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“You will burn with them, if this Spindle is left to fester,” Dom said, glaring between the two. His voice carried, spreading through the war band.
He wished he could show them what he saw in his head, what they’d fought on the Long Sea. The creatures of Meer were still loose in the waters, even with the Spindle closed. And there was another Spindle somewhere else, spitting out dragons, of all things. One of those monsters might even be close, burning its way through the hills and forests. They couldn’t afford to leave another tear in the realm of Allward, another chance for What Waits to walk through.
“Our best hope is to close it now.” Dom turned back to the prince, looking down on the stout warrior. “Before anything more terrible can enter this realm.”
Oscovko stared back, holding his gaze. “And what has come through already? Could this be the dragon?”
To that, Dom could only shake his head.
But Sigil jumped down from her horse and clapped a hand on Oscovko’s shoulder, giving him a hearty shake.
“Won’t it be fun to find out?”
Dom winced. But Sigil’s bravado was infectious, spreading through the war band. A few rattled their swords, and some color returned to Oscovko’s cheeks. He put a hand over her own, giving her a wide grin spotted with gold teeth.
Overhead, the snow fell quicker, carried on a sharper wind.
The Prince of Trec regained his swagger, raising his sword highabove his head. “I will not command you to fight if you cannot, or will not,” he shouted, facing down his war band. “But this wolf feasts on glory tonight.”
In this realm or the next,Dom thought darkly as the war band howled over the wind. The battle cry passed through them all, even the injured, who raised whatever they could in a flashing wave of iron and steel. To his surprise, he felt a cry of his own rise up in his throat, begging to be freed. He locked his teeth, waiting for the sensation to pass.
And then something answered the wolfish howl.
The horn sounded from the sea, a low, guttural noise that reverberated in Dom’s chest. He turned toward the beach, eyes narrowed against the clouds offshore. But they were a gray wall, obscuring the horizon, even from Dom. Another horn picked up the tune, a bit higher and keener, and Oscovko flinched.
His eyes went wide.
“What is it?” Corayne asked from her horse, standing up in the stirrups.
Dom dismounted without thinking, moving to the edge of the rise to get a better look. Sand shifted beneath his boots. He squinted, seeing the vaguest of dark shapes cutting through the haze.
Behind him, Oscovko jumped back into the saddle.
“Raiders of the Jyd,” he spat. “Vultures, scavengers, come to feast on the still-burning carcass. Will we give them the satisfaction?”
His war band brayed out their opposition, bashing shields and breastplates. Their horses pranced beneath them, catchingthe rising excitement of their riders. The kingdom of Trec was no stranger to the clans of the Jyd.
Dom hissed out an exasperated breath. He didn’t have the stomach for these mortal squabbles.
Among the clouds, the shadows solidified into longships, their prows curling high above the water, sails flung wide to catch the frozen wind blowing from the north.
Then the first longship broke through the cloud bank and all his frustration lifted, his entire body going numb. Dom’s legs gave beneath him and he fell to his knees, landing in the soft yellow sand of the beach.
Battle-ready men and women crowded the deck, working the oars. Their wooden shields hung over the sides of the ship, painted in every color. Their iron and steel flashed red, reflecting the burning city. Dom stared, not at them, but at the woman at the prow of the ship. He almost didn’t believe his own eyes.It can’t be,he thought, even as the ship came into sharper focus.
Still on the rise, Oscovko peered down, silhouetted against the smoke.
“What do you see, Immortal?” he called. The other Companions clustered next to him, concern on every face, even Sorasa’s.
“Victory,” Dom answered.
She wore pale green armor, her black hair wild and streaking over her shoulder. To Dom, it was as good as any flag.
More and more longships broke through the heavy clouds, bristling with shields and spears, but Dom saw only Ridha, the blood of Iona returned.
His cousin was not a vision, not a sending. Her form was realand solid, her own cloak of Iona catching the wind. She saw him as he saw her, and raised a hand. Dom did the same, his palm turned out to the waves.
Strange, unfamiliar joy surged through his body, growing with each new ship on the horizon. It felt like lightning in his veins. It felt like hope.
