by Ryals, R. K.
I choked on my own sobs as Kye leaned over me, sliding his hand over Brennus’ face. He closed Brennus’ dead eyes, creating the illusion of sleep.
“Brennus,” Daegan rasped from behind us.
Kye moved away from me, his hand going from my shoulder to the bowman’s. Kye shook his head.
“No!” Daegan breathed. “No!”
Kye’s jaw clenched. “Daegan ...”
Daegan pulled away from him. “No,” he whispered. His chin fell to his chest. “No.” Two of Prince’s Cadeyrn’s men approached Brennus, and Daegan snapped to attention. “Don’t you touch him! Don’t you dare touch him!”
The men paused.
“We’ve all lost friends,” one of them said. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered with sandy hair and dark blue eyes. Since we were all covered in dust, it was hard to tell if he was young or old.
Daegan pushed away from Kye. “We’ll take him. He’s our man,” he said vehemently.
The guards looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them before they both stepped back, their hands up.
Daegan moved to Brennus’ head, his gaze going to Kye’s. “Help me,” Daegan begged.
My eyes went to Kye’s legs, to the wounds I’d seen earlier. The cuts from the sand were shallow, and the blood had dried where the leather trousers he wore was peeled away from his skin. Something other than sand had struck him during the storm. What, I had no idea.
“Your legs,” I told Kye.
His gaze moved to mine, and he shook his head.
“In due time.”
It was Cadeyrn’s words, but now they came from another prince, another leader whose own comfort had to be swept aside for his people.
Kye moved to Brennus’ feet and knelt.
“Together,” Kye said, his gaze meeting Daegan’s.
Maeve put her hands under Brennus’ back, and I did the same from the opposite side.
“Now!” Kye ordered, and we all lifted.
Sand fell away from Brennus’ body as we raised him from the ground, the sun beating down on us. Our skin was red and raw, our hearts were broken.
We walked, following Prince Cadeyrn’s men as they stacked their dead, the servant women bathing the faces of the deceased as male and female warriors built a large funeral pyre from a stack of timber shoved under an overturned cart. There was no way the corpses would make it longer than a day in the Ardus’ heat.
“We can’t burn him,” Daegan insisted.
Kye led us a few feet away from the prince’s men. We lowered Brennus to the ground, and Kye left us just long enough to retrieve two long pieces of wood from the cart. The prince’s men had acted quickly, overturning both provision carts to protect the supplies. The wind had been strong and heavy, but it was the sand that proved deadly, suffocating anyone who’d found themselves unprotected.
Maeve and I stood silent, watching as Kye and Daegan each took the flat wood, digging it over and over in the sand. A hole formed.
“The ground shifts too much,” Lochlen’s voice said from behind us. He was still in dragon form, and he glided through the sand, pausing so that his bulky form provided us relief from the sun. “It would be better to burn him,” Lochlen added.
I could see smoke rising in the air and knew that Prince Cadeyrn had ordered the pyre lit. The sound of bodies being thrown onto the blaze haunted me.
“No,” Daegan and I said together.
I looked up at Lochlen.
“No more of our people will burn,” I stated firmly.
There was fur beneath my fingers, and I gripped it, my eyes moving down to find Oran sitting in the sand at my feet. The wolf was losing weight, his fur thinner.
“From fire to air,” Oran said, agreeing with Lochlen.
A tear slid down my cheek.
“We can’t burn him,” I insisted.
Kye’s gaze traveled over all of us before landing on Brennus in the sand.
“Illogical as it is,” Kye stated quietly, “we will bury him here.”
Daegan continued to dig, his lips thin and determined. Kye dug with him, and before long, they were finished.
“I’ll do it,” Lochlen said sharply before Daegan or Kye could move toward Brennus.
The dragon lifted the warrior carefully with his talons, placing his body reverently inside the hole.
“From Earth to sand to spirit,” Kye said. He lifted his hand, placing two fingers against his lips before kneeling, his fingers sweeping the sand. He rose, his fingers sweeping the sky.
We all did the same. Each of us murmuring, “Mana Deea”
Mana Deea. The mother goddess.
“This journey,” Kye finished, “ends together.”
Each of us began pouring sand into the hole, covering Brennus’ body, tears sliding down our cheeks. Even warriors in Medeisia cried. It was considered holy to mourn our dead. It was only after Raemon took complete power that men were considered weak when they shed tears.
“It is time to depart,” Prince Cadeyrn’s deep voice said from the desert behind us.
We all faced him.
The fire the prince’s men had built burned low now, blackening the yellow-orange landscape with death.
“Grief must be brief in the Ardus,” Cadeyrn warned.
His gaze moved to the sands, to the spot we’d buried Brennus before going to the sky. Wyvers circled once more.
“Ari,” I whispered, my mind panicked.
A kek, kek answered me, the falcon’s dark shape responding to my call. She flew low, avoiding the wyvers. A few of Cadeyrn’s bowmen lifted their weapons, but Cadeyrn raised his hand, and they lowered them.
Cadeyrn’s eyes moved to mine before going to the falcon.
“Does she sense aggression from the wyvers?” Cadeyrn asked.
I looked at him in surprise. His gaze met mine.
“Birds are keen creatures, and often magnificent survivors.” It was all he said, his eyes moving away yet again. “Does she sense anything?” he asked.
I shook my head. Ari had said nothing about the wyvers.
Cadeyrn nodded before gesturing at his men.
“Come!” he bellowed. “Day will soon fail us.”
The guards moved quickly, righting one of the carts and reloading the supplies. Daegan and Kye joined them. One of the sand equus had perished in the tempest and Cadeyrn waved at it dismissively.
“Leave it, and the cart.”
“But the supplies ...” a soldier argued.
“I’ll carry them,” Lochlen roared.
Cadeyrn glanced at the dragon. The prince’s people shrank away, but Cadeyrn never flinched. He showed no fear.
“Tie the supplies on the dragon,” Cadeyrn commanded. “Those who rode the cart can walk now.”
The men did as they were ordered, and Lochlen bent, his golden head resting in the sand as the guards approached him carefully.
“Amazing how much they fear him simply because he is so large,” Oran said, bemused.
Smoke curled up from Lochlen’s nostrils, and several of the men recoiled.
“I think that has something to do with it, too,” I pointed out, my eyes on the smoke.
Maeve watched the whole scene quietly. I reached over, my hand going to her shoulder. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at me either.
“Is our cause worth all of this?” she asked me.
I moved my hand to her cheek, my fingers grazing the sand burns. They healed beneath my touch.
“Brennus did not die for naught,” I answered her.
Maeve closed her eyes. “No,” she agreed.
Her chin lifted, and when her eyes reopened, her gaze was different. It met mine evenly. The heat of hate and jealousy I’d seen in them at the Sadeemian camp was gone. A new acceptance settled over us. In war, there was no time for jealousy, no time for hatred amongst ourselves. There would be plenty of time for that afterward.
Daegan and Kye rejoined us as the caravan once again lined up in the de
sert sand, minus many men, women, and one cart. A dragon now stalked among us, his back carrying supplies, his head down. I ran a hand along his cool scales as we moved behind the prince’s men, stopping only long enough to drink deeply from provided water skins. And then we marched.
“People die for freedom,” Kye muttered next to me.
I looked up at him, my hand going to his.
“They die so others may live,” I finished.
The words didn’t mean as much anymore. They were important, this I knew, but now it felt like we were saying them to convince ourselves they were true.
I glanced over my shoulder, at the shifting sands, the blackened pyre, and the unmarked spot where we’d buried Brennus. Wyvers circled.
In the end, Brennus’ body may fall prey to scavengers. It may even be exposed by the wind to the elements, or left beneath a dune to decay. But he’d not been burned. He’d not burned on a pyre with a mark on his wrist. None of us wanted to die that way. Not while marked by King Raemon. Because then, it would feel like the king had won.
My eyes found Daegan’s face in the glaring sun. Cadeyrn and his men had pulled up the hoods on their cloaks, their heads protected. We did the same, but not before I saw another tear slide down Daegan’s hard face. Watching a warrior cry was different than watching other people cry. Watching a warrior cry was like watching peace shatter followed by the promise of retribution.
Chapter 14
Cadeyrn didn’t stop moving until dark. His men lit torches when it was too black to see, forcing them into the ground once we’d stopped for the night. They used the meager light to set up cots along the sand. No one bothered with tents.
Lochlen lowered himself to the ground, and I collapsed against his side, his scales cool against my hot face. We all leaned on him, too weary and broken-hearted to take another step. Only faith and hope kept us moving now, faith in our cause and hope for freedom.
“Food?” a female voice asked, and I looked up to see Reenah standing before us, holding out wrapped parcels.
I nodded, taking the items gratefully. “Thank you.”
She nodded back, her gaze moving over our faces. “Rest well, Medeisians.”
Reenah left, her hips swaying, her long hair swept up on top of her head. Instead of pants, she wore a loose wrapped skirt with no petticoats. A ring of small bells around her ankle tinkled when she walked. No one other than I watched her go. Even Daegan cared little about the alluring consort.
I turned to the rebels and held out the parcels.
“We should eat,” I said.
I passed them out slowly, glancing into each face as I went. Daegan stared at the sand, his once jovial expression sour. Maeve nodded at me but didn’t smile. I really didn’t expect her to. And Kye ...
I narrowed my eyes on Kye’s face. He was sweating profusely, liquid dripping from his brow down into the collar of his tunic.
“Kye?”
He looked at me and shook his head.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a little tired.
Daegan’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing—like mine—on Kye’s face.
“You don’t look fine, Kye,” Daegan said.
Maeve moved next to the prince, her hand going to his forehead.
Her eyes widened. “He’s burning up,” she hissed.
I rushed to Kye’s other side just as he started to collapse. Maeve and I barely caught him, each of us pulling one of his arms around our neck, supporting him.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, panicked.
Lochlen’s head swung to the prince, his eyes searching, knowing. And then he sniffed. Oran did the same.
“I smell something rotten,” Oran complained, his paw rubbing his nose.
Lochlen recoiled, his massive head swinging toward the makeshift Sadeemian camp.
“Prince Cadeyrn!” Lochlen bellowed, flames billowing out into the night.
The fiery display was followed by several shrieks and the swift swoosh of unsheathed swords.
“Kye,” I whispered, my free hand going to his face. His normally olive skin was pasty and warm, his eyes dull.
He tried smiling at me and failed. “Just tired, Stone. Just really tired.”
I felt my throat closing up, and I struggled to breathe. There couldn’t be anything wrong with Kye. There just couldn’t. Not Kye. Not my Kye!
“You disrupt my camp,” Prince Cadeyrn said abruptly, his voice threatening.
Lochlen’s chest rumbled.
I looked up, my eyes meeting the Sadeemian prince’s gaze, my face full of fear, desperation, and terror. Kye was sagging between Maeve and I.
Cadeyrn took one look at him, and gestured at one of his men. “Set up a tent. Quickly!”
There was no hesitation.
“What’s wrong with him?” Daegan asked, his voice tight.
We’d just lost one of our strongest warriors and a dear friend. We couldn’t lose our leader. Not Kye. Never Kye. I couldn’t lose Kye.
I couldn’t breathe.
“We’ve got a tent up, Your Highness,” a man called out.
Cadeyrn approached Maeve and I, but neither of us were willing to let go of Kye.
“You’ve got to let us take him,” the prince insisted.
His voice wasn’t gentle. It was cold, hard, and unrelenting. As much as I wanted to hate him for his unemotional, calm tone, it was what eventually made me let go. There was something so certain about Cadeyrn, something incredibly reassuring.
Cadeyrn took Kye’s arms, bracing him as he led him toward a small, white tent lit inside by a torch. I followed, Oran on my heels, Daegan and Maeve not far behind. Lochlen was forced to wait, the prince’s men lifting the supplies from his back before he could transform.
“Wait here,” Cadeyrn said at the tent entrance, turning to look at us before he ducked into the enclosure.
I refused to be left behind, shoving my way into the interior, my eyes on Kye as they lowered him onto a cot. Only two other people were present aside from Cadeyrn; his man, Gryphon, and Reenah. Both wore grave expressions on their faces.
I heard Daegan and Maeve enter behind me. Cadeyrn looked up.
“I said wait outside,” he ordered, but I ignored him, my eyes focused solely on Kye’s face before traveling down his body.
Gasping, I froze when I saw his leg.
“What ...”
Kye’s leg was swollen, the skin mottled and purple.
Oran went to the sand at my feet, his snout covered by his paws. “Rotten,” he muttered.
“Wyvers,” a voice stated sadly. Lochlen.
Horrified, my eyes widened, my gaze swinging to the tent’s entrance. Lochlen was a man again, his reptilian eyes locked on Kye.
“Not possible!” I said. “It’s just not possible.”
There had been no wyver attack.
“Stone,” Kye soothed, his voice weary from where he lay on the cot.
I shook my head. No!
“During the sand tempest ...” Lochlen began.
Daegan growled. “Nothing could have survived that sand!”
“Something did,” Prince Cadeyrn interrupted, his voice stern.
Daegan glanced wildly at Lochlen. Maeve and I were staring at him, too; our faces full of shock.
“Wyvers,” I whispered.
It couldn’t be. Kye had seemed fine during our march after the sand storm. He’d never complained, never said anything other than “in due time” when I’d asked him about his leg.
Daegan laughed, the sound harsh. “Aren’t wyvers a cousin of the dragon?” he asked.
He advanced on Lochlen, his eyes full of hatred and sudden knowledge. “You can breathe in sand. You could have survived the storm without the cover,” Daegan accused.
Lochlen’s pupils elongated, the black dominating the yellow-green. “I’ll excuse you because you are grief stricken and afraid, but I do not tolerate threats.”
It was easy to forget that Lochlen was as much a prince as Kye or
Cadeyrn. And in truth, he was a much more dangerous one.
“Wyvers are a cousin to the dragon,” Lochlen explained, “but we do not share the same attributes. A dragon can breathe in many things, even water, but sand is not one of them. I cannot filter sand from my system, but a wyver can. It’s why they thrive in the desert.”
I backed up slowly, my steps taking me to the cot holding Kye. There, I stopped, turning so that my back faced the bickering group at the entrance, my eyes glued to Kye’s leg.
“I can heal it,” I said. “I should have healed it before.”
Cadeyrn caught me by the arm, pulling me toward him so that his mouth went near my ear. “Not wyver poison. No mage has ever been able to heal it.”
I stared at him, something in his gaze making me freeze.
“You knew,” I said. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Cadeyrn dropped my arm, his gaze swinging to the tent entrance. “So did your dragon.”
I glared at Lochlen, horrified.
“Lochlen?”
Lochlen looked away from me, his expression pained. “You can’t heal this, Stone,” Lochlen answered.
A sob escaped me. “How do you know? By the gods ...”
I knelt by the cot, my hand going to Kye’s face. He’d fallen asleep during our argument, but he opened his eyes when I touched him, a small smile on his face.
“Stone,” he murmured.
I heard Maeve sob from the front of the tent.
“There are things we can do ...” a voice reassured. I looked up to find the man, Gryphon, standing on the other side of the cot, his eyes on my face.
“Is that why you’re here?” I asked. “Are you a physician?”
Gryphon looked up at Cadeyrn before glancing back down at me.
“I am a nobleman first, a soldier second, and a physician last. I am the second son of the second most powerful man in Sadeemia. As a second son, I was sent to fight in the army. And here, I have learned the ways of the physician out of necessity.”
I looked back down at Kye, at the tight lines around his mouth. I leaned in close, my lips brushing his forehead.
“Kye,” I whispered.