Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aren
At last, we’ve arrived at the bridge between Loegria and the Great Waste of Estyrion.
If the royal soldiers are surprised that we aren’t making our way back to the capital, they don’t show it. Perhaps they simply follow Marcus wherever he leads.
Like the bridge connecting Loegria and Alarice, it’s a massive thoroughfare. But where that bridge was teeming with travelers, this one is eerily empty. The stores lining the bridge are shuttered, the houses dark. Our party is the only one that dares cross into the fallen kingdom.
“Dietan?” I ask, and he understands my silent question.
“I know,” he answers. He, too, is taking in the charred trusswork and support beams overhead. Not only is the bridge empty—it’s cloaked in smoke.
I can’t bring myself to go further than the beginning brickwork as I peer into the haze.
I’m covered in gooseflesh, and I clutch my pack so tightly, my fingers start to go numb.
I feel Dietan come up to my side, also stopping just short of stepping onto the bridge.
His eyes narrow as he looks down its length.
Crossing the bridge means we’ll be exposed once more, but it’s the only way into Estyrion.
The bridge looks passable, but portions of it are damaged by some kind of explosion. It looks like a battle happened here recently, yet there are no bodies, no injured soldiers, no other evidence of human passage.
“The Usurper’s work?” I ask.
Marcus joins us, taking in the damage with a keen strategist’s eye. He kneels and scrapes a long finger in the ash smeared on the railing. Nodding, he rubs it between his fingers and smells it. “Alchemist’s powder.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
Dietan looks gray when he replies, “It’s an explosive powder ground from highly volatile stones, mined deep in Estyrion. It’s one of the only resources of value left there. It can create fire on impact. Devastating if deployed in large quantities.”
I don’t like the sound of that at all. “But they left the bridge intact?”
“Whoever was here would be foolish to demolish the only passage between Loegria and Estyrion. They need it as much as we do,” Dietan explains.
Dietan looks past Marcus to his men, who are waiting patiently for the signal to advance. “You two should turn back now. I wish you would listen to me. Marcus, take some of the men and get her out of here and keep her safe.”
“You can’t be serious. I’m not leaving you,” I tell him, hiking my rucksack higher on my shoulders. “Didn’t you hear the priest?”
Dietan sighs.
“What she said,” adds Marcus.
Arguing with both of us is a losing battle, and Dietan knows it.
“Fine. You’re free to make your own decisions—I won’t issue an order—but this is a bad choice.”
“The same one you’re making,” I shoot back.
With a resigned sigh, he nods to the men, turns on his heel, and strikes out to cross the bridge.
My skin feels tight all over my body, like it’s being tugged in different directions.
Every instinct in me screams to turn back, but I push down my fear and put one foot in front of the other, following Dietan into the acrid haze.
The buildings on either side are empty; some doors are cracked open, but I don’t see any movement in the dark behind them, as if the people who lived here left in a hurry.
Loose scraps of parchment blow down the empty street. Window shutters clack against their siding, sounding a rhythmic rat-tat-tat sound that echoes my pounding heart. I would swallow my fear, but my mouth is too dry.
The trusses overhead creak and groan in the wind, secured by ropes stretched above us like a spider’s web.
Ragged Loegrian flags flap on their poles.
Everything about this place sets me on edge.
It feels like we’re being watched, and I want to believe that it’s just my imagination, but I can’t shake the dread creeping down my spine.
Marcus’s bootsteps are quiet, as if he, too, senses that something is wrong. The wind barely helps clear the smoke and visibility is low. Even Dietan, who walks a few paces ahead, is merely a shadow.
I look up and spy fabric whipping around one of the rooftops. I freeze, staring at it. Was it just another flag? Or is someone—or something—up there? Blood roars in my ears, and I try desperately to listen for any movement, but the wind drowns out all else.
I try not to panic as I catch up to Dietan. “It feels like we’re walking right into a trap,” I whisper, leaning in close to his ear.
He nods, his eyes still ahead. “I know. I feel it, too.”
My stomach twists as we pass under a large arch festooned in tattered pennants and broken wind chimes. It’s the halfway point. Now we’ve crossed onto Estyrion’s side of the bridge.
I look over my shoulder, at the path leading back to Loegria. Marcus and his men are a good distance behind me. Marcus catches my eye and nods. He’s frowning, focused, and never takes his hand off the sword at his side. He gestures to his men to speed up, to draw even with me and Dietan.
But it’s too late.
I hear it first—the distinct sound of rope sliding against the metal above us.
I hurl myself onto Dietan’s back, shoving him forward. We fall to the ground just as the archway collapses behind us in a great cloud of dust and debris.
The sound is explosive, like a whip cracking. My ears ring loudly. I can’t stop gagging on the dust, and I’m shaking uncontrollably.
Dietan’s hand finds mine, and his tight grasp helps me up. We’re both unhurt, but his beautiful face is pale and smeared with dirt.
I can hear Dietan’s men shouting from the other side of the rubble. The arch that marked the border between kingdoms has been reduced to a tangled mess of support beams and stone.
We’ve been completely cut off from the others.
Marcus’s face appears in a gap in the debris. He reaches his arm through an opening barely wide enough for a person to slip through. He beckons me to grab his hand and climb through the opening.
“Quickly! Now!” Marcus shouts.
Heavy footsteps hammer on the beams above us, surrounding us on all sides. From below comes the sound of wood splintering and stone cracking. The ground beneath our feet starts to crumble. The impact is tearing the fragile bridge apart.
Dietan shoves me forward, and Marcus grabs my arm and begins pulling me through the opening. Then I turn and reach for Dietan, but my hand grabs nothing but air.
“Dietan!” I cry.
“Don’t worry, I’m right behind you!” he shouts even though I can’t see him in the dust and haze.
Marcus pulls hard as I wriggle through the gap, struggling for purchase.
The support beams scrape against the side of my head.
It’s such a tight squeeze that I have to close my eyes so I don’t panic.
Splinters scratch my cheeks, and I cry out, but Marcus keeps pulling, pulling, pulling until I emerge on the other side of the bridge.
I rush to look through the hole, but I can’t see Dietan because standing in the middle of the bridge is a Kilandrar. Its black winds form what appears to be a cloak and hood.
There is nowhere to hide. It’s found us.
To my utter horror, Dietan comes into view walking toward it, his hands flexing at his sides. I can feel the wind pulsating each time he flexes his fingers. The Whisting.
“Dietan! No!” I scream as Marcus tries to pull me back.
“Go!” Dietan shouts, the wind already drowning out his voice. “Marcus, take Aren and go!”
The Kilandrar watches him carefully, waiting to see what he’ll do. Out of the haze, another shadow appears behind it—a second Kilandrar. Then another one. And another.
So many. Too many.
A gale rises in their presence. A whirlwind swirls around them, kicking up dust and debris that stings my skin like needles.
Dietan stands before them, his feet planted firmly, raising his hands in front of him. He is going to face them on his own using a power he can’t control.
He looks over his shoulder at me and salutes.
A defiant goodbye.
I scream his name one last time before Marcus pulls me away.