RAKEL
Nisai sits atop his horse, flanked by Kip and several Aphorain soldiers. He holds a spyglass pressed up to one eye, intently watching the other side of the parched plain.
“Do you think his brother would have listened?” I ask Barden.
He spreads his hands. “I’m not sure what he’ll do. Though Nisai holds out hope.”
“Can you see anything?” I try not to sound as frustrated as I am. I’ve got no chance of making out details at this distance. Everything that far away is still blurred.
“It looks like something’s happening, but…”
“No,” Nisai chokes.
Finally, I catch movement. A horse. Bolting across the plain towards us. Its distinct markings come into focus. There’s no doubting it’s the same one that had drawn Iddo’s chariot.
I move out to meet it before Barden can stop me, steering Lil with my thighs, arms held wide. Directly in its path, I call out to the frightened animal. For a moment, I think it won’t stop. That it will charge straight into us. But at the last chance it slows to a canter. Then a trot. A toss of its head.
I start Lil into a walk, so that when both horses meet we’re not in a direct confrontation. Making soothing noises, I move in from the side and take hold of its bridle, gathering the reins in my fist and leading it back into the ranks.
I hand it off to one of the soldiers. “Take it out of harm’s way.”
If only we could do the same.
I thread Lil back to Barden. He looks at me sadly. It tells me all I need to know.
And across the battlefield, Zostar’s forces have begun their march.
I give the signal.
Off to each side behind us, archers raise bows nocked with flaming arrows. They let fly, finding their targets. For a moment, nothing happens. And then there’s a low whoosh as the first sulphur pools out towards the centre of the battleground – now laced with a yeb balm and cooking oil mix – ignite. A column of green-stained flame leaps from each pool to the sky, before settling back down to the surface, setting the pools to simmering.
Steam-smoke begins to rise as the leading line of Zostar’s soldiers approach the first pools. Shouts of irritation ring out – no doubt the smoke stings eyes and lungs. But it’s not the soldiers that we most need it to protect against.
When I’d found Sephine’s recipe for the shadow ceremony back in the Aphorain temple, I hadn’t realized what I’d truly discovered. Unlike the braziers during the ceremony where I tried to free Ash permanently from Doskai’s influence, those pools don’t have any Scent Keeper elixir in them to channel shadow. But here on the battlefield, I’m desperately hoping the sulphurous smoke will have a similar effect in the temple – dampening Doskai’s reach – preventing the full devastation of his Children being released.
The weapon all this time was those who could wield scentlore.
Scent Keeper.
Shadow Keeper.
They are one and the same.
And all we have is me. And Yaita. Because the very Order who was supposed to stop this from happening would rather play their own power games in their safe little Sanctuary. Too out of touch to know or care about the here and now. About the people down there forced to risk their lives just to win safety.
For the first time in my life, I wish for nothing more than Sephine by my side.
Instead, I look to Yaita. She gives me what I expect is meant to be a reassuring smile, but it’s too tight to work.
Below, out on the field, the armies engage. The clash of metal on metal rings out, hundreds of echoes bouncing back from the gnarled towers of red rock. With the spyglass to my eye, I try to see if the tide of battle is turning either way. But I can’t make out outlines through the smoke, let alone pick out standards or allegiances. It’s a small price to pay if the burning sulphur is what is truly holding off Zostar’s shadow warriors. While it does, maybe we have a chance.
Each moment seems twice as slow and heavy as the one before.
I wince every time a scream pierces the air above the shouts of battle rage. And later, I struggle not to retch as the stench of blood and urine, of fear-sweat and spilled bowels, begins to swirl into the acrid sulphurous smoke. The perfume of pain and death.
Something Ash once said to me comes to mind: Nobody wins a war. Some people survive it, that’s all.
I train the spyglass on the pools. The flames have all but died. They’ll smoke for a while still.
But when they stop, when the air clears…