Endure

by Sara B. Larson

  I stood there for a moment looking up at him, my throat tight. Finally, I reached up to cup his cheek. The ring Damian had given me glittered in the sunlight.

  “I love you, Ry,” I said softly. “You know that, don’t you?”

  He nodded, swallowing once, hard, his eyes never leaving mine. “I know you do.” He lifted his hand to cover mine. “And you know I do, too.”

  I searched his eyes for a long moment, but for the first time since I’d found out that he knew my secret, I saw no jealousy, no bitterness in his gaze. I pulled my hand back and he let it go. But before I turned away, I stretched up and quickly kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you,” I whispered against his ear.

  “Go,” was all he said.

  I gazed at him for a moment longer, and then I hurried over to Nia, remounted, and, wheeling her around, kicked her sides and rushed to where Rylan had told me Damian waited for me, leaving him standing there, staring after me.

  It took two hours to cross the valley, make our way through the streets of the city, and then finally pass the gate into the courtyard of King Osgand’s castle. Damian rode his stallion, a dark black horse that was at least a couple of feet taller than my small mare, but he kept me at his side the whole time, followed by Deron — now General D’agnen — and some of Damian’s personal guard. He’d ordered Rylan to come, as well as Jerrod, Asher, and Mateo. But the rest had stayed behind to help move everyone to higher ground and prepare for battle. Everyone knew about our engagement now, apparently, as many people congratulated us and bowed to both the king and me, though I noticed more than one person’s eyes straying to the scars on my face before they bent their heads.

  As we made our way through the city streets, I glanced over my shoulder to see the endless tent city completely disassembled and a sea of men, horses, and even women surging toward the mountains behind us. The city was already empty of women who did not wish to fight, children, and the elderly. They’d all been sent a week ago to the southwestern cities, far from where King Osgand anticipated the battle to take place, Damian explained as we rode through the valley. He’d also sent the women, children, and elderly of Antion — including Lisbet and Jax — to the southwestern reaches of Blevon, hoping to keep them safe. He also told me how many of the men and boys who had chosen to return to their homes at the end of the last war had changed their minds, volunteering to stay with him and fight. They’d actually all arrived only a day before me, which was why he’d still been in the tent when I’d found him the night before.

  It amazed me how close he’d come to having his people massacred by Armando. If he’d waited even a day or two more to abandon his palace and take his people to Blevon, Armando might have caught them and slaughtered them.

  Once we went through the gate and saw King Osgand waiting for us, flanked by ten men on either side of him in full armor, I had to grip the reins harder to keep my hands from trembling.

  “Welcome, King Damian. And, Alexa, I’m very happy to see you here as well. My informants tell me that you’ve endured quite an ordeal. But it sounds as if we are in your debt — yet again.” King Osgand strode over to take my hand and assist me as I dismounted.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty, but I don’t know how you could possibly be in my debt,” I disagreed.

  King Osgand’s dark eyes flickered to Damian, who watched us intently from his stallion, then back to me. “I was told that you are now responsible for killing not only the black sorcerer who did this to you” — he gestured to my cheek and neck — “but also the two men who King Armando called Manu de Reich os Deos and El Evocon.”

  “El Ecovon?” Damian repeated, his expression inscrutable in the bright sunlight as his eyes met mine.

  “The Summoner,” I translated, the memories of that horrible night surging once more. “Yes, I did kill them both.” But how could King Osgand have found out about The Summoner?

  When I didn’t say any more, King Osgand inclined his head slightly. “The Rén Zhsas were told of his passing. A great evil has been removed from this world, and we are all indebted to you for that.” And then he turned, gesturing for me to follow him. “Come, we have much to do and very little time to do it. Armando and his army of abominations could be here by the middle of this night if he marches through the darkness as well as the day.”

  I stared after him, wondering who had told the three powerful sorcerers who lived in the temple. Had it been the Unseen Power? Damian quickly dismounted and handed the reins of his stallion to a waiting stable boy. There were very few people in the courtyard, but the tension in the air was palpable as Damian came to my side and together we followed King Osgand toward the tall wooden doors painted red and carved with intricate twists and curls that would admit us into his castle.

  “The Summoner?” Damian finally questioned under his breath.

  “If we survive this battle, I’ll tell you everything, I promise. But right now, the only important thing to know is that I lived and he didn’t, and his death was probably a fairly large blow to Armando.” I spoke rapidly, my voice quiet.

  He glanced down at me but didn’t say anything else. Instead, he reached over and took my hand in his, and together, we stepped through the doors and into King Osgand’s castle.

  It seemed like hours later, but in reality probably only an hour had passed when we reemerged and looked out at the now mostly empty valley. The majority of the two armies swarmed the city below us or hid in the mountains and trails surrounding the city and palace. King Osgand had instructed his generals and captains who could speak any Antionese to help divide Damian’s men between their own companies of soldiers and sorcerers and then guide them where to go. The Blevonese knew this land and were able to tell Damian’s people where the best places were to defend and fight the oncoming enemy. But I still felt a terrible foreboding as I stood on the castle steps and stared down at the land that was quiet and peaceful. Tomorrow, would the streams run red as they tumbled out of the mountains and through the city down into the valley, stained with the blood of both of our people, while Armando looked on in victory?

  Osgand had given Damian and me fur-lined capes; Damian’s was black on the outside and mine was a lighter silvery gray. I pulled it tighter around my body as we followed the king of Blevon around the side of the castle, toward a small iron gate that had three locks on it. He used a keychain attached to his hip to unlock two of the three — the last was a key that he wore around his neck, beneath his clothes — and then opened the gate, and Damian, myself, Rylan, Mateo, and Asher all followed him and his guards onto a narrow, snow-dusted path that wound up and away from the castle, deep into the mountains.

  There were two ways to reach Sì Miào Chán Wù — the Temple of Awakening to Truth, where the golden waters were hidden and the Rén Zhsas lived — King Osgand had explained to us. A large contingent of his army was placed along the other, easier-to-find path. This second path was narrow and more easily defended, so there were a few soldiers spread out along the trail as we hiked farther and farther away from the castle, but not nearly as many as we’d been told were positioned along the other parallel path that we couldn’t see from our location.

  The trail twisted through the unfamiliar trees of Blevon and around massive boulders, sometimes rising steeply before flattening out again. It wound around a sharp outcropping of rock and then plunged deeper into the mountain range, taking us into a canyon. The sides of the mountains rose sharply above us, sheer and terrifying. A glittering layer of snow lightly dusted everything, but the higher up the mountain we climbed, the thicker the snow became, until we were tromping through several inches of it. My feet were cold; my hands were cold; my nose was frozen. Was the curse placed on Blevon because of Prince Delun truly why the terrain and weather were so different — and miserable? And if so, what would happen if we managed to defeat Armando and his horde of black sorcerers? What kind of curse would the land suffer this time?

  I didn’t dare ask.

  The sun h
ad begun to arc down to the earth again when Damian suddenly ground to a halt in front of me. I nearly ran into him before glancing up sharply and skidding to a stop right behind him. When I looked past him, I realized why he’d stopped.

  The path had expanded in front of us, giving way to a small field. To the left was another, larger path that headed back down a second, wider canyon. But to the right, rising out of the craggy mountain walls, almost as if it were made of the mountain itself — had it not been for the stunning glass windows — was a majestic building that could only be one place.

  “I give you Sì Miào Chán Wù,” King Osgand said, turning to face us and lifting his arms.

  The temple where it had all begun — where the first sorcerers were created. The original source of power in our world, and Armando’s obsession.

  Damian reached back to take my hand in his, and together we stared up at the temple in awe. I could sense Rylan behind me, but I didn’t turn and look at him. He’d been quiet the whole day, and I got the feeling he was battling with himself. When Damian had asked him to come with us, he’d actually refused, taking the king of Antion by surprise. But I’d seen the panic cross Rylan’s face, and I knew the reason for his fear — Rafe could control him with any direct command. If it came down to Rylan protecting the king or the temple, and Rafe made it to where we were, he would become a tool for the enemy.

  But he didn’t speak up, and when Damian repeated his command that Rylan come, he agreed.

  I didn’t share his secret. It wasn’t mine to divulge.

  As I stood there, staring up at the beautiful temple, my fingers intertwined with Damian’s, I realized I still hadn’t told him my secret, either. He didn’t know that I couldn’t fight Rafe. And according to Akio, since I was no sorcerer, there was no way I would be able to break through his command as Damian had done. My only hope was that since my father had been a sorcerer, perhaps a hint of his power ran in my veins. But I knew it was an improbable wish.

  “Damian,” I said quietly, and he immediately turned toward me. “There’s something I have to tell you.” I swallowed hard, forcing my humiliation and shame down.

  He waited expectantly, his eyebrows lifted in concern, when suddenly there was a strange sound from behind us — almost like a birdcall, but not quite.

  King Osgand stiffened beside Damian, his head cocking with alarm. “That’s the signal,” he murmured.

  “What signal?” Mateo asked from behind us.

  King Osgand looked right at Damian when he answered.

  “That sound means the Dansiian army has been spotted. They’re almost here.”

  When we were in his castle, King Osgand convinced Damian to agree that the two monarchs would go to the temple, along with their most trusted guards. It was the safest place for them to be and also the most crucial place to defend, if the Dansiians made it that far. We were to be the last line of defense if necessary.

  I didn’t like being so far away from the front line of the battle — and so far out of sight as well. We would have no idea what was happening in the city or lower parts of the mountain up here, except what was relayed through messengers. All we would know was that if the fighting reached us, things were dire indeed. I did find out that all of King Osgand’s top guards were, unsurprisingly, some of the best sorcerers in Blevon.

  “King Damian, if you’ll come with me, I will take you in to meet the Rén Zhsas, as you should have done many years ago.” King Osgand indicated for Damian to follow him, but the King of Antion didn’t let go of my hand, turning to look down at me, alarm in his eyes.

  “Go on,” I urged, squeezing his hand, then letting go. “I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

  He glanced past me, toward the valley we couldn’t see, where Armando’s army might have been swarming already, and then he took a deep breath. “All right. But I won’t be gone long.”

  I nodded and watched him walk away as he followed King Osgand up the final incline of the trail and onto the ledge where the temple was built.

  “Excuse me, Alexa, right?” An unfamiliar voice from behind took me by surprise, and I turned to see a Blevonese guard standing there. I hadn’t looked at him closely until then, but when I did, my jaw fell open, and I couldn’t keep from staring.

  He looked so much like my father, it was almost as if I’d seen a ghost, though his black hair was streaked with white, he was even taller than my father had been, and his eyes were a dark brown, not hazel.

  “Your father was Vito Hollen, yes?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “I am Jiro Hollen — I am his cousin.”

  For the next hour, Jiro and I sat on a large boulder, ignoring the cold, and talked, sharing memories of my father, while the other guards, both Blevonese and Antionese — including Rylan — looked on. I’d never known that my father had other family in Blevon. I’d only ever heard briefly of my grandparents. I had met them just once as a baby, before King Hector took the throne and started his war between Blevon and Antion, so I didn’t remember them at all. We’d never been able to travel to Blevon again, and they had died before my parents did.

  “Jiro,” I began slowly, after he’d finished telling me a story from their childhood, when they’d lived in the same village in the southern part of Blevon, near what he called “the endless waters.” “Was my father … Do you know if he was a sorcerer, like you?”

  Jiro’s dark eyes were compassionate when he nodded. “Yes, he was. He and I came here together when we were of age.”

  I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut as the simultaneous pain of realizing he’d kept such a vital part of himself a secret from me and the excitement at discovering that my theory had been correct washed over me. “He called me his zhànshì nánw,” I said quietly.

  Jiro smiled. “He must have loved you very much.”

  I nodded. “I think so.”

  “And you must be very talented to have earned a nickname like that,” he added.

  I smiled back at him. “I like to think it was from all the years of training for hours and hours a day, not necessarily just talent.”

  Jiro inclined his head. “That is probably far more accurate.”

  Another noise sounded from down the canyon, this time a different one, more piercing, and Jiro immediately jumped to his feet, all semblance of amusement gone from his face, and in the place of a kind relative suddenly stood a soldier. He began to bark out orders in Blevonese, and I glanced around wildly, wondering what had happened.

  “What’s going on?” I questioned Jiro as Rylan stood up from where he’d been leaning against a tree and walked over to us. Mateo was a little farther up the trail, talking to one of the other Blevonese guards, and Asher stood just beyond them.

  Before he could respond I heard another sound — but this time it was no birdcall. It was the echo of an explosion, somewhere below, in the canyon. Snow sprinkled down on us from the treetops as the ground vibrated from the impact.

  I stared down the canyon in horror and then spun to see the temple door pushed open and Damian standing on the ledge it was built on, his hand on the hilt of his sword, with King Osgand right behind him.

  There was no time to wonder what he’d seen or experienced inside the temple as our eyes met across the distance, and I could see my own terror etched on his face before he composed his features into the mask I knew so well.

  “Prepare to fight,” King Osgand said in Antionese, stepping forward. “We must do everything in our power to protect what lies in this temple from the hands of those who would attempt to steal its power and doom us all. Even if it means giving our lives. It is better for a few to die than an entire people.” Then he spoke again, this time in Blevonese.

  Damian continued to look at me until another explosion sounded below us, this one even louder. I spun around, yanking out my sword and lifting it up with my icy fingers to await the battle ahead.

  The cape I wore covered the quiver of arrows and my bow, so when it became ap
parent that the enemy wasn’t coming up the trail to where we stood waiting quite yet, I quickly used one hand to unhook the cloak and toss it onto the boulder beside me. I hadn’t realized how warm it was keeping me until the frigid air bit right through my thin tunic and pants, making me shiver violently. Rylan moved up to stand next to me, and Mateo stood next to him, then Asher. The Blevonese guards also spread out across the small field; some had their swords out, and others had their eyes closed and heads bowed as though they were praying. Perhaps they were. Asking for help and strength from the Unseen Power that Eljin had told me about — the voice that had spoken to King Mokaro and his brother, Delun, all those years ago.

  I could only hope that the promise the Unseen Power had made to King Mokaro would be fulfilled. That if the Blevonese sorcerers stayed true to the command to only use their power to help or protect, and to never delve into black sorcery, even if it meant losing their lives, that they would be strengthened and given even greater power in their time of need.

  When another boom rocked the canyon, sending more snow drifting down from the trees above us, I glanced around at the ten Blevonese sorcerers and the handful of Antionese guards who had come to the temple, and suddenly realized how woefully pathetic we seemed. We were all that stood between Armando and his goal.

  But what he didn’t know — or didn’t believe — was that if his black sorcerers fought through us and breached the temple grounds, every sorcerer, Blevonese, Antionese, and Dansiian, would die. If what Eljin had told me was true, even if I managed to keep them from killing Damian in the fight that loomed in front of us, he would die anyway as soon as Armando’s abominations entered the temple.

  The sound of shouting echoed up the canyon, and I squinted to see men rushing up the trail toward us. At first I couldn’t make out who they were — or even which kingdom they were from — but as they got closer, I recognized the Blevonese uniform on the first few men. And the man at the head of the group was none other than Borracio, the sorcerer who had led the Insurgi in Antion for years.