12

 

I scrambled onto my feet and ran to where Shadamar was, intending to take my sword from him. As I reached for it, I froze in place, just as I had in the king’s tent. Apparently, Shadamar was not as exhausted as he appeared. He glared at me and rose to his feet, then strode past to where Erling was crying out in agony, leaving me unable to move.

After a long moment of screaming, Erling fell silent, and I wondered if he was dead. Shadamar released me from the spell and I turned to look. Erling was still lying on the ground, but Shadamar had tied off his leg to slow the bleeding.

“Help me carry him,” the sorcerer said. “We need to get him to a healer.”

I scoffed at the request. “I’d rather let him lie there and bleed to death.”

Shadamar pointed the sword at me. “You will help me or Maren will die, and then I’ll kill you.”

Sion had offered to get help, and I’d told her not to. I regretted that now. While the distance wasn’t as great between us, I still couldn’t communicate with her. Her emotions came through the bond clearly, mostly curiosity, but I couldn’t use emotions to instruct her what to do. Until we closed the distance further, I would have to continue to play the obedient prisoner.

With an exaggerated sigh, I walked over and knelt beside Erling. The wound in his leg was a gaping hole about two inches in diameter. Blood soaked his pants and stained the ground beneath him. I was no expert, but I didn’t think he would survive long enough to reach a healer.

“We need to pull him up by his arms,” Shadamar said. “I’ve done the best I could with his leg, but we’ll need to be careful.”

I glanced up the hill. Although it wasn’t too steep, dragging a limp body up it would hardly be a simple task. Erling was lucky his sorcerer hadn’t died like the rest of his men. There was something fitting about letting him bleed out all alone, but alas, we didn’t always get what we wanted.

“Can’t you just use your magic to fly him up there?” I asked.

“If I could, do you think I’d be asking for help to carry him? He is protected against magic.”

A lot made sense with that information, though I wondered how that worked. Did he have some sort of talisman that negated magic near him, or was it something else?

“Quit gawking and help me,” Shadamar demanded.

We each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him up. It was a challenge because he was deadweight, but also because Shadamar was trying to keep the king’s injured leg from moving too much. Once we had his arms slung across our shoulders, we started the trek up the hill. The going was slow and precarious, but we eventually reached the top and Shadamar cursed.

The dragons were gone.

I scanned the sky, but there was no sign of them. They must have fled when the battle erupted. That, or the smell of the dragon hide tents was enough to keep them from sticking around. I didn’t blame them for leaving, but it was a major inconvenience. We stood there for a long moment, and I assumed Shadamar was trying to decide what to do.

“I’m surprised your dragon abandoned you,” I said, side-eyeing him.

“I am not bonded to a dragon,” he replied.

“Why not?”

“It is a weakness I do not need.”

He couldn’t have been more wrong. Being bonded to a dragon was not a weakness, but a strength.

“You know as well as I do he will not make it, even if the dragons were still here.”

“You better hope not. If the king dies, so does Maren.”

“Why do you serve him?” I asked, growing aggravated. “He’s a tyrant.”

“Do not concern yourself with that,” Shadamar said. “We have to get him to Tiradale.”

“How do you expect to do that? We have no way to transport him.”

“I will make a stretcher.”

“And do what? Carry him the entire way? Tiradale is miles from here.”

“Yes,” Shadamar said. “We will carry him. Here, set him down.”

We laid Erling down on the ground. He groaned softly, but remained unconscious.

“Stay here. If you try to run, you won’t get far.”

Shadamar went back down the hill to the camp. I turned my gaze east and searched the sky for the Assembly, but I still didn’t see them. Where were they? Why hadn’t they arrived yet? Since there was nothing else to do but wait, I sat on the ground beside the king. His breathing was shallow and his skin was pale.

I looked down at the camp and watched Shadamar as he worked. He cut a portion of dragon hide from one of the tents, then chopped one of the tent poles in half and attached the hide to the pieces. His hands glowed as he ran them along the poles, fusing the material to the wooden shafts. When he finished, he had a makeshift litter. Shadamar carried it up the hill and set it down next to Erling.

“Grab his legs and lift as gently as you can.”

I reluctantly did so, scrunching my face in disgust when my hand touched warm blood. Shadamar was going above and beyond what I would expect for a man who was certainly dying. Why was he so loyal to Erling? What had the king promised him? I didn’t bother to ask, since I knew the man would tell me nothing.

We set Erling on the litter and I knelt and brushed my hand against the ground, trying to remove the blood. My head snapped to look at Erling as a loud gasp escaped him. His eyes fluttered open.

“Easy, my Lord,” Shadamar said. “Don’t move. You are injured, but I will get you somewhere safe.”

I doubted the king was coherent enough to understand him, but he turned his head to the side to look at the sorcerer.

“Assembly?” he wheezed.

Shadamar shook his head, casting a baleful look in my direction. “They were not here. We need to leave before the slayers return.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said. “Not unless you guarantee Maren’s safety and call off your war against the Order.”

“You have nothing to bargain with!” Shadamar snapped.

“Without my help, the king will bleed to death. It seems we are at an impasse.”

“I will do it,” Erling said weakly.

“My Lord?”

“If he will help, I will do as … as he asks.” Erling’s face tensed with pain and he fell back into unconsciousness, his head lolling to the side awkwardly.

I was no fool. The king was lying to get what he wanted. A small part of me hoped he would realize his folly, but that depended on him surviving, which didn’t seem likely to me.

“Are you satisfied?” Shadamar asked.

Of course, I wasn’t, but the alternative was too risky. Once we reached Tiradale, I’d be close enough to communicate with Sion. She could inform Anesko about what was happening, and I was confident he could deal with the soldier watching over Maren. With her safety guaranteed, I would be free to finish off the king. The only thing that stood in my way was Shadamar.

I needed to get rid of him.