Chapter 43
Ryker
“Say that again.” Zandyr’s voice thundered through the valley, fighting with the river currents roaring right next to us.
I nodded at the bridge, unflinching. “Destroy the crossing.”
“The lack of sleep must be making me hallucinate." Zandyr’s nostrils flared. “Because it sounds like you’re suggesting we tear down the last passage over the Obsidian River.”
Every other crossing had been compromised, to avoid a Serpent surprise. Guarding one entry point was infinitely easier than warriors protecting every bridge on one of the largest, widest, and most dangerous rivers on the continent.
The gods had placed the Obsidian well, making it a natural barrier between us and the plains the Serpents were invading from.
The plains which should have become our battlefield.
But this war had already broken the normal rules.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “We don’t have time to tear it down. It needs to be blown up.”
Zandyr cursed and turned toward Elysia and Calyx, as if they could convince me I was out of my mind.
“Maybe he set up a bet in the Fair Isles on us losing. I heard our potential slaughter is making some people very rich right now,” Calyx said, but not even he sounded taken aback. “Fine way to make gold, even if you’re too dead to enjoy it.”
“Ryker would never debase himself with betting,” she argued. “Unless he’d donate it to some orphanage.”
“As touched as I am by your kind words,” I drawled, wiping the sweat off my brow. The sun was stronger than my Solkar’s Reach skin was used to, but my insides felt on fire. “We’re not crossing this river.”
“Why?” Zandyr threw his arms in the air. “The scouts inspected every brick, like you said. They found nothing wrong.”
“Which means the Serpents want us to cross,” I said simply. “They knew we were coming through here.”
The village massacre had been a message–one that had let on more than they’d bargained for.
“The quickest way to halt our advance would have been to destroy the crossing,” I went on, my power struggling to cool me and sapping me all at once. “They didn’t even bother to set up a trap. No massacre to scare our warriors. No obstacles.”
I gestured at the serene clearing. Birds flew above us in the green, fresh air, reeds peppered the banks, and I was sure we would have heard frogs croaking if the dark currents of the river weren’t roaring.
The bridge itself was a remarkable statement of ancient ambition.
The stones had weathered everything the sky and water had thrown at them, barely chipping at the edges.
It was so old, even the moss which crept along its sculpted guardrails looked worn, and the sediments gathered by the water slowly swallowed its sides.
Just like the wards on the road and the Crimson Dam that birthed the river, this bridge would have endured eons more if I hadn’t come along.
The three of them kept looking at me with pursed lips and raised brows. The unexplainable heat boiled my patience faster than usual.
“We don’t have time for this.” I ran a hand through my wet hair. “We need to find a new permanent camp site. Our warriors are waiting in this godsawful heat for us to make up our minds.”
“It’s not that warm.” Elysia frowned. “A bit nippy, if you ask me.”
I groaned in frustration and stepped onto the bridge, asking for forgiveness with every step. I braced my hands against the guardrails, looking out at the river, going over every map in my mind to find a new location.
Zandyr was the only one who followed, slow and careful.
“All of our warriors have been trained for ground attacks in close proximity.” He said, gaze fixed on the unruly currents. “We’re best in direct combat.”
“Not against those snakes we aren’t.” The dark water bubbled below, as if eager for a sacrifice it wouldn’t get today. “Maybe their beasts can’t pass through the river, that’s why they don’t want to take any chance to cross it.”
“That seems unlikely.” Zandyr’s brows rose. “But not impossible.”
“The Serpents aren’t fighting fair. They would have jumped at this opportunity.
” I glided my foot against the ancient stones.
Only pebbles moved underneath my boot. No hint of dark magic.
“This was a chance even I would have taken advantage of. One we should take advantage of. That would stop them from coming on our side as well.”
“They’re already on our side. Everything we see belongs to the Blood Brotherhood.” Zandyr inhaled slowly, shaking his head. “We can’t destroy a relic like this.”
“Don’t endanger our present for your ancestors’ past. Buildings can be rebuilt. This–” I gestured at the valley, the trees, the cliffs judging us in the distance. “–is what matters. The land that feeds us.”
Zandyr hesitated, but still said, “How do we know the crossing isn’t magicked to protect this land? It’s the only standing bridge out of all ancient ones. Or that we even could? The Crimson Dam can’t be destroyed by our hands, why should this crossing?”
I had no reply for that.
“We can’t take that chance,” he said. “Right now, we’re changing our entire war strategy on a theory. I trust you and I will turn the army in what direction you think is right, but don’t force me to spit on my ancestors’ graves. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He knew me too well.
“Then plant some of Calyx’s explosive contraptions around it,” I said. “If I’m wrong, the crossing remains intact. If I’m right, then the Serpents can’t use it, either as a trap or as a way to ambush us.”
Zandyr nodded grimly. “The Viper was right. You’re too calm. Detached.”
“Someone has to be,” I said, pointing up ahead. “If the snakes can’t pass through the river, we need to pick the widest part. There’s a bend three hours ahead, close to the dam. It’s our best chance.”
“Very well.” Zandyr inhaled deeply. “I don’t like this. If you’re right–”
“Which I usually am.”
“The Huntress is rubbing off on you.” A corner of his mouth ticked up.
The mere mention of her name threatened to puncture the veil of control I’d forced myself into. The heat inside of me blazed harder.
“There must be a more dangerous reason the Serpents want us on that side of the river,” Zandyr went on. “Something with which they could have overwhelmed us.”
“Now that I might consider betting on.”
“I wonder how much our demises are worth at the betting tables.” He huffed a laugh that sounded exhausted. “People keep saying the two of us are important.”
As important as any other mortal soul. Not enough and too much at the same time. “Anything short of a full vault of gold would be insulting.”
“Ryker,” he said, tone darkening. “I need you to promise me something. If I die–”
“I am not taking your throne,” I said. The mere idea of his death trembled me. “You have two parents and two wives who can decide. And two advisors who will stop at nothing to destroy whatever succession plan they come up with. Your death would be extremely inconvenient.”
I wasn’t about to tell him his demise would wound the Clan and everyone who cared about him. Nobody needed that pressure.
“Not the throne, that will go to Evie,” he said.
“Not until you solve the issue with your first wife,” I muttered.
Zandyr tightened his jaw, but didn’t argue. He couldn’t–he knew he was in the wrong and I wouldn’t pretend otherwise.
“Evie will get the throne,” he repeated. “But she has not led an army. You need to promise me you’ll protect our warriors.”
I straightened, turning to face him.
This wasn’t a normal request. It was hoisting a destiny onto me, one I had not asked for and couldn’t have even imagined a few years ago.
One I did not want.
But if duty called, I would answer it.
“You think you even have to ask?” I said, at last.
He sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
I watched him, this prince they called the Dragon, ready to face the grimmest outcome with the courage Clan heirs needed, but lacked. Allie was the same. Death, to her–at least her own–was something to be laughed at. If only she knew how much the mere idea of it shook me.
“Don’t talk about your death so casually.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “You don’t need to invite more misfortune. It’s already here.”
I remembered her face as those words passed her lips. Enraged at the crater not letting her pass. Fearful about what it might mean.
And I wasn’t there to hold her and abate those fear–if she’d even let me.
“I have to. Kleonos will take great pleasure in parading my decapitated head through all of Malhaven,” he said.
“Especially don’t talk about that beast,” I hissed.
The Battlefield Butcher had indeed been handed the reins of the Serpent army. Which meant we now had to right his own Clan’s wrong, and execute him.
“War is ruthless, but it has rules. That’s how it’s always been and that’s how it should be.” He shook his head. “We’re not ready for what’s waiting for us.”
A new surge of heat hit me. I bent my spine with a groan.
“You alright?” he asked, concerned.
I nodded, breathing deeply and holding on tighter to the guardrails. I’d left my furs and uniform on top of Calyx’s carriage, but my tunic was still soaked through.
“It’s this furnace,” I said, knowing full well we stood in a pristine valley, the soft wind breathing over us.
Zandyr raised his brows, but said nothing further. Only waited patiently by my side for me to catch my breath again.
“Zandyr?” I huffed another breath.
“Yes?”
“What happens if I die?” I found myself asking.
“Then–” Zandyr sighed again. “–we’re truly doomed.”