Chapter 46 Quil
Quil
The horizon glowed a deep purple as the sun set into the distant peaks of the Serran Range.
As he rode, Quil kept an eye on the sky as he always did these days, looking for Sails.
A quirk that many of his people now had.
One they would carry with them for years, no doubt, no matter what became of them.
The Tel Ilessi had lit her signal fire to the east of the Empire encampment.
But it wasn’t until the Empress, Quil, and the rest of their party drew closer that they realized where Aiz was lurking: in the shadows beneath the low, broad arch of Falcon’s Rest. The fire was small but bright as the sun faded, and it lit the massive arch above a lurid red.
“Nephew,” Aunt Hel said softly as they approached the arch. “You will tell them the plan once Elias is back with the recon report.”
The troops with them—eight Masks and thirty legionnaires—would want to hear from their empress, Quil was certain. But she was still recovering from her wound—and she’d need all her energy for whatever the hells Aiz had planned.
“We should have brought a Jaduna,” the Blood Shrike muttered, but Aunt Hel shook her head as she dismounted.
“The fleet approaching has fifty Sails,” she said. “We need every last Jaduna to protect our people.”
“Dismount,” Quil called when they were still a quarter mile from the arch. “And form up.”
As they did, Elias, who had slipped ahead to scout, returned silently, his face grim.
“She’s flown her Sail into a large wash about thirty yards behind the arch,” he said. “There are a dozen other Sails there—she has about two hundred guards with her. At least twelve pilots, but there could be more.”
“Musa?”
“I didn’t see him,” Elias said. “But he might be hidden. Empress—” Elias hesitated, and Aunt Hel cast him an impatient look.
“Out with it, Veturius.”
“She brought children with her,” Elias said. “Martials. Scholars. War orphans from the looks of them. About thirty of them chained up and guarded behind her. Close to the Sails—presumably so she can take off easily and drag the children with her, if she needs to.”
Disgust rose like bile in Quil’s throat. “The children are to keep us in line,” he said. “And to fuel her, so she doesn’t run out of magic.”
“We will get those children out of there.” Aunt Hel’s hands went tight around the scim at her waist. Her voice was flat, but her eyes sparked wrath. “She has taken enough of our young.”
Quil recalibrated his plan, which had, until that moment, been entirely focused on protecting the Empress.
“Rallius,” he said to his aunt’s guard captain, who snapped to attention.
“Take the men to the far side of the arch, near the wash. Have fire ready to light up their Sails, and ropes so you can rappel down and free the children when the time comes. Keep bows trained on the Tel Ilessi, but remember that she will have a wind shield up and it will be vicious. Anything you shoot won’t get through. ”
He considered his aunt, waiting to see if she would speak. Her gaze was fixed on the distant fire, and she remained silent.
“The Empress will discuss terms with the Tel Ilessi,” Quil said.
“And in that process, she will assassinate her.
Our job is to give her the opportunity. While they are talking, take no action.
The moment the Empress makes her move, kill the pilots and the guards and destroy the Sails. Get the children safe.
“This night will end with the Tel Ilessi dead,” Quil said, “and the Kegari on their knees.” He looked from soldier to soldier.
He knew them all. Rallius and Dex, of course, but others who’d fought at his back when he was still green and Aunt Hel had sent him to the borderlands to claim land from the Karkauns.
Some were young—only a few years older than him.
Others were grizzled old Masks who had been trained long before Aunt Hel.
All were loyal to the end.
“The Tel Ilessi is sly,” he reminded them.
“And dangerous. But she is also vulnerable. She believes we have lost everything. She believes that with her Sails, her magic, and her armaments, she holds the advantage. What she has forgotten is that it is not southern rabble she fights. It is the Empire. We will fight until we are ghosts, and then we will haunt these bastards until they’re either gone from our land or buried beneath it. Loyal to the end.”
The troops thumped their chests once in approval. “Loyal to the end.”
They moved out, Quil going last with his aunt.
The moon was little more than a crescent tonight, but the stars shone, the sky still light enough that he could make out Aunt Hel’s expression.
She appeared serene as she looked over the land.
In the evening light, the harsh lines of ochre and brown and white were softened to pink and gray.
“This”—Aunt Hel nodded to the desert—“is my favorite part of the Empire. Do you know why?”
“No ghosts,” Quil said, for he knew she was haunted by her old battles in Antium. Serra. Navium.
She nodded. “No ghosts. Just you, me, and that buck that eluded us.”
Quil groaned. “What a pain in the arse he was. Crafty old thing.”
“He outwitted us.” His aunt chuckled. “Again and again. I didn’t tell you, but I was glad he got away.”
They were close to the arch now, and here their paths diverged. His aunt would follow the trail down, to the ravine below Falcon’s Rest. Quil would remain on the ridgeline twenty feet above, with a clear line of sight.
“Loyal to the end, Quil.” She squeezed his hand and smiled at him, full and brilliant, the way she did when she knew victory was certain.
“To the end, Aunt Hel.”
His aunt slipped through the brush silently, making her way toward the fire and Aiz. Quil had just settled into his spot on the ridgeline when he heard Aiz’s voice.
“Empress, Empress,” she said. “Once again you prove your kind are untrustworthy. Did I not say to come alone?”
Aiz stepped out of the shadows. She wore a simple white dress—meant to make her look holy, Quil assumed.
But it only emphasized the hollows in her cheeks, the waxy pallor of her skin, and the gauntness of her body.
Her long hair swirled about her head. When Aunt Hel emerged from the brush, Aiz smiled, showing all her teeth.
The wind came so suddenly that Quil didn’t even hear it, only gasped as it wrapped around him and dragged him roughly down to the bottom of the ravine and through the brush, depositing him behind his aunt.
Seconds later, Elias was beside him, coughing as Aiz sucked away his air to weaken him.
She drove them all to their knees in a forced semblance of respect, their arms pinned to their hips.
Moments later, Tas and the Blood Shrike were dragged roughly out of the trees in a similar manner.
Quil hoped to the skies Rallius had pulled his squadron back. At enough distance, Aiz might not be able to lasso them.
“Bind them,” she called to her troops. “Especially him—” She glanced at Elias and there was something like frustration in her gaze as she stepped away from him. “He’s fast.” She twitched and glanced down.
“I know—” She spoke impatiently but it was unclear to whom. “I swore to you, did I not?”
Quil bristled, fighting against the wind. She couldn’t hold him forever—and even if her troops tied him up, they were mediocre fighters at best. Between him, Elias, Tas, the Shrike, and his aunt, there must be a way to break free.
“I wouldn’t, Quil.” Aiz fixed her chilling, unblinking gaze on him. “Mother Div is no longer with me. But she left me a gift, you see.”
Aiz used her wind to drag one of the children forward. She was young, perhaps eight or nine, with stringy hair and huge, terrified eyes. The embroidery on her filthy dress was detailed; once, she had been cared for.
“No—” the girl whimpered. “Please—” She reached for Helene. “Empress, please don’t let her—”
Aiz made a strange sound—something between a growl and a click, like a vulture feeding. The air around her was charged and her body swelled, briefly, before appearing normal again.
Beside her the girl slumped to the ground. Dead. Aunt Hel’s face blazed with wrath, but Aiz only smiled.
“Do you want them all to die?” Aiz said. “The more you make me use my magic, the more I’ll be forced to kill. All because of your futile attempt at heroics.”
Quil had never wanted to break someone’s neck quite as much as he wanted to break Aiz’s in that moment.
But he forced himself to remain calm, to cease resisting as the Kegari bound his hands behind his back.
Aiz kept the wind on him; it was difficult to move.
A chill went up Quil’s spine. Aiz’s power had grown more than he’d anticipated.
But she wasn’t invincible. She was easily distracted and impatient. He just had to bide his time.
“Your deceit does not bode well for our negotiation,” Aiz said to Aunt Hel.
She lifted a hand and, moments later, two of her pilots dragged Musa into the firelight, fighting every step of the way.
As the Kegari soldiers cast him onto his face, he dragged himself to his knees.
An Ikfa chain hung around his neck and Quil grimaced.
Aiz must have had it on him for days. That’s why Quil and Aunt Hel hadn’t heard from the wights.
“Empress,” Musa said. “Forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive, love,” Aunt Hel said before fixing her flinty gaze on Aiz. “Well, Tel Ilessi. We are here for terms, are we not? Shall you go first or shall I?”
Aiz looked between Aunt Hel and Musa, her smirk flashing in the shadows. “Not sentimental at all, are we, Empress? War has hardened you, I see.”