Chapter 66
Chapter Sixty-Six
Mud squelches beneath my bare feet as I bolt through the camp. Sura. She’d have gone to find Sura.
Corpses litter the ground as I dart through alleyways—one has me coming to a jarring halt. An ice spear is lodged through the dead man’s throat, green eyes open and unseeing.
But it’s the insignia on his chest plate that commands my attention—a large tree, speared through by a lightning bolt.
Fuck. It’s Arbinj.
I don’t dwell on why they’re here. Metal shrieks as I draw the dead soldier’s sword from his scabbard.
And I run.
The childcare tent looms ahead of me, rain drumming on the canvas roof.
It’s still standing. No soldiers. No corpses.
But the weight on my chest doesn’t ease.
The flap flutters in the breeze as I enter, sword ready.
Darkness blankets the room, faint moonlight illuminating the row of tiny beds against the far side, the haphazard scatter of toys across the faded carpet.
No energy signatures.
Not a sound.
Still, I search every corner, ears straining for the faintest clue.
Then—in the center of the room, below a second, thickly padded rug, I sense them.
Beneath my feet, thrumming signatures announce their presence. They’re faint through the floor, but my breath whooshes out all the same.
Rug quickly rolled, cast aside.
A small wooden hatch is set into the floor.
I fit my fingers in the grooves around the edge and pull.
The wood groans, but it doesn’t budge.
I lie down flat and press my ear against the wood. Focus on the signatures humming beneath the floor.
Small. Faint. Afraid.
It’s the children.
A large signature hovers right below me, perhaps several feet. Familiar, female, but not—
“Sura,” I call, lips pressed against the grainy wood. “It’s Zevayr. Open the hatch.”
I hold my breath. She doesn’t answer. The only indication that she heard me at all is the thrumming vibration of her electric currents.
Faint whispers echo through the wood, followed by an insistent shhh.
Then Sura moves. Muffled thunks growing louder as she climbs the ladder. I scramble out of the way just before the hatch swings open. Her frantic blue gaze scans me, brows knitting together at either the dust coating my hair or my still-bleeding injuries or just my unwelcome presence.
“Where’s Mayah?” she whispers, fingers gripping the lip of the opening.
“I don’t know.” I swallow hard. “Arbinj is attacking the camp. Our building collapsed. We—we were separated. Tumaas is with her. I thought she’d come find you.”
Sura shakes her head. “I haven’t seen her.”
Beneath us, a tiny voice calls, “Ms. Suri! Can we come out?”
It’s a marvel how Sura injects cheer and levity into her voice before responding, “Not yet, Marka. We have to be sneaky for just a bit longer.”
She turns back to me, eyes haunted. “You have to find her. Find Tumaas. I can’t—”
“I won’t let you lose them. Either of them. Do you have a weapon?”
A soft shake of her head. I hand her the sword I pilfered. “A powerful stormwielder will be able to sense you beneath the floor, but only if they walk directly over the hatch. Not through the earth. Keep it locked. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Steely resolve blankets her face as her hands close around the pommel. We say nothing else as she disappears back down the hatch.
Replacing the rug, I walk back into the night.
I grab another sword from another cold body, a thick cloak from a different corpse.
Sounds of a struggle carry through the night air—the harsh clang of swords and a cry of pain, quickly muffled.
I follow the ominous echoes.
Four Arbinji soldiers attacking a rebel. The man looks familiar, he—
One of the soldiers wrenches his head back.
Fuck.
It’s Saakar.
And it looks like he gave them a good fight. One of the soldiers staunches gushing blood from his crooked nose, while the others have various cuts and gashes marking their faces.
Their eyes widen when they see me.
“Commander!” one of the soldiers calls, twisting Saakar’s arm at an unnatural angle. “You’re alive! We’ve been—”
“Let him go.” I raise my sword in warning.
The man’s brow furrows. “Sire, we’re here to free you.”
His less-dense companion unsheathes his sword.
“Do I look like a captive to you?”
And then I charge.
Metal against metal.
Steel piercing flesh.
Open, vacant eyes.
These men were under my command in a different life. I swallow down the remorse spidering up my throat and help Saakar to his feet. His arm hangs limply at his side, pulled clean from its socket.
Saakar grunts as I position his arm. I give no warning before popping it back into place. To his credit, he doesn’t scream.
“Thank you,” he pants, blinking against the rain. “Where are you going?”
“The armory.” It’s where I would’ve gone. If Mayah and Tumaas didn’t come to find Sura, they must be seeking weapons first, then food to replenish reserves after that.
Before he can speak further, I turn and run.
Thunder rumbles overhead from a storm that isn’t mine. The pit of dread in my gut stretches wider, eclipsing every other rational thought.
I need to find Mayah.
Rain beats down against my skull and drips into my eyes. Mud squelches beneath my feet as I run toward the armory, heart pounding in my throat. If anything has happened to her, I’ll—
There. Knees bent, arms raised, Mayah stands in the distance.