Chapter 33
Allie
“I’m really not trying to start a fight, but I’m morbidly curious.” Dax asked between chattering teeth as night fell upon us. “Is this frozen wilderness truly where you want to spend the rest of your existence in?”
I grit my teeth and yanked on the tent hide that kept fighting against us in the wind. “When did you hear me say that?”
I’d never envisioned myself living here all the time.
Not when Evie’s marriage had seemed like her dreams come to life.
Not when Ryker had promised me half of this land.
Not when we’d laughed in the washroom, clinging to each other, a memory which now only served to haunt me.
I honestly hadn’t let myself think too hard about that future, not with every day bringing a fresh danger. Deep down, though, I could admit that in the most optimistic outcomes, I always figured I’d find some way to halve my time between the crater and Aquila.
Until now, I hadn’t realized how naive that little nugget of a plan was.
“Without Aquila and the islands, I just figured that’s what you wanted.” Dax shrugged and pulled on the other end of the flapping hide too hard, almost throwing me off balance.
“Careful,” I said, trying to keep my annoyance at bay.
It wasn’t his fault the sun had turned into a storm just as we’d stopped for the night. Or that I had blisters and aches from marching all day.
I’d never walked the distance to the passage. I’d been brought here in a coffin, escaped in a carriage, brought back in Ryker’s arms, and then made the journey once more sitting comfortably in a wolf-drawn sled.
It made Dax’s journey from the rim, in an unknown land, that much more impressive.
But I wouldn’t tell him that right now; he was getting on my very last nerve.
Perhaps I’d made a mistake telling him Ryker suspected he was more skilled than he let on, because Dax had turned up his theatrics, and they were not helping us now.
Everyone else had already pitched their tents, started fires, and were already eating the jerked meat Mrs. Thornbrew had carefully packed for us all, while we hadn’t even touched the stakes yet.
Dax huffed at the tent and fiddled with it as if he’d never seen one in his life. “You should have just let your brooding giant set it up when he asked.”
Ryker had, indeed, offered to help us–in a matter-of-fact, detached tone. It had been tempting, but, like a proud fool, I’d said no. Hadn’t even thanked him for offering–or, gods forbid, asked him to use his power to ease the strain of the journey from my tired body.
And now, I was cold, hungry, and my blisters were on the verge of bursting. But I still wouldn’t ask for his help even if I had to struggle all night.
“We can do it ourselves,” I said. It wouldn’t be the first tent I’d set up, though the hide was thicker than the canvas we used back in Protectorate territory and the wind less forgiving.
Another gale swooped down upon us, almost stealing our tent away. I grabbed onto it and yanked it back.
Then I grabbed Dax by the furs, bringing our reddened noses together.
“I know you’ve done this plenty of times before,” I hissed in a whisper. “Drop the act and help me, nobody’s looking.”
His top lip curled, poised to argue, but as another bone-chilling gust hit us, he relented. “Fine.”
Together, we set the whole thing up in less than ten minutes. I kicked the spikes digging into the frozen ground to make sure they were stable and plonked myself on the blanket next to him.
“Honestly, Dax.” I huffed, still annoyed. “These people are going to war, the last thing they’ll bother with is us.”
“Your Commander does bother,” he said as I flicked my fingers at the pile of wood we’d gathered. A blue spark instantly lit the kindling. “He keeps looking at us.”
No, he was looking at me.
I’d felt his gaze on my forehead and down my neck all day long. Even now, as he talked with his warriors, drawing attack strategies in the snow, I sensed he was acutely aware of my every move.
No blood ritual and howling at the moon tonight. Only cold, hard war tactics.
Sylvester was perched on his shoulder, gobbling down all the meat pieces Ryker absentmindedly fed him. I’d yet to see him eat anything, but I wasn’t about to march there and demand he didn’t succumb to famine–and to drink some water, for gods’ sake.
I tightened my jaw and focused on unwrapping our jerky while Dax began scribbling on parchments again. Our search didn’t end just because we were on the road.
We ripped into the pieces of dry meat which hurt our teeth more than they satisfied our hunger, and squinted at the pages.
Still nothing. Not even Bia’s name deigned to appear.
“I’ve never been to war,” Dax said suddenly.
I’d been so consumed with reading the parchment, I hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped writing on his.
“You’ve been in more battles than I have,” I said.
“Small ones.” His gaze traveled up the wall of the crater looming over us. “I’ve never witnessed a battlefield drenched in blood, with thousands of cadavers trampled by the survivors.”
I couldn’t stop the twist in my stomach. “Let’s hope we won’t witness it now, either.”
“This crater’s strange.” He furrowed his brows. “The more I look at that rim, the less happy I feel.”
Dax’s musings were interrupted by slow steps. Both of us tensed on instinct and looked behind, only to see Geryll approaching us with three steaming wooden bowls carefully balanced on one arm.
The tangy smell was enough to warm my insides.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked awkwardly, throwing one last glance behind his back.
Ryker didn’t move or look our way, but I knew nobody moved without him being completely aware of it.
Dax helped him with the bowls and I patted the blanket next to me and shimmied to make more room for Geryll to plonk down easily without jostling his leg too hard.
The wood groaned as he sat down.
“One of the warriors caught some rabbits.” Geryll rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you might like some.”
“You did, huh?” I took one of the wooden bowls, mouth already watering.
Of course Ryker would try to make sure I was getting enough nourishment to face this harsh weather, the caring bastard.
“Thank yourself from us, then.” Dax brought his own bowl to his lips and didn’t bring it back down until he’d licked it clean. Then he raised it Ryker’s way as a thank you.
Geryll grimaced as he readjusted his leg.
“The cold makes it worse,” he said sheepishly when he caught me looking.
“The Capital’s warm.” I said between mouthfuls of delicious stew; what it lacked in salt and spices it made up for in heat.
“Yes.” He sighed wistfully. “Nadya doesn’t understand it, but I can’t wait. I’ll read old texts, see strange weapons. I might even get a chance to talk to the former Blood Brotherhood general, I hear she’s in town.”
From what Evie had told me, the former general wasn’t one for chit-chat, but I let Geryll dream.
He had such a happy glow about him, like he’d finally shaken off all the weighty expectations thrust upon his narrow shoulders.
“And who knows?” He shrugged again. “Maybe my leg will heal fast and I’ll get a chance to apply for the Academy. They make strong generals there.”
“They do,” I said. “I always regretted not being able to attend. Clara loved it. She couldn’t talk much about it, with all the Academy secrecy and rules, but she always came back grinning.”
“That–that sounds amazing.”
Just as Geryll’s soft smile grew, a roar erupted in the distance.
I instantly reached for the dagger tucked in my boot, goosebumps erupting on my skin.
Ryker, Dax, and the warriors jumped to their feet, gazes scanning the horizon.
For a few tense moments, nothing but the wind hissed around us.
Then another roar, this one more distant.
We were safe.
I exhaled a sigh of relief, let go of my blade, and went back to my stew. Everyone else sat back down, Ryker the last of them, a tension in his strong frame. Everyone wore the same leathers and pelts, but I could pick him out from thousands.
The only one who didn’t relax was Dax, gaze sweeping the neverending darkness. “What was that?”
“Trolls,” Geryll and I said at the same time.
“But they’re too far away.” Geryll swallowed another spoonful. “They stick to their side of the crater.”
Dax and I exchanged a knowing look.
No, they certainly did not.
But the roar had been too far away to worry about. They were probably having another one of their councils.
I only hoped it didn’t involve the city.
Dax plopped back down, miffed and mystified. “This crater’s so fucking strange.”
Geryll and I didn’t argue.
It was.
After our dinner, Dax and I helped Geryll set up the tent next to us, at the edge of the camp, which he and Ryker would share.
I caught myself glancing back at Ryker just as I slunk into mine. The flames danced on his face as he whispered more strategies with his biggest warriors. I hoped he’d get to rest tonight–then cursed myself for worrying.
I hurried and snuggled in my sleeping bag before he could see me.
Hours later, he made no sound as he went to sleep, but his presence stopped my tossing and turning all the same. I felt him settle in the next tent, and I could swear he was facing me beyond the thick layers separating us.
With him so close, I finally drifted off to sleep.
The next day, the crater resumed its revenge. The wind had picked up, now bringing hail upon us.
“Just another few hours,” Dax muttered next to me, holding onto his hood for dear life. Half of it was making sure the closest warriors heard his grumbles, but I heard his teeth chattering. “It’s nice and warm beyond the crater. Just. A. Few. More. Hours.”
I hadn’t truly realized how accustomed I’d become to the low temperatures in the past weeks and wondered if the cold had made me moan half as much when I’d first arrived.
Our bones had grown in warmer, balmier lands, and it showed.
The wall of the crater rose above us menacingly, daring us to go back.