Chapter 39
Ryker
The Capital had long turned into a glint in the distance by the time the air turned wrong.
Decaying, wracking our army with coughs. The loudest came from my warriors, who were used to pure winter air all year long.
Foul was too careless of a description for the relentless stench burning up my nose. It dug its hooks into my brain and refused to release me.
“We’re approaching the Defector Lands,” Zandyr announced with that regal air of his as we led thousands of souls forward. “Eyes wide and weapons at the ready. The first camp is just beyond them.”
“I dare any reckless soul to sleep in this stench,” I muttered, for our ears only.
Even the stubborn steed I’d been saddled with neighed and bunched underneath me as the wind brought on more foulness toward us.
“Steady now.” Zandyr gripped the reins of Madrya, his magical mare, to bring her closer, in an attempt of calming down mine.
“I still think I would have been better off walking,” I grumbled, my body readjusting itself into the unfamiliar saddle.
This was only the third time I rode in my life. It would be the last; I’d never had to endure a more unnatural position in my life.
“You’re the only one the steed accepted as a rider. And we need to conserve your energy,” Zandyr said. “Just in case.”
In case we were attacked by the Borderline Bands and had to stave them off quickly to reach our final camp site in time. As disorganized as those outlaws were, with my speed, I could neutralize half of a band before any of our warriors so much as raised their weapons.
“They wouldn’t dare,” I said with absolute certainty.
Only the Serpents were foolish enough to face the fiercest army in all of Malhaven.
Still, the reek was unusual. Everything rotten and wrong took refuge in these lands and thrived, contained in the wickedness no other Clans allowed in their own ranks.
It was a lawless, heartless place we all avoided.
It would have been quicker to go through the cursed lands to reach the mighty bridge that would take us over the Obsidian River, but nobody–not even Adara, the former Blood Brotherhood general–would subject an army.
So we took the longer, safer route, to Zandyr’s annoyance.
He would have loved to march in the jungle and sear everything in sight after his fated mate had been kidnapped, but nobody–no prince, no gods, hopefully not even Xamor himself–would risk our warriors’ lives.
Our path had been carved on secret maps with precise locations and I made sure we stuck to it.
Yet an unease grew in me the further we advanced. There was no logical explanation for the adrenaline pumping in the soles of my feet–unburned and unaching, like I was some pompous lord. The sensation burned up my veins, putting me on edge.
The wooden wheels screeching fast behind us did not help loosen the tension, either.
Elysia and Calyx’s wagon jolted next to us on the rocky road. His strange and dangerous inventions rattled in the back along with the protective runes, all hidden underneath a thick brown leather.
We’d all tried to convince him to stay behind and recuperate.
He’d refused to leave his contraptions unattended.
Elysia insisted on staying next to him, her leather pouch of magical potions and treatments clutched tightly in her lap.
“What is that?” Elysia said from behind her sleeve. “It smells more revolting than any of Calyx’s botanical experiments.”
“They are a wonder of human curiosity,” he grumbled, holding the carriage reins with the enthusiasm of someone watching grass grow. “And, once again, I am right here.”
“Then you know just how awful it is.” She gagged. “It’s never been this bad.”
“It is horrible,” he agreed. “You sure you didn’t spill any of your vials?”
“Bite your tongue.” Elysia tilted her chin up, caressing her pouch. “Even my deadliest poisons smell rosy, thank you very much.”
“Do you detect any poison in the air?” I asked them.
They shook their heads.
“Then let us endure it in silence.” I looked over my shoulder at the endless sea of warriors. “They don’t complain about it, neither should we.”
“You sound just like those pretentious Veghearas.” She rolled her eyes. “And the warriors do complain in the back, they’re just too awestruck by you two and don’t want you thinking they’re weak.”
“Nobody who does the right thing is weak,” I growled.
My thoughts instantly raced to Geryll. We’d exchanged the quickest goodbye before he’d bolted toward the Library. He’d been too jittery and concerned, but blamed it on missing the doors opening. I would have liked to drink one last cup of tea with him before I headed off, but I understood.
The sun scorched as we marched. My steed was eager to get ahead and I had to pull on the reins every ten minutes to get him to fall back in line with Madrya.
I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to leave this place just as much.
The Defector Lands were still hundreds of feet away from the main road, guarded by rock wards inscribed with runes so ancient, we’d lost their meaning.
We were heading into a territory of Malhaven which had thrived long before the Clans of today had existed, back when people built structures to rival those of the forgotten gods.
Unlike other Clans, who’d razed them to the ground to bring forth their own ideas and rules, the Blood Brotherhood hadn’t seen a threat in the old ways.
Zandyr’s ancestors had saved what they could, preserved what they hadn’t understood, and now their descendants benefited from that decision.
The Obsidian River itself, too sacred to be touched, came from a dam protected from human hands by forgotten magic that still held stronger than any enchantments we’d discovered since.
The stone wards were the same. They’d been here long before us and they would watch us and our way of life perish before they did.
But the Lands themselves…they had changed.
“The trees look bigger,” Zandyr muttered. “And the forest is louder than a few weeks ago.”
And denser, its edges overtaken with new vines that slowly crept toward the road, like skeletons trying to dig themselves out of the grave.
A mean hiss whispered through the leaves, with no bird song to sweeten it.
No animals hung from the branches.
Even the light seemed to be trapped in its darkness, never to be released again.
Yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it. Something in its foulness called out–either to entice me to my death or warn me away from here, I couldn’t tell.
My instincts were so consumed, I almost missed the flicker in my baldric.
The piece of Solkar’s Heart embedded in my daggers flashed right as we passed another one of the wards guarding us.
My entire body tense, I pressed my palm to the hilts.
No colder or warmer than usual.
No seep of energy called out to me or my power.
They’d never flickered before. My mind instantly raced back to Allie and the crater? Was this a warning?
I almost jumped off the horse, already envisioning my rush back home. If I left now, I could reach the crater by nightfall, check on Allie, then return by the time the warriors would wake in the morning. But then we passed the ward, and the daggers quieted.
I loosened the reins, rushing to the next ward. Same glow that appeared, then vanished.
Which meant the flicker hadn’t come from Solkar’s Reach–but was influenced by these rocks.
I relaxed back into my saddle. The ancient magic must have sensed the piece of the crater.
I looked at my warriors. None of them seemed to see anything amiss, apart from the general eeriness.
Yet my gaze strayed back to the jungle. The strange unease grew, gnawing at my chest.
“After this war, we need to send a search party in there,” I said.
“You’re offering to lead it?” Calyx asked.
“Yes.”
If the wards were strong enough to rival the crater’s–or at least call to it–and the jungle was still able to spread, then something terribly wrong was brewing beyond the darkness.
“My dynasty did send scouts inside the Defector Lands, a hundred years or so after we defeated the Quoriliths and they were renamed from the Forbidden Swamps,” Zandyr said. “No scouts returned.”
“That Clan keeps popping up,” I said. “The Huntress is concerned with it, too, and I know your wife is as well.”
“The Quoriliths and their heinous ways were wiped from this world long ago,” Zandyr said.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…too bad.” Elysia sighed. “I heard they had some mean potions. They’d perfected poisons I don’t even dare dream about.”
As far as I was concerned, the Quoriliths and their deadly ways could rot in the land they’d desecrated with their greed. But now that abominable past was infecting our present.
If Beren’s ways wouldn’t be halted soon, the Ashrift Clan would suffer the same fate as the Quoriliths.
“I’ll send word to Geryll to see if he can find anything related to this place,” I said.
That way, he could still feel included in those grand plans he was so eager to join, but far, far away from any danger.
“This place has been left undisturbed and unchecked for too long. There’s danger in every breeze. Something must be causing it.”
Dark, dark magic had been used here. I felt its fiery reach on my skin, tasted its murkiness on the tip of my tongue.
“I agree.” Zandyr nodded grimly. “There are monsters in there. After the war, we’ll go in there.”
“After.”
Neither of us said the obvious truth.
There would be no after if we didn’t survive.
Those grim thoughts persisted as we advanced in funeral silence.
Thousands of souls, and none of them dared utter a word.
I still worried about the crater not letting Allie pass–and kept telling myself it was for her own safety, to not run home as I almost had–but I was glad she hadn’t witnessed this.
With each ward, I checked my daggers for another flicker. None came.
Whatever had disturbed them had quieted.
The concern had not.
It stuck to my spine, ghosting after me long after we’d slipped past the Defector Lands and their oppressive energy. The air had cleared and the army had come alive once more, even as the strain of the road echoed in their voices.
“I can’t wait to take a bath.” Elysia rolled her head, massaging her neck.
“One more bend in the road,” Zandyr said.
“Best enjoy every bed, washroom, and pelt the villagers left behind.” Calyx groaned as he readjusted his wounded leg. The ride in the carriage must have been brutal on him. “We won’t find such luxuries once we cross the river.”
“You could have enjoyed all of them if you’d just stayed at home.” She sniffed. “But no, you had to risk your life for your precious contraptions.”
“We’re all risking our lives. I wasn’t about to let you have all the fun.”
I doubted anyone could have fun so close to those wretched lands.
The villagers all through the Blood Brotherhood territory had long been evacuated into the safety of the Capital. The settlement up ahead, where we’d stop for the night, was no exception.
But I still marveled at how they survived in this place.
I also wondered if I’d made the right decision by not evacuating the crater.
Zandyr had offered to house the civilians from Solkar’s Reach as well, but there would have been no room for all of them in the already suffocating Capital. I wasn’t about to make my mountain people sleep on boats for gods-knew how long when I truly believed they were safer in the crater.
That also meant Allie wouldn’t be there alone.
Trapped.
Protected.
The line was too fine for my mortal understanding. But she was safe, and that’s all that–
A new scent seared my senses.
Death.
Blood.
I loosened the hold on the reins and let the steed trot forward once more, like he’d been itching to all day, and narrowed my eyes at the small roofs jutting out in the distance.
The wooden shingles and eaves were intact.
No screams or screeches echoed in the stillness.
But the walls–the walls had dark splatters all over them.
“Stop the army,” I hissed at Zandyr, stomach twisting. “The warriors can’t see this.”