Chapter 64
Elsedora
The petulant part of me resented Emmerick for walking away. The logical side reassured me I trusted no one more with Lark’s safety.
The slam of the large birch double doors caused the world to crumble around me and my heart to pound faster in my chest.
I hadn’t told him. He hadn’t let me.
Not again.
Ryn’s message haunted me.
“I always knew.”
Damn him for seeing me, damn him for pinpointing exactly what all of my greatest regrets boiled down to.
“He will be alright. They will be alright,” Sybilla reassured me as we briskly moved through the castle, then out into the bailey.
The crunch of boots on the cobblestones and clanking of armor around us created a cacophony of horrid, hurried sounds. They reminded me of that night in Sahlmsara when we’d prepared for the city to be attacked.
Then, I’d allowed Emmerick to Egress away with Firose. I hadn’t known him well—he was just a pretty acquaintance who would wedge his way into my heart not a few years later.
“I know,” I said.
I didn’t.
It seemed my friend needed to believe it. She’d always prepared for this day too. Lark would face Caym. But she was supposed to have all the relics in her possession; she was supposed to have every advantage.
Blowing my whistle, I hoped my menace hadn’t wandered too far.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” Sybilla whispered as we waited for Mayra to land in the bailey. “I see my error. I only wish I’d known your feelings sooner so that I could have told you both to stop being so daft.”
Her arms wrapped around me, and I slumped against her, taking a deep breath.
An apology and an insult. Yet her acceptance warmed me. I choked on a weak laugh and squeezed her hard before I released myself from her grip.
Cassidee and Wyeth stormed into the courtyard, Asterie and Fen quick on their heels.
“The flyers are on their way. What are our next orders?” Cass said, glancing between Sybilla and Krait.
Krait ground his teeth, then answered, “Send flyers to scout the city for survivors. Asterie and Fen, head west to assemble soldiers as they arrive at the border.”
Sybilla cut in, “Wyeth—bring as many of the courts’ healers as you can wrangle. We’ll position them at camps in Kruthin, close to the border.”
Asterie stood taller. “I’ve been trying to conjure from the moonstone all week. Only one thing stands out—I keep seeing a dark cave with molten red rock. Does that mean anything to you?”
We all exchanged a series of shaking heads.
“Maybe it warned that Caym built strength on the volcanic shores,” Krait guessed.
Asterie sighed and leaned back into Fenris. “It’s frustrating to only get bits and pieces. But wherever the vision took me held grave danger.”
A beat of silence stretched between us before Fen cleared his throat. “My Queen, I think you and the King should stay out of the fray—go inform the other rulers of the realm,” my brother said as he wrapped his arms around Asterie’s shoulders. “They must be ready in case we fail at the front lines.”
“I agree,” I chimed in, tightening Mayra’s cinch to prepare for travel.
Sybilla required garrot root to keep away the pain, which dimmed her Reverist abilities.
Krait’s Shadows had waned and been gifted to Lark through the years—he could be mortal any minute.
With their magic suppressed, they would be liabilities.
Sybilla cocked a hip, clearly unimpressed with the idea of not fighting at the side of her friends. “We will alert the other rulers,” she said—conveniently leaving out any agreement about staying away from battle.
Krait began barking orders at a groom to ready his horse, and I sighed.
“Climb on up,” I instructed Fenris and Asterie. “Mayra can carry three a short distance.”
My body found a numb rhythm in the mundane preparation to fly. My Griffith shrieked, stomping her feet as horses passed, and I settled her by scratching between the coarse feathers of her neck.
The Wind refused to guide me.
Defeated and aimless, I gave Asterie a knee to boost her up onto my mount.
My heart tugged at me to follow Emmerick, to fly to the volcanic shores. Having Fen and Asterie with me would curb that impulse to chase such unknown danger.
Hundreds of soldiers lined the border outside of Kruthin—mortals and Source-wielders alike. A few dozen flaming Warhorses from the Plateau had just arrived.
Rolling hills of brown grass lay before us, and fog kissed the ground. Shit visibility for a battle.
I hoped our forces would be enough; this time we were not sitting ducks as we’d been in Sahlmsara and Sahlmkar. The Corridors had assembled quickly to give us a fighting chance.
The heart of two small towns, Kruthin and Kullworth, braced vulnerably just miles behind us.
They’d evacuated, though many refused to leave.
Both towns had been slums after the Great Wars.
They prospered now with the return of Soil magic to charm the crops.
But the people on this side of the North Corridor were still skeptical of the very magic that’d saved them, and they would rather hunker down with pitchforks than be told to leave everything they worked for behind.
Wyeth had set up a makeshift infirmary on the far side of Kruthin’s boundary. It would not be easy to relocate if the Moirai made it past our troops—but it was close enough to move fallen soldiers and treat them.
Cassidee’s Griffith, Paren, screeched before landing in front of me. Cass wore leathers that were soaked through from the cloudy conditions, and her mousy brown hair lay matted on her shoulders from the wind.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
Cass sucked air in through her teeth. “There’s little left of Algarnd. We spotted hundreds of ships departing, packed with those escaping to the sea. Hundreds of civilians fled on foot to the south—they seem to be the only other survivors.”
“Are we still positioned at the ready here?”
Cass nodded. “It’s hard to see through the fog, so we’ll keep assessing their direction.
Right now, they’re coming straight for us.
” She checked her quiver, mouthing numbers as she counted arrows.
“I’ll take the flyers to kill as many as we can before they cross the river a mile west of here.
We’ll try our best to slow them down. Are you riding with me? ”
“No, I’ll be fighting from the ground. I’ve never been a good mark with a bow,” I answered.
She nodded her agreement, meeting my gaze with resolve as Paren lifted off. On the wind, I heard, “Stay alive, Red!” Then she shouted orders at the other flyers to get into formation.
A lump grew in my throat.
I’d been here before.
A city in ruins.
Moirai approaching.
Separated from the man I loved.
The day Ryn left for Sahlmkar—to prepare for Krait and Sybilla’s arrival—had been the only time I’d almost told him I’d loved him.
He’d still been tender from the beating that Krait had dealt him in a fit of rage over withheld truths.
Despite my attempts, Ryn refused to let me take him to the healer that night.
For the first time, I’d realized how broken he’d always been—how much guilt he’d carried for centuries over his sister’s death.
Ryn’s father had tortured him into betraying the information of Freya’s secret elopement with Krait. The Phynnic King had deemed her actions treason and ordered his own daughter killed.
Ryn had unraveled all of this to me that night before he left. When he departed, he’d told me, “When I get back, I’m through with pretending we’re not meant for each other.”
My mutual sentiments had been on the tip of my tongue. Instead of voicing them, I’d said, “We’ll see.”
It hadn’t felt like the last time that I’d speak with him.
The next day we were thrust into an arena of horrors at the amphitheater. As Caym had turned my lover into nothing but dust, Ryn had thrown me that wide smile, his eyes scanning my face—like he was memorizing me to carry with him in death.
I hadn’t let myself reflect this much in years. With open wounds, I couldn’t put all the emotions back in neatly.
More Griffiths flew overhead by the minute. The beating of their wings struck a rhythmic hum. Mayra stood behind me, pushing her beak into my shoulder blade with a purr, urging me to allow her to join them.
“Go on, menace. Follow the relief fleet,” I commanded.
I’d helped strap supplies to the needy beast’s back. A small group of riders lifted off. They would bring supplies for those who had fled to aid them on their journey to the south shore of the main continent.
After a few squawks of dismay, she flapped her wings and followed the fleet south.
No Moirai crested the hills of the highlands. The frost clung to dead grass, leaving it slick and glistening as I walked to the front line. The birdsong made it feel like an ordinary day, though the energy at the camp had turned bleak when we’d told the soldiers what we faced.
Anxious skepticism had settled over the front lines. They had heard stories of the monsters that attacked Sahlmsara twenty years prior—some still didn’t believe the tales.
They would need to see to believe.
Unfortunately, they soon would.
“Strike their hearts, or aim to decapitate. Source magic alone cannot kill the Moirai. They will keep coming for us, even aflame, even with their limbs cut away.” Fenris rode his horse across the line of soldiers. His voice rasped from repeatedly barking orders.
“They move with lethal stealth,” he shouted. “It is as though they travel through air itself, but only for bursts. So watch each other’s backs. This ability makes a clean strike more difficult. When you see them, be prepared to fight. They will be upon us in seconds, not minutes.”
Fen had never been a man of war. He looked out of place in heavy leathers and metal armor. During the Great Wars, he’d been a pacifist until his near demise; he never sided with one court.
The conflict between Phynx and Brennax no longer felt relevant at the cusp of an outside threat. We fought not for political gain or religious disagreement.
We would fight, united, against ruin itself and claw for our right to keep building a peaceful realm.
I had fitted myself with a belt of ten throwing daggers and a narrow, light blade. I, too, wore riding leathers and thick chain mail over my chest and torso.
This would be my last battle. If I should walk away, then there was an orchard to tend, a roaring fire to sit beside, birdseed to spread across the ground. And a man who would come home to enjoy dinner with me each night…
A horn from above sounded twice.
The Moirai were two miles away.
Vangard stood in his largest form, towering two stories tall; his nostrils flared, emitting blue flames as he pawed the ground, but Asterie settled a hand on the black fur of his leg, calming him.
I looked out over the line of horses with flaming armor. Their riders’ lances outstretched toward the incoming threat; so many of them, possibly all of them, would fall.
We had so little time—with it, my chance to speak to any of them disappeared. I searched for Fen on the front lines, heart lurching when it took me a few moments to spot him.
Fen lazily tossed a fireball in one palm before catching it, and then he repeated the motion. While he appeared sullen, I could see the blaze ignited within him teetered on combusting—so much like our father.
I drew my blade and approached Fen’s mount.
Placing my free hand on the horse’s neck, I blurted out, “The night Mama and Papa were executed, Mama shoved me into the Egress. I didn’t get to tell either of them I loved them, and somewhere along the way, the things left unsaid kept going unsaid.
It’s been a hard thing for me to admit ever since. ”
The horse bobbed its head and let out a nicker. Fenris glanced down at me. “Elsie, you were just a girl—they knew you loved them.”
My lips curved up at the sides. “Well, in case I am bested today—I love you, Fen.” The birdsong quieted. “And I’m quite in love with the kind, very-good-in-bed North Corridor King. So if you make it out of here and I don’t, can you tell Emmerick that I—”
“Elsie.” Fenris’ nose scrunched in disgust. “You’re going to get to tell him yourself. So please stop oversharing details about your intimate arrangements with my friend.”
I huffed out a laugh as a horrid cacophony of screaming whispered on the wind.
“And I love you too,” Fen gruffly said.
A single horn blared above us.
With their ability to travel quickly, the Moirai would be upon us in moments.