They pivot to engage the approaching Hematites as Hector gives the orders to charge. My heart races in my throat as I follow his command with the other Bloodstone and Carnelian warriors.
Mildred rides next to me, her eyes calm as she clutches a sword, though I wonder if she’ll use it. My mind scrambles to remember everything she taught me. Especially focusing on my energy to consume less magic. The bag with the flowers Tersah gave me bangs against my hips as I ride my mare into the city.
It was the only way Hector would let me go. Next to Mildred. Next to the Muchrah, I had spurned when we first met.
Now, in a way, she’s my guardian. If I wasn’t carrying life inside me, I would rebel at this added protection. As it is, I’m thankful for this safety net. And I’m thankful for the broadsword Hector made for me. It rests against my hip, ready-to-use if necessary.
All around us, the battle rages on. The Bloodstone move with such savagery—often using two weapons as they strike at their opponents. The Hematites are just as savage. Some of them wield fire magic. Hero uses his water magic to douse the flames over and over again.
I spot Hector next to Cenric. Both use two swords as they cut down their enemies with alarming speed and brutality.
My heart leaps to my throat as a huge group of Hematite warriors race toward us. Mildred glances over at me and nods, giving me the go ahead to use my magic.
I swallow, grab one of Tersah’s flowers, and call on those ancient verses, the ones I had spurned for so long. Pain sears through my serpent mark as I scream out the words. “Curse you, Hematites. You are nothing but dust.”
The Hematites crumble apart, turning into a fine powder that the wind carries away. The Bloodstone and Carnelians cheer. Some even slam their swords against their shields, banging out a rhythmic beat. How it thrums. How it lures us on, closer and closer to our goal.
More Hematites pour into the front of the city, engaging us. Mildred pulls out one of Tersah’s flowers and screams out those ancient verses. The bricks loosen from the buildings, slamming into the oncoming Hematites. The ground opens beneath them and swallows them. The trees reach out, snagging them with their branches, and eating them.
I gasp, awed at her magic as she keeps yelling those words and bringing to life everything around her and using it to kill the Hematites. When a Hematite races toward her, I curse him, and he turns to stone.
Further and further, we move into the city with Mildred clearing our path and me cursing anyone who comes near her. Now, I am the guardian, safeguarding the Muchrah.
Occasionally, I catch glimpses of Hector locked in combat alongside Cenric, Hector’s fierce prowess matched only by the creatures that materialize by his side. The shadowy apparitions, wielding huge broadswords, strike down his adversaries with a relentless ferocity that mirrors him. Sometimes there are only four of them next to him. Other times, there are eight.
I lose him in the chaos as I focus on keeping the Hematites away from Mildred. Power radiates from her as she screams those ancient words, and the stone statues explode, raining shards on the approaching Hematites.
Through the throng of bodies, I spot a familiar face—one I branded into my memory, so I would never forget him.
Jerrod!
He takes on two Bloodstone warriors at a time, cutting them down quicker than they can lift their swords.
My skin runs hot and cold as I think of lifting my weapon and plunging it deep into his throat. But before I can turn my horse that direction, an arrow soars through the air, catching him in the throat. He staggers backward, gripping the protruding arrow as blood bubbles from his mouth.
I whip my eyes over the crowd of warriors, wondering which archer is responsible for killing Jerrod, but nobody stands out in the chaos.
My gaze snaps back to Jerrod as he falls to the ground, and the atmosphere shifts. One-by-one, the Hematites lower their weapons and turn toward Jerrod, watching as he stumbles around. More and more warriors stop and look at the dying Hematite chieftain. Nobody tries to help him.
The truth strikes me.
He was so evil that his own men are doing nothing to comfort him…or to avenge him.
I squeeze the hilt of my sword, waiting, expecting everything to go back to the way it was. Instead, a Hematite warrior walks toward Jerrod and removes his barbute.
Jasce.
As he lifts his helm, his warriors remain silent—watching, waiting. Then, he turns to Hector and lifts his helm even higher. Hector nods and slams his fist against his chest, and his commanders give the orders to stop fighting.
I stare up at the sky thickened with ash and smoke, knowing the high gods had a hand in this.
Thank you, Olah.
ChapterThirty-Six
As the sounds of battle dampen around me, Everly walks across the courtyard, wearing a clean surcoat. Cenric breaks from the throng of warriors and runs to her. She collapses in his arms as my heart skips with happiness. I rub my dirty hands against my armor and raise my eyes to the sky again, appreciating its beauty, appreciating that the gods protected us today.
They wanted this.
