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The harsh snows of Katali's winter had finally passed, making the roads available for Kenneth's semi-annual tour of the human territories. In years past, Kenneth had gone alone or traveled with a few lieutenants. This year, Sammie had insisted on accompanying him, though he'd warned her that he would be reading in the saddle during most of the journey and wouldn't be lively company. What she hadn't expected was the two of them would be traveling without an escort. Kenneth had explained a few lone riders would draw less attention than a contingent of men, but she suspected it was so they could have some time alone.
Sammie had been eager to escape Signet after the long winter and enjoyed Kenneth's company, though he had not exaggerated his level of distraction. Even when they were in town, when Kenneth wasn't reading various books, scrolls, correspondences, and reports, he was meeting with local law enforcement or reviewing town records. Kenneth had explained that these excursions were to keep the general updated on the status of the human territories of Kadobria, Katali, and Brasik, but she realized the prolonged rides on open roads were also to renew the weakening fae's waning store of energy after the long snow.
In the past, most of the time Sammie had spent with Kenneth was during his leisure time since he didn't consider training and studying his actual work. That he did behind closed doors with captains, lieutenants, and the general. Accompanying Kenneth on his tour gave her a chance to see him as a leader. Witnessing him with his men and seeing how quickly and completely he fit into his role as a decision maker in his father's army, made her want to be with him all the more. She still feared for his safety every time she imagined the revolution to come, but she respected his dedication and loyalty to the general and to the territories.
The early spring had been a learning and growing experience for Sammie and her relationship with Kenneth, but she was grateful when their route turned toward home again. The last few days on the road, she'd been so eager to return to Signet and tell her brother of their travels that she'd been unable to leave Kenneth alone to read the scrolls he'd gotten from the capital library in Brasik. Eventually, he'd given up and relaxed his studying to spend the last day on the road enjoying the ride and Sammie's company.
Sammie encouraged her mount closer to Kenneth's, so that she could lean over and nudge him with her elbow. "You know, you're a good teacher, if I haven't mentioned it yet."
Kenneth laughed and shook his head. "You have . . . nearly a hundred times now."
"Oh," she replied matter-of-factly. "Well. You are." She grinned when he shook his head again. "I was amazed at how quickly those lieutenants picked up on the animal call messaging system," she prattled on. "I'm not sure exactly what silva bellum is, but the ambush techniques you were showing the soldiers didn't seem to be anything you'd be able to incorporate on the open ground of the Desolate Plain."
"My father believes that is where the great battle will take place, and he is likely right, but first we must take advantage of the cover of the forest to decrease their numbers," Kenneth explained in his scholarly voice. "We have the advantage of knowing how to use the forest to hide and survive. Now we can use it to gain the advantage against an extremely aggressive foe."
Sammie laughed, recognizing the tone he used with his men. "Hm. Well, you're good," she declared again, glowing with the excitement of their homecoming. "Everyone picked it up really fast. I don't think anyone looked confused or lost."
Kenneth smiled over at her. "You just have to know what combinations of words and materials will best translate your knowledge efficiently to a larger variety of students."
Sammie grinned, listening to his verbose explanation. She loved listening to him, and often encouraged conversations she knew would lead to one of his monologues.
"Everyone's most efficient method for processing and storing new information is different, so a good instructor has to arrange a course of study that will accommodate every student."
Sammie leaned over again, almost losing her balance, and kissed him. "I love it when you talk so technically," she purred. Kenneth didn't appreciate open affection when they were in the company of others, but he became someone else when they were alone. His protective shell of knowledge and indifference softened, and he let himself laugh and smile, sharing a part of himself she was certain no one else ever saw. "I've never met anyone as clever as you," she praised with mock sincerity, though she meant what she said. "I'm so glad you decided it was a wise decision to propose to me." Kenneth gave a tolerant sigh, and she laughed.
"You can thank the general for that," Kenneth replied. "It hadn't occurred to me how you felt, until he made a point of analyzing our relationship."
Sammie giggled. "Then I shall!" she declared, sitting rigid in the saddle like a soldier at attention. "Father! General! Sir! Thank you for analyzing our relationship in favor of marriage." She nodded respectfully to the air, and Kenneth laughed.
"You are brazen like no other," he observed, his eyes glittering.
"Hm, I hope you like that, because I don't know how to turn it off."
This time it was Kenneth who leaned over to kiss her, though he had his wings to act as a counterbalance and keep him steady. "I like everything about you. I like it all. The whole sum."
Sammie smiled and wrapped her arms awkwardly around his neck to kiss him more deeply. Their horses pranced nervously, not appreciating their flanks brushing, and Sammie nearly fell again.
Kenneth held her steady, chuckling. "You need riding lessons."
"Gladly, wise instructor." She drew away to mock-bow in the saddle.
Kenneth shook his head, looking forward again. "I didn't mean from me. I'm not . . ." His smile disappeared, and he lifted his feet out of the stirrups and jumped up to stand on top of his saddle. His wings arched open for balance while he craned his neck higher to see more clearly through the canopy.
"What?" Sammie followed his gaze to the tree cover, the hair instantly rising on the nape of her neck at his show of alarm.
"Smoke. A lot of it."
"What?" She looked anxiously at the few patches of sky she could see through the canopy, trying to see what he saw. Her heart skittered wildly, and her chest stiffened sharply with fear.
Kenneth held his hand out to her. "The road may not be safe. I cannot let you ride in alone, but I have to look into this."
Sammie glanced down at her gelding, her hands suddenly shaking. "But—"
"They'll be fine. I would gladly lose two fine horses and some gear, if I can be helpful to someone in need."
Sammie swallowed and nodded nervously at his commanding tone. She took his hand, climbing clumsily onto her own saddle. Were it not for her palm in his, she would have pitched to the ground.
"Step over and get into my arms. I think there is a break in the trees ahead."
Sammie held her breath and crossed over, practically falling into his open arms, her heart pounding fiercely in her ears. He'd taken her flying a few times now, but they'd always dropped into a glide from a precipice. Kenneth's wings arched an amazing eight feet from tip to tip, but she'd never seen him launch from a standing position. She bit her lip nervously and looked away, her eyes finding a familiar old tree easily recognizable by its gnarled trunk. Her stomach knotted as she realized how close to home they were. She looked up into Kenneth's stern, focused gaze and immediately understood his alarm. She let him lift her legs and wrapped her arms around his neck. She tucked herself close to him to make her weight as manageable as possible and held herself as still as she could.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I'll ever be," she answered, breathless and on the brink of tears.
Kenneth's white wings snapped open their full length, forming a near-circle at his back six feet in diameter. Sammie felt him stiffen and roll his shoulders back. He crouched as his wings lifted high. When he launched upward, his wings thrust downward, folded, lifted, opened, and thrust downward again. At first the movement was abrupt and disarming and Sammie gasped. It took all of her strength to keep from tightening her grip around Kenneth's neck. After twenty or so rapid beats, she was able to force her eyes open, and saw that they were at least forty feet above the road, rounding the top of the tallest trees. She was amazed at the power and strength Kenneth was displaying, though he was clearly at the limit of his physical strength, sweat already standing out on his brow. His jaw was set, and his brow was furrowed with concentration.
"Scan the trees," Kenneth grunted between beats.
Sammie turned her head as best she could without adjusting her weight too much. "What am I . . ." The horizon to the northwest was filled with black smoke. Pillars of rising murk stood alone in the far distance, but mostly a city-wide expanse of black blotted out the sky. "Oh . . . oh God."
Kenneth bowed at the waist, and his wings opened, dropping them into a glide. Sammie gasped in surprise at the brief falling sensation. "Look for anything that stands out," he directed. "Movement, mostly." Kenneth stayed close to the trees, manipulating the tilt and shape of all four wings to use the wind to his best advantage. "We're in the open, vulnerable to attack. Also, look for survivors."
Sammie's blood went cold. Survivors. "Oh God," she breathed, feeling sick. Her body was now suspended above the trees, so she no longer had to crane her neck to see down to the ground. Every muscle in her body felt stiff and unresponsive as she frantically searched the forest for any movement. The harder she looked, the more frightened she became. Then it occurred to her why the empty canopy was so terrifying. "No . . . no birds. No animals . . ."
"No people," Kenneth confirmed dourly. "Look at the leaves."
"Brown? They look . . . sick." They were closer to the outskirts of Signet now, and the smoke was beginning to burn Sammie's throat. "But . . . the fire." Kenneth nodded, and Sammie looked at the buildings in the distance. The fire hadn't touched the forest, but the trees were wilted and dying.
"Sorcery," he explained. "It withers the vegetation."
Sammie gasped, tears stinging her eyes from the smoke and from a sudden pang of fear. "Brendan! We have to find him! And the general!"
Kenneth's jaw tightened, and he dipped toward the forest, landing in a small clearing just outside of town. "You should hide." He lowered her legs to the discolored grass. "I will find you when—"
"No! I'm coming!" she shrieked, alarmed at the shrill desperation in her voice. She wasn't going to be left behind while he went into a battlefield alone, and she wasn't going to hide when her brother or her father could be hurt and in need of her. "I can fight!" she insisted, calming her panic with several deep breaths. "And I have as much training as you do in herb working and healing, if not more. I can help with the wounded." She lifted her chin sharply. She would control her fear, and she would help Kenneth save any survivors. "I'm coming," she declared. He started to object, but she turned resolutely toward the city and began walking.
"Quietly," he whispered, catching up. "The sorcerers might still be here."
She rolled her sleeves up to keep them from catching, grateful for the stiff riding trousers and soft boots she'd been wearing. She stepped lightly and tried not to disturb the underbrush, as Kenneth had taught her when they were hunting. The air was thick with smoke before she could make out buildings. It burned her lungs, and she had to fight the need to cough.
Kenneth stopped her and tore a strip from his backless tunic to cover her mouth and nose. "What about you?" she whispered, adjusting the mask for maximum efficiency.
"Smoke doesn't bother me unless it completely overwhelms the air." He took the lead, and they emerged from the trees behind one of Signet's many bakeries. They couldn't see anything through the smoke and darkness of the alley until they reached the main street. The road was a battlefield, littered with the bodies of old men, women, and children. Most of the buildings were smoldering ruins, and over the smoke, the smell of rot and seared flesh staggered them.
Sammie clawed the mask off of her face and vomited in the alley, unconsciously howling in anguish.
Kenneth gripped her shoulder. "Shh, Sammie," he breathed against her ear. "Be quiet."
She retched again, but nodded through her tears. The sight had been so horrible that she couldn't process it. In a moment, she would turn around and the corpses of her friends would be gone, a terrible vision, a nightmare. But when she glanced back at the main thoroughfare, they remained, black, bloody, and lifeless. She turned her back to the horrific site, stifling her sobs in the mask she had been wearing.
Kenneth stayed by her side and rubbed her back, but his eyes were fixed on the street, looking for any kind of movement that would reveal life. He leaned down and whispered in her ear again. "I don't want to leave you alone, but I have to look for survivors . . . for the general and your family."
She stood, shaking so violently that her teeth were chattering. "W-why d-don't you-? How can you b-be so calm?"
Kenneth kissed her forehead. "I'm not," he assured her.
She saw a sharpness in his eyes, a set to his features that sent a shudder down her spine. She would never have imagined she could see such terrifying malice in his eyes, yet his face seemed stern and controlled. He held his hand out to her, and she hesitated a moment before letting him lead her into the street.
"Don't look," he told her.
"No." She swallowed back her revulsion, and forced her eyes to focus. "I'm looking for signs of life," she said through her teeth, trying desperately not to be sick again. Her hands were shaking as she went from body to body, feeling for a pulse, looking for breath, listening for moans or sobs.
Kenneth paused after only a few feet into the street. Sammie looked up at him through her silent tears. "What?"
"No one here is a soldier."
She looked more closely at the faces she'd been avoiding. "Oh, God! All women . . . children. There aren't—"
"This wasn't a battle." He scanned the pack of bodies, his voice calm in the face of so much horror. "The battle took place somewhere else. This was a massacre." Kenneth's hands clenched at his sides, his eyes smoldered red, and flames began flickering along his wings. "This was many hours ago, perhaps a day. The enemy just left them here to rot."
"Kenneth, look!" She pointed to the door of the general's headquarters, where a young guardsman hung, tent stakes driven through his wrists and into the wood.
Kenneth leapt over the bodies in the street, using his wings to close the distance to the guard more quickly. "Blain! Officer Blain, can you hear me?"
At Kenneth's voice, the young man looked up, his face filthy and streaked with tears. His eyes suddenly rounded in mad despair. Sammie swallowed hard, reaching the boy only a moment later. She looked at his wrists nailed to the door, the blood old and his fingers grayed to the knuckles. He would lose his fingers, maybe his hands.
"T-they made me . . ." Blain stuttered, choking on his sobs.
"Shh." Kenneth examined the nails. "We're getting you down, Blain."
"They made me watch!" the boy screamed, staring unblinking at Kenneth. "Oh God! They killed everyone! Everyone but me!" he shrieked. "They found them in the woods, the safe houses. Everyone. And I watched! I couldn't help! I tried! Oh, God I tried! I couldn't get the nails out!"
Sammie wrapped her arms around the boy's neck, and he wept against her. "No, Blain, stop," she pleaded, crying with him. "You couldn't do anything," she whispered, holding his head against her shoulder as he wailed into the fabric of her shirt. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"A message," the boy whispered to her. He pulled away, his eyes shifting to Kenneth. "He made me live to deliver a message." Kenneth looked from the boy's ruined hands to his face. "High Commander Jellen said he hoped to find the Wolf and the Cub asleep in their den, but was glad one of you lived." Blain's seemingly calm delivery of the message turned Sammie's stomach. How many times had they made him repeat it? "He said that he's tired of waiting. Strike at him with all you have, or he will go through the territories and destroy them city by city until you do." Blain shuddered and looked downward. "He . . . he put something in my pocket."
Sammie reached into the boy's pockets and found a folded sheet of heavy parchment. She stared at it for a moment before handing it to Kenneth. A disturbing numbness was stealing over her at the pain and death surrounding them. She wasn't sure what frightened her more, the fact that she was less bewildered by the evil around them, or that she was grateful she was less impaired as time went on.
"What is it?" She didn't want to know, but she had to ask.
"It reads that I will find the general and the military force of Signet to the north," Kenneth replied quietly, his fingers shaking ever so slightly. "The general surrendered to save the city, but High Commander Sorcerer Lord Jellen does not deliver mercy. Only death." The letter burst into flame, and Kenneth calmly let it fall to the ground. "Blain, I'm going to find something to pry your hands free. Sammie will stay—"
"I can't feel them," Blain blurted out, his voice cracking. "They hurt, my wrists, so much, so very much! But I can't feel my fingers!" He shook his head wildly. "I can't move them!" Tears sprang from his eyes anew.
Kenneth put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing sympathetically. "I know." He turned to Sammie. "You know he will start to bleed again when we remove the nails. You can bandage him, but I can stop the blood loss and heal what yet lives." His jaw tightened slightly. "We will work one hand at a time, and you will need to remove the nails and support his weight." Sammie nodded stiffly at his quiet directions.
Blain bowed his head and cried. Sammie held him and tried to comfort him while Kenneth found a pry bar to remove the spikes. She'd been trained to deal with serious wounds like this, and she was sure she could handle bandaging them after he'd healed what could be saved. She hadn't known that Kenneth knew any healing magic, but she was grateful he did. With wounds such as Blain's, where amputation was needed, healing after the amputation was the surest way to prevent infection and to ensure recovery. Of course, it would cost Kenneth. He would have to use his own strength, and it would make him vulnerable to the sorcery taint around them. Sammie bit her lip and bowed her head.
"Blain," she whispered. "I'm going to pray to the One God. I'm going to pray for you and for Kenneth." His response was an ebb in his crying. "He will answer me, Blain. He will protect you and Kenneth. He will see that you recover from this, and I will help you. I promise." She leaned back to meet his widened eyes. "You have to promise me that you will be brave," she insisted. "You will be strong and overcome what has happened here. You will live your life." He stared at her, his chest still shuddering. "Promise me."
He swallowed and nodded, his eyes softening as tears sprang fresh. "O-okay."
She held him against her again. "Then I promise I will see you through this," she repeated. "I promise I will help you live. Your life doesn't end here; it begins." She took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm going to pray now. You don't have to join me if you don't want to."
"C . . ." he choked out. "Can we pray f-for everyone?"
She leaned back and smiled sadly. "Yes."
* * *
Blain was finally asleep; the concoction that Kenneth had given him to ease the pain had also lulled him. Sammie hugged her legs, rocking slowly back and forth. She'd been crying all day, and though her dismay had not lessened, her body was too drained to sob anymore. Only the silent tears still constantly spilling down her cheeks spoke of her pain. Studying herb working hadn't prepared her for anything like this.
"We can't bury this many," Kenneth whispered. After they'd gotten Blain down, he'd spent the day flying from building to building. Blain had clung to Sammie as they'd walked the streets calling for survivors. She'd offered to leave Blain in the general's headquarters, which seemed strangely untouched, but he'd insisted he could walk. Though she suspected he was on the brink insanity, he'd walked the length of the city with her three times over and called out along with her until his voice ran out. They had found no one else alive. "We will have to burn them."
"Why aren't you crying?" she asked, a little harshly. Her voice was cracked and spent, but the question had needed asked. All day, though they'd witnessed unspeakable terrors, he hadn't shed a single tear. It disturbed and frightened her, his eerie calm.
"I'm too angry to cry," he replied. The frigid edge to his voice was so unnerving that Sammie looked away. He was hard, cold, and calculating. She was seeing a facet to him that she never had before, and it scared her.
"What will you do?"
"Burn the dead, summon an army, the army, and destroy Jellen," he answered quietly. "Then his master."
"But—"
"There is no going back," Kenneth said, lifting his narrow gaze to her over the fire they'd constructed to ward off the night's chill. "My mother, uncle, and father . . . your father and brother . . . all of Signet . . . all killed by those monsters." He shook his head, his gaze falling to the flames. "Father was right. I cannot live in a world where they are permitted to rule."
Sammie looked down. "I'm frightened, Kenneth," she confessed, her vision blurring again. "Everyone is gone. Everyone I loved. All I have is you." She sat forward, clutching the fabric of her trousers in spite of the blood and soot she could feel under her fingers. She was desperate to get through to him, to bring him back from the terrible place he had gone. "I don't want you to go!"
His eyes lifted to hers and his brow furrowed into a frown, but the sharp savageness was gone. "You said you would never ask me to deny my duty."
"That was before. I was foolish, stupid!" She shook her head, openly weeping at the fear of losing him to the terrible men that had slaughtered everyone in Signet. She couldn't imagine losing him to that nightmare. She couldn't imagine him broken, bleeding, and burnt like the bodies littering the streets. She couldn't live, knowing he was suffering. "Kenneth, please stay with me! Don't go to war!" She folded on herself. "Oh, God, Kenneth! I want them to pay! I want them to suffer and scream for what they did to Brendan, to Blain, to everyone. But please! Don't go!"
Kenneth moved over next to her and drew her into his arms. "I have to," he consoled, his voice gentle and loving. Sammie leaned into him, weeping in fear. The Kenneth she loved had come back, and she needed him. She needed him to stay with her.
"You heard the message," he reminded her. "He meant it. Everyone he kills from this day on is dead because of me." Sammie looked down, and Kenneth kissed the top of her head. "He won't stop. He will destroy more lives, raze other cities. I have to stop him, Sammie. You know I do." He sighed quietly and rocked her. "When I go to rouse the troops, you should stay with Blain. He'll need a familiar face to survive what's happened to him."
Sammie clenched her teeth. She couldn't stop him. She couldn't deny the horrible truth he was speaking. She looked up and nodded through her tears. "Please come back to me, my love," she begged. "Please, please come back to me."
Kenneth's eyes glittered with unshed tears, and he lifted her chin to gently kiss her lips. When he drew away she could breathe once more, and she could almost believe anything he said.
"I promise," he whispered.