Rylin hadn’t remembered drinking, but his head pounded fitfully. When he opened his eyes he found the sky dark above him.
His thoughts tumbled suddenly into order as he sat up. Horn calls rent the air, along with shouts of men, the tinny clack of swords, the screams of dying, the roar of the great wyrms.
The wyrms.
“Lelanc,” he said weakly. “Where’s Lelanc?”
No one answered him.
Rylin forced himself up on unsteady feet. He couldn’t help noting the ruined wall in the southwest quadrant, or the pair of winged beasts sailing over the city, one of which was even now letting go with a great rumbling roar that sent a gatehouse tumbling. Naor foot soldiers swarmed through a gap in the third wall against a thin line of defenders.
Alantris was doomed.
It was then he saw the bodies, and remembered. He felt his breath constrict as he hurried on shaking legs. The eyes of the poor signalman stared sightlessly at the stars.
Varama lay facedown. He threw himself on his knees beside her.
There wasn’t a pool of blood or any obvious wound in her back, but she wasn’t moving.
He grabbed her shoulder and shook and shouted her name.
She didn’t stir.
He turned her over, panic growing, for she was limp in his hands and her head lolled. He fumbled to undo the stiff collar, then thrust fingers against her throat, knew with rising despair that the coolness of her skin must mean she was dead.
But a steady pulse thrummed there. Relief washed through him even as the tower shook. Something rattled the ground nearby, accompanied by dozens of frightened screams. Many of them were cut off in mid yell.
“Varama!” He shook her arms.
She groaned, almost imperceptibly, then looked at him through slitted eyes.
He slipped into the inner world. If Varama still carried her hearthstone maybe he could use it to help … but no. There was no gleam of the things about her, even deactivated, which jibed with his memory. Cerai had been using a stack of the artifacts, linked together. Varama must have been pursuing her.
His eyes fell to Varama’s waist, and the winesac there. Of course. Her fortifying juices. That could help. He pulled the winesac free and undid the opener before gently lifting her head and pressing the rim to her lips, careful not to spill any of the precious liquid. She swallowed.
After a moment, she blinked, and with shaking hand pushed the container toward him. Her meaning was clear.
He took two swallows, felt a ghost of his own powers restored. With them came a greater measure of clarity.
While it would be enormously satisfying to die in a blaze of glory and take a whole legion of Naor along with him, it would be ultimately futile even if he killed their leader. He couldn’t attempt that without abandoning Varama, and that he refused to do. He’d be damned before he relinquished the most brilliant of the Altenerai, helpless, to the Naor.
He looked down into her eyes, hazy with fatigue. She was obviously struggling to remain conscious.
Besides, it was no longer solely about the Naor. Cerai must be made to pay for her heinous betrayal. He and Lelanc could well have stopped the massive wyrms before they brought down all the walls, especially if his defense had been reinforced by a mage of Cerai’s capability. Rather than honoring her oath of office and acting as shield to her people, she had stolen Lelanc and abandoned the Alantrans. Hundreds now dead would still be breathing, and tens of thousands would not be fated for slavery, or agonizing death upon Naor altars.
And prior to her cowardly departure, Cerai had slain a loyal signalman and blasted Varama senseless. He looked down at his friend, who’d closed her eyes once more. It looked as though her recovery would require time, a commodity in short supply.
He rose with her, baring his teeth at thought of the impossible odds before them. Varama moaned and just managed to get her feet under her, leaning heavily against him.
Somehow he had to get his ailing friend out of the citadel, safely through the Naor horde, and out of the city.
Somehow he had to locate Lelanc, and free her from captivity, provided she still lived.
And then, then he would find the traitor Cerai, even if it meant tracking her into the farthest reaches of the shifts. She might be privy to a hundred secret sorceries, but he would find a way to bring her to justice. Preferably on the edge of his sword.