Chapter 61
Ryker
The sweet bison’s grass swayed around us, brushing against my face and filling the entire side of the hill in a honeyed scent that overpowered all the blooming flowers. For once, the sky was clear, the air crisp, and the Serpents hadn’t attacked.
Yet.
“We should be moving, not lying down,” I grumbled, gently flicking one of the flowers when it got too close to my left eye.
Elysia tucked herself lower in the tall grass, even though it already covered her fully. “This is a stake out, not relaxation.”
“This is anything but relaxing.”
It was an act of folly that clung on a thread of hope and madness.
I readjusted my body against the rocks digging into my stomach, cursing the pebbles. I cursed everything. The cooling breeze wafting the sweet perfumed smell, the sway of the trees in the distance, even the sun’s rays kissing my forehead.
I didn’t deserve to indulge in them.
Not when Geryll would never smile in the sun ever again.
We were far away from the battlefield, so close to the Crimson Dam that the river’s currents blared in our ears, but my thoughts hadn’t left that blood-soaked riverbank.
I blinked, and I saw Geryll’s terrified face as the snake struck.
Our fallen warriors’ screams taunted me in the river’s murmur.
The snakes’ grinding scales echoed in the rustle of the trees.
Every pure thing was tainted with guilt.
If I’d acted differently, made others decisions, anticipated more, maybe they wouldn’t have died.
If I hadn’t been so consumed with everything, my mind scattered in every corner of our camp, I would have discovered Geryll in time. Dragged him home myself, and now I would have had the memory of a stern talking-to gnawing at me instead of his ghost haunting me forever.
My fingers dug into the ground until the dust wormed its way underneath my short fingernails, stinging.
I felt selfish in my own suffering. Geryll was the one who’d never get to experience life again, not me.
The only tether that hadn’t been infected was the flutter of Allie in the back of my mind. Now that I was acutely aware of it, I let my thoughts brush against that bundle of her essence, soft enough that I wouldn’t disturb her.
It kept me sane.
It prevented me from marching into the Serpents’ camp and taking down as many soldiers as I could before they killed me.
This war couldn’t be won with rashness.
We needed a plan.
A solid one–that didn’t involve waiting around in a serene, rolling meadow.
“If this doesn’t work–” I said.
“It has to,” Zandyr said from beside me, narrowed eyes not leaving the river.
“And it will, thank you very much.” Elysia stuck her nose up. “I redid the calculations fifteen times.”
“–we need to already be thinking of a way to reach the Serpents,” I continued. “And destroy that veil that’s protecting the army against our weapons.”
Instead, we were hiding on the knobbly side of a hill, watching the mounds of flowers and grass we’d arranged a few hundred feet away, right at the edge of the trees hiding the meadow.
A feast for any deer or doe that wandered by.
Only this meal was special.
It had been doused in one of the Viper’s most unusual poisons, meant for cold-blooded creatures.
Zandyr took out his brass binoculars, setting his sights on the Serpent camp. Even with our trained eyesight, we couldn’t see that far without help. “The snakes are coming. They look hungry.”
A shiver raced down my back. “Are you sure they’re not heading for our camp?”
“Positive.” He lowered the binoculars long enough to look at me. “Those snakes will not harm any of ours again.”
But they already had.
Geryll was gone.
And nothing we did felt like enough compensation for that.
Nothing I did.
“Myron’s probably already in position, ready to scare the snakes our way,” Zandyr went on, sensing my turmoil. “Kylian and the warriors are raising the riverbank as we speak. If Elysia’s poison works–”
“It will,” she piped up again.
“–then we will get rid of at least one of these monsters.”
I sighed through my flared nostrils. “Then what? Because we can’t poison the entire army. It’s bad enough we’re poisoning deer.”
“The deer will be fine. I carefully crafted the concoction so any mammal could ingest ridiculous amounts and feel the slightest bit loopy at worst,” Elysia said.
“But when that poison gets into a reptile’s system, if we manage to raise the temperature enough near them, it will destroy them. And it won’t be pretty.”
“How not pretty?” I asked.
“Remember the bloody carnage we found in that small village?” She raised her brows. “Very similar.”
It was always that damn blood.
I looked at her for the longest time, this small woman who looked like a haunted doll come to life, but could kill beasts with one drop. “How’d you manage to do that?”
“It’s not technically the same.” She blew the bangs out of her eyes. “What happened to that creature had been purely mechanical. This is the finest form of chemistry. The snake will bleed from the inside out.”
And flood the bank with enough blood to redden the Obsidian River. My stomach turned. I’d seen enough carnage and death.
“If we can raise the temperature,” I said.
Zandyr hesitated. “We can do it.”
“But you are not going to like it,” Elysia said.
I closed my eyes to keep from screaming. Instead, I asked in a deathly whisper, “What did you do?”
I’d only been gone for a couple of days and I’d come back to a madhouse.
Or maybe everything made sense, and I just couldn’t see it through the impatience.
“We haven’t burned the fallen Serpents. Yet,” Zandyr said.
My mood soured even more. “That’s not right. They deserve to be judged by their ancestors. They need to be burned, or buried, or sent down the river. Pick your funeral and go with it, but do it.”
“And they will be,” he said patiently. “Their own people left them on our shore to rot. We could have used their bones for gods-know what dark magic. The Butcher didn’t care. We will burn them. When it’s more suitable for us. When our dead enemies can actually help us keep others alive.”
Rage slashed through me again. But my grief worried me more.
“That isn’t right.” I kept on shaking my head. “What if they did that to our warriors?”
Elysia scoffed. “They aren’t clever enough–”
I began breathing heavier, not looking at any of them. “What if they’d used Geryll’s body as a torch against us?”
Elysia and Zandyr exchanged a quick glance.
I knew how I sounded.
Resentful.
I was–at myself.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it away.
I didn’t deserve empathy.
“What happened to him isn’t right,” Zandyr said slowly. “But we need to stop others from having the same heinous fate. Those soldiers are dead. They don’t feel anything anymore.”
Too bad.
The words slithered into my mind like the snakes which were quickly approaching the river.
They brought me more shame.
This wasn’t how I was raised to rule. I couldn’t become this vengeful, abhorrent being.
“We need you to focus on the plan,” Zandyr went on. “It’s the only way we will win.”
“You two could have done this without me,” I murmured, bitter. “Picked flowers, splashed them with poison, and waited for some poor animals to be guzzled up by those monsters.”
“Ryker.” He sighed. “The snakes would have eaten the deer whether they were doused or not. It’s nature.”
“Have you even imagined?” I said viciously. “What it would be like for those animals to see the snake’s jaws descending upon them? The fear they must feel?”
The fear Geryll had endured.
“The same one they go through when the river crocodiles get them,” Elysia said. “Probably better, because it’s a quicker death and they’re not shred apart.”
“Elysia,” Zandyr hissed.
I huffed a mean laugh. “You and that Protectorate fiancee of yours will get along just fine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she huffed, offended.
“That you both have a knack for saying things you shouldn’t.”
“Are those things true, by any chance? I’m sorry about your loss.
I truly am, Ryker. And I hope you get to mourn in peace.
After we win this war.” She blew the air out of her face once more, this time angrier.
“And you’re right, Zandyr and I could have come here today ourselves.
But you’re the one who has that special bond with animals.
We also foolishly thought it would be better for you to spend the day away from where Geryll died and that you might have needed company. ”
I worked my jaw, not trusting my mouth to say anything useful right now.
“If you need a few more days to mourn, we’ll understand,” she went on.
“I’m not leaving,” I said through gritted teeth. “I need to do something.”
“Then help us. I’ve spent all my days fighting and my nights weighing microscopic amounts that could have killed me.
We snuck away from our camp to avoid any chance of someone reporting back to the Serpents.
We’re in deep trouble. Don’t be another obstacle,” she said.
“We need that razor-sharp focus of yours to succeed.”
She stared at me, chest puffed up, ready for another round.
A part of me wanted it. Wanted to fight, even with words. I needed to feel useful.
Allie’s presence in my mind grew.
Probing.
Worried.
I hadn’t realized I’d been blaring my emotions so plainly.
I’d truly lost focus and control.
Her curiosity softened the edges I hadn’t realized had sharpened. Because she cared enough to check.
I sent her a quick reassurance–the best I knew how considering I’d never communicated like this with anyone and never would again–and forced my attention back to the meadow. I didn’t want her to feel the depths of my misery.
She had enough problems without worrying about me.
That small moment had helped, though. More than she probably realized.
The fight left me in one long sigh.
“You’re right,” I said. “I need to focus.”
Elysia’s brows rose and her lips moved, no sounds coming out.
“Well…good,” she said primly and turned back to look at the mound of grass, as if uncertain how to proceed.
Between the two of us, Zandyr sighed. “Good thing the dam is so loud, or the Butcher himself would have heard you two squabbling.”
My gaze raced beyond the trees flanking the meadow, where the violent rivulets of water turned to the dangerous currents of the Obsidian River.
The Crimson Dam’s dark stones had weathered, but the protective runes on its towering arches still flickered with the remnants of the magic we’d lost along the generations.
But the water had eaten away at the rocks and mortar.
Nothing in this world truly lasted forever, not even eternal constructions.
It still held stubbornly strong, though. The Obsidian River was huge and unforgiving, but the water held beyond those mighty walls could have flooded the entire plain, nourishing what the Serpents had incinerated.
“After this is done, we’ll need to find a way to increase the river’s level and wash away the Serpents’ destruction,” I muttered. “Nature needs to heal. Especially since we’re planning on draining their snakes.”
“Not planning,” Elysia said. “We’re doing it. Have some faith.”
“Viper, nobody is questioning your abilities. But the plan still has too many parts which could go wrong,” Zandyr said, before turning to me. “The dam can’t be controlled or destroyed by human hands. It does what it wants.”
“If only it would want to drown the army away,” I rumbled.
If those small cracks in the stones would have been just a bit wider…
“Ryker?” Elysia asked suddenly.
“Yes, Viper?” I asked, gaze now trained on the approaching snakes. One of them, the youngest judging by the greenish hue between his blue scales, tipped its head in the direction of the meadow, but didn’t approach.
He would have to be persuaded–which is why Myron was risking his life on the other side of the river.
Elysia’s mouth ticked upwards. She loved that hard-earned name of hers. “I really am sorry about Geryll. And that you’re hurting.”
Another stab of pain burned through me.
I wondered if I’d ever be able to hear his name without it.
“I know,” I muttered. “It’s hard.”
And it would keep being hard. But she was right.
We needed to win to protect every other soul which could fall victim to the Serpents’ rampage and avenge those who had already gone.
The question was how.
How to stop the army from advancing and destroying everything we held dear. Ruin more lives and birth more tears.
I thought about how Allie had cried in my arms, the ghosts of her tears mixing in with Geryll’s blood still fresh in my mind and forever imprinted into my leather armor–
I sucked in a breath as an even wilder plan than poisoning snakes entered my mind.
Zandyr noticed the shift in me instantly. “What did you see?”
“You said the poison can bleed out the snakes,” I said.
“Yes, if the deer will ever bother to eat our gracious offering,” Elysia grumbled.
I turned to Zandyr. “How close to the river do you intend on placing those bodies to raise the monsters’ temperature?”
“On the edge, we can’t risk going deep into the plains,” he said evenly.
Perfect.
“Kylian’s already raising the riverbank,” I said, the words toppling out of my mouth fast. “Tell him to double the height.”
“If that makes you feel more at ease that the snakes won’t pass as easily…” Zandyr frowned. “Why?”
“Because I know how we can get rid of the entire army in one go,” I said. “But, for that to even be a possibility, you’ll have to do something you’re very much against.”
“Which is?” he asked, already suspicious.
“Spit on your ancestors’ graves.”