The being of fire burned a dark path through the brush back toward us.
“Brace!” I cried, and the shields on either side of me rose up to meet my own. For all the miners’ inexperience, they had risen to the challenge admirably. The flying orbs of fire broke on the wall of shields, and though I felt the heat and smelled scorching hide, nothing caught. That would not be the case for long—the air was dry, and through the smoke I could still see the elemental coming toward us. A spear of ice that glittered in the sun flew from the wall and struck it at its base, and it slowed, its progress obscured by a sudden cloud of steam.
The waves of riders circling past us, riddling our formation with arrows, had grown sparse. Long stretches of time passed between the next attack and the previous. I dared another look over the rim of my shield.
The leader of the Tribe of the Lion and Wolf was nowhere to be found. His second, Beremund, was shouting over the din and waving his bow, but none paid him any heed. And Aysulu was carrying something bloody as she rode back toward the wall.
I had little time to comprehend the image. The elemental was still raging, and it descended upon us like a tide of fire. Jahan drew his sword and hacked at it uselessly. I had learned my lesson from the salamander: If I attacked this creature, I might or might not have been able to destroy it, but I would certainly lose my axe in the process. Jahan’s polearm had burned and melted, and he had only slowed the elemental down.
Jin set down his shield and stepped out of his place in the line. With his magic sword in both hands, he rushed toward the elemental. I set the miners to chanting again, and pulled the next man closer to cover the space Jin had left. An arrow struck the ground by our feet, followed by another into the shield on my right. That danger, too, had not yet passed.
There was a sudden, deafening explosion. Scorching heat and brilliant light washed over the shield wall. I turned my head away. Our shields burned, the shafts of our spears caught fire. Jin had been thrown to the ground. When the air cleared, there was nothing left of the elemental but a scorch mark on the earth. Jin picked himself up, the smoldering remnants of his silk robe falling around him.
I dropped my burning weapons. There were still enough shields among the back lines to form up again. I was reassembling our formation when I saw the assassins.
There were four of them, dressed in their nondescript shadowy gray, their serpent-headed swords glinting at their sides. They ran soundlessly, even through the dry brush. Single file, they made for the gate.
I called out to Heishiro and took my axe from its sling on my back. I knew their purpose here: they had come once again for Khalim. But whether they intended to slay him or to capture him alive, I was not sure.
Heishiro broke from the formation. He was closer than I, and when he caught up to the assassins, two turned to face him. They drew their swords, but instead of attacking, they ran back into the brush. Heishiro gave chase.
That left two more that had reached the gate. With one last encouraging word to the shield wall, I ran to intercept them.
Riders, both ours and the reavers’, had churned up the earth of the encampment. The gate still lay on the ground where it had been felled. Arrows riddled the wall and the archery platforms behind it. I saw Roshani stumbling through the dust, leaning on Reva’s shoulder, a feathered shaft protruding from her side. Khalim emerged from the medical tent—it was, to my relief, still standing despite the chaos—and took Roshani inside.
I had sworn that nothing would harm him again. The assassins were fast, but my reach was great. The hook of my axe caught one in the back, and both turned from their pursuit to face me. I planted my feet and raised my weapon.
The first Serpent crossed both his swords above his head to deter my blow, but my rage gave me strength. My axe pushed both blades aside and buried itself into his shoulder. I pulled it free, and he fell dead.
His companion had disappeared. I held my axe in a guard, glancing around. Khalim ducked back out of the tent, accompanied by Roshani, much less pale though her clothes were still bloody. She ran away toward her post.
Khalim looked at me, and his eyes went wide.
White-hot pain shot through my left leg. For an agonizing second, I was aware of nothing else. When my senses returned, I tried to turn around, but my knee collapsed under me. I feared I had been poisoned, but it was not so. I was still awake.
The assassin had neatly hamstrung me from behind. Now he stood over my helpless form, his other blade raised for the killing blow. This weapon caught the sun with an oily sheen.
I was still disoriented. The next moment passed with agonizing slowness. I heard Khalim screaming my name, and from the corner of my eye I saw him running across the field. The Serpent’s wicked blade drew back.
“You will not touch him!”
It was Khalim’s voice, and another, deeper and booming, that echoed off the mountainside. Light flared, filling the encampment as if the sun itself had descended from the sky. It receded, leaving bright spots in my vision, and then a beam of burning light fell upon the Serpent. It engulfed him, and he was gone, leaving behind only ash and the smell of burning flesh.
I blinked, unable to clear the spots from my eyes, wondering if I had indeed seen what I thought I had.
Khalim had gone ghostly pale. He stood, still as death, staring at the place where the assassin had been.
I tried to stand, but my leg still would not hold my weight. The sight of me struggling to get up brought Khalim out of his trance. He ran to me and knelt down at my side.
“Don’t try to walk,” he said.
“What happened?” I asked.
He only shook his head.
Soon, my warriors were carrying their shields back inside the palisade. Jin and Heishiro returned dragging the other Serpents, dazed and bound. Aysulu rode in, picked up a pike from the armory, and rode back out. Alaric’s head stared lifelessly from her saddle, its jaw slack and its clouding eyes turned upward.
Jin came to help me, and between him and Khalim and my remaining good leg, I made my way to the medical tent. They lifted me onto a makeshift cot of hide stretched over wood. It creaked ominously under my weight. There were others here, being gathered from the field.
“I will be fine,” I said, though I was dizzy and sick from pain. “Look after the others.”
Khalim shook his head again, sharp and decisive. “I’m going to take care of you.” His hands were icy cold where they rested on my arm, and they shook with a perceptible tremor.
He had me turn over, and as he examined my wound, the shaking came to a stop. I lay flat on my belly, watching people move in and out of the tent. Roshani, still in her bloodstained clothes, picked up a basin and carried it out. I could see her pour the red-tinted water out on the ground and fill it with fresh water. She came back in and set it down, and began drawing sigils on the ground around it with a broken arrow. Her brother came in after with a stack of clean bedding. I knew nothing about what sort of character one would need to lead a city like Phyreios, but I thought in that moment that Jahan had been a fine choice.
“Your tendon’s been cut,” Khalim said at last. “It’s pulled halfway up your leg. If I heal you now—I’ll have to reattach it, first.” I heard him moving around, the scrape of metal tools. I turned my head but couldn’t see what he was doing.
Heishiro spoke from somewhere outside of my field of vision. “Of course it’s you who manages an injury even magic can’t heal,” he said. He placed his flask in my hand, followed by a thick strip of leather; the strap from someone’s armor.
Hot water from the basin, heated with Roshani’s spells, splashed over my wound. I downed half the flask in one swallow and put the leather between my teeth.
The first cuts to open up my flesh weren’t much worse than the initial blow had been. Then followed blinding pain, as though fire and ice were being poured into my blood in equal measure and doing nothing to counteract each other. It went on and on, the seconds stretching out into years. I was thankful for the pain, however. I had sworn that I would pay any price to keep Khalim safe. If this was what the gods had decreed I should give, then I was happy to do so.
Finally, warmth and blessed relief washed over me. I was aware of the soft sunlight glow of Khalim’s magic. I remembered, as well, what had become of the Serpent who had dealt me this injury.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I moved my toes and bent my knee, and then turned over so I could face him. There was no pain. “Much better,” I said. “Thank you.”
His fingers wrapped around mine. “Rest now.”
I did without protest, and he left my side to attend to the others. I must have slept, because it was dark the next moment I was aware, and Aysulu had come to collect me. Reva wanted us all to gather to discuss our next steps.
Khalim was still at work. I told him I would return shortly. He did not seem to hear me.
It was strange, the mix of grim solemnity and frantic merriment that filled the camp. Many had been lost, and would remain buried here away from their homes, but the battle had been a decisive victory. Until the houses loyal to the Ascended rallied their troops, Phyreios’ ability to assault our defenses was next to nothing without the reavers.
I stood before the map, beside Aysulu and Garvesh, with the Dragon Disciples on my other side. Lord Ihsad was there, with his two children, and Lord Janek and his son Artyom. We formed a half-circle around the command tent, facing Reva.
“You all fought very well,” she said. “But we must not let this victory make us complacent. We do not know when the other houses’ warriors will arrive, and neither do we know when the ritual will take place.”
“We should take this chance and assault the city,” Lord Ihsad declared, “before they can prepare. Give the Sword of Heaven to Jahan.”
Jahan nodded. “I am ready.”
“Be careful,” Jin said. One hand rested cautiously on his own sword. “Weapons such as these have wills of their own. They can affect the minds of their wielders. If you are willing to contend with it, so be it, but be vigilant.”
“We still should strike,” I said. “Sooner, rather than later. The city is fortified enough as it is, and it will only become harder to get in.”
Lord Janek tugged at his short, graying beard. “We also don’t know where or when the ritual will take place. Your mage said the worm was under the mountain, but that is quite a lot of territory. Has he learned anything else?”
Reva shook her head. “The ways of the gods are mysterious.” She went to a chest in at the back of the tent, and with slow reverence removed the sword and pulled away the cloth that was covering it. She laid it atop the map. “I saw what he did, earlier. It would be of great help if he could perform such an attack reliably.”
The lords murmured an agreement, but the ease at which Reva mentioned the magic that had taken place troubled me. I was grateful Khalim was not present to hear it.
“It was a sign,” Jahan said. “A spear from the sun.” It was the act of an old god, one for which House Darela’s team in the tournament had been named.
“Regardless, here lies the sword,” said Reva. “If you are willing and able to carry it, it is yours. I will honor the agreement made with your house.”
Jahan glanced toward his father. Ihsad gave him a nod, and he took the sword up in both hands, one on the hilt and the other holding the scabbard.
He stood perfectly still. The evening was cool, but sweat ran from his face and into his collar. We watched, and waited, not daring to make a sound.
Then he drew the Sword of Heaven. The dark metal caught the candlelight. He held it aloft, gazing steadily at it as though it were an opponent he was facing down, and then returned it to its sheath. “I am ready to serve,” he said.
Lord Ihsad let out a breath.
“Jahan has the sword. The rest of you will be tasked with delivering him to the Ascended,” said Reva. “I will go in before, and try to rally the rest of the miners and clear a path for you. I’ll take Khalim—if they won’t follow me, they will follow him.”
“I’m going with you,” I said.
“I need you with Jahan,” Reva argued.
I shook my head. “You are not taking him into that nest of vipers without me.”
She looked at me, and she must have seen that I was not to be persuaded. “Very well,” she said. “Rest tonight, and celebrate. We will finish our preparations tomorrow and leave before nightfall.”
Ihsad grasped Jahan by the shoulders, beaming with pride. Perhaps, I thought, if carrying a magic sword was all it would have taken to please my own father, I would not have left to hunt the lind-worm all those months ago. I left the tent and crossed the encampment, ignoring the festivities already taking place. Some terrible liquor, brewed of whatever the miners had been able to find in the forest, was being poured from a barrel and passed around.
I found Khalim still in the medical tent, sitting on the ground in almost complete darkness. His eyes were closed, his face lined with exhaustion. Only a few of the beds were still occupied.
“You went to another meeting without me,” he said without opening his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You were busy.”
He pushed his hair from his face and blinked a few times into the gloom. “We didn’t lose as many as I had feared.”
“That’s thanks to you.” I sat down on the ground beside him. “Are you all right?”
His arms and hands were streaked with dirt and blood. Some was on his face. He looked down at his feet. “I killed that man.”
I nodded, though I knew he couldn’t see it. “I’ve killed…dozens. I’ve lost count.”
“I know,” Khalim said. “I know it’s necessary. I don’t bear you any ill will for the life you’ve led.”
It had been my fourteenth summer when I had first slain another human being. I had stood on the fort wall, a javelin in my hand and four more in my quiver, as raiders from the next fort over descended upon the Bear Clan. I saw a young man, not much older than I, and threw, striking him full in the chest. Like Khalim, I had felt sorrow, and guilt, and fear, but there had also been pride, and the joy of the fight—things that Khalim would not have understood. We had lived such different lives before fate had brought us together.
“You’ve saved so many more,” I said, taking his hand. “The first is always hard. I hope he will also be the last.”
“I’m afraid,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
I turned to him. “Of what?”
“Of losing myself. Being someone else.”
“It was another’s voice,” I said. “Perhaps even another’s magic. That doesn’t mean that you will change.”
There was fear in his eyes when he looked at me. “But it was my body, my mouth, my words—my desire to keep you safe. What’s going to happen to me?”
I did not know—could not have known. At the time, I feared madness would claim him. I put my arms around him and held him to my chest. “You are here with me now,” I said.
Khalim was quiet. I listened to him breathe in the darkness. After a while, he asked, “How is the leg?”
“To be honest, I didn’t think I would walk again,” I confessed. “You do very good work.”
“It’s what I’m for,” he murmured.
I put my hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You don’t have to be for anything,” I told him. “You can choose whatever life you want. If you wanted to run away tonight, I would follow you anywhere.”
“I couldn’t do that,” he said. “But thank you, all the same.”
I helped him to his feet, and we went in search of food. The festivities were gathered around a table, on which sat Aysulu, and beside her, the barrel of liquor.
“I slew twelve riders,” Heishiro was saying, gesturing with a cup. “But let us not forget my brother Jin, who faced down the fiery beast!”
Over the cheer, Jin argued, “Heishiro, you’ve yet to take your vows at the temple. Strictly speaking, we are not brothers.”
Heishiro laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders. Jin had put on another robe, identical to the one he had lost. He straightened it as he gently removed Heishiro’s arm.
“And I fought Alaric and won,” said Aysulu, “and his head is on a pike outside the gate!”
The next cheer was louder. I found meat for myself and rice for Khalim, and a cup of the terrible-smelling spirits for each of us, and we sat down at the edge of the group.
“So tell me,” I said, “what is the greatest thing you’ve ever done?”
Khalim took a sip of the drink and made a face. “You first.”
“Obviously, it was fighting the salamander in the arena,” I said. “You were there.”
“I was.” He thought for a moment, and said, “When I was twelve, I delivered a baby for the first time. I had cared for the oxen and their calves before that, but this was different. The cord had wrapped around his neck, and his mother was bleeding terribly. I had never spent so much magic before. But he finally took a breath and cried, and I knew he and his mother would live, because of me. That’s the greatest thing I ever did.”
How different we were—and how much I loved him for it. “Well,” I said. “You win this one.”
Khalim laughed. It was a relief to see him smile once more.
Then he went pale. He dropped the cup he was holding and grasped me by the arm. “Eske, wait—”
The ground shook. A cry of surprise went up from the celebration, and then there was silence. Khalim’s eyes glowed, bright as two small suns.
“The worm is awake,” he said, and the voice that came from him was not Khalim’s. “There is no more time.”
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