The Last Winter (The Circle War Book 2)

by Matt King

  Meryn wore a slight frown. She looked down at Bear. “John, what do you think?”

  “Me?” The eyes of all three gods settled on him. “I’m not sure I should have a say in this.”

  “You are the one who will act as our ambassador,” she said. “You have every right to help make the decision.”

  Balenor looked at him expectantly. Soraste shifted her gaze to Meryn when he looked at her.

  “Seems like there’s a case for both,” Bear said. He tried to picture himself speaking to each of the gods. Neither picture struck him as particularly good.

  “We will have to make a choice,” Balenor said. “Getting both in the same room seems unlikely.”

  Bear nodded. “Of the two, I guess I’d rather take my chances with Cerenus.”

  Meryn interrupted Balenor before he could argue. “Tell us why,” she said.

  “I’m no expert,” Bear said, “but going on what the two of you have said, this Tamaril doesn’t sound like he’s too keen on opposing Amara.”

  Balenor huffed. “I told you—”

  Meryn cut him off. “Let him finish.”

  “From what I’ve heard, Cerenus reminds me of August,” Bear continued. “At least a little. He jokes around and doesn’t quite act his age all the time, but when it comes down to it, he always tries to make the right call, and he doesn’t back down even when the other side seems too powerful to beat.” He found himself thinking back to their last days on Earth—August nearly torn to shreds after trying to avenge Ray’s murder, the way he took charge of the Orphii when Meryn left. He was every bit the leader Meryn thought he would be. “Maybe it’s not like that with Cerenus, but my hunch is they’re cut from the same cloth. I’d choose someone like August over just about anybody.”

  Balenor shook his head. “With all due respect, I think there’s…another…reason behind your support of Meryn’s choice.”

  “Balenor, please,” Meryn said.

  “It’s true. Tell me you can’t see it?”

  Meryn shot a quick glance at Bear. A wave of embarrassment rushed through him.

  “None of that matters at the moment,” she said. “Can you honestly tell me he doesn’t believe what he says?”

  Now it was Balenor’s turn to steal a look at him. He faced Meryn again. “He may believe it, but that doesn’t make it true. He doesn’t know Cerenus like we do.”

  “Be that as it may, we have no concrete proof of the outcome no matter what choice we make. Whatever we decide, Amara will know our intentions if we fail, and then the sides are set. Succeed and we have one remaining shot at recruiting the final member.”

  Both Soraste and Balenor looked to Bear. He didn’t need to be a god to know what they were thinking. They were questioning whether he was up to the task, Balenor more than Soraste. If they were looking through him to the thoughts filling his head, they would see that he had the same question.

  “Cerenus is the clear choice,” Meryn said. “He sees where this war is headed and he knows that eventually Amara will come for him no matter what. He is powerful and he is capable of swinging the balance of the war in our favor. In short, he is our best hope.” She looked around the group. “Those in agreement?”

  Soraste answered with a nod. Bear did the same.

  Balenor shook his head slowly as he rubbed both hands on his knees. He looked like he was ready to jump over the side of the platform. “It appears my voice has no bearing in this alliance. Do what you will.”

  Meryn took a step toward him. “Balenor…”

  “Please, Meryn. Get on with making your plans. Perhaps I’ll feel better about the choice when I know what our strategy will be.”

  “All right then.” She sat next to Bear again. “We will send John and the brothers tonight.”

  Balenor nearly turned white.

  “Cerenus will not be persuaded by words alone,” she continued. “He will ask for something in return.”

  “Let me guess,” Balenor said. “Should we promise him Amara’s leadership if she loses?”

  “It may take more than that,” Meryn replied. “I think we should all be prepared to offer him some of our worlds in exchange for his service.”

  With an angry huff, Balenor rose to his feet and turned his back to the group. “We’ll be displacing one power-hungry god with another,” he said.

  “Yes, we will,” she replied.

  Her answer surprised Bear. He was still getting used to the direct Meryn, the one who didn’t mince her words even when he could tell she felt uncomfortable saying them.

  The other two gods looked as though they were mentally calculating Cerenus’s ransom.

  “I have some to give,” Soraste said. “Nothing like the worlds he usually likes. But strong.”

  “He will probably ask for all of them,” Balenor said. “Maybe all of our future worlds as well. Why stop at what we’ve already claimed?”

  “What price is too much to pay for survival?” Meryn answered.

  Balenor shook his head. He left the group and walked toward the edge of the platform. A synapse appeared.

  “Where are you going?” Soraste asked.

  “Home,” he said. “You can call on me when he turns you down and runs to Amara. Until then, I will do my best to see to it that this feeble alliance can make it past the first fight of this war.”

  He was across the Terrestrium and through the portal before anyone could try to stop him.

  Meryn let out a sigh when the synapse closed. She looked as though all of her fight left with him, even if she was still trying to keep a brave face.

  “He’ll come around,” Soraste said, rising to her feet. “I know him.”

  “Our fight is hard enough without bickering amongst ourselves,” Meryn replied. She looked at Soraste and gave her half a smile. “But yes, I’m sure he will see the wisdom of the choice soon, even if he does not like the cost.”

  Soraste nodded. “I should get back,” she said as she created a synapse of her own. “Ion’s enhancement is nearly complete. I want to be there when it’s done. He will have questions.”

  When the hum of the synapse evaporated, Bear and Meryn were left alone on the garden bench. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  For a moment, he wondered if she heard him. “Yes,” she said. “As well as I can be, I suppose. I’m not sure I was ever meant to be a leader.”

  “I think you’re doing just fine.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “But Paralos would probably disagree with you.”

  Bear shrugged. “If he was such a good leader, it would be him here making the tough calls instead of you.”

  This time her smile seemed genuine, brief as it was.

  The silence that followed made him antsy. “I guess I should tell the Horsemen to get ready,” he said. “And probably do some thinking about what I’m going to say.”

  “I know you’ll do well,” she said.

  When he got up to call the elevator, she rose to put herself in his path.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “There is something else you should know before you leave,” she said. “Something Cerenus may try to use against you.”

  Her eyes had trouble meeting his. A nervous tinge sparked in his gut.

  “Before the war, before I joined Paralos’s side, it was my plan that I could end the conflict before it ever began. I thought that if August could find Gemini and kill him, that it would force Amara to back away from the challenge.”

  “But that didn’t happen,” he said.

  “No,” she replied. “It didn’t. Unfortunately, I had placed all of my hopes on the plan. I was left without an army.”

  “But the Orphii…”

  “Are Cerenus’s,” she replied.

  He felt like he needed to sit again. His mind raced, busily trying to figure out the ramifications of the news.

  “In order to gain the Orphii, I had to promise Cerenus half of my worlds.”
r />   “Half?”

  “I had no choice. Either I paid the price, or you did,” she said. She waved away something. A thought, perhaps. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m blaming you. The blame falls solely on me. I was naive to ever think Amara could be beaten so easily, and foolish to not have a plan in case I failed. Cerenus’s price was something I was willing to part with, given what I had done.”

  The spark of a thunderstorm flashed in the distance. The clouds flickered purple from the light.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he replied. “I guess I don’t follow how this is going to change things for us when I’m there.”

  “Cerenus is many things, but generous is not one of them,” she said. “He will try to take advantage of what he knows, not only that I don’t have enough worlds left to ask such a favor of him, but that he could greatly benefit from holding my indiscretions hostage. All sides are supposed to be in place before a war begins. To pull in reinforcements after the fact breaks our law.”

  “Doesn’t that make him an accomplice?” Bear asked.

  “He won’t let himself be found guilty,” she replied. “He can claim I stole them, or that I forced him to give them to me.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head. “The burden of proof is on me, and my reputation in the Circle is non-existent. Even if he told the truth, he would arrange it so Amara lessened his sentence so that she could finally convict me.”

  The group’s choice was starting to seem less and less like the right option. “Are you sure this is the guy to go after? Maybe Balenor is right.”

  “Tamaril will never leave Amara’s side, no matter how much hope Balenor has. He is too far gone to count on.”

  Bear scratched at his beard. “So, what do I do?”

  “Try to appeal to Cerenus’s reason. If that fails, promise him whatever he asks.” Her face seemed weighted down as she spoke. “You speak for all of us. If he asks you for everything Soraste and Balenor own, you must say yes.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Bear said.

  She took his hands and held them in hers. A jolt of energy rocketed through him as she gently kissed his cheek.

  “We must plan for the worst,” she said. “It’s all that ever seems likely in war.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The wounds on Shadow’s ribs gave off a horrible scent. A crusty gray film had grown around the edges of the cuts. Aeris held her breath as she got close for another attempt at feeding. She offered up a container of something called pears.

  “You need to eat this,” she said. “For your strength.”

  Shadow barely acknowledged her, lifting her lids only high enough to focus her orange eyes. She was a horrible-looking creature, with a muscled figure covered in thick black scales and a coat of hair along her arms, shoulders, and head. She looked like one of the monsters from her father’s tales, monsters that usually found their death at the end of a Vontani chakram. Aeris kept a wary eye on Shadow’s claws, aware that she was not August, and therefore not exempt from attack.

  Shadow closed her eyes.

  “Gods take you, creature. You will eat or you will die. I will not have August blame me for your suicide.”

  At the sound of his name, Shadow perked up. Her ears stood tall as she turned them, searching for the sound of her child in danger.

  “He’s fine,” Aeris said. When Shadow tried to get up, Aeris put a hand against her chest to guide her back down.

  Shadow knocked her arm away, driving Aeris back with a growl through bared teeth. The hair of her mane stood on end.

  “Enough of this,” Aeris said. “Starve for as much as it matters to me.” She put the can of pears on the ground and brushed the dirty snow off her armor, making sure that Shadow would smell no fear from her pores.

  She turned her back on the monster and started for the camp. Stubborn creature. Let August deal with you as he will.

  Whether it was normal for the planet or caused by the aftermath of Gemini’s blast, she couldn’t get used to the shortened days. Even on Vontanu, the ash clouds weren’t enough to totally block the sun’s rays. Walking through the wastelands of Earth, it felt like they were in the dark twice as much as they were the light. She and the others were used to the dark, but when their path was defined by a road they could barely see, travel became difficult. She reminded herself to talk to August about the wisdom of staying near the road. The Vontani could follow a heading as well as anyone. For all the trouble they went through to keep sight of the road, they could have easily followed the direction of the setting sun, even if it were only visible as a hazy beacon through the clouds for a few seconds each day.

  A pile of cans beside the fire greeted her when she returned to the camp. Dondannarin held the ends of the fabric August used to carry his find. The remainder of the food hung in a bulge in the center.

  “This pack is useless,” she said. She held up the ends, looking for a clasp.

  “Let August carry it. He knows it better.”

  She dropped it away from the sparks of the flames in disgust. “It makes no sense.”

  Aeris looked around the camp. “Where is he? I want to talk to him about our travel.”

  “He hasn’t returned yet. Perhaps he needed time for his…needs.”

  “Surely he didn’t need this much time.” She walked to the edge of the fire’s light, which was only a few steps past the glowing coals. The woods were as still as a dead woman. The snow falling on the cluttered ground was a constant pattering noise in her ears. She tried to focus past it for the sound of a voice calling through the night. The most she heard was a clump of ash and snow snapping a tree branch.

  “This is his world,” Dondannarin said. “He will be safe from any people he finds.”

  “There are others here besides his people.”

  Dondannarin stepped to her side. “We can go after him.”

  “No,” Aeris said. “Not ‘we.’”

  August’s swords lay against a stone next to the pile of cans. She picked them up and studied the ends. Each had a notch cut into its handle. After a few attempts, she managed to join the swords together. It snapped with a satisfying click. The resulting weapon was something she thought Colliere would admire—sturdy, yet weighted so awkwardly that only a practiced hand could wield it effectively. She swung it lightly from side to side. With every movement, the blades left behind a whistling note.

  “Where will you go?” Dondannarin asked.

  “He went in this direction, yes?”

  “He did.”

  “Then that is the direction I will go.” As she situated her armor for travel, she caught sight of Paralos’s mark shimmering on her chest. It took all of her will not to use August’s blades to shatter it. And what if the blade kept going? What then?

  Dondannarin placed a hand on her arm, gently as if to wake her. “And what would you have us do, Revenent?”

  “I’m not your Revenent anymore.”

  “Then you have no power to make me stop calling you by that name.”

  Aeris smiled only briefly. “The heading we have kept so far should continue, according to August. Can you follow it?”

  Dondannarin nodded.

  “In the unlikely event that I don’t return soon, I want you to keep going.”

  “I won’t leave you alone, Aeris.”

  “I won’t be alone. I hope,” she added. “I don’t like the feeling I have. I hope I’m wrong. If I’m not, I don’t want you to risk being caught. August and I will be able to handle any trouble we find. As long as you keep to the path we’ve forged so far, we can catch up to you.”

  “And what of the monster?”

  Aeris didn’t bother looking up at the hill. “She will follow if she can. If she can’t, then there’s nothing you can do.”

  “August won’t like that.”

  “It’s because of August that I’m not worried about her. The only way she won’t follow is if she’s dead.
Or he is.”

  Dondannarin glanced back at the rest of the group with a scowl. Aeris had seen the look on her face before. It was one of reluctant acceptance, one that wouldn’t relent until Aeris’s well-being was proven intact.

  “I won’t travel for more than two days,” Dondannarin said. “If you haven’t met with us by then, I’m stopping the group.”

  “A fair compromise,” Aeris said. “You should travel at night.”

  “It seems to always be night here.”

  “You should make good time then.”

  Dondannarin’s laugh was short-lived. “Go on,” she said. “For all we know, the food disagreed with him. If you are not back before the fire burns out, we will meet you again along the path.”

  Aeris nodded and set off through the trees with August’s staff in hand. His trail was easy enough to find. Her eyes had to adjust quickly to the lack of light as the woods became more tightly packed together. She wondered how much noise her footsteps made in the snow. To her, it was like listening to an umari eating a tree stalk, but August’s people did not have the senses she did. Even so, she made an effort to step in the prints he left behind in hopes of deadening the noise.

  She eventually reached a point where he seemed to have come to a stop. The area was matted down by his feet. When she looked at evidence of his stride ahead of her, it appeared to lengthen into a run. She looked around for more prints to see if something had chased him. Walking ahead farther, she saw a second set of prints near his, a smaller foot of a four-legged animal, she guessed.

  The fool ran off to chase more food.

  How he thought he would kill an animal without his swords, she didn’t know. She trekked ahead, eventually coming to a stream. Beyond it, only August’s prints continued.

  The sound of cheers sent her darting behind a tree.

  Coming into contact with the people of Earth was a certainty, she knew, but hearing their voices together in a group somehow solidified the notion that she was an alien creature on an alien planet. She looked down at her suit briefly, wondering how it would appear to them. No matter. I brought nothing else.