Chapter 32 Leon
Leon
“Maybe it’s a good thing you had your guts split open,” Alastor says as he settles beside Harman’s bed in the healer’s tent. He strokes the hair back from the brunette’s face, studying him. “Now you’ll be safe here, while we go deal with that bastard.”
Harman grimaces, even as he catches Alastor’s hand and gives it an affectionate squeeze. Mal did a good job with the Hand’s leader, and though his breathing is labored from the broken ribs and yards of bandages wrapped around his torso, his eyes are alert.
“I’ve fought my whole life for the Temple to get its day of reckoning, and now that the day has come, I have to stay behind? The gods have a sick sense of humor,” he complains.
“We’ll get him for you, Harman,” Ana says, standing over the pair. “I swear.”
Harman nods, but I note he doesn’t ask either Ana or Alastor to make other promises—ones about coming back alive.
As the Hand’s leader, I suspect he knows all too well that the odds are against everyone he loves coming back from this.
If it comes to it, I don’t know if I would feel the same. Not where Ana is concerned.
I call her to our private tent after she’s said goodbye to Harman. The sun is creeping over the horizon, meaning soon we’ll return to the Miravow, and I want to check in with her properly when she’s not distracted.
“Are you alright?” She asks as she ducks under the tent flap, checking me over.
“Yes,” I say, pulling her into an embrace. I let my chin rest on her head, inhaling the jasmine scent of her soft hair.
“I wanted to ask if you’re alright,” I say, drawing back.
“I am. As much as I can be, anyway,” she says. “But we have a plan now, and that helps.”
Yes, the plan. The one that requires her to unleash her death power to goad Caledon. I know she’s ambivalent about that power, despite its usefulness. I let her sense my thought process through the mooring, asking my question without having to say it aloud.
“How will you handle it?”
“I’ve used that power on Trovians before,” she says, biting her lip.
“Yes, but—”
“Not on this scale,” she concedes. “And not just to make a point to Caledon. The other times, the people I killed were trying to kill us.”
“Exactly,” I answer.
She frowns, her fingernails digging into her palms like they do when she’s worried.
“I think I’ll be okay,” she says. “I wonder if I was meant to get familiar with that part of me over these last few months. The Morelium at Ribold’s and the attack at Siga prepared me. They got me to face the darkness.”
I take her hand, gently unfolding her fingers from her palm. Her fingernails are almost all grown back now after her torture.
“That’s how you think of it, as darkness?” I ask.
“It’s a missing piece in my soul, so that’s the image that makes sense to me.
But it’s important I accept it, whatever shape it takes.
I don’t know if the old me would have been able to use this power—I think I would’ve been too afraid, worried it came from somewhere unnatural.
It’s not like I don’t have other, fairer weapons at my disposal. ”
“Fairer how?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Something people can defend themselves against. Something they can see coming. But that doesn’t matter now, because I know I’m strong enough to do this.”
“You know you’re still you, don’t you?” I say, speaking aloud to emphasize the words. I cradle her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb. “It’s not that these things don’t change you, I won’t lie and say they don’t. But it won’t alter you beyond recognition. Trust that.”
“That’s the point,” she says, her eyes staring into mine. “There’s a price to pay for this kind of power. I know I’ve been touched by the darkness. But I also know I can make sure that darkness doesn’t consume me.”
I nod. I’ve been there, battling the demons that came with decades of extreme power and violence. It’s easy to lose yourself, if you don’t understand there’s another option.
“I have you to thank for teaching me that,” she says.
“I’ve always been very wise,” I agree, smiling before pulling her close and kissing her.
She smiles against my lips.
“Always?” she asks skeptically. “What about that time you abandoned me at the inn in Otscold?”
“Alright, that was a single, devastating error in judgment,” I admit. “But then I had the good sense to kidnap you from Elmere. And that, princess, was the best idea I ever had.”
Morgana
We lead the way when our troops return to the Miravow, rested and rearmed, this time riding beside the Filusian forces.
But our renewed strength doesn’t change the fact that the trees attack the moment we reenter the forest. Their branches swipe out at us while their roots snake up to tangle beneath our horses’ hooves.
A geostri in my guard tries to pull the roots back with her vines, and I do my best to orbit the branches out of our path.
But Tira is the one who really keeps us safe.
She was elsewhere in the forest yesterday when the trees started attacking, and after hearing about her experience, we realized her power is the best defense against them.
Now she rides near the front of my guard, exploding any branch or root we don’t catch in time.
It showers us with splinters, but she shouts warnings so we can protect our faces, and it’s better than getting impaled by a three-foot-thick branch.
At first, there’s no sign of Caledon’s army. It seems the trees are a good enough barrier for him, and we’re forced to ride deeper into the forest to find the Temple’s forces.
“He’s not concerned with finishing this battle,” Leon growls angrily across the mooring. “He’s so sure he’ll win he’s letting us come to them.”
“That’s fine,” I reply, dodging a branch. “As long as our plan works.”
It’s nearly an hour later that we glimpse the first sign of red uniforms between the trees, and a battle cry goes up among the troops on either side of me.
It’s a long, rousing shout, led by the Filusian forces.
Those tall fae are a majestic sight on their huge horses, orange uniforms flickering like flames in the Miravow’s patchy light.
The Temple forces return the charge, magic exploding in the air around us as the clerics conjure fire and wind and manipulate the earth in the path of our soldiers.
I can already see the difference from yesterday’s battle, though.
The fae reach out not with elements, but with their sensic magic, destroying all advantage the twin-blessed clerics had.
The red-robed men and women fall in droves, pushed down onto their knees as they’re crippled by fear or pain or whatever else the fae can conjure in their minds.
Still, it’s hard going even with two armies.
For every few feet of advancement, half a dozen soldiers are picked off by the furious trees, caught out while fighting and crushed by a snaking root or branch.
I’m still not used to it—the heart-pounding, gut-wrenching chaos of battle, the heat of magic exploding on each side of me, or the cries of men and women taking their last breaths.
Despite this, we press on, letting the others bear the brunt of our enemy’s forces. I want to stay and fight with my people and Leon’s, but we’re needed elsewhere. If this plan is to work, I have to get to Caledon—and get him to watch me this time.
“Look,” Tira shouts and points to a spot fifty yards to our left where there’s movement. “The dryads are here!”
She’s right. The flashes of green I took for leaves a moment ago are actually a line of Agathyrians moving along the forest floor. They separate out, laying hands on tree trunks and praying.
“Finally,” Leon grunts.
Even though I have no idea if this is going to work, I feel a surge of relief.
Without the Agathyrians, every move we make to defend ourselves will only turn the Miravow more against us.
Maybe now we can stop the forest from acting like an extension of our enemy.
It’s surprising that they’d come and stand out in the open like this, though, on the outskirts of the battle.
“They need some kind of guard. How are they going to protect themselves?” Will demands.
My relief turns to panic as I ask myself the same question.
The Temple forces have spotted the dryads.
A clutch in red sprint and ride toward them, and in a few moments the Agathyrians are sure to be impaled, one by one, defenseless.
“What are they doing? They’re going to die!” Tira shouts, and we slow the gallop of our horses, circling around closer toward the dryads. I watch with disbelief as they all close their eyes, making no move to run or hide, even as a whole unit of armed soldiers charge in their direction.
I do the only thing I can do, plunging my awareness inward, searching for the darkness. I wanted to conserve my death power, but I can’t let the Agathyrians be slaughtered.
“Wait, Ana,” Leon calls quickly across the mooring. “Listen.”
Above the thrashing of the trees and the sounds of battle, there’s a new set of noises.
Roaring and squawking and lowing, all underpinned by a rumbling that shakes the earth beneath our feet.
The dryads grip the tree trunks tighter, bowing their heads as they chant a prayer I can’t hear, their lips moving faster than before.
“Whatever that is sounds dangerous,” Drisha says, rallying his horse, who stomps and whinnies at the cacophony. “We should move, my queen.” The captain’s face is tight with worry, eyes darting about us. But I’m confident the source of the noise is coming for the Temple, not us.
“The dryads are here to help us, Captain,” I shout over the noise. “Remember to trust!”