Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
T he fortress courtyard was chaos. All the shieldbearer cohorts were assembling, with the masters of every discipline shouting over the noise while the stable master and his assistants brought dozens of horses out, saddled and ready to ride.
The Warswords were there as well, wearing sleek, black armour and armed to the teeth.
Thea’s gaze went straight to Hawthorne, who was surveying the madness from the outskirts, an impatient scowl on his handsome, rugged face.
‘What’s happened?’ Thea asked the nearest shieldbearer as she jumped down from her mare’s back.
‘Scouts saw creatures come through the Veil to the north. They’ve since found their way to the Ruins of Delmira.’
Thea’s insides squirmed. Was this what Hawthorne had told her about? Was this the beginning? The scourge breaking through the Veil?
‘The era of peace is once more at an end. Thezmarrians need to be ready.’
‘That’s not far from here,’ Kipp cut in.
‘No shit.’ The shieldbearer nodded. ‘The Guild Master is to send the Warswords and a small force to intercept them before they can reach Harenth or any of the outlying towns.’
‘Cal!’ Torj the Bear Slayer shouted.
Cal threw himself forward. ‘Here, Sir!’
‘Good, you’re back. You’re with me. Grab your bow.’ The Warsword then caught sight of Thea and Kipp and paused. ‘You two as well.’
‘Torj,’ Esyllt interjected, shoving his way through the crowd. ‘They’ve only just returned from Harenth. They haven’t been training for six days.’
‘Then this will truly test them, won’t it?’
Thea had never heard Torj snap at the weapons master, so it showed how high tensions were running.
‘You heard the man,’ Esyllt pushed them. ‘Get yourself armed. Real blades. And find some fresh horses.’
Heart hammering and spurred into action, Thea checked the stable stalls for an unclaimed horse.
It was no surprise that all the war horses and stallions had been taken, but a young gelding remained, and she set about saddling him.
When she fumbled for a third time with the bridle, she realised she was trembling, and when it took her four tries to buckle the girth beneath the horse’s belly, she drew back and stared, watching her fingers quiver.
A shadow fell across the hay at her feet. ‘You’re nervous,’ the familiar deep voice said.
Hawthorne stood in the doorway, his eyes on her shaking hands.
‘I’m not nervous,’ she argued, gripping the reins to hide her tremors.
‘Yes, you are, and you’d be a fool not to be.’
Clenching her jaw, Thea did a final check of the tack and made to lead the gelding from the stall.
Hawthorne blocked the way, towering over her. ‘Last I saw you, you had a stab wound that was barely healed. You shouldn’t be on this ride.’
Thea’s stomach dipped at the mention of her visit to his cabin, where his fingers had grazed her scarred skin, where she’d traced the muscles of his chest and had felt the heated brush of his lips against hers.
Where he’d left her wanting and alone, again .
But she didn’t yield a single step. Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance.
‘No one, not even you, is going to stop me from riding out with my fellow shieldbearers. Thezmarr has been called upon, and I intend to answer.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes.’
He seemed to consider her. ‘Are you healed?’
‘Are you going to paw at my clothes again to check?’ she snapped.
Hawthorne’s lips parted, as though he were considering exactly that. ‘I wasn’t the only one doing the pawing, Alchemist.’
Thea refused to blush. ‘Perhaps not,’ she allowed. ‘But I was nothing but clear about what I wanted, you… You, however, did not afford me the same respect.’ The words came out as sharp as the hurt she felt, the hurt she thought she had buried well.
He took a step forward. ‘Th — Alchemist,’ it was a plea, regret flickering behind those silver eyes.
Thea’s blood heated, and she yearned to know exactly what words he thought might make a dent in her armour now.
The pandemonium outside grew louder, more demanding, and after a moment’s hesitation Hawthorne broke away from her, stepping out of her path.
‘You’d best be ready.’
And Thea didn’t know if he meant for the battle, or for him.
Back in the courtyard, the other Warswords directed their force with brutal efficiency. It was decided that they would lead an entire unit of warriors comprised of both guardians and shieldbearers to the ruins of Delmira.
Thea got swept up in the madness. Packages of rations and canteens of water were passed around and stuffed into saddlebags. Shieldbearers were arguing over who got to accompany the guardians; commanders were strategising by the gates and the masters were rushing around like headless chickens.
It was Hawthorne’s deep voice that carved through the turmoil. ‘If you have not been selected for this assignment, get the fuck out of the way. We move out in five minutes. This threat will not wait for us.’ There was no room for questions, it was pure command, pure power.
The tension was palpable and Thea grew impatient to leave. She fit her foot to the stirrup and mounted her gelding, ignoring the ache in her lower back.
‘Thea!’ shouted a familiar voice through the crowd. ‘Thea, wait!’
Wren tore through the cluster of remaining shieldbearers, not even wearing a cloak against the chilled air. In one hand she had a fistful of her skirts so she didn’t trip and in the other, a small satchel which she held up to Thea when she reached her at the gates.
‘I knew you’d be going,’ her sister panted, shoving the bag towards her.
‘What’s this?’ Thea asked.
‘Supplies.’
‘Like what?’
Wren gripped her ankle, eyes wide as she stared up at her. ‘Tell me you were listening, when you came back to our shifts with Farissa?’
Thea tensed at the desperation lacing her sister’s words. ‘I was listening —’
‘Move out!’ Torj the Bear Slayer bellowed across the courtyard.
Wren was already breaking away from her. ‘Then you’ll know what to do,’ she called, darting towards the fortress before she was trampled.
‘Thea,’ Cal called from nearby. ‘Move!’
Shoving the satchel in one of her saddlebags, Thea snatched up her reins and squeezed her horse’s sides, already part of the force that was sweeping through the gatehouse.
It seemed that no sooner had Thea and her friends arrived back in Thezmarr than they were riding out again.
As they cantered along the Mourner’s Trail with the thunderous sound of two hundred horses echoing between the trees, the weary exhaustion in Thea’s bones lifted, replaced by the quiet thrum of anticipation. And fear.
Hawthorne was right: she’d be a fool not to fear what lay ahead. No one spoke more of the threat, or what might await them in the ruins, but Thea had sense enough to know this was no training exercise.
Time blurred, as did the Bloodwoods surrounding them as they rode.
When they reached the end of Thezmarrian territory, Hawthorne led them north, atop his black stallion and flanked by his fellow Warswords.
As the night deepened, they turned left onto the fork in the Wesford Road that had once connected the fallen kingdom of Delmira with the rest of the midrealms.
Thea had never travelled north before, nor did she know how long it would take for them to reach the ruins.
Over the years, she had learnt some geography and history about the territory…
The terrain inclined steadily all the way to Delmira, which had countless hills and valleys.
She knew a great lake rested between the ruins and Harenth, though she couldn’t remember its name.
Perhaps it no longer matters , she reflected.
Books had told her that Delmira itself, or what was left of it, was situated on a plateau of land beyond ancient cliffs.
Over the many years since its demise, farmers had tried to settle on the empty land, but misfortune had befallen each and every one of them, leading the entire midrealms to believe that the kingdom and its lands were cursed.
It was these thoughts that filled Thea’s buzzing mind as they rode into the night. All the while, she wished she could see the landmarks; wished she knew the terrain as well as the Warswords.
One day, she vowed. One day I’ll know the midrealms so well I could ride with my eyes closed.
In the blanket of darkness around her, she could make out the outline of her friends riding beside her.
Neither had spoken since they’d left Thezmarr.
In fact, no one had spoken except the Warswords; the low sounds of their voices carried to the back of the unit.
Doing her best to signal her intentions to Cal and Kipp, Thea urged her horse into a quicker pace, squeezing her way to the front of the unit.
There, the Warswords’ words were clearer.
‘Any idea how many?’ Torj was saying.
Vernich grunted. ‘Scout reported at least two, maybe more. They said the darkness that followed was worse than ever.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Hawthorne allowed.
‘I’ve seen it countless times in my recent travels.
Night ripples from the shadow wraiths. They can create it, manipulate it in every way.
It can take the form of whips, lashing their victims bloody, or manifest as their darkest traumas.
And that’s just the start. They can swallow you whole with it. ’
A bead of sweat trickled beneath Thea’s shoulder blades and an icy shiver ran down her spine.
There was a heavy pause before Torj spoke again. ‘You think they’re like the ones we fought in Naarva?’
‘Exactly like those,’ Hawthorne replied.
Tremors wracked Thea’s whole body as she listened.
‘You have truly been hunting shadow wraiths all this time, haven’t you?’
‘You knew this, Torj. Among other filth that claws its way through the Veil.’
‘We knew you were hunting monsters,’ Vernich interjected. ‘No thanks to your non-existent correspondence, mind you. But we didn’t know what monsters or where.’
‘Nor did I, until I was facing them.’