Chapter Thirty-eight
WILDER
T hey wrung out their clothes as best they could and dressed quietly, stealing glances at one another as they did.
Wilder’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Thea.
She was his.
And he was hers.
All the threads between them had been pulled taut, and there was no undoing what had been done, what had been said.
They had claimed one another.
They walked back the way they had come, hand in hand.
When they reached the battle site, black hearts and wraith corpses scattered all around, Torj looked up from where he was perched on a fallen log, surveying their damp clothes. ‘You fall in a river?’
Wilder couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Something like that.’
Thea released his hand as her sister nearly bowled her over. ‘You’re alright!’
Wilder watched as Thea returned Wren’s embrace. He was glad for them, glad that they had one another, that they’d moved past their differences. But as Wren placed Thea’s fate stone back around her neck, his gut tightened with unease.
Torj got to his feet with a groan. ‘We’ve got a castle to get to, if you’re done fucking each other’s brains out…’
Wilder’s blood roared at the mere thought of what he’d done to Thea in the hot spring. ‘For now,’ he told his friend.
The Bear Slayer shook his head. ‘Fucking insufferable.’
‘Are we finally leaving?’ Kipp asked, appearing from the bushes, Cal in tow with the horses. ‘I can’t stand the sight of these things.’ He gave a wraith corpse a nudge with his boot for emphasis.
‘If you finally found the horses, then we’re finally leaving,’ Torj said.
‘You try finding six horses that have fled the scene of a wraith massacre,’ Kipp muttered.
Torj whistled, and his stallion trotted forth from behind the two Guardians. Wilder did the same, and Biscuit emerged from the brush and came to stand at his side.
‘Fucking Warswords…’ Kipp muttered, shaking his head.
Wilder mounted his stallion in a single smooth swing up from the stirrup. He wished he could have stayed in the hot spring with Thea. He wished that nothing else in the world existed for them. But darkness loomed on the horizon, and it was their duty to greet it.
Moments later, he was leading the party from the forest, towards Tver.
* * *
The golden stone castle of Notos glimmered in the final rays of sun as the yellow orb dipped below the horizon. The sky was streaked with soft hues of pink and lilac, gilding the sweeping hills in which the great structure was nestled.
They met no resistance, saw no inkling of shadow magic, but Wilder knew it was somewhere out there, lying in wait.
When they reached the gates, the guards in the watchtowers waved them through, the thick timber doors swinging inward, allowing them direct passage to the castle. The royal sigil of a rearing horse graced the banners dancing in the wind.
Wilder led the others through the outer perimeter of the grounds. It had been a long time since he had been in Tver’s capital, but it was unchanged. Still the sturdy, practical citadel it had always been, with none of the fanfare of Harenth, nor the unforgiving nature of Thezmarr.
When he reached the castle steps, he dismounted and handed his reins off to a waiting stable boy. Torj was already at his side doing the same, both of them moving with a renewed sense of urgency.
He and Torj guided the party inside the castle foyer, through to King Leiko’s hall.
Inside it was warm, with fires blazing in the hearths, horses carved in stone around each fireplace.
Rich tapestries hung from the walls in the Stallard royal colours of claret and bronze, while thick oak tables ran the length of the hall and timber beams reached across the vaulted ceiling.
‘Where is the rest of your army?’ King Leiko’s voice sounded from the throne atop the dais at the apex of the hall. Panic laced his words.
Wilder strode towards him, stopping at the foot of the stairs and bowing swiftly. ‘We came ahead of the Thezmarrian forces, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘Has no one else answered the call?’
King Leiko surveyed them critically. ‘Several units of Guardians arrived the day before last. They’re stationed at the edge of the citadel. I suppose you wish to see them?’
‘At once, if possible, Your Majesty,’ Torj replied, sketching a quick bow of his own.
The King of Tver craned his neck, trying to peer around the towering frames of the Warswords. ‘Who have you brought with you?’
Wilder shifted so King Leiko could see who stood in his shadow. ‘Our apprentices, and a master alchemist in training, sire.’
King Leiko grunted, not bothering to hide his disappointment – until his eyes landed on Thea. ‘You…’ he murmured. ‘You’re the girl who saved Artos at his own feast.’
Thea stepped forward, head held high, then gave a messy bow. ‘I am, Your Majesty. I’m now apprentice to Warsword Hawthorne.’
The king looked between the two of them curiously, before nodding to Thea. ‘If anyone tries to poison me, you throw as many damn knives as you want.’
‘Of course, Majesty.’
‘Good,’ he said gruffly, getting to his feet. ‘Let’s show you to this war camp, then.’
* * *
It had been a long time since Wilder had seen a true war camp, and he appreciated the sight even less than he remembered.
On fresh horses, King Leiko and his guard accompanied them to the outskirts of his citadel, where a hundred or more canvas tents had been pitched, the ground muddy around them, stinking of horses and shit.
Wilder surveyed the Guardians who passed, all of them touching three fingers to their shoulders in respect to him and Torj. They looked weary.
‘They only got here the day before last?’
‘Yes,’ King Leiko replied. ‘But between where they were stationed and here, they were set upon by monsters several times. Their numbers aren’t what they were.’
Wilder’s stomach hardened. ‘We were set upon not too far from here as well.’
‘Out where that nasty storm was?’ the king’s commander asked.
Wilder saw Thea flinch from the corner of his eye.
‘Yes,’ he replied evenly. ‘More than a dozen, but we fought them off. Killed a good many, too.’
King Leiko didn’t seem to hear him. The ruler was staring northward.
Wilder followed his gaze. The war camp was stationed in the foothills, stretching out to where the terrain flattened. Beyond, villages were peppered in the distance. But that was not what caught Wilder’s attention.
It was the Veil.
They were close enough to the coast that the Veil was easily discernible as it towered over the sea. But where Wilder expected to see a white wall of impenetrable mist, he saw a black fissure in its facade: a gaping hole that leaked darkness.
‘They came through that several days ago,’ King Leiko murmured, the shock still evident in his voice.
‘How many?’ Torj asked.
‘We couldn’t count, couldn’t discern one from the next. There was so much of that damn shadow magic cloaking them…’
‘Was it just wraiths?’ Wilder pressed. ‘Or reapers too?’
‘It was every nightmare you could imagine, Warsword,’ the king said, not taking his eyes from the torn Veil.
Wilder’s blood ran cold. ‘They attacked?’
‘That’s the thing… They vanished. As soon as they were through, they were gone.’
‘And you’ve seen no sign of them?’
‘There have been attacks,’ the king allowed. ‘But not worthy of that force. However… there is something.’
‘What?’ Wilder demanded before he remembered to add, ‘Your Majesty.’
King Leiko nodded to his commander, who spoke stiffly. ‘One of His Majesty’s army units has gone missing, Warsword Hawthorne.’
‘Missing?’ Torj echoed.
‘Yes, sir,’ the commander replied, his voice sombre. ‘Vanished into thin air, it seems.’
‘Fuck,’ Wilder muttered.
‘That about sums it up, sir.’
‘Have we received word from Osiris? Or Aveum’s forces?’ he asked, scanning the war camp once more before his eyes fell back to the Veil. It was a gruesome sight to behold. The tear was like a gaping wound in the wall, bleeding black shadow into the midrealms.
‘Queen Reyna sent word that they’re on their way,’ King Leiko answered. ‘We’ve not heard from Osiris.’
Wilder exchanged a worried glance with Torj. It was unlike Osiris to go without communication, but with what both Warswords had seen on the road, who knew what he and the rest of the Thezmarrian forces had faced?
Scanning the surrounding lands, Wilder suppressed the urge to reach for his flask. There was no doubt in his mind that the shadow forces were there, but there was no sign of an impending attack yet.
‘What are they waiting for?’ he murmured.
‘Can’t say I’m all too keen to find out,’ Torj replied under his breath.
Wilder made a noise of agreement.
‘Your Majesty?’ Thea’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Everyone turned to her, but she didn’t falter under their scrutiny. Instead, she stood tall, her hand resting on the hilt of Malik’s dagger at her belt.
‘Have any refugees come this way?’ she asked. ‘There was an attack on a small village to the south-west of here and it looked like they might have sought help —’
‘Yes, actually.’ King Leiko was frowning. ‘They have set up camp in the northernmost village of Notos. We have given them as much aid as we could manage, but our resources are currently stretched…’
Thea was already gripping Cal’s shoulders. ‘You hear that? They’re safe!’
‘You know them, lad?’ King Leiko addressed Cal now.
Cal looked stunned. Thea had to nudge him before he remembered to speak. ‘Yes, Your Grace… It’s where my family is from. We came across the ruins of their village on the way here.’
The king nodded. ‘Then you have my leave to visit them.’
Cal bowed. ‘Thank you, sire.’
The king had started moving away, his mind clearly elsewhere. Cal turned to Torj, but the Warsword was already waving him on. ‘Go,’ he said simply.
And Cal bolted away, leaving Thea and Kipp staring after him.
‘Should we —’
Torj shook his head. ‘Let him find them first.’
The king had started back towards the castle, but his commander lingered.