Chapter 50
Fifty
ASHLAND
We are too far into Alexandria for my liking, and it sets me on edge.
Despite that, I still urge my smaller envoy of riders on through the mist of the night. The scent of sea spray and salt grows more potent, carried on the breeze, while the crashing of waves strengthens as we near. Alexandria’s light glows faintly. Apprehension lingers like the tang of brine.
We are too damn deep in enemy territory.
But we don’t stop. The grinding wheels screech down the road as the prison wagon moves obliviously onward.
We track from a distance, merging with swaths of shadows as I cast a blanket of darkness over our group, using every bit of my power to keep up.
Tomorrow, I’ll pay for the gluttony of abuse I’m putting my body through.
I can already feel it in the constriction of my chest.
As the trees fall away, Alexandria’s seaside buildings come into view, illuminated by the moon’s crescent glow.
The docks stretch out—a maze of weathered piers extending into the glimmering bay like crooked fingers.
Tall ships rock gently in their berths, their masts creaking and sails fluttering.
Even at this hour, the port bustles with activity.
No longer able to hold my power of shadows over so many riders, I guide Salt off the road to a grassy overlook. As we reach the bluff’s edge, he tosses his head, mane rippling. I tug sharply on the reins, bringing him to a sudden halt, his hooves tearing furrows in the loamy soil.
Behind me, the others gather their mounts in a semicircle along the ridge. And far below us, the wagon halts suspiciously distant from the other ships.
I tighten my grip on the reins, a sense of dread seeping in as Metalla’s men load the captive women onto the swaying vessel, their feminine cries faintly audible in the night air.
We’re too fucking late.
Rage lurches through me, coursing through my blood.
The ship readies to depart, already slipping its moorings—they aren’t waiting. I watch helplessly from atop the bluff, trying not to think of what horrors await them.
Valora’s violet eyes flash as she turns toward me. “We must act now,” she demands, her hand tightening on her sword’s pommel. Her horse whinnies impatiently.
With a hard blink, I shake my head. “We won’t be able to reach them in time without being noticed,” I insist, clutching my pained chest, overtaxed from the vast amount of magic that slowly chips away at the strength of my powers.
I have to look away from her crestfallen face.
“I’ve depleted my powers, and the port is guarded by hundreds of soldiers, with more throughout the city and castle. ”
The captive women, with chains clanking, stumble as they make their way onto the ramp. Metalla’s men hurry, undoing the final ropes holding the ship. As it drifts, it scrapes against the worn pier. A crushing sense of defeat threatens to bury me as the ship slides farther and farther away.
“We are no good to them if we’re dead,” I tell her. The wind bites me as I stare at the empty sea.
Valora’s braid whips behind her as she turns her horse around. Strands have come loose, plastering against her flushed cheeks.
She says nothing. The silence says it all.
“It’s time to get Lir,” I order, spurring my stallion onward.