Chapter 24
Shey Thrudesh-Vo
Tyche was a god.
He was traveling with a fucking god.
How in the world had his life become so strange?
Oh, Tyche hadn’t come out and said the words, and the little sneak wouldn’t admit to it unless he was cornered, but Shey knew it. He felt it. Too many magical things happened around Tyche that didn’t make any sense. The only thing that did make sense was that Tyche was a god.
How the fuck is that the next logical step?
Magic came in three forms in this world: gods, dragons, and god-blessed acolytes like himself.
Shey was the first to admit that he knew just a handful of dragons, but he couldn’t imagine Tyche being one of them.
Okay, so maybe Drayce being a dragon was also a stunning surprise, but Tyche wasn’t Drayce.
Besides, if he were a dragon, there was no way in hell he would have needed Shey to break out of that place.
Could his magic be god gifted? Maybe, but again, if he’d gotten his magic from one of the major gods, he should have been able to level the facility and leave at any time.
That left the minor gods that everyone had long ago forgotten about in favor of following the major gods and even worshiping the Godstone of Erya.
Was it possible that they were still alive?
And if that were true, what was Tyche the god of exactly?
The magic he appeared to do was so small and subtle yet incredibly broad-reaching.
He’d somehow broken the mechanism on his cell, but he hadn’t been able to heal Yesuntei.
As they’d escaped, Tyche would whisper warnings to go one way or another.
To pause or charge ahead as if he could see a glimpse of the future.
It was as if the stars had all aligned for them to make a somewhat smooth escape.
Was it possible that he could see the future?
That didn’t seem likely. If that were the case, he should have been able to foresee his own capture and avoid it.
Shey kept his mouth shut and scrubbed his hand across his face as they trudged through the forest. The temperature was climbing, burning off any early-morning coolness to hammer them with heat and humidity.
They were walking north. It was as good a direction as any.
The one option that was stupid was to go east—the direction of the facility they had escaped from.
It was just as unlikely that Tyche was a god as it would be for him to be a dragon.
Tyche was at least six inches shorter than him, with a slender, wiry frame and a mass of brownish-red hair that hung in various lengths around his head and down his back.
He wasn’t bad-looking—but then, Shey had always seen him through bars. Tyche wasn’t at his best.
Of course, Shey had a feeling that even if Tyche hadn’t been locked in a prison, he would still be a lazy, snarky, grumpy person who would rather sip coffee and read a book than talk to another human being.
A low rumble rose from Tyche’s stomach, and Shey smirked.
His stomach was trying to eat itself. They hadn’t enjoyed a single bite of food in a day.
He wanted to put more distance between them and the facility, but they were going to need to hunt up something to eat soon if they were going to have the strength to keep walking.
“It’s a shame you didn’t get the chance to kill Scarella before we left,” Tyche announced with a whimsical sigh.
Shey snorted, nearly choking on his laugh. “I was sure you were going to say something about food or your favorite restaurant.”
“Well, I was trying to think of something other than food. Particularly a nice thick steak, cooked medium-rare, and a mound of mashed potatoes. Possibly a side of broccoli covered in hot, melty cheese. Oh! And fresh bread. The thick, crusty stuff that makes a mess when you pull it apart. Still so hot from the oven that steam comes out. Creamy butter—”
“All right! All right!” Shey pleaded, his stomach growling with Tyche’s. “You’ve made your point. Go back to the killing.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t have been heartbroken if you’d killed all the guards in the facility, but really, the top of my list was Scarella,” Tyche said, switching topics without blinking an eye.
“It would have been nice, but I suspect that if she were in the prison at the time, she would have locked herself in the command center, surrounded by guards. It would have been suicide to charge in there.”
Tyche picked up a thin stick and seemed to inspect it before snapping it in half and tossing the two pieces to the ground. “I know, but a guy can dream. She needs to get her comeuppance after all this. She had to have been the one to push Teitei over the edge. I know it.”
Yeah, seeing his torturer dead after what he’d gone through would be satisfying, but it would have to wait.
They needed to get to safety. To get some real help.
He’d made the mistake of bringing too few people with him, thinking that he could be sneaky and escape anyone’s notice.
The moment Kaeda and Juro died, Shey should have headed straight for the border and left Damardor far behind.
But he hadn’t wanted to admit failure. Hadn’t wanted to admit that he’d planned this poorly and had been overwhelmed from the very start.
“Don’t worry. She’s going to get hers. They all will. We’re making a strategic retreat and regrouping.”
Tyche snickered. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?” He’d just gotten that mocking comment out when he stepped on a pile of wet leaves that slid out from under his foot. His arms pinwheeled in the air as he tried to stay upright. Shey smiled and caught his arm, keeping him on his feet.
“If I have to,” he murmured.
“Ugh. Fine. I—”
“Shh!” His fingers tightened on Tyche’s arm, digging into soft flesh.
To his credit, Tyche froze, his mouth snapping shut. He waited while Shey strained to hear what had triggered his internal warning system. They had been walking along chatting, the warm summer breeze rustling the leaves in the trees and the birds singing.
But the birds had stopped singing. Someone else had entered the forest.
A shout went up just as the thought crossed his mind. Ten armed men with guns drawn broke from behind the trees a few hundred yards away, moving to circle them while shouting for them to lie on the ground. The facility had caught up with them.
Except there was no way in hell Shey was going back to that place.
The guns he’d taken off the dead guards as they broke out had long since run out of ammunition as they escaped the facility, but he still had some knives and magic. He would have to make do with that.
“Ty, you’re gonna have to fight,” Shey announced as he shifted to put his body between Tyche and the bulk of the guards sent to retrieve them.
“You’ve lost your mind. You know that, right? How have I given you any kind of impression that I know how to fight?”
“Something,” Shey snarled. He palmed a long blade and braced for the attack. “Do something.”
“Die? I’m pretty sure that I have a good chance of dying.”
Shey wanted to tell Tyche that he wasn’t allowed to die.
He was stuck with Shey, and he wasn’t allowed to escape that way.
Yet the words never left his tongue. One of the guards stepped forward to close the gap and tighten the surrounding trap, but his foot got caught on a raised tree root.
He tumbled over with a shout, plowing straight into the guy on his right.
As the second guard fell, his finger squeezed the trigger and a shot went wild, hitting a third guard in the center of the chest, killing him.
“There,” Tyche snapped. “I did something. How was that?”
Fuck.
It hadn’t been pretty, and the entire incident was comical, but it also meant two guards were still tangled up and a third was dead. Shey still didn’t understand Tyche’s magic, but he was beginning to appreciate its odd elegance.
“Yeah. Yeah, keep doing that.”
With several of the guards distracted, Shey tried to go for the dead man’s gun, but the guards closed ranks too fast, forcing him to retreat and attack another.
He punched and slashed, dodging blows as best he could.
They didn’t want to shoot him or Tyche. Otherwise, they would have been dead already.
The guards must have had orders to bring them to the facility alive, which was working to Shey’s advantage.
Shey racked his brain trying to think of a way to use his magic, but he had to stop and concentrate on conjuring up a storm. Breaking out of the cell, he’d pulled the storm and lightning together before setting it loose on the prison. At that moment, he couldn’t think beyond staying alive and free.
It also didn’t help that he could hear Tyche shouting and swearing at the guards. He couldn’t keep a protective eye on the other man and beat these assholes at the same time.
A punch connected with Shey’s right cheek, snapping his head to the left and out of his thoughts.
He staggered in time to see Tyche dart around a tree while the guard closest to him slipped on what appeared to be a pile of dead leaves.
He slammed his head into an enormous tree trunk and hit the ground hard. The guard didn’t get up.
Tyche didn’t look back as he ran to Shey. He scooped up a stick and snapped it in half, creating a sharp, pointy end. As soon as he reached Shey’s side, he slapped it into Shey’s empty left hand.
“Don’t drop this!”
And then he was off again, zigzagging between guards like an overly caffeinated ferret.
Shey wasn’t sure if Tyche wanted him to use the stick as a weapon or if it was to serve some other purpose. It didn’t matter. The guard who’d punched him stepped up, intending to deliver several more blows.
Shey lifted the knife in his right hand, preparing to defend himself while fighting the urge to toss the stick to the ground. Tyche had to be messing with him.