Chapter 15
Aiden
We couldn’t defeat the ship.
It was too far out in the river, and a swarm of Shadow-Wolves stood on the pebbled beach between us.
Our force—a mix of Yargoths, Urzosts, and Teachers—had half the numbers but double the fury.
We were holding our own with splintered weapons and bloodied fists.
But the Wolves wouldn’t break. And the ship never ceased flinging those gods-damned burning barrels.
We frequently had to scatter to avoid catching fire.
The screams of the dying, human and animal alike, frayed the edges of my sanity.
Most riders had abandoned their horses by choice or by force. During the village fight, I’d slapped Wicked’s rump and sent him charging away from the bloodshed. I only hoped he stayed out of sight.
Jek shouted at the few archers we had left to aim for the ship’s sails and the sailors loading the catapults.
“How many of these fucking bastards did Renwell buy?” Maz shouted as he cut down a Wolf with his axe.
Blood flowed from a wound on Maz’s arm, and his teeth were crimson as he bared them at his next target.
I grunted, favoring my left leg as I dodged another barrel. I wasn’t losing too much blood, but I hated fighting on a weak leg.
Because you got distracted. Because of Kiera.
I growled, tearing my thoughts away from her. I clashed with a Wolf carrying a sunstone sword and knocked him into Maz’s waiting arms. Maz snapped his neck, and we moved on to another.
There was always another.
“Barrel!” Maz shouted and shoved me hard to the right while he dove left.
Heat seared the backs of my legs as I stumbled away from the small, fiery crater.
A shadow teased the corner of my eye. I glanced up to see a hooded man in a long black cloak striding for the ship. Not a Wolf, but certainly an enemy.
As if he could feel my gaze on his back, he turned.
I sucked in a harsh breath. Renwell. Of course that gods-damned murderer was here. He loved to get his hands dirty.
My gut tightened with sudden fear. He’d come from the direction of the village.
Kiera.
I stalked toward him without thinking. His pale face hardened with recognition. He ripped his black sword from its sheath.
A few Wolves tried to get in my way, but he shouted, “Leave him! Kill the others.”
Rage whitened the edges of my vision as I charged, my remaining sword and knife in each hand.
I raised my sword as if I’d be stupid enough to let him see my strike coming. He lifted his sword, no doubt eager to slice mine in half with his gods-damned sunstone.
At the last moment, I changed direction, ducked under his sword, and sliced for his knees. He whirled out of the way and struck for the back of my neck. I rolled on the rough ground and vaulted back onto my feet.
“After I kill you, I’m going to shred you into so many pieces, there will be nothing to burn or bury,” Renwell snarled, his eyes glittering with hatred, as we circled each other.
I’d seen him pissed, but always in control. This Renwell was not in control. He looked unhinged. Perhaps because of the blood coating his side. Or perhaps because he hadn’t been expecting this much of a fight.
Either way, I could use it to my advantage.
Sweat poured down my face and back as I tried to hide my limp. “This is, what, the fifth time you’ve tried to kill me, Renwell?” I taunted him. “Perhaps you should learn your lesson and crawl back into the dirty hole you came from.”
Renwell sneered. “I never thought my little apprentice would kill you. I just wanted her to see the murderer she was stupidly coming to care for.”
I almost stumbled on the uneven beach. “I would never kill Kiera.”
“I knew that, too. But you’ve killed others, and I wanted her to see that. To understand.” His face twisted with a grimace, part pain, part fury. “But it doesn’t matter now. She’ll come back to me willingly. Once you’re dead.”
She’s still alive.
I barely had time to register that thought before Renwell attacked. He moved like a warrior half his age. I evaded his strikes the best I could while preserving my blades from his sunstone and slicing any part of him I could reach. Which wasn’t much.
Pebbles flew beneath our boots. Our breaths grew shorter and harsher. I could see nothing but this battle.
Him or me.
He swung wide, and I stabbed for his chest. He recovered just in time to sweep upward and sever my knife at the hilt.
Roaring, I threw the hilt at his face. He ducked with a savage smile and came at me harder.
I called on every bit of training I’d received over the years. Sadly, none of my mentors had taught me how to avoid ever touching my enemy’s sword with my own.
But this man had murdered my mother. He’d orchestrated Brielle’s demise. He’d hunted down and killed Rellmirans during the People’s Council rebellion. He was responsible for so many deaths in the mine and now here.
He should not survive this night. Or me.
I set my teeth and fought back harder and faster, using every trick I could. I jabbed my elbow into his jaw. I kicked his wounded side. When he knocked me to the ground, I grabbed a rock and smashed it into his knee.
But then he swung his sword so fast, I had no choice but to block it. My sword broke into jagged slivers.
I shot up and rammed my shoulder into his chest. We crashed to the ground, rolling. I seized his sword hand and slammed it on a rock, over and over.
He grunted and dug his free hand into my leg wound. Blinding pain made me rear back with a bellow. He kicked me in the chest, sending me sprawling.
My leg shook. My chest felt as though it were caving in.
Renwell heaved himself upright and poised his sword over my chest. “This was always your end, Falcryn. It just took a little longer than I planned.”
I stared into his dark, venomous eyes. I had nothing left.
Someone shouted, drawing Renwell’s attention. Hoofbeats neared. My fingers swept the dirt around me.
He hissed under his breath and pointed his sword at my heart. But his distraction had cost him.
I shoved a piece of my sword into his wrist. He howled, dropping his sword. I kicked him off me and glanced over my shoulder to see a party of Berengar warriors riding up to us. During our fight, we must’ve drifted closer to the village.
I turned back around to see Renwell, with his sword in his other hand, racing for his ship and remaining Wolves.
I couldn’t let him get away. He didn’t deserve to live after everything he’d done. I could end Rellmira’s suffering with one death. Just one more.
“Bow!” I shouted at the oncoming Berengars.
Their leader halted next to me and handed me her bow and an arrow without question.
I nocked the arrow and aimed at Renwell’s fleeing back. But I wanted to see his face. As he’d looked into my mother’s. And shot her anyway.
“RENWELL!” I roared.
He whipped around. I fired.
I didn’t hear its whistle. I barely saw its streaking shadow. But I would always remember the way it struck his body. The bloodthirsty triumph that filled my heart. And the cold disappointment that followed when I realized I hadn’t struck his heart. Merely his shoulder.
Renwell would survive. At least it would be with a scar to match the one Nikella bore from him.
He staggered into the swarm of his Wolves, and they retreated onto their ship.
“Bow,” the Berengar leader ordered in a clipped voice.
I handed it to her. She led her warriors to join the others as they tried to pick off any enemies they could. But the impenetrable ship pulled up anchor and started sailing back toward the Niviath Sea.
There were no victory shouts. The beach was silent apart from the crackling fires left by the oil barrels and the soft moans of the injured.
We had lost, and I didn’t even know how badly yet.
“Brother!” Maz burst out of the knot of Dag warriors still left and wrapped me in a bone-cracking hug. “I lost track of you. Those mongrels were coming from every bloody direction. What happened?”
“Renwell,” I gritted out.
Maz’s pale eyes widened. “Here?” His gaze darted around as if searching for him. “You’d better have killed that piece of dog shit—”
Regret was like an arrow to my stomach. “I did my best, but he escaped.”
Maz sheathed his stained axe and clutched my shoulder. “You’ll get him next time.” As if Renwell were a deer or a rabbit who’d evaded the hunt.
But he wasn’t. He was smarter than Weylin. He had more power and more plans. My gut told me I’d never get so close to Renwell again. Not without starting a war first.
I clenched my weaponless hands into fists. Then a war is what it’ll be. Even if I have to fight it alone.
Sigrid appeared at Maz’s side, her eye patch askew and her right arm dripping with blood from a deep gash. She clasped forearms with Maz. “Davka? Yarina?”
“Haven’t seen them yet,” Maz said tersely.
My stomach twisted. And so began the grisly search for friends and family in answer to the worst question. Alive or dead?
“The last I know is that Kiera was taking Yarina up the ridge,” I said. “Nikella went back to the village to save the wounded. I haven’t seen Davka since the battle in the village square.”
Maz’s gaze filled with dread, but Sigrid clenched her jaw and fixed her eye patch. “Let’s start in the square then.”
“I’ll help you look,” I said quietly.
The warriors still standing were already picking through the fallen on the beach. Jek and Vorkahn carried bodies a safe distance from the fires. And slit the throats of any Wolves still twitching.
I turned from the grisly scene, memories of an even worse massacre pecking at my mind like crows.
There had been so much noise at first in that Pravaran field. The thundering hoofbeats of a thousand war horses. The metallic clanging of the soldiers’ armor and weapons. The screams of the rebels—farmers and fishers, really—as Dracles’s men cut them down by the hundreds.
But the silence afterward had been worse. The stacks of silent bodies. No voices left to mourn the dead because they were among them.
And instead of joining their number, I was cast into a pit of darkness with the worst parts of myself for company.
But here, the cries had already begun. I steeled myself as I followed Maz and Sigrid back into the smoldering village.
A few buildings still stood, scorched but strong. Others had collapsed into piles of embers—like the one that had cut me off from Kiera. I rubbed my chest. The fear that had filled me, knowing I’d never reach her in time, had frozen me in place.
I heard her voice. Renwell all but confirmed it. She’s still alive. She has to be.
But the village—like its people—would continue to die through the night. Such was the aftermath of battle.
Our footsteps quickened as we reached the square. My throat tightened at the carnage that filled it.
Maz gave a hoarse shout and sprinted toward Yarina, who was curled over a body on the ground.
My heart jerked, and I stumbled. My vision darkened and narrowed.
Fucking Four, not Kiera. Please, not Kiera.
But she was with Yarina last. Which meant she was . . . she was . . .
A thousand memories raced through my mind.
Kiera unchaining me, then stealing the key from me.
Kiera fighting off a Shadow-Wolf for Ruru.
Kiera eating biscuits at The Weary Traveler.
Kiera laughing. Playing Death and Four. Bathing.
Dancing like a golden goddess. Kissing me.
Wrapping around me in the woods and whispering such beautiful things I forgot every bit of darkness that’d haunted me my whole life.
My vision blurred. A storm raged in my ears.
It’s not time. We weren’t finished yet. I need—
A single whisper calmed the storm. “Aiden?”
I twisted around to see Kiera standing in a charred doorway, clutching an armful of bottles. Blood and soot streaked her clothes and skin, but she was still here.
“You’re alive,” she breathed. Her lower lip trembled, and she bit it, as if to hide it.
Without a word, I strode over to her and swept her up in my arms, bottles and all. I buried my face in her smoky hair. Her body trembled against mine. She didn’t let go of the bottles, but she tucked her face into my neck with a sigh I probably wasn’t meant to hear.
We stayed like that for a few moments. Just a few breaths of peace were all we could have.
She pressed out of my arms and stepped back. Her amber eyes were lined with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. Even though her cheeks were streaked with their trails.
I frowned and gently cupped her cheek where a wicked cut dripped blood.
She stepped further out of reach. Pain rippled through my chest, but I let her go.
“Davka’s dead,” she said in a gritty voice, like charred wood scraping over stone.
I grimaced and glanced to where Maz was huddled with his sisters, weeping.
I bowed my head. May the gods find your soul, Davka.
“I should go to them,” I murmured. But my feet wouldn’t move.
Kiera stared at me, her face a battlefield of emotions. Something must have happened in this square. I could almost feel her mind racing.
I wanted to demand the words she bit back. I wanted to be free of this agonizing pull toward the woman who’d lied to me and used me.
I wanted her.
But that was never going to happen. So, I turned my back on her and walked away.