81

Marcus

We dismount at the gates of Asyleen, standing alert, horses by our sides. I take a few steps forward, wishing again that Ash was here to translate. Even Larseen would be better than nothing. “I am Marcus Adicio, the Bone Gatherer of Baiseen. We have come seeking counsel with High Savant Zanovine.” I address the gate guards formally, and with more authority than an ex-heir or a yellow-robe has a right to, but my attention is drawn away before I can say more.

There’s a loud crack, like the ground splitting, followed by a high-pitched screech. My hand goes to the hilt of my sword. “Was that a phantom?” I turn to Samsen and Piper and ask.

“Maybe, but whatever, or whoever, it is, something is terribly wrong,” Samsen replies.

Before the wail stops, the ground begins to shake. The sky darkens as hundreds of blackbirds lift off the palace rooftop. They coo and flap overhead, not seeming to know which way to go.

Tyche puts her hands over her ears.

“What is this?” I turn back to the gate guards. “An earthquake?”

The most worrying thing is the Sierrak guards are as alarmed as we are. They don’t answer and the formality of our interview dissolves. Orders are shouted over the sounds of turmoil, all in Sierrak.

I can’t follow. Without Kaylin or Ash, none of us can. The horses act out, rearing and snorting. They mince side to side, picking up on our panic and the trembling ground. My mare lets out a shrill whinny and tries to bolt. “Mount up,” I call to the others. It’s the best way to control the animals, and we can’t afford to lose them.

I swing up into the saddle and shorten my reins. Tyche’s black pony paws the air, dumping her hard on the ice. I hold my mare to a shivering standstill and stretch my hand down. “Get up, Tyche. Get up!”

She grabs on tight as I pull her up behind me. Samsen’s mount lurches, trying to follow the pony. It slams into the piebald’s rump and Piper’s horse starts bucking. Crazed birds still fill the sky. Have they lost all sense of direction? Some whisk over our heads as the tower bells start to ring. The wind rises, whipping us with icy needles.

“This way,” the guard calls in Palrion, waving frantically. “Into the courtyard.”

We ride through the gates of Asyleen, a sanctuary so foreign in design that I feel I am in another world. A world that’s falling apart. “Surely this is not an everyday occurrence to them.”

Samsen’s and Piper’s eyes are wide. “Can’t be,” Piper says. “Look at their eyes.”

She’s right. They are all filled with fear.

As the high gate swings closed behind us, a single thought flitters through my mind amid the panic. Kaylin will keep Ash safe. At least for once, she isn’t in the thick of trouble.