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Malik had been known for whispering those words as he slayed his enemies.
A quiet cry sounded from the sky and Wilder looked up to see a familiar hawk circling above them in the moonlight. The creature swooped down and landed gracefully, offering his leg, where a scroll was tied.
‘Terrence,’ Wilder greeted him and reached for the message, hoping he didn’t shred Wilder’s fingers bloody. ‘It’s been a long time…’
Terrence ruffled his feathers and eyed Dax suspiciously.
‘He’s not stupid enough to think you’re dinner.’ Wilder raised a brow at the hawk.
Terrence continued to glare.
Wilder made quick work of the tie and turned his attention to the message, recognising the messy scrawl. Over the many years away from Thezmarr hunting monsters throughout the kingdoms, he’d developed a network of sources who sent him reports. The most regular were those from the fallen kingdom ofNaarva, where unbeknownst to many, a small group of survivors remained.
‘What do you have to say for yourself, Dratos…?’ Wilder muttered, scanning the words in the fire's light.
H,
A tear in the Veil south of the Scarlet Tower appeared some days ago. A swarm of shadow wraiths managed to get through. Our brotherhood dealt with two, but three escaped and headed north. Several sea serpents came through the same breach, though we’ve not seen signs of them since. It’s unclear if they are cursed or if they are natural creatures of the deep.
The Veil grows more unstable each day. Our rangers have reported strange sounds echoing from beyond its mist, and tremors wracking the outskirts of our lands.
What news from Thezmarr?
Best,
D.
Wilder sighed heavily. He gave Terrence a scrap of leftover meat before scratching a hasty reply on the back of the parchment, explaining his own recent findings. There was no doubt that things were getting worse, that the darkness encroached day by day, and as much as he hated to admit it, Audra was right. Thezmarr, and therefore the midrealms, were weak.
He re-tied the scroll to the hawk’s leg, marvelling at how the creature managed to find him wherever his Warsword duties took him, though he hoped it would be some time until he saw the temperamental creature again – no news was good news after all.
‘For Dratos,’ he told the bird.
Terrence made an insulted noise, as though he knew very well who the recipient was.
‘Off you go then,’ Wilder said with a note of amusement.
The hawk launched himself skyward and disappeared into the night.
Wilder refused to think about who else might be there with Dratos upon the bird’s return to Naarva. He’d cut those ties long ago.
Instead, he focused on the alchemist across the campfire. In her sleep, she threw an arm over Dax, who didn’t so much as flinch. Another oddity. While Dax had always been friendly with Malik and by extension, Wilder, the dog was not known for his gentle nature around the fortress. Most Thezmarrians avoided him if they could, knowing that he didn’t like to be touched. Which made his tolerance and protectiveness of the young woman all the more intriguing.
Wilder glanced at Dax again. ‘You and Malik and your secrets,’ he muttered.
The glow of the fire illuminated long dark lashes kissing the tops of the alchemist’s pink-tipped cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted and her small build rose and fell with each steady breath. Strands of bronze gold hair had come loose from her braid, framing her face. She was beautiful, he realised. Infuriating, yes, but beautiful; the type of beauty that was rare in its fierceness. Wilder found himself smiling, for even in the depths of sleep, her scar-littered hands clenched, as though itching to grip a blade.
Taking another sip from his flask, he leaned across to stoke the flames, and after a moment’s pause, pulled a blanket over her.
‘I’m beginning to think you are more than you seem, Alchemist,’ he murmured.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As dawn kissed the sky, Thea woke to find the Warsword waiting for her, bow and quiver in hand.
‘Today, I’ll teach you how to hunt,’ he said.
Thea didn’t ask him what had changed his mind, she simply leapt at the opportunity, knowing that another might never come along. She drew no attention to the fact that the lesson would delay their return to Thezmarr, nor did she ask further questions. Thea just listened, and listened gladly, the Warsword’s voice low and melodic as he described the finer details of hunting game by the arrow.
