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Corayne leaned against the ramparts of the city wall, facing into the cold wind, letting it shiver her to the bone. She still could not believe her eyes. The massive Temur army was a brown and black sea across the valley floor, their numbers too numerous to comprehend. She could hardly fathom how many ships were needed to ferry them across the Long Sea. Or how her own mother could lead such an armada.
Many flags streamed in the air. A black wing on bronze danced for the Temur. The flags of Iona still held, the flags of Kasa and Ibal too. Green and silver. Purple. Blue and gold. Bronze. Flags from every corner of the map. From far-flung kingdoms. Mortal and immortal both.
They answered the call. They saw what faced us, what threatened the realm entire. And they came.
For all the death, all the loss, Corayne could hold on to that.
We are, at the end of all things, a realm united, and not apart.
Epilogue
Afterward
It was not Charlie’s first time at the gallows, nor even his second. Still, he did not enjoy the feeling of rough rope on his soft neck. It chafed and itched.
He eyed the small crowd gathered around the platform, most of them slack-jawed peasants who were only just hearing of the war, months after it ended. Only two guards bothered to watch. Charlie was hardly a threat, a round little fugitive finally caught for his otherwise boring crimes. At least the air was warm. Spring had come bursting, all the world in bloom, as if to make up for a long, bloody winter. And now summer reigned, the realm edged in hazy gold.
There was no executioner in a black hood. Just a toothless man who worked odd jobs in the town. Charlie supposed anyone could kick a bucket out from under a man’s feet.
When he approached, Charlie braced for the worst. No matter how many times he stood the gallows, he always wondered which would be his last.
Then the rope broke over him, sliced clean by a perfectly aimed arrow. The crowd gave a cry of shock as Charlie leapt off the barrel, leaving thetoothless man behind. He scrambled to the edge of the platform, just as the horse and rider burst through the fray. The guards had only just roused from their stupor by the time Charlie was safe in the saddle, holding on to Garion in front of him.
The pair laughed all the way out of town and into the Madrentine hills.
It was not long before they found Sigil’s camp, the Temur woman cutting a broad silhouette against the trees.
“I was beginning to think something went wrong,” she said, smiling. “It’s not every day a one-eyed man can hit a target.”
Garion gave her a wink with his good eye. The other was scarred shut, still healing even months after the battle of Iona.
“I did my best,” he said, sliding off the horse.
Charlie jumped down behind him, proud of his own performance.I’m getting better at this.
“What’s the take?” he asked, eager.
“Less than I’d hoped,” Sigil answered. She bent to her things and pulled out a clinking pouch, upending it to show a spray of gold coins. “Your bounty has gone down. Something about worse problems than you in the Ward?”
Frowning, Charlie counted the coins in a glance.
“Well, I suppose I should get back to work, then.”
Sorasa Sarn stood at the edge of the city, the desert stretching wide and golden, shimmering with the last rays of sunset. It was already cooling, the heat of the day driven off by lengthening shadows. She patted at the horse beneath her, a sand mare. The pride of Ibal, faster than any other horses in the Ward. And a gift from the Heir.
It was still strange, to have friends in the highest of places. And enemies in the lowest of them.
She eyed the desert again. Almasad was the closest city to the citadel, though the seat of the Amhara Guild was still many days off. It was a grueling journey through the sands, the path unmarked, known only to those who already knew the way.
Her heart trembled at the prospect, both in fear and anticipation. She did not know what waited for her among the Amhara. Was Mercury alive, as the rumors said? Or did he die in Iona like so many others? There was only one way to find out.
The wind curled, blowing a strand of black hair across her eyes. And then a strand of gold.
Domacridhan sat placidly at her side, his own horse still beneath him, his emerald gaze fixed on the horizon. His hair was longer, his scars fading, but he still leaned to one side, accommodating the wound beneath his arm. It was healing too, thanks to his Elder nature. Not to mention a good deal of luck, prayer, and Amhara skill.
A mortal would have died months ago, bleeding into the roses, his body going cold beneath her.
“Thank you for coming with me.”
