by Claire Frank
Her nostrils flared and she opened her mouth twice before speaking. “He travels without his legion. What of his wellsprings?”
“He will take a supply; there will be room enough for that. Do not forget, where he is going, replacements will be in abundance.”
Wellsprings. Isley had heard the term before, but she didn’t know what it meant. For the moment, she was simply relieved Horadrus’s wrath was abating.
“You will join him once we have secured the city itself,” Horadrus said. “These will not be an easy people to subdue. I anticipate it will be a lengthy process. We must not forget, they have bathed in the atrocities of their power for hundreds of years, completely unchecked. That pretender Nihil’s experiments went wildly out of hand, and now we must clean up the mess that has ensued.”
“I warned you against him,” Gwinele said.
Horadrus turned away and touched a hand to his lips. “I remember. Nihil’s work with his Arcstone was what I wanted, and I will still have it. It is only a matter of time.”
“Then why keep the woman?” she asked.
Isley clamped a hand over her mouth, anger boiling inside her. Does she mean me? How dare she?
“The woman is completely within my control,” Horadrus said. “Save your concern for more pressing issues.”
“Yes, Your Eminence,” she said. “But, if you please, we are still struggling to regain control of Nihil’s Wielders. Perhaps I should accompany Axxus to ensure the rest do not continue to slip through our fingers.”
Horadrus whipped his head around to face her. “You will do as I command.” He paused, taking a deep breath, and continued in a more relaxed tone. “The Wielders will be caught, despite Alzor’s incompetence. We are in a time of turmoil, Gwinele—but, for us, war is a necessary evil. I will need you to be my voice to our new people, and help them to see.”
Although the tension began to melt, Gwinele remained standing with her back stiff and straight. Horadrus took slow steps up to his throne and sat, lowering himself carefully.
“There will come a time when they will see what I have done for them, and praise me for the peace that I bring,” he said. “It will take time for their understanding to grow. I have allowed this to go on for too long.”
Gwinele took a step forward. “You bear a great weight, Eminence. Their time is coming, and they will conform.”
“They will. You may see General Axxus on his way.”
“Yes, Eminence,” Gwinele said, then turned and walked out, her footfalls leaving a soft echo in their wake.
Isley struggled to control her breathing. Horadrus’s outburst had roused deep fears she had tried hard to bury, and hearing him speak so of Halthas was disquieting. She didn’t think of her home often anymore, but she wondered what would become of Halthas when Horadrus gained control. There was little she could do about it, however, so she pushed the thought from her mind. General Gwinele hadn’t been happy about Horadrus sending Axxus. Was there jealousy there? That was an emotion Isley could understand, and exploit. It was occurring to her more and more that the barrier between her and Horadrus was General Gwinele. If it weren’t for Gwinele’s warnings against her, Isley would certainly have made far more progress with her plans.
For a brief moment, she considered approaching Horadrus. He was alone, although his servants were likely within earshot. This could be an opportunity to soothe him, to show him what she could do for him, if he allowed it. But the thought of his face contorted with rage made her pause. He was too unpredictable, and she decided she couldn’t risk angering him. She would make her move when he was in a mood more amenable to her suggestions. It would simply take time, and Isley was a patient woman. In the meantime, she needed to ask some well-placed questions of the servants, to find out more about General Gwinele.
43. NEW RECRUITS
Pathius’s back was tense as he rode toward the stronghold. The three Imarans, as well as Dashal and Blur, followed behind him along the stone-paved road. The fortification loomed ahead of them, tall and resolute at the edge of the chasm, with a city of tents spread out on the plain before it. Swarming with activity, the encampment was nonetheless orderly, everything arranged in precise lines that spoke to Pathius of discipline.
With a deep breath, he kicked his horse forward. When he’d left Imara with the intent of protecting his kingdom, his thoughts had been singularly focused on his impending encounter with King Rogan. He had found peace in his choice, free from the expectation of fighting to take back the crown, and could focus on doing what must be done to defeat Attalon. What he hadn’t expected was being sent south to serve under a certain commander in the King’s army.
A soldier stopped them at the perimeter. Pathius held up the scroll, sealed by the king. “King’s orders. We are here to report to Daro Imaran.”
The soldier hesitated, eyeing the seal on the scroll before letting them through with gruff instructions as to where to find Daro.
A representative of the king had come to see Pathius shortly after his declaration in the throne room. Alastair might have been his name, although now Pathius couldn’t quite recall. He’d told Pathius they could send him south, where the Attalonians had amassed their army, but the king wished for him to serve under Daro. Alastair had hesitated before speaking Daro’s name, as if he wasn’t sure what sort of reaction to expect. Pathius had fought to keep any emotion out of his voice as he agreed. It wasn’t ideal, but he’d quickly decided he could handle the situation. If he could kneel to Rogan, he could take orders from Daro.
With the stronghold in view, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. It wasn’t so much Daro that concerned him. He was a decent man and Pathius undoubtedly owed him his life, in more ways than one. But if Daro was here, Pathius assumed Cecily would be too, and the thought of seeing her again filled him with dread.
His hands were sweaty on the reins as he swung down from his horse and gave brief instructions to the stable boys. Kentan and Leng’s eyes flicked around the camp. Pathius could tell that people were staring at the tall Imarans. “Don’t worry; they’ll get used to you.” He turned to Dashal and Blur. The two altered Wielders looked around the camp, nervousness plain on their faces. “You don’t have to be concerned about Daro. He was one of us.”
Dashal nodded, but his eyes were wide. “I didn’t know the camp would be so big.”
Pathius glanced out over the sprawling encampment. “It’s war.”
Raed fell in step with him, carrying the large bundle Ara had sent, and they headed through the maze of tents, the others following close behind. It didn’t take him long to find the right tent, situated close to the huge gates that secured the bridge.
Peeking his head inside the cavernous tent, he saw Daro standing behind a table, speaking with a few other uniformed men. They nodded along as he spoke and pointed to a small map spread out on the table. A few other people Pathius didn’t recognize stood nearby, none of them in uniform. And at Daro’s side was, of course, Cecily.
Pathius wanted to groan, both at her presence, and at the presence of others. He didn’t want to do this with an audience watching.
Daro caught sight of him and stopped talking mid-sentence as his eyebrows flew up. The uniformed men turned to look at Pathius, and the others on Daro’s side of the table gaped with open mouths. Cecily went stiff, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him as her jaw clenched.
“Excuse us for a moment,” Daro said, without taking his eyes of Pathius.
Pathius stepped aside as everyone but Daro and Cecily exited the tent. A thick-set man wearing a jeweled merchant’s belt paused and eyed him up and down before walking off with a shrug of his wide shoulders.
Pathius glanced at Raed and the others. “A moment, if you don’t mind.” As they nodded, he turned and stepped inside.
Cecily’s eyes were hard and her posture hadn’t changed. Daro’s eyes were lifted, but Pathius didn’t think he saw animosity in his expression. Just surprise.
“I didn’t expect to see
you here,” Daro said. His gaze was intense as he looked Pathius up and down, making him feel as if the man could see through him. “The Imarans let you leave.”
“They did,” Pathius said, trying hard to ignore Cecily’s stare. He held out the scroll Rogan had given him. “I’ve seen the king and pledged my service to him. I was told to report to you.”
Daro’s eyebrows lifted even higher as he slowly reached for the scroll. He took it and popped off the seal with his thumb, then pulled it open. His eyebrows drew closer as he read. Cecily read over his shoulder, but nothing moved except her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Daro rolled up the paper. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to find out about accommodations. How many men did you bring with you?”
Cecily’s eyes went wide and she looked as if she might choke. “Excuse me?” she said, her voice low.
Daro’s hands froze with the paper half rolled and he turned his head slowly toward her. “Would you like me to defy an order from the king?”
Her mouth pinched and her nostrils flared as she stared at Daro. Pathius could feel energy radiating from her in hot waves. Daro held her stare, his face relaxed. Pathius felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the man.
Feeling awkward in the silent tension as the other two stared at each other, Pathius turned and poked his head out through the door and nodded the others inside. He figured he should get this introduction over with so they could leave, and let Daro deal with his wife.
The Imarans ducked through the door, and Dashal and Blur followed them in.
“Raed,” Daro said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
Raed nodded and Pathius noticed his gaze seemed to meet Cecily’s. She held Raed’s eyes for a moment before they both looked away, the tension in the tent still thick.
Pathius introduced the others and Daro greeted them in turn, his eyes lingering on the two altered Wielders. Cecily kept her arms crossed and leveled a stare at Pathius, which he tried to avoid, keeping his eyes on anything but her.
“Ara sent something for you,” Pathius said, and nodded toward Raed.
The Imaran took the long, slender pack from his back and unwrapped it. He held a huge longbow, nearly as tall as he was from tip to tip. “This was made from the wood of the spine tree,” Raed said, lifting the bow. “It requires Imaran strength to utilize it. Ara had it constructed for you. She felt it may be of use.”
Daro’s eyes widened as he reached out to take the oversized bow. Raed strung it, then handed it to Daro.
“This could launch a spear,” Daro said as he fingered the string. Holding it up with his hand on the grip, he pulled the string back and let it loose. “It’s amazing. Do the rest of you have these as well?”
“Leng and Kentan are accomplished archers,” Raed said, nodding to his fellow Imarans. “I fight with the spear.”
“Thank you,” Daro said, his eyes moving to rest on each of them for a moment. “We’re in need of good men. It means a great deal to me that you would come. All of you.”
Cecily had finally averted her glare to watch Daro wield the large bow, and Pathius decided it was time to retreat. He thanked Daro for the welcome and led the others out to find their quarters.
***
The tent Pathius was assigned wasn’t bad, as far as military accommodations went. He stored what few belongings he had with him under the bed and went out to get a feel for the camp while Raed and the others went in search of dinner.
He wandered through the tents to the stronghold, and looked up at the massive building. A few Stone Shapers were at work, making repairs, and he decided to find a staircase leading up to the top of the wall.
The view was spectacular, if unsettling. The Halthian encampment had seemed sizeable until he looked out over the chasm and across the flat plain to the Attalonian army. They were well away from the edge but, even at a distance, Pathius could tell the force was massive. Leaning against the wall, he watched, letting the scale of the conflict sink in. Although he had doubted his decision to leave Imara many times on his journey, seeing the size of the enemy hardened his resolve into stone. He wanted to reach out and Absorb everything, draining them all dry until there was nothing left but a pile of dead husks, leaving only enough survivors to bring word back to that bastard who called himself Emperor: He shouldn’t have tried to take Halthas.
“Why are you here?” Cecily’s voice behind him made him jump, and frost spread from his hands as he gripped the wall in surprise.
He slowly turned his head over his shoulder. “What?”
“I’m sure you heard my question,” she said. Her controlled voice was almost worse than if she’d been shouting.
Taking a deep breath, he turned. Although he didn’t particularly want to see her face, he forced himself to look her in the eye. “There’s no mystery to it. I’m here to fight Attalon.”
“Really,” she said. It didn’t sound like a question.
“Yes, really. Why else would I be here?”
Her gaze flicked up and down and she pressed her lips together, her arms crossed.
“What do you want from me, Cecily?” he asked. “I’m doing what I have to do, and that’s the end of it.”
Cecily’s eyes narrowed. “All I want you to do is listen,” she said and took two slow, deliberate steps forward. “For some reason that I cannot fathom, Daro wants to trust you. But you fooled me once, and you will not do that again.”
Pathius opened his mouth to speak but she put up a hand and took another step closer. “If I get even the slightest hint that you are going to betray us,” she said, “I will end you.”
“Cecily, you don’t have to—”
“I know you’re stronger than me,” she said, cutting him off. “I know better than most what you’re capable of.”
His eyes flicked to her wrists. He couldn’t help but check to see if he’d scarred her. The skin of her forearms bore faint red marks from his hands.
She took another step closer, and her warmth pressed at him. Something inside him tingled at her proximity but he pushed the sensation away.
“I know I can’t defeat you face to face, but I won’t have to,” she said, her voice quiet. “If you betray us—and I want you to trust me on this—you won’t see me coming.”
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned and walked away without another word.
Realizing he’d been holding his breath, Pathius exhaled in a rush. His heart pounded, but in a way he was relieved. He’d known a confrontation with her was inevitable, and now it was over. Turning back to the Attalonian army, he let thoughts of Cecily drift from his mind as he considered the real enemy.
44. WAITING
Daro squinted in the sunlight as he strung his bow. The weapon Pathius had brought from Imara was the largest bow Daro had ever seen but, despite its size, he was able to draw it with ease. The longbow was not his weapon of choice, but considering the nature of their current conflict, it was undoubtedly useful, and he’d spent much of the last week practicing.
Stoker handed him an arrow and he fitted it to the string. They had set up a target in a field north of the camp so Daro could work on his accuracy. He was glad for something to do that would keep him out of General Coryn’s path. In the aftermath of the Attalonian assault, Daro had pushed for an offensive strike. He’d even volunteered to lead it. Attalon was weakened, he’d argued, and they should press their advantage while they had the chance. General Coryn had struck down his suggestion immediately, citing what she termed their “explicit orders to maintain the bridge and stronghold.” It frustrated Daro that she didn’t seem able to think beyond the words on a scroll. He realized there was a great risk in opening the gates and sending their force to the other side of the chasm to attack, but if there had ever been a time to do it, it had been in the wake of the Attalonians’ failed assault. The soldiers had been flying high on seeing the enemy retreat, and would have mounted a fierce attack. Daro didn’t understand how the general could fail to see w
hat was so obvious to him, even without his Imaran Sight.
Pulling the long string back, Daro felt the spine wood flex. Kentan and Leng, the other two Imarans who traveled with Pathius, joined him in the field, letting their own arrows fly, and a small group had gathered to watch. They’d given him tips for using the large bow, but Daro and Stoker had come up with an idea to make the weapon even more deadly.
He let the arrow loose and it shot toward the target, hitting just to the left of his mark.
“Not bad,” Stoker said.
“Should we try one of the new ones?” Daro asked with a smile.
Stoker grinned and picked up a thick shaft of wood. Daro had been working with one of the craftsmen on larger, thicker arrows, testing the strength and capabilities of his Imaran bow. They’d crafted arrows that were nearly as large and thick as a spear, and Daro had been able to shoot them with decent accuracy. The weight of the large arrows had given Stoker an interesting idea, and Daro was excited to test it out.
Rather than being fitted with a point, the large projectile had a round disk at the end with leather straps fitted through holes in the surface. Stoker placed a fist-sized rock on the disk and strapped it on with the leather, then held his hand to it for a moment. As he passed it to Daro, the rock glowed red and the leather began to smoke.
“Do it quickly,” Stoker said.
Daro nodded as he fitted it to the string and pulled back. He let go, and he and Stoker watched the projectile soar toward the wooden target.
The explosion boomed across the plain when the missile hit, blowing the target to pieces. Splinters of wood flew through the air, pattering on the ground as they fell. Daro’s mouth dropped open while Stoker hollered. That had worked better than Daro had hoped.
Kentan and Leng walked over, their eyes wide. “What is this you do?” Kentan asked.
Daro couldn’t help but grin. “Just testing something.”
“Should we do another?” Stoker asked. “We can’t exactly recover these and use them again.”