The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) (29 page)

Guess I’m here till the end
.

There was a pause in the conversation, and she briefly hoped the meeting was over. Norr turned to look at her, and she knew him well enough to read his intent without words.

Are you holding up okay?

She forced a reassuring smile and a nod, and he turned his attention back to the thanes. Realizing they could still be some time, Scythe shifted in her seat until she found a more comfortable position.

Keegan’s magic had made Norr the chief, but Scythe wasn’t actually sure things were any better. Norr had the responsibility of the entire clan on his shoulders now, not to mention the danger of Shalana or her father plotting some kind of revenge. And she had the added worry of making sure Norr never found out about the curse. If Jerrod figured it out, others could, too.

That spell really didn’t solve anything. Guess this is what the monk meant when he warned me to watch out for backlash
.

Vaaler wasn’t walking with any purpose or direction; he just needed to put one foot in front of the other as forcefully as possible.
He focused on the physical act of slamming his boots onto the cold, hard ground in an effort to ignore the vicious anger Keegan’s words had stirred up inside him.

He was going to slaughter my people!

Only they weren’t really his people anymore. He wasn’t their prince anymore. He was an exile. A fugitive. An outcast. So why did Keegan’s admission make him so angry?

It’s the Queen’s fault. She’s the one who sent Drake out to meet us. She’s the one who sent the patrols after us. My mother gave them orders to kill us; Keegan only responded in kind
.

His steps began to slow as his anger faded away. As his mind cleared, he thought back on the argument and realized Keegan wasn’t some soulless monster—his friend had been deeply troubled by what had happened.

He opened up to you, and you instantly turned on him. Why?

Before he could come up with an answer, he noticed Shalana walking gingerly through the camp. The tall woman was bent over, a bulky sack thrown over her left shoulder. Her right hand clutched the long, feathered spear she’d carried when she first met them at the parley with the Ice Fangs. But now she was using the weapon more like a crutch to help her bear the weight of the bag as she made her way slowly to a large supply sled a hundred yards away.

Though she wasn’t sporting the visible bruises and welts that covered Norr’s face and arms, she was clearly injured. Vaaler recalled the final moments of her duel with Norr. The big man had brought her to the ground with a savage blow to her side, then pinned her to the ground with his massive bulk.

Probably broke her ribs
.

It was only now, watching her hobble across the camp, that he realized things could have been worse.

We really had no idea what the curse would actually do to her. If she’d died, her blood would be on our hands
.

Fortunately she’d survived, but Vaaler couldn’t help feeling guilty as he watched her struggles. He’d cracked a rib once on patrol; he knew how painful an injury it was. Every step pulled on tender muscles that screamed in protest, every breath stabbed at the lungs with a sharp blade.

There were plenty of other Stone Spirits around, moving quickly and efficiently to load the sled. Yet none of them offered to help their former chief. They didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

She’s ostracized. A pariah among her people. That’s on us, too
.

Still fifty yards from her destination, Shalana paused to gather her strength and adjusted the pack on her shoulder, leaning heavily on her spear. Her jaw clenched to keep from crying out as she twisted awkwardly, sending a fresh wave of pain through her side.

Unable to bear it any longer, Vaaler jogged over to her side.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, holding out his hands toward the pack.

Shalana didn’t react at first; she just stared at him with suspicious eyes. If not for her injury, Vaaler suspected she would have turned her back on him.

“You speak Verlsung,” she finally said.

“I do,” he admitted. Vaaler couldn’t tell if she was angry or just surprised.

“Should have kept that quiet,” she told him. “A good way to learn our secrets.”

“But not a good way to make friends,” Vaaler countered.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Nobody here wants to be your friend, Outlander.”

Vaaler looked around at the other Stone Spirits. They were still carrying on with the task of loading the sled, none of them paying any attention to their conversation.

“I could say the same to you,” he noted.

Shalana snorted, then slowly started walking again, ignoring his
offer. But Vaaler wasn’t about to give up so easily, so he fell into step beside her.

He’d noticed most of the Stone Spirits were bringing two or three bags at a time when they emerged from their respective tents. In addition to bringing enough food for the journey to the Conclave, some of them were no doubt stuffed with clothes and other personal effects they might want during the trip. Because of her injuries, however, Shalana could only handle one pack at a time. And given how slowly she was moving, he guessed she still had to make at least one more trip.

“It’s going to take you all morning to do this alone,” Vaaler noted. “And none of us can leave for the Conclave until everything is loaded onto the sleds.”

Shalana turned her head and fixed him with a scowl, clearly annoyed at his transparent effort to appeal to her sense of duty to the rest of the clan. But after a few more steps she stopped and let the bag slip from her shoulder and fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Do you even know where it goes on the sled?” she demanded.

“You’ll have to show me,” Vaaler said, groaning softly as he hefted his new burden.

The weight surprised him, and he staggered for a couple steps before finding his balance.

“You don’t seem to be doing any better than me,” Shalana said smugly.

From the corner of his eye, Vaaler swore he saw the hint of a smile touch the corner of her mouth. But when he turned to look it was gone, replaced by the same stern expression she’d been wearing since their arrival.

They made better progress with him carrying the bag, though Shalana still wasn’t able to move much faster than a brisk walk.

“Lay it down at the back, on top and crosswise to the ones below,” she instructed once they reached the sled.

Vaaler swung the bag back and forth a couple times to build momentum, then hoisted it into place. Shalana reached forward to make a small adjustment to its position, wincing as she did so.

“Try not to reach or twist,” Vaaler advised her. “Or bend.”

“Or breathe,” she added in a surly tone. “I know.”

“How many more bags?” Vaaler asked, hoping they’d be lighter so he could take more than one at a time.

“Did Norr send you to spy on me?” she suddenly asked.

“Does that seem like something he’d do?” Vaaler countered.

“Not unless his little Islander whore told him to.”

“Don’t let Scythe hear you call her that,” Vaaler warned. “Be careful you don’t make the same mistake I did and slip into the Southern tongue.”

“Is that what she used to win Norr over? Her Southern tongue?”

Vaaler laughed, not so much at the crude joke but more at Shalana’s deadpan delivery.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said after a brief pause. “Are you supposed to watch me in case I’m plotting my vengeance?”

“If I say no, you’ll just think I’m lying anyway.”

Shalana nodded solemnly. Using her spear, she pivoted away and started walking back toward her tent.

“Come on, Spy. Three more bags to go. We don’t want to keep the rest of the clan waiting.”

C
ASSANDRA COULDN
’
T STOP
shivering. She’d left the Frozen East behind, but here in the sparsely populated farms that dotted the outer borders of the Southlands there was still a biting chill in the air when the sun went down.

She’d left the Guardian’s cave feeling strong and determined, but the elements were taking a toll on her body’s dwindling reserves. And for the past two nights, she hadn’t slept at all, pushing her pace as she sensed the monstrous Crawling Twins getting ever closer.

They’ll catch you tonight. It’s time to use the Crown. You have no other options
.

She shook her head, an unconscious gesture she’d adopted after rejecting the advice from the ever-present voice inside her mind.

She could still escape; she just needed to find a horse. She couldn’t outrun the Twins on foot, but mounted she’d be able to keep ahead of them.

You had a chance to get a horse, but you passed it up
.

Yesterday she’d noticed a small mare in a field near a lone farmhouse. The voice in her head had urged her to steal the animal, but instead she’d given the property a wide berth. No matter how dire her situation, she didn’t want to inadvertently lead the Crawling Twins to an innocent family.

Sometimes we must sacrifice a few innocent lives to save thousands
.

This time the voice in her head sounded different. It wasn’t Rexol, her old Master, but rather the memory of something the Pontiff had told her long ago when she was still training to join the Order.

If you want to save anybody
, Rexol’s voice chimed in,
you have to save yourself first
.

Cassandra reflexively shook her head again, even as she refocused her mental energy to her physical form. She’d been traveling for two days without rest at a pace faster than most people could run, but she forced her body to release a fresh burst of adrenaline. Her weary legs redoubled their efforts, but she knew she couldn’t sustain it for long. Her heart was already pounding and her lungs burned; in an hour or two she’d have to slow down again.

But at least it quieted the voices for a while.

Inside the Crown, Rexol raged against his prison. The link between him and Cassandra was steadily growing, but she still resisted his efforts to manipulate and control her.

Even when she was a child you sensed how strong her will was
.

Though he was powerless to affect his former apprentice, Rexol was aware of the mortal world through Cassandra’s senses. The monsters that hunted her were too close now; any hope of escape was impossible.

Rexol had recognized this much earlier than Cassandra. For the past few days, he’d known she wouldn’t survive on her own. And so the disembodied wizard had sent out a call for help.

Using the Crown’s power to affect the physical world was difficult, but he was getting better at it. He’d used it to lead the flying huntress away from Cassandra during her flight to the Guardian’s cave. Now he was doing the opposite, using it to try to lead someone
to them. Hopefully, someone would answer the call before it was too late.

Cassandra sensed the men ahead of her long before their torches were visible through the night’s gloom. She’d changed course to try to avoid them, but when they matched her movements she realized they could sense her in the darkness, too.

Inquisitors
.

As they drew closer, she realized they weren’t alone. There were only three of her brethren from the Order, traveling on foot at the head of a small company of armed soldiers. Five rode on horseback and another fifteen marched along behind on foot.

The Inquisitors forged ahead, leaving the footmen to scramble along in their wake as they closed in on her. At the same time, the riders broke away from the main group, two circling out to the left and three to the right to keep her from trying to flee.

Even if she hadn’t been near the limits of her endurance, Cassandra wouldn’t have been able to escape. But she’d already given that hope up. Instead, she headed directly into the teeth of their trap.

I have to warn them!

The Crawling Twins were only minutes behind her now, and she didn’t have any illusions of what would happen if they ran across the unsuspecting patrol.

“Cassandra!” one of the Inquisitors called out as they drew close. “Yasmin the Unbowed, forty-fourth Pontiff of the Order, has declared you to be a traitor to the True Gods!”

She recognized the speaker, a young man named Mirgul. He was only a few years older than she was; seeing him in a position of authority reinforced how badly the Order’s numbers had been devastated when the Monastery fell.

The Inquisitors had blocked her path, their staves at the ready, but Cassandra didn’t stop or slow down as she approached.

“Run, Mirgul!” she called out, drawing on the last reserves of her inner power to amplify her voice so the soldiers in the distance could hear her. “Everybody scatter!”

Unfortunately, the soldiers were too well trained to obey her shouted commands, and they didn’t even hesitate as they continued toward her and the Inquisitors.

Mirgul and his compatriots dropped into fighting stances, convinced she was charging toward them with hostile intent. But before she came close enough for them to bring her down, their Sight saw what she was running from.

“Run!” Cassandra screamed again, and for a second she thought Mirgul might listen.

Then he raised his arms above his head, twirling his weapon as he shouted, “Destroy the Chaos Spawn!”

At the same time, Cassandra sensed one of the riders who had circled around charging in hard from behind her, unaware of the monsters lurking in the nearby shadows. In his hand he had a large cudgel, and as he closed the gap between them he brought it around in a wide, sweeping arc meant to knock her flying from her feet.

Without breaking stride, Cassandra ducked as the horse came alongside her, the heavy club whooshing harmlessly over her head. She let the pack with the Crown slip from her shoulder and fall at her feet. At the same time she spun and grabbed the rider’s leg with both hands, then yanked him out of his saddle.

As he came crashing down to the ground his mount, confused by the sudden loss of its rider, circled around, then pulled up short.