Chapter 33 Damia
Damia
Ithrow myself to the side as a malevolent root tries to wrap around my ankle.
Breaking the fall with my shoulder, I roll over and jump back to my feet.
In the same movement, I stab my sword downward, pinning the root against the earth.
It thrashes beneath the tip, trying to wriggle free as I look around me.
“Hey, dryad!” I shout at the Agathyrian hugging a tree a few feet from me. “Do you think you could do your job and calm this fucker down?”
“I’m trying,” the Agathyrian murmurs through gritted teeth. “It helps if you don’t stab them.”
I wrench my sword out of the ground, setting the root free. Rather than trying to attack me again, it slithers back toward the tree, disappearing beneath the soil.
“Thanks,” I say to the dryad, then feel a flare of fire blast past my cheek, a few inches away from singeing my whole face off. I yank a dagger from my belt, spinning around and flinging it in one movement, landing it in the throat of the incendi cleric who just tried to burn me to a crisp.
“I think you need a lesson in how to ask for things nicely,” Corrin says, stepping out of the shadows between two trees and pulling the dagger from my victim. He wipes it on the mossy earth before handing it back to me.
“I said thanks, didn’t I?” I shrug. “What more do you—”
“On your left,” Corrin calls. I turn, seeing a flash of red.
Then a wall of darkness consumes the Temple soldier attempting to creep up on me, making him yelp in surprise.
I stab into the shadows with my sword until I meet resistance.
When I withdraw my blade, it’s wet with fresh blood, and the shadows dissipate as the soldier’s body slumps to the ground.
“Thanks,” I say. Then turn to Corrin with a raised eyebrow. “See? Perfectly nice. I’ll even throw in a compliment and say that you’re pretty fast, for a human.”
I push forward toward a cleric shoving several Trovian foot soldiers back with blasts of air. It means they can never move more than a few feet before their enemies pick them off.
“I’m only fast on the battlefield,” Corrin says as I force the aesteri to his knees with a fit of laughter.
“Elsewhere I like to take my time.” He disappears into a cloud of shadow around the aesteri.
Seconds later, the darkness moves back toward me, leaving a dead body behind.
Corrin reappears right in front of me, grinning wickedly.
“But you know that,” he finishes with a suggestive leer.
“On your right,” I reply with a raised eyebrow, and he ducks as a stone hurtles through the space his right ear was just occupying.
“Did I ever mention how good you look when you’re shouting orders at me?” Corrin calls as we both turn and charge the geostri who sent the stone.
“I thought you wanted me to ask for things nicely?” I counter as Corrin blinds the same geostri with shadow before he can take aim at us again.
“With other people,” Corrin clarifies. I dispatch the geostri and turn to meet Corrin’s gaze as he keeps talking. “With me, I know your hostility is just your way of dealing with how devastatingly handsome you find me.”
I roll my eyes. “Idiot,” I say.
“Handsome idiot,” he corrects, nodding toward a pair of cleavers sneaking up behind us.
“Maybe,” I admit, and we both spin and charge.
We fight together like a melody, attuned to each other’s movements.
He knows when I need backup, and I offer a quick spell or slash of my blade when he needs it from me.
I’m in my element here, but I didn’t realize how alive I could feel mowing down my enemy until I had someone here beside me to share it with.
I never knew anything could feel so right. It makes me want to have this forever.
And that’s the problem. Because I’ve been in hundreds of scrapes before, but I never worried about getting out of them alive.
I’ve always thought it would either be my time or it wouldn’t.
In the past, I’ve even thought maybe I was never meant to escape my family alive, and everything since then has been a bonus.
But now I have to survive. I get an unfamiliar twitch of tension in my gut every time a blast of magic comes my way, or a soldier swings their sword at me. It would be very inconvenient if I died now, because then I’d never get to tell Corrin how annoyingly—and absolutely—I’m falling for him.
Leon
We’re maybe a mile from Caledon when we decide to start.
He wasn’t hard to find in the raging battlefield: a figure in white, surrounded by a sea of fallen bodies.
He wades through the corpses like they’re just weeds beneath his feet, still wearing the artifacts—the bow strapped to his back, the cup and scythe hooked onto his belt beside the glinting seal.
The Trovians caught in fights with Temple soldiers don’t stand a chance as the Grand Bearer walks past, reaching out a hand to touch a shoulder or neck.
The pattern is always the same: they turn, bewildered, and have just seconds to swing their weapons uselessly at Caledon.
Because even as the sharp steel glances off his body, the soldiers drop to the ground, all the life sucked out of them.
“Gods save us,” Ana swears to herself as much as me, taking in the carnage.
Her face is pale and stained with tears.
She’s wiped them away for now, but I feel the weight of grief sitting on her.
It mingles with her fear to make a toxic combination, and while her guards keep pushing forward, she momentarily falls back, letting her horse falter.
“Position!” Drisha calls, regrouping the guards around the queen as I turn my horse with them to join her.
“You can do this, my love,” I say. “Do it for Will.”
She shakes her head, eyes fixed on the piles of bodies Caledon is leaving in his wake. “I thought it would be easy after Tributin killed Will. But look at them all. How can I add to this death?”
Despair climbs in her heart, threatening to suffocate her.
“Listen,” I say, speaking quickly as I grab her reins. “I recognize exactly what you’re feeling, because I’ve been there too. It’s the moment in every battle when you look out at all the destruction and wonder how it could possibly be worth it.”
Her guard surrounds us just as half a dozen clerics decide to charge. I keep my eyes on Ana, letting the others protect us as I try to stop her giving up on this plan—on herself.
“But it is worth it, Ana,” I say. “At least, it’s worth it to keep fighting. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, and Will wouldn’t have died for this.”
She swallows, and I feel her resolve building, rising up to overtake the despair.
“You can’t stop more people dying, but you can make sure their deaths mean something,” I finish.
She meets my gaze, the gratitude not needing to be put into words, and nods.
A second later, the cleric fighting Captain Drisha goes limp. The cleric beside him hits the ground nearly as fast. One by one, the red-robed men and woman have their inner flames snuffed out by Ana’s power.
I feel a presence at my back, and I see that white-caped figure, framed by the trees across the battlefield. Caledon’s facing our direction, his dark eyes trained on Ana.
Yes, I want to say to him. Take her in. See how unstoppable she is.
I feel both a surge of protectiveness and triumph while he witnesses her at work. The gap between Ana’s guard and the Temple forces grows wider and wider as she snuffs out any cleric in our vicinity.
Caledon’s so focused on us he doesn’t see the huge shape break out of the trees on his right.
Its six long legs carry it across the battlefield in a blur, its pincers stretching out to bite.
The aisthekis scuttles toward Caledon, and only when its maw is poised above his shoulder does he reach out a hand and block its advance.
The creature’s pincers try to close around his arm, but the razor-sharp points grind harmlessly against his flesh, leaving not a single mark.
Caledon shoves the huge creature back, throwing it into a tree so hard it collapses to the ground, motionless.
I look back to Ana, her hazel eyes narrowed in concentration as she takes out more clerics, and I pray to the gods this plan works.
Sophos
“This is as far as I’ll take you.”
I bow my head to the dryad guide who has led me through the Miravow. We’re standing in a peaceful part of the forest, but the sounds of battle filter through the trees from the east. If I continue in that direction, I know I will find who I’m looking for.
“Thank you, my friend,” I say. She nods, accepting my gratitude, then turns and melts back into the trees. It’s amazing how in tune the dryads are with the forest, to the point where they can navigate the woods without fear, can even communicate directly with the plants and animals.
We Ethirans should have learned more from the Agathyrians and their mysterious ways. After all, Ethira saw fit to hide one of his tokens in this very forest—he didn’t overlook the importance of a land blessed with the touch of the gods, and neither do they.
But of course, the Grand Bearer’s only interest in the Miravow was to use it or to take from it. And now I must convince him that there’s even more to be plundered from Agathyre.
I walk on until I reach the battlefield. As I suspected, no Temple soldiers raise a hand against me when they recognize me. I even receive nods of respect as I move through the fighting, only needing to be conscious that I don’t fall afoul of a wayward spell or arrow.
I can see the Grand Bearer ahead of me, his white cape making him clearly visible among the crowds of colored uniforms. I clench my fingers at my side, trying to control the shaking of my hand as I get closer. My weak body might be gripped with fear, but my soul knows what I must do.
“Your Grace,” I call when I’m just a few steps away. The Grand Bearer is busy killing a Filusian soldier, releasing the man so the body falls to the ground.