This was entirely different from my past experience as a Corack. We hit hard and fast, with sharply focused targets and clear goals. I wasn’t at all prepared for open warfare such as this.
Trina led us toward the clearing around King’s Lake, where the fighting worsened considerably. Here, the casualties carpeted the ground, making it impossible to travel five steps in any direction without nearly tripping over a fallen body. Black smoke rose from a patch of burned trees, the air reeked of blood, and the only noises were the clashes of steel blades and grunts of soldiers fighting for their lives.
I recognized Harlyn in the battle and was relieved to see her safe. She had just rescued a Reddengrad soldier whose halberd was broken in half. She offered a hand to help him up and briefly smiled at me.
Commander Mindall was with his fighters to my left, attempting to hold back a line of Ironhearts to stop them from entering the clearing. While Trina ran in one direction, I joined the Commander, but when I reached for my sword, I lacked the strength to even pull it from its scabbard. I backed into the thicket until I was alone and examined my injury again. The burn had turned darker but wasn’t blistering as a severe wound should. Which would have given me hope, except my arm also felt weaker than it had when I’d first been burned. Something was definitely wrong.
Out in the clearing, Mindall called for all available Halderians to come for reinforcement. I made a fist and grimaced at how weak it was, then heeded his call.
When I emerged, I almost careened into a large Ironheart riding a carnox. The animal reared up, and while I fumbled for my knife, it pushed me to the ground with its front paws. I landed on a small stump of a fallen tree, which dug into my back and stole my breath.
“Simon!” Harlyn cried.
The Ironheart leaned over the animal and gave a booming laugh. “You’re Simon Hatch? We assumed this would be harder!”
“That what would be harder?” Better we talked than he ordered his carnox to take a bite from me.
“Finding you in all this chaos. We expected they’d have protected you better. Don’t you know that every soldier here has orders to find you?”
By then, I had squirmed free enough to reach my knife with my left hand. I pierced the hide of the carnox but that made it angrier and it stomped a paw down on my leg. Hoping to ease the pain, I rolled sideways, but it didn’t help and put me in a worse position defensively.
The Ironheart started to give his animal an order, but then he grunted loudly. By the time I looked back, he was already falling from the animal, with Harlyn standing directly behind him, her sword now in the carnox’s side. It stumbled back, freeing my leg, and fell dead.
She rushed over to me. “Are you hurt?”
“Hurting, but not hurt,” I said, though it took her help to stand again.
However, before she released my hand, she rotated it to see the burn on my arm and the cauterized wound. “What happened?”
I pulled my hand away. “I’m sure someone in the Reddengrad army knows what to do. Or our physician, Loelle.” I wished I knew where she was.
“It looks painful.”
I started to shake my head but Harlyn put a hand on my shoulder. “Why do the soldiers here have orders to find you?”
“Long story.”
“Well, for now, stay with me and maybe you’ll live long enough to tell me the story.”
I balled my hand into a fist but felt even less strength in it than before. If I fought, it would have to be with my left hand, which was far less useable. I’d do better at Harlyn’s side.
Harlyn ran with me toward the far end of King’s Lake, where a bridge had been built to allow crossing over the wide river. On our side of the lake, Basil was with Trina and at least fifty men, all of them laying fallen trees in a tall horizontal stack. It would give us a firm position to gather when the battle made it this far.
I pulled Basil aside. “You need to get under cover. If there’s a target on me, surely there is on you too.”
“I’m a prince,” Basil said. “And you should be a king. We’re always targeted.” He took a deep breath. “I was sorry to hear about the loss of the Lonetree Camp. How will that affect the rebellion?”
“It will crush us,” Trina said. “That one assault on the camp probably scattered or killed eighty percent of our people.” She glanced over at me. “How is your arm?”
Harlyn grabbed my hand and lifted it for Basil to see the injury. He stared up at me with widened eyes. “You found a Rawkyren.” It wasn’t a question, nor did he look at all happy to have spoken those words.
“What can we do for him?” Harlyn asked.
“I know what this means.” Basil’s frown became pronounced. “When we have time, I’ll explain. But this may change everything.”
His words were drowned out by another screeching sound overhead, different from the Rawkyren’s. “Everyone get behind the barricades!” Basil ordered.
His own men were calling for him to come, but he waited for Trina and me to run ahead of him. A shadow passed over him and he paused to look up. Trina screamed out a warning, but it was too late. A giant condor swooped down, grabbing Basil with its talons and carrying him into the air.
“Bring down that bird!” I shouted, running out from behind the barricades. His men threw their pikes and the few who had disk bows aimed them upward, but the condor was already out of range. Both Basil and the bird disappeared into the morning sun, almost certainly headed to the dungeons of Highwyn. Almost certainly headed to his doom.
Watching Basil be carried away had hit me like cannon fire, and I was still reeling, staying on my feet only with sheer willpower. Through all the commotion around me, I stared at the sky until his body disappeared, fully aware of the torture and terror that awaited him, and how little any of us could do to stop it.
Almost immediately after I last saw him, the Dominion army crashed into the clearing, breaking through Commander Mindall’s lines. We had nowhere to retreat.
A gray-haired Reddengrad soldier took up command, ordering half the men to raise their pikes while the rest of the men continued to build new barricades behind us. My sword was in my left hand, almost entirely useless. Harlyn looked over at me with widened eyes, and asked, “Is this the end?”
A horn sang out in the distance and suddenly everything went silent. No more thundering of running animals, no whooshing sound of blades from the thicket. No orders being shouted. Basil’s men froze in their work too, looking to their new captain for answers. It became eerily quiet, with only the rushing river echoing in my ears.
From up on the hillside, a sound slowly grew from a soft, rhythmic beat to dozens of footsteps in a precise march. I turned toward the top of the hill on the south side of the river. My heart sank the instant I saw them.
These were some of the Coracks from the Lonetree Camp, fifty or more. I recognized many of them, though even from this distance, I knew something was wrong. Their expressions were flat, and their eyes were fixed toward the Dominion armies, as though they were waiting for orders. There could only be one reason for it.
“Ironhearts,” I mumbled, the single word washing a chill over me. Endrick was clearly directing their every move from afar.
One of the men from the back of the two lines moved forward, taking a position in the center. My gut twisted. That was Captain Tenger. Endrick must have known who he was and wanted us to see him so that we’d understand this wasn’t only the end of the battle; this was the end of the rebellion.
Above us, more condors swooped in from overhead, firing pellets that demolished our barricades and forced us back out into the open fields. I charged out with the men, though with one injured arm now holding only a knife, I knew I had the disadvantage. No, it was worse than that. I had little hope for myself or anyone else here.
Near the edge of the forest, a soldier at least a head taller than me raised his sword in my direction. I sighed and lowered my knife like I’d accepted defeat. And maybe I had, though not to thi
s oversized fool. When he was nearly to me, I ducked away from his sword and instead plunged the knife directly into his chest. It cost me a deep slice on my shoulder, but he fell at my feet.
Nauseous and overwhelmed with pain, I stumbled into the forest to collect myself, finally settling in the brush against a tree. My shoulder was bleeding and I covered it with my hand, then closed my eyes to rest, to figure out what to do next.
Though as far as I could tell, we were entirely out of options.
We had lost, and every one of us would pay for it with our lives.
I crossed the Mistriver Bridge without being noticed, but on the outskirts of the Nesting Woods, I met my first Ironheart, a man who must have been captive to Lord Endrick for so long that his eyes were utterly deadened. He charged at me with his sword out, forcing me to react. I felled him with the Brillian sword I had taken from Wynnow’s palace, amazed at how light the metal was, and how sharp. It truly was a superior weapon.
On his heels, four more soldiers rushed toward me, all with swords positioned for attack. I swung at the first two and left my mark, but the third one cut my arm as he rode by, so deep I nearly fell from my horse. With my free hand, I grabbed the outstretched arm of the nearest soldier and drew enough strength from him to heal my wound, and then took more until he toppled to the ground without a single visible injury.
This group must have been assigned to protect the perimeter of the forest, for I saw the smoke rising from the canopy and the condors flying overhead. That’s where the real battle would be. That’s where Simon would be.
Because of the thick undergrowth, it was necessary to leave my horse outside the forest, and so I tied it off, then headed as quietly as possible toward the fighting. I kept the hood of my cloak raised and the sword beneath its folds. There was no sense in announcing myself any sooner than necessary.
I saw signs of a few skirmishes that must have happened here, but the deeper I went, the louder the sounds of battle became, the thicker the scent of blood and smoke. I couldn’t imagine what yet awaited me.
Then up ahead, I saw a body resting against a tree and drew in a sharp breath. That was Simon! Was he—
I crept up to him, crouching at his side and watching for the rise and fall of his chest beneath his coat. I saw it and finally released the tense breath locked in my throat. His face was dirty, and speckles of blood flecked one cheek. His shoulder bore a deep cut and was still bleeding. I put my hand over his wound and with a little concentration, felt the injury come to me. Not all of it—Loelle had said no more than half. But I gave enough to stop the bleeding.
He’d be angry when he figured out I’d used magic to heal the wound, but what did that matter now? I wouldn’t apologize for having magic, nor should I have to. Still, I wished we had spoken about it before he got a demonstration.
Simon stirred and then his eyes flickered open, immediately settling on me. They creased at the corners as he took me in, blinking a few times in disbelief. I knew I should say something, but in the moment, I didn’t know how to begin the conversation. Or how to continue it past “hello.” Or how to speak to him at all.
“Kes?” he mumbled, looking genuinely confused.
Then from out of nowhere, I heard a shout and saw a Dominion soldier headed toward me, his sword out. I stood in time to clash swords with him, but when he swung at me again, I snatched his hand and immediately pulled as much strength as I could from him, enough to instantly drop him to his knees. He stumbled through a few words of bewilderment, then fell unconscious.
I immediately turned to Simon, whose eyes had become wary, maybe even fearful of me. Without speaking, he looked down at his healed shoulder and then over at the fallen soldier, taking time to absorb what he’d seen. “What have you done?”
“He would’ve killed you!”
Simon closed his eyes, though the tension in his face remained and his disappointment was as evident as his despair. “But the way you stopped him … with magic.”
Kneeling beside him, I said, “The things I can do now … I can change this battle. I can defeat Lord Endrick.”
I’d never expected him to cheer for the news that I’d acquired magic, but couldn’t he at least try to see the good it might accomplish? Instead, he sat up straighter and rubbed his shoulder, taking far longer than he should have. When he looked up again, his eyes were even colder than before.
“Be careful, Kes. It’s dangerous to play with the power of life and death.”
I pointed to the sword at his side. “And what is that you carry? Does it not also let you play with life and death?”
“That is not the same! I never want to use this sword!”
“And I never asked for this power! But if you must sometimes take life, why is it wrong for me to give life?”
“Because it comes at a price. You give to someone who is dying, and a piece of you disappears. You take life and absorb a piece of them. In time, how do you know that won’t fracture you?”
I stood, full of fire and frustration, but trying not to shout. “Simon, I’m still me!”
“What does that mean?” Something burst inside him too. “Because at any given moment, I don’t know who you are anymore. Are you a Dallisor? Corack? Endrean?”
His words cut me deeper than he might have known. Barely able to look at him, I said, “I remember you telling me that no matter who I was, you’d always care for me.”
“Care for you?” He grunted. “All you remember of us is that I care for you?”
His words hung in the air like a fog growing between us. I continued staring at him, but I no longer saw him, not really. A tear escaped my eye. “I’m alive, Simon. I thought you’d at least be happy about that.”
A heavy silence followed before he finally stood, though he wasn’t making the effort to get any closer to me. “After all that we’ve been through, how can you believe that I only care for you?”
“Simon?” A rather pretty Halderian girl was running toward him, her sword out. “I saw—oh.”
She had noticed me and immediately lowered her sword. She tossed a look from Simon to the fallen Dominion soldier, and finally back to me, then said, “I’m Harlyn Mindall. And you’re the Infidante.”
“This is Kestra Dallisor,” Simon said, blandly motioning toward me.
An awkward silence fell between the three of us. My head was spinning from the words Simon and I had just exchanged. If I’d been unsure before of his feelings for me, I was more confused now. I didn’t even know if we were still friends—let alone whatever we used to be. And it was obvious that he and Harlyn were. Maybe even more than friends.
She finally said to him, “I didn’t mean to intrude. It’s just that the battle—”
“That’s why I came,” I said, eager for any reason to escape. “For the battle. Only the battle.” And I left.
Simon called my name, but I ran until I emerged into the clearing, instantly assaulted by the sights and sounds of a terrible battle. I became surrounded by a tangle of soldiers and fighters wearing Reddengrad uniforms and Halderian colors, and scattered animals, some running about in a leaderless frenzy, others injured, others still attacking whoever was within reach of their claws or teeth, without regard to uniform.
I continued running, dodging every possible fight while Simon’s words streamed through my head, asking if the powers I had would eventually fracture me. It was only a question, only an idea concocted from his belief that all magic was inherently bad.
But it had also unnerved me, and I was no longer sure if I should use these powers again. That is, until my gaze turned onto a hill on the far side of the lake, to the strangest thing I’d ever seen: Coracks I recognized from the Lonetree Camp, simply standing there watching, with Tenger at the forefront. They were statues that breathed and blinked but did nothing, even as the battle raged on. They were Ironhearts now.
Thanks to Wynnow’s betrayal, and the necklace I’d worn in camp, Endrick had captured them and done this. I knew what th
ey were experiencing, how it felt to be controlled by orders that took over thought or reason, to instinctively know that disobedience equaled death. I also understood that if Endrick killed Tenger, the rebellion would receive a fatal blow.
Whether Simon was right or wrong about the magic within me, I had to help the Coracks now. I charged up the hillside, fighting only when necessary. Tenger was too visible for me to dare rescuing him, but I put a hand on the heart of the nearest Corack at the back of their two lines, the boy who had shown admiration for Simon when he first brought me into the camp.
I gave him from my strength, hoping to heal the piece of his heart that Endrick had taken as his own. It put a pinch in my chest, but I was strong enough to manage that, and seconds later, the boy came to, as if awoken from a daze.
He recognized me and seemed to know exactly what was going on. “We can see the fighting, my lady,” he said. “We just can’t do anything about it.”
“Now you can. Go!” I did the same to a dozen other Coracks along the back line. I wanted to do more, and I knew I had to get to Tenger. But by then, I was too weak to help anyone else. I needed to take some strength too.
But not yet.
Instead, I hid within the tall grasses of the hill and watched the unfolding battle. For as fiercely as the Halderian soldiers and Reddengrad armies were fighting, we had no chance of winning. Not unless I could get stronger and return to the battle.
Then, from out of the forest, eight men on horseback entered the clearing, all in Dominion colors. I immediately recognized the man in front, Sir Henry, and my fingers grew numb. Despite knowing exactly the kind of monster he was, including what I’d suffered at his hand, it disturbed me to know I might have to use magic on him as well, whether today or in the coming weeks. He was my enemy, he served the king who had tortured me, and he detested me above most others in his world. But in some small way, he’d also been my father once, and maybe deep inside me, I had a measure of love for him. Henry surveyed the scene and by his gestures to his officers, he seemed to be pleased with their progress in battle.
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