon and Brock had cordoned themselves off in their respective compounds inside the city and surrounded themselves with their sworn wardens. They might not have tried to slash her throat open like Cedar Wallace, but it was clear they wouldn’t be rushing to support her anymore, either.
“What about from the far side of the Soul Sea?” Ashlyn asked. Bershad could have reached Burz-al-dun by now. “Any news?”
“Signs of the Great Dragon Migration are picking up all across Terra—many of the adolescents have already journeyed east. The mothers and their juveniles will fill the skies within a few weeks.”
Ashlyn nodded.
“No other news?” Ashlyn asked.
The steward hesitated. Coughed. “Nothing new, my queen. Our informants in Ghalamar continue to report crop shortages and refugees. Riots in the major cities. But that has been going on for quite some time. Northern Lysteria is still rumbling with rebellion, and the viceroys are scrambling to quash it. Balaria is quiet as always.”
Ashlyn nodded. Balaria was like a locked safe when it came to information, but the death of an emperor would have slipped out. She had to assume Bershad had either failed or been delayed to the point that his mission wouldn’t matter.
There was a quick commotion outside the dovecote. Hayden stepped between Ashlyn and the door. Hand on her sword. But it was Shoshone who came through.
“My queen, there’s an update from the ramparts. Riders approaching.”
“The sentinels?” Ashlyn asked.
“Unknown, but I figured you’d want to meet them as soon as possible.”
“Yes, thank you.” Ashlyn turned back to Godfrey. “Keep sending messages. We must get word to our wardens in Deepdale and Mudwall.”
* * *
It was nearly dark by the time they reached the outer wall of the city. Ashlyn hopped onto a platform so she could get a better view. Carlyle Llayawin was already there, looking both exhausted and determined.
“High-Warden Llayawin,” Ashlyn said. “Have the sentinels come inside the walls yet?”
“No, my queen. They stopped in those trees for some reason.”
Carlyle pointed. Ashlyn followed his finger, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. The chorus of summer insects had begun—locusts and crickets screaming into the fading light. The small, glowing flashes of fireflies pulsed amongst the trees. After a few moments, Ashlyn started noticing larger movements in the trees.
“They’re definitely soldiers,” Ashlyn said. “But I can’t make out their colors. Why would our sentinels wait in the trees?”
“No idea, my queen,” Carlyle said. “It’s not protocol. I was about to ride down there with a score of my wardens. Find out what’s keeping them.”
“No, don’t do that,” Ashlyn said.
Something wasn’t right. She scanned the tree line more carefully, but it was too dark to see much besides the silhouettes of moving bodies between trunks. From the corner of her eye, Ashlyn caught the flicker of two pigeons being set loose from the dovecote. Godfrey following her instructions.
She watched the pigeon that headed west. It stayed high above the tree line like she’d trained it to, but just before it was about to pass from sight, an arrow shot up from the top of the tallest tree and speared the bird through the heart. Ashlyn’s eyes widened.
“Close the gates,” she ordered.
“My queen?” Carlyle asked. “But our sentinels won’t—”
“Those aren’t our sentinels. Close everything as quickly as possible. Get all of your wardens up on these walls and prepare for an attack. Now!”
“Right away!” Carlyle barked off quick orders to the men on the rampart, then he ran down the stairs to inform the rest of his men. Soon after, the sound of Floodhaven’s gates creaking closed echoed from below.
“My queen?” Hayden asked, stepping closer.
“It’s Wallace,” Ashlyn explained. “He’s trying to bait me. If I’d sent more wardens outside to check on the sentinels, he would have surrounded and slaughtered them. Probably tried to rush the gates afterward and avoid a siege.”
“But I don’t see any of Wallace’s men,” Hayden said, turning back to the wall.
“Trust me, they’re out there.”
As if the men in the trees could hear her, hundreds of campfires were ignited against the tree line, illuminating the trunks with an orange glow. The rough shadows of the wardens were easy to see now, along with the red-and-white colors of Cedar Wallace on their chests. If there was any question as to who was out there, a massive banner with Wallace’s colors had been erected above the main road leading to the city.
No sense hiding now that Ashlyn had closed the gates.
The fires provided enough light to better make out the movement between the trees. Dozens of objects were swaying like long grass on a breezy day.
“What is that?” Hayden asked, noticing them as well.
It took Ashlyn a moment to realize the answer. When she did, her mouth went dry and her pulse quickened.
“Malgrave wardens,” Ashlyn said. “They’ve hung them from the trees.”
“Looks like almost a hundred men,” Shoshone said. “So it’s not just the sentinels you dispatched.”
Ashlyn kept watching the swaying men. In the firelight, she could make out the green plumes of high-wardens.
“Those are the officers that my father sent to Mudwall,” Ashlyn said. “And the ones that I sent to Deepdale. Cedar Wallace killed them all.”
If the officers were dead, that meant Wallace had destroyed both armies.
“And judging from the number of fires, there are at least ten thousand of Wallace’s wardens out there,” Ashlyn said, doing a quick calculation in her head. “Possibly more.”
So, Wallace’s vassals had brought their wardens after all. They just hadn’t taken them inside the city.
“Should we call an alarm to our other wardens?” Carlyle asked.
“Not yet.” That would just cause a panic. “Now that we’ve closed the gates, Wallace won’t attack,” Ashlyn said. “He doesn’t have the numbers to storm our walls. But he knows I don’t have the wardens to risk fighting him in an open field. He’ll have brought catapults with him. He plans to dig in for a siege.”
“We have ships,” Shoshone said. “We can resupply by sea.”
“That will take too long,” Ashlyn said. “Floodhaven is at four times the normal capacity because of my coronation. We’ll be out of food in a few weeks, which is probably half as long as it will take the lords and wardens behind our walls to rebel.”
Never mind the fact that she planned to send the navy to war in half a moon’s turn. Godfrey was right—the Great Dragon Migration was gaining momentum with each passing day. According to her latest tally of sightings, and calculations based on previous years, this migration would reach full force anywhere from nineteen to twenty-seven days from now.
“Rider!” a warden shouted from farther down the wall.
“How many?”
“One! It’s just one. Heading for the main gate.”
Ashlyn scanned the tree line until she saw the figure, riding slumped and messy atop a horse that zigged and zagged in different directions.
“Do we fire?” an archer called.
“No,” Ashlyn said, keeping her eyes on the ri
der. “He’s already dead. Use the northwest postern gate to get him inside.” That gate could be opened and closed quickly. “Bring his body to me.”
* * *
It was Uylnar Went—high steward of Mudwall. The man whose letters Ashlyn had been waiting to receive. Cedar Wallace had slit Uylnar’s throat, then lashed his boots to a horse and sent him galloping into Floodhaven with a letter nailed to his chest. Hayden grunted as she removed the nail, which had been hammered straight through his body. Passed the paper to Ashlyn. She tried to ignore the blood as she read.
Ashlyn Malgrave,
You are queen of Almira no longer. I have killed the wardens you sent to Mudwall. I have killed the wardens you sent to Deepdale. The Gorgon Valley is mine. The Dainwood is mine. Everything else will follow.
My catapults will begin to fire at dawn tomorrow. Surrender Floodhaven to me, and you may live in exile. Make me root you out of that precious Queen’s Tower, and I will let each one of my wardens have a turn before I cut off your head.
Cedar Wallace, King of Almira
Ashlyn stared at the paper, squeezing her left fist so hard that the dragon thread crackled against her skin and started to smoke.
“What are your orders, my queen?” Hayden asked.
“Tell the men to prepare for catapult fire at dawn.”
31
VERA
Balaria, Burz-al-dun
The skyline of Burz-al-dun rose in the distance. Since midafternoon the day before, the sandy desert had been giving way to small bushes and brown reeds along the shore. Overnight the stunted growth had transformed into olive groves and lemon orchards. Vera spotted a few small herds of queer, hooved creatures. They had brown hides and two long horns that spiraled up from their heads in black-and-white rings. They were grazing in the shade of the lemon trees.
“Quite the sight,” Borgon said from behind Vera. “When I was a boy, you started seeing the orchards and gazelles two days before you caught sight of the Clock.” He scratched his head.
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