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  “We ran,” Iola said. “When runners returned to the camp with news that the battle was going badly, we packed up the wounded in carts and started away.”

  “It was Iola, Majesty.” Captain Drathan looked odd without his weapons. His left arm was held in a sling, and he had a few other scrapes, but otherwise he appeared hale and whole. “She organized the retreat. Without her, many more would have perished.”

  Iola blushed at his words, and Josey had to fight back a laugh born of relief. But her gaiety ended when she looked to the woodsmen roaming around the camp.

  “They're not sure what to do with us,” a gruff voice said.

  Josey turned and hugged its owner. “Master Hirsch! I thought I'd lost you, too!”

  The adept disengaged himself as politely as possible, hissing softly as he peeled away from her. Through several rents in his shabby coat she saw white dressings, spotted with blood in a few places. “Oh, Hirsch! I'm sorry. Are you all right?”

  “I'll live. At least a little longer.”

  “Hirsch, what happened? Those explosions-”

  “Aye, lass. Sorcery. A little surprise we weren't expecting.”

  Josey's pulse thumped in her ears as she thought back to her experiences with Caim and his strange abilities. She lowered her voice. “Hardly just a little surprise, Master Hirsch. The invaders destroyed my army, killed hundreds of our soldiers, and eradicated the only thing standing between them and Nimea's heartlands. As catastrophes go, I'd say this was a major one.”

  A shadow passed over the adept's face as he bent down to the fire. “The enemy commander was very strong in the Art.”

  Josey knelt beside him. The heat felt wondrous on her hands and face. “Stronger than you?”

  “It's difficult to say. His sorcery had no structure, no internal logic that I could fathom.”

  “But you can defeat him, right?”

  “I don't know, lass. Perhaps I could devise a way, with time.”

  Something we don't have.

  Josey breathed into her hands as she looked around the camp. Woodsmen stood and sat wrapped in fur cloaks, looking cold and a little malnourished, and nothing like the fearsome troops that had routed her army.

  Captain Drathan and Brian came over to the fire. “Majesty,” Brian whispered. “We have a plan. If we can get you onto my horse, your men and I will handle the guards and-”

  “No,” she cut him off. “No one else is going to risk their life for me.”

  “Majesty!” Captain Drathan's mouth hung open. “Your safety is our only priority. These men are dangerous.”

  “These are the Eregoths my father feared,” Brian said. “Savages more practiced at rape and pillage than warfare. There's no telling what they are capable of.”

  Josey shook her head. “I said no. Now swear to me you won't do anything without my permission.”

  Captain Drathan frowned, but he jerked his chin up and down in a firm nod. Brian just looked at her. Josey stared back. “Swear it, or leave my service now.”

  “I swear,” Brian said, his lips drawn back in a thin line.

  A guardsman hissed, and Josey stood up as Keegan approached with a few of his men. “My lady,” the young man said. “Will you come with me?”

  Captain Drathan started to intercede, with Brian right behind him, but Josey held out a hand. “No. It's all right.”

  She followed the enemy leader away from the fire. A tall man in rawhide pants and vest brought them steaming cups. Josey accepted without asking what it was. The smell rising from the steam was horrible, but she didn't care. Just wrapping her fingers around the hot cup was a blessing.

  Keegan watched her while he took a sip. His nose was a trifle too thin and pointed at the end. The bristles of new beard growth hid a soft chin, lending him the look of a young wolf. The pink half-moon scar carved into his left cheek was recent. “It's mulled mead.”

  Josey nodded and took a sip. The drink was actually quite good with a strong taste of honey, and it warmed her insides.

  “Your war leader made a mistake,” he said. “Offering battle like that. You didn't have the numbers.”

  “How astute.” Josey allowed herself to glare, just a little. “You named yourself high captain of Eregoth, but the last I heard that land was ruled by a duke. Please don't tell me I've been captured by some upstart tribal chieftain's son with dreams of grandeur.”

  The youth drained his cup and set it aside. “Duke Erric is dead. Eregoth is free once more, no longer in thrall to the Eviskines, nor to her Nimean overlords of old.”

  “Is that why you've invaded my country? To wreak vengeance on your old masters?”

  Now it was his turn to frown. “We're no invaders. We've come for the Thunder Lord.”

  “Who?”

  “The one who bears this symbol.” He dug into his jacket and pulled out a scrap of black cloth. A fist holding a lightning bolt was stitched into the fabric. “He's a northern warlord named Talus. Some say he's a sorcerer, and I believe it, too, after what I've seen.”

  Josey recalled the battle, the explosions tearing out huge chunks of the earth, littering the field with corpses and flying stones. “What are you trying to tell me? That you've come all this way, trespassing on my country, to attack the northerners that just crushed my army with…” She gestured around the clearing. The Eregoths numbered fifty at most. “Just these few?”

  Keegan put away the bit of fabric. “There's more of us around. We keep separated to make our camps harder to find.”

  Josey fought the impulse to nod. It was smart thinking. An army, while stronger on the field, wasn't as nimble as a small raiding party like this. “Why? Why risk your lives to help us?”

  “We're not here to help you. We've come to avenge our dead. The Thunder Lord attacked our homes and killed our people.” He snapped his fingers. “With his army and his magic, he took Liovard in a single night.”

  Keegan pointed to the men around the camp. “These, and a few patrols, are all that remain of my warriors. We escaped the slaughter and hid to lick our wounds. But we are good at lying low. When the Uthenorians left the city, we followed. All these leagues south we've been nipping at their heels. Striking at their flanks. Burning their supply wagons. We cannot meet the Thunder Lord in open battle, as you tried to do, but every time he swats at us, we melt away to come at him another way.”

  Josey considered that. If she had more men and enough horses, they could do the same thing, but on a larger scale. Tears threatened to form as she thought of all the people who had died. I should have known better. I should have overruled Argentus. Those men could still be alive today.

  He interrupted her thoughts. “You are truly the Empress?”

  Josey wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yes. For now, at least. I thought you were part of the invading army. Scouts, maybe. I don't know. But it doesn't matter. When this warlord-Talus-reaches Othir, it will be too late.”

  Keegan's brow furrowed into thin creases. “A man once told me I could trust the Empress of Nimea. He said she had a good heart.”

  Josey wanted to laugh to dispel the pain in her chest. “I'm sorry. I don't think I know anyone from Eregoth.”

  “He wasn't from Eregoth. I mean, he was, but he hadn't lived there in a long time. But he came back to-well, I shouldn't be telling his business. But he was a good man despite his rather ill look-”

  Hope fluttered in Josey's stomach as she listened to the youth's rambling explanation. She didn't dare to believe it, but perhaps. Just perhaps. “What was his name?”

  “Caim Du'Vartha.”

  Josey stared for several breaths, unable to believe it.

  “You know of him, my lady?”

  She laughed and threw the contents of her cup into the fire. The liquid hissed and made a cloud of steam. She looked over to Drathan and Brian, who watched her with startled expressions. “Caim's alive!” she shouted.

  Josey moved around the fire pit and took Keegan's hand. “He is, isn't he?
Alive?”

  His eyes had gone as wide as double-weight golden royals. “Yes. Well, he was when I last saw. He left us after the battle. The first battle, that is.” He paused, and his voice thickened. “He saved us, my lady. He saved us all.”

  Josey wanted to sing. “He's good at that. Please, tell me everything. Every detail!”

  While the night fled and the sun rose from behind the trees, Josey listened to the tale of Caim's involvement in Eregoth's war of independence. The whole time, she wanted to pinch herself. Caim was alive.

  “Where is he now?” she asked when Keegan had finished telling about the sacking of the duke's keep in Liovard.

  “He went north the day after we won our freedom. Following some fool quest.” Keegan lifted his open hands. “He could have been duke. He could have called himself a king for all we cared. But he left, and took three of my best warriors with him. He could be all the way into the northern wastes by now.”

  Still chasing after his mother's ghost. Caim, if you get yourself killed before I can reach you, I'll…I'll… She laughed to herself. He was safe. She knew it in her heart. Oh, gods. Or Holy Prophet. Whoever rules the heavens, I thank you for this.

  She tried to stifle her elation. What mattered now was the welfare of her people. And she had the inkling of an idea. “Keegan, what if the invaders reach Othir?”

  “It's a big city?”

  “Yes. It's the largest city in Nimea, rivaling Taralon, Firenna, or even the city-states of Altaia. It has two sets of walls and several fortresses inside them.”

  His eyes narrowed into slits as he stared into the fire. “That will make things…difficult. It would be hard to reach the Thunder Lord if he were to take such a well-defended position. But we will still have our revenge.”

  “What if there was a way to attack him now? With more force than you've been able to bring to bear?”

  “You mean to join forces.”

  Josey smiled. He wasn't as backward as he looked. She could see why Caim had left him in charge. “Exactly. More of my soldiers may have survived the battle, and reinforcements are being assembled as we speak. If we combined our strength, we could give this Thunder Lord a real war.”

  He shook his head. “We are done with Nimean rulers and Nimean troubles. We will do this our way. Alone.”

  “Keegan, listen to me. I understand how you and your people must feel-”

  “No, my lady. I don't think you do. We have been slaves to your empire for four generations. We fought for our freedom, and won it, only to see it trampled by one of our own. Now that we are free again-truly free-we'll never go back to that life. We'd rather die to the last man.”

  Josey stood up. All eyes in the camp turned to her. She took a breath and steadied her nerves, fully aware that the future of her nation might well depend on what she did here. “I hereby pledge, as empress and sole ruler of Nimea, that if you and your warriors assist us in this time of need, henceforth Eregoth shall be a free and independent nation, subject to her own laws, creator of her own destiny, for now and all time. I so swear by my crown, and by all the emperors who have ruled before me.”

  Keegan opened his mouth, and then closed it. Then he stood up with her. “My father once told me only a fool turns down a piece of bread when he's starving. We'll fight with you, my lady. And we'll hold you to your end of the bargain when it's done.”

  He ordered her soldiers freed and their weapons returned, and then he left to look to his own men. Josey stood by the fire, wrapped in her thoughts. I hope I did the right thing. It felt right, but I wish Hubert were here.

  “That was smartly done, lass,” Hirsch said. “Now, what are you planning to do with your new allies?”

  “I'm going to use them to bleed the enemy, Master Hirsch. I'm going to bleed the invaders every step of the way until they leave our lands or fall dead on Othir's doorstep.”

  She gazed over at Brian where he stood with a group of her bodyguards. But what am I going to do with you, sir?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The colorless void transformed into black granite ceiling and walls as Balaam emerged from the portal. Stale odors met him in the great room. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, but a chill lingered in the air.

  He heard the pad of the servant girl's bare feet in the hall. She paused at the doorway, staring at him with her large, pale eyes. “Send for your mistress,” he said.

  Balaam collapsed into his chair facing the fireplace while he waited. His hands caressed its supple leather arms. He was hungry, but just the thought of feeding made him ill. He rubbed his hands together, feeling the grit in the creases of his skin, the tiny flakes of blood that broke into smaller and smaller fragments. Deumas had been a good soldier, a good comrade, until she tried to escape her fate. None of us will leave this world alive.

  Would he be allowed to end his own life with honor? Or would he be fed to the gateway like the Master's daughter? The thought sickened him. That was no way for a warrior to die.

  His wife entered the room, and for a moment Balaam saw her as he had the first time they met half a century ago, when he visited her father's estate as part of his Master's entourage. She had been a maiden in the first blush of womanhood. She was still a young woman, still lovely, but something had changed. It was her eyes, he decided. They had lost their luster, dulled from all the lotus pollen, or perhaps because of him. It could not be easy to be wed to a killer.

  “You're back,” she said. Her tone was even duller than her eyes. She could have been talking to a slave, or a wall.

  “I've come to see you.” Balaam stopped before he added the words “one last time.” He wasn't sure why he spared her that. He wanted to tell her about the failure he'd suffered, and the price he might be forced to pay, but instead he leaned back in the chair and watched the shadows ooze along the stones.

  Dorcas came closer, but stopped at the edge of a low table. Platinum cubes of differing sizes were arranged artfully on the black lacquer finish. “You look tired.”

  Silence grew in the space between them until he couldn't stand it any longer. “I have been given a mission, and it's possible I won't be coming back.”

  “That's foolish talk. You'll be back. You always come back.”

  “I have provided for you.” It was easier now that he'd said that much. The rest was just details. “Go to Catolus in Hveifeld and tell him to-”

  “No.” She came around the table. The folds of her long turquoise gown moved, showing the flatness of her stomach, the lean length of her legs against the fabric. “Balaam, stop it.”

  “He is holding money for you. When I'm gone-”

  “No!” She stood just outside the reach of his arm now. Her eyes were red and swollen, but alive like he hadn't seen in so long. Ah, Dorcas. Would that we could have seen this day coming and lived our lives another way.

  “If you're afraid, don't go, Balaam. Give up your post. You've done enough.”

  He released a long breath and felt his chest collapse. Couldn't she see how he longed to do just that? “It is my duty.”

  “Your duty.” She scoffed, making it sound obscene. “What of your duty to me? All those promises you made when you asked for my hand. Were they all lies?”

  “No.” He lowered his head into his hands. “But I was naive. I'm lost, Dorcas. Everything I've done, my whole life, is wasted.”

  She touched his shoulder, as lightly as a bird settling on a branch. He smelled the acrid bite of the lotus pollen on her breath. It should have infuriated him, but he was too tired to fight. “Nonsense. You have me.”

  “I let her go, Dorcas.”

  “Who? The scion?”

  Balaam slammed his fist onto the chair arm, making her jump. “No! Deumas fled. I found her in a dingy roadhouse in Illmyn. I could have ended it then. I could have done my duty. But I let her go.”

  His wife knelt beside him. “Balaam, you must go to court and explain. You cannot be blamed for someone else's cowardice. You must convince the Mas
ter.”

  Balaam stood up and stepped closer to the hearth, away from her. “There will be no forgiveness. I will face the consequences for my failure. You must leave Erebus.”

  “Leave? Where would I go? This is my home.”

  He thought back to the seas of the Shadowlands. The quiet roar of the waves lapping against the black sands. “If I wanted to leave, would you come with me?”

  Dorcas stood up, too, her drawn eyebrows pinched together. There was something in her gaze, something he hadn't seen in a long time. Concern. She's frightened. She finally sees what lies ahead for us.

  Then she smiled. “Were you following me today? I thought I felt your presence earlier when I went out.”

  “No, I only just return-” He turned to her. “Where did this happen?”

  “Just outside the citadel. I thought it might have been you following me. Balaam, what has you so upset?”

  Balaam seized her by the arms. “Tell me exactly where. What time did this happen?”

  “The gates! Right outside the gates! Stop, you're hurting me!”

  It was him. It had to be. The scion has come to Erebus.

  When his wife had given him all the details she could remember, few as they were, he released her, and she ran from the room. From the doorway, her servant girl watched with a cold stare before following her mistress. A door slammed.

  Balaam ignored the sobs and condemnations echoing from his wife's chamber. This could be his redemption, but he had to act swiftly. First, he had to eliminate all other possibilities. There were few Shadowfolk dwelling in Erebus. He had to question them. He had to be sure. There would be no second chance.

  He went to a window and pushed back the shade. The citadel below was black except for the torches of a sentry patrol on the lower ward. Where was the scion hiding? Where would he go? Balaam considered what he would do if their roles were reversed.

  He looked to the darkened hallway that led to his wife's suite. Then he left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The wind tousled Kit's hair as she gazed across the crystal-blue waters. The sun stood in its customary spot, somewhere between midmorning and noon, never wavering.