Chapter Thirty-five
THEA
T hey were up before dawn and on the move again. As they rode for Tver, Thea knew something had shifted in them all. Though no one had commented, their pace increased, as though the closer they drew to Notos, the thicker the sense of urgency became.
Wilder and Torj had barely spoken all morning, and though she knew Wilder had a tendency for surly silence, the Bear Slayer was usually full of conversation. It made Thea nervous.
Ever since they’d left Thezmarr, she had managed to convince herself, by clinging to the happier moments, that there was not a war waiting for them on the other side of this journey… But there was.
There always had been.
The Daughter of Darkness and her army flashed before Thea, fierce and brimming with onyx power, ready to cast it across the midrealms in one great wave…
Something pulsed within Thea then, as if in answer to a question she hadn’t yet had the courage to ask.
As they rode hard through the valleys, Thea could tell by the tension in Cal’s shoulders that they were approaching his homeland. His mare cantered as close to the lead as Wilder would allow, and Cal’s eyes scanned the surrounding territory eagerly, ready for any sign of home.
But when they crested a rise in the land, Cal drew his horse up short with a gasp. For below, in a would-be sleepy hollow, was a village.
And it had been burned to the ground.
A strangled cry escaped her friend and he surged forward on his horse, ignoring the shouts of the Warswords he left in his wake.
Thea didn’t think about what dangers might lie ahead in the ashes. She simply went after him.
She heard Wilder yell her name, but she would not leave Cal to face this alone.
The thundering sound of hooves behind her told her that Kipp wouldn’t either.
But Warswords rode Tverrian stallions for a reason, and within seconds, both Torj and Wilder were ahead, streaks of black against the gilded land, aiming straight for the rubble that still smouldered in the near distance.
When Thea and the others reached them, they were already stalking across the ground, swords out.
Thea leapt from her mare, unsheathing her own sword and surveying the ruined village.
From the scorched framework that remained, she could just make out what would have been the town square and its surrounding shops.
Cal ran through the smoking ruins, kicking aside debris, clutching fistfuls of his hair as he stopped on the outskirts of the village before a pile of blackened stone.
Thea went to him, finding no words of comfort to offer.
He stared at the pile of stones. ‘That was our well…’ he said, voice distant. ‘We’re… we’re standing on our cabin.’
Thea looked at her boots. There was only ash beneath them.
‘There’s no one here,’ Wilder said, his voice stripped of emotion. ‘No remains.’
Cal stared at the ruined village, his lips moving, but omitting no sound.
‘I’m trying to tell you that there was no one here when this happened,’ the Warsword said, grasping the Guardian’s shoulder firmly. ‘Look at me.’
Cal did.
‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’ Wilder asked.
‘They weren’t here…’ Cal repeated.
‘No. They weren’t.’
Cal blinked slowly. ‘They got out.’
‘Escaped, evacuated… Whatever they did, they did it before whatever happened here. Torj is looking for tracks now.’
A sob broke free from Cal and he collapsed to his knees in the rubble.
Thea dropped down before him and threw her arms around him. ‘It’s alright, Cal,’ she murmured. Her friend sagged against her, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
Kipp crouched beside them, placing a comforting hand on Cal’s back. ‘You heard them. Your family, your sisters… They weren’t here for this shit. And Torj will figure out what happened to them, you hear?’
Cal pulled away from Thea, palming the tears from his eyes, his face flushing with shame as he glanced up at Wilder.
‘Sorry —’
‘Don’t ever apologise for caring about your family,’ Wilder said, offering his hand.
Cal took it gratefully, and got to his feet.
Thea looked away to give him a moment, spotting Torj on the blackened edge of the village, brow furrowed. When they reached him, he pointed out several deep lines in the dirt.
‘They evacuated. Apparently with enough time to take supplies. See that?’ He traced the indentation with the tip of his boot. ‘That’s from a supply cart. That there is another. They had time enough to gather what they could and flee.’
‘Someone tipped them off, then?’ Wilder said.
Torj nodded. ‘Looks that way.’
‘Where were they headed?’
‘Notos.’
‘How long ago?’
‘Could have been days ago…’
‘But the ruins are still smoking,’ Cal said, his whole body rigid.
‘Embers can stay hot for days,’ Torj said gently. ‘All it takes is a bit of wind to set them alight again in a place like this.’
Cal sniffed. ‘So you’re saying they escaped one attack, only to run straight towards another.’
Thea gasped, smoke catching at the back of her throat.
The Bear Slayer simply bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry, Cal…’
Cal nodded, seeming to steel himself once more. ‘All the more reason to get there sooner.’
Thea’s heart fractured for him and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at Wren. Her sister was a few feet away, sifting through the ashes, her expression as pained as Thea felt. Thea couldn’t imagine what it would be like if they were torn apart.
But Wilder seemed to understand. ‘You heard the Guardian,’ he said, voice booming. ‘Mount up.’
* * *
As they rode, Thea kept stealing glances at Cal. The reaper attack in the ruins, the water torture he’d endured in the caves of the black mountains and the initiation test hadn’t broken him, but this…
His eyes were still red-rimmed, his face pale, but his jaw was set in grim determination.
Kipp rode silently beside him, the two of them taking up the rear of the party, staying slightly back from the rest. Thea wanted to be with them, to show her support, but she also understood that Cal was trying to hold himself together.
She knew that during times like these, sometimes it helped more to say nothing, to hold back those gentle words lest they tip the scales of emotion.
So she rode beside Wilder, the Warsword as quiet and stoic as ever by her side.
He’d held her all through the night, as though she were something precious he couldn’t let go.
Thea didn’t understand him. He could be so sweet and tender, and yet…
there was a wall between them she couldn’t bring down, try as she might.
And then there had been that business with the half-wraith the day before…
She’d seen Wilder flinch as Torj and Cal had speared the creature from the sky and the recognition in the monster’s eyes as it spotted Wilder among them.
‘Is it alive?’ she had asked during their first encounter with one of its kind back in Thezmarr.
And Wilder had corrected her. ‘He. It’s a he .’
She had never known the Warsword to be merciful when it came to creatures of darkness.
Thea had seen with her own eyes what the wraiths and reapers had done to Malik and Talemir.
She knew enough to understand that Wilder blamed himself for their suffering, that he would never let a wraith live to draw breath in his presence, or anyone else’s.
So why show mercy to the half-creatures?
‘I can hear you thinking from here,’ he said gruffly.
‘I wouldn’t have to think so much if you’d just tell me the truth of things,’ she said.
‘I doubt that,’ Wilder replied with a huff. Then, he was twisting in his saddle, pointing to a narrow valley to the north. ‘You see that fissure? And how the trees darken over there?’
Thea followed his gesture to a patch of the distant valley that was discernible from the rest. ‘Yes.’
She heard his deep intake of breath. ‘The immortal Warsword I mentioned on the way to Delmira… He lives up there.’
Thea frowned, dread prickling in her gut. ‘I thought you were going to take me? When I mastered my magic. I haven’t done that.’
‘No, you haven’t.’
‘Then why are you telling me?’
‘So you know, just in case.’
‘Just in case what, Wilder?’ She bit out the words, her chest suddenly tight. What did he know that she didn’t?
Wilder didn’t respond. Stubborn bastard.
Thea heaved a frustrated sigh. ‘This immortal, he won’t fight with us? He won’t answer Tver’s call for aid?’
Wilder shook his head. ‘He’s no longer an active Warsword. There are only three of us left, remember?’
‘Not for long,’ Thea said.
‘No, not for long.’
‘But in the meantime, he won’t do anything? He won’t help us?’
‘No.’
Thea shook her head in disbelief. ‘He took a vow…’
‘We all take vows, Thea.’
Her heart hammered. ‘Are you saying they’re worth nothing? That the word of a Warsword is fickle? That your word is fickle?’
‘That’s not what I said.’
Thea’s eyes narrowed as she took in the warrior, fierce and unflinching in his saddle.
Gods, she had never intended for him to mean so much to her, but he did.
Wilder understood something deep within her, and somewhere along the way, he had become a part of her.
But he had grown distant again, his gaze trained forward.
It made her chest ache. How could he not see what he was doing to her, to them ?
She preferred the furious fighting and fucking to this.
Wren joined her with a frustrated sigh of her own and Thea felt the first patter of rain break from the clouds above.
She looked from the greying sky to her sister. ‘This you?’
‘Yes,’ Wren said between clenched teeth.
‘Well, would you mind? I’d rather not arrive in Tver looking like a drowned rat.’
‘I was trying to open it up just on the Bear Slayer.’
Thea’s brows shot up in surprise. ‘Your control is that good?’
‘I managed it in Thezmarr.’
‘And now?’
‘Well, as you’ve so acutely pointed out: now it’s just raining on all of us, isn’t it?’
Thea was sure she heard a huff of laughter from behind them, but she didn’t dare look back, lest it infuriate her sister further.
‘Are all Warswords this aggravating?’ Wren hissed.
‘Yes,’ Thea said without hesitation.
That earned her another chuckle from Torj.
Wren ignored it. ‘You know, if you took off that fate stone, you might be able to draw the rain away.’
‘Nice try,’ Thea replied. ‘I told you, I can’t.’
‘You won’t . There’s a difference.’
‘Semantics, sister.’
But an awed breath escaped Wren as her eyes drifted past Thea. ‘Look…’
Thea followed her gaze to the ravine below.
Where over a hundred Tverrian thoroughbreds grazed.
Thea’s own gasp caught in her throat. With their heads bowed to the grass, the horses’ coats gleamed in the sun, shifting over lean muscle, long manes dancing in the breeze.
Some of them looked up to where their company had paused on the ridge, their long necks poised, their tails swishing.
But they didn’t bolt; they simply watched.
She had never seen a more majestic sight.
Both Warsword stallions nickered softly in recognition.
Wilder was once again beside Thea. ‘When you pass the Great Rite, you come here immediately,’ he told her, his voice low.
When . Not if .
‘You come to claim your stallion straight away. The horses will sense the Rite on you. They will feel the call of the Furies. Remember that.’
Thea held his gaze, that breathtaking silver stare. ‘I will.’
* * *
The further inland they rode, the more the kingdom of Tver mesmerised Thea.
There was a rugged beauty to the landscape that she had never experienced before.
Where Thezmarr was all cold, sharp lines, Harenth was verdant and manicured, and Delmira was scorched earth and ruins, Tver…
Tver’s mountains were carpets of gold and sage, with sweeping, richly textured valleys and hollows.
Its rivers were crystal blue, topped with white foam as they coursed through the gorges.
It was stunning, even as they rode at full pelt across the terrain.
What felt like a lifetime ago, Wilder had told her he was originally from a port town between Tver and Aveum, and as Thea drank in the coarse charm of the land, she realised it suited him.
‘Not long now,’ Torj called, pointing to the horizon.
Nestled amid the gilded hills was a castle of yellow stone. Notos, the capital of Tver. Villages and woodlands surrounded it, and to Thea’s eye, there was no sign of the impending devastation they had all expected to find. Not a shadow in the sky, not a flicker of darkness in sight.
There was only the kiss of a breeze on a windless day.
She scanned their surroundings, suddenly on edge, hand on the hilt of her sword.
Her nostrils itched, the acrid scent of burnt hair filling them.
A unified, ear-piercing shriek filled the air.
And a swarm of shadow wraiths descended.