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“With me, Valtik,” Andry said gruffly, looping his arm through her own.
With me.The old battle cry of the Gallish knights returned some strength to his legs. Andry felt hope and fear in equal measure.We might yet survive this or we may be left behind.
“Without the stars, without the sun, the way is red, the path undone,” the witch chanted under her breath.
They ran together, toward a fishing vessel already moving, its sail unfurled. The old woman didn’t hesitate, stepping into seemingly open air. Only to land safely on the deck of the boat, not a hair out of place.
Andry boarded with less grace, leaping after her.
He landed hard on the deck, but his body felt oddly light. Relief surged through his veins as the little boat cut through the burning harbor, leaving behind the corpse army crawling on the shore.
The ship was barely larger than a river barge, big enough for perhaps twenty men. But the vessel was seaworthy, and that was more than enough. A mismatched band of soldiers, raiders, and immortals crewed the deck, urging the boat out to sea.
Smoke stretched far out over the waves, black fingers reaching for the horizon. But a single band of sunlight remained, gleaming low across the sea. A reminder that all the realm was not this hell.
Yet.
Grimly, Andry looked back to the city in ruins.
Gidastern burned and burned, columns of smoke reaching up into the hellish sky. Red light and black shadows warred for control, with ashes falling over everything like snow. And beneath it all were the screams, the howling, the sounds of splintering wood and cracking stone. The distant, shuddering beat of gigantic wings somewhere in the clouds. It sounded like death, or something worse.
“Corayne,” he murmured, her name a prayer. He hoped the gods could hear him. He hoped she was already far from this place, safe with Sorasa and the last Spindleblade.
“Is she safe?” He turned to Valtik. “Tell me, is she safe, is she alive?”
The witch only turned, hiding her face.
“VALTIK!” His own voice sounded distant.
Through his spotting vision, Andry saw her move to the prow of the little boat. Her hands gnarled at her sides, fingers curled into pale claws. Her lips moved, forming words he could not make out.
Overhead, the sail filled with a cold blast of wind, pushing them faster and faster out into the frozen embrace of the Watchful Sea.
Purple fish swam through the little pond in the courtyard, their fins creating ripples on the surface. Andry watched and breathed deeply. Everything smelled of jasmine and cool shade. Andry had never been here before, but he knew the courtyard anyway. This was the house of Kin Kiane, his mother’s family in Nkonabo. Across the Long Sea, as far away from danger as anyone could be.
On the other side of the pond, his mother smiled, her familiar brown face more vibrant than he remembered. She sat in a chair without wheels, wrapped in a simple green robe. Valeri Trelland’s homeland suited her better than the north ever did.
Andry’s heart leapt at the sight of her. He wanted to go to his mother, but his feet would not move, rooted to the stones. He opened his mouth to speak. No sound came.
I miss you, he tried to shout.I hope you are alive.
She only smiled back, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of her green eyes.
He smiled too, for her sake, even as his body went cold. The jasmine faded, replaced by the sharp tang of saltwater.
This is a dream.
Andry jolted awake like a man struck by lightning. For a moment, he hung suspended in his own mind, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The rocking of the waves, the hard deck of the boat. A threadbare blanket tossed over his body. The freezing air on his cheeks.The smell of saltwater, not smoke.
We are alive.
A short, broad figure stood over the squire, illuminated by moonlight and lanterns slung in the rigging.The Prince of Trec, Andry realized with another jolt.
“I did not know Galland allowed their squires to sleep on duty,” Prince Oscovko said, darkly amused.
“I’m no squire of Galland, Your Highness,” Andry replied, forcing himself to sit up.
The prince grinned and shifted, the lanterns illuminating more of his face. He sported a black eye and a good deal of gore all down his leathers. Not that Andry minded. They all looked worse for the wear.
