CASTO STARED at the ragged men surrounding him with their battered swords and desperate looks on this road that was perfect for an ambush. There was little traffic here, for it was only a side road connecting a few small villages, and the forest flanking it provided the cover a band of highwaymen needed. And, of course, Casto was a perfect target. Alone, obviously wealthy, and still looking too young to be able to defend himself. The sword he carried surely complicated things for the men, but not enough to back down. They needed his money badly enough to risk their lives getting it. He felt Lys staring at him from where he was standing between two trees, waiting for him to take action. He had dismounted to check if there was a place suitable to make their camp for the night, and the highwaymen had taken that chance. Casto looked at them. It would be so easy, calling the fire and killing them all. Casto remembered all too clearly what it was like to control the blaze, to direct it the way he wanted to. The rush of power, the ability to decide life and death—it was all there, on the tips of his fingers. Only it wasn’t a joyous thing at all. It made him cringe in fury because it meant his subconscious had given in and accepted Renaldo as his master. Casto hated himself for it. Unable to let the Barbarian triumph, he had kept it a secret, both out of spite and for tactical reasons, something that was so ingrained in his very nature, he didn’t even think consciously about it anymore.
He knew he had to use the fire now to save himself. Yet another perverted part of him refused to draw from something that was linked to the Barbarian. If given the choice, Casto was still angry enough that he would rather die than utilize Renaldo’s power. With a grim smile, he picked up his sword, ready to defend himself with his own strength.
It was then that the arrow hit him in the back.
In disbelief, Lys watched as Casto neglected to eliminate the attackers with his fire. The Emperor of the Storms had always known his rider was stubborn beyond sanity, but even he would have never anticipated such a downright stupid move. When the arrow hit Casto from behind, Lys could feel him die. He roared in anger and pain and then dissolved into the shadows. It was already afternoon, and among the trees, darkness had started to gather. It was more than enough for Lys to act.
Those thugs who were lurking in the shadows were simply sucked up as if they had never existed. Some of them tried to fight back when Lys bore down on them, seemingly out of nowhere, teeth bared and deadly hooves ready to strike. The Emperor of the Storms enjoyed the crunching sound when bones broke and skulls smashed. He fought his way to the place Casto had gone down. Three of the men were bent over Casto’s lifeless body, fumbling with the knots securing the pouch with the gold to his belt. Lys came over them like a force of nature. His teeth sunk into the nape of the first, jerking him away from Casto. Lys tossed the unlucky man high into the air and then hit his body full force when it came down again. The man smashed into a tree, and Lys savored the satisfying crunch when his spine broke in several places. The other two men had risen to their feet in panic. Both stared in horror at Lys’s blood-smeared coat and his burning eyes. One of them had the presence of mind to turn around and run for it; the other was frozen in terror. Lys killed him with a single blow of his front hooves, almost ripping his head off with the sheer force of his movement. Then he galloped after the fleeing man and simply ran him over, stomping his body into the wet, muddy ground.
Satisfied with the destruction he had caused, the Emperor of the Storms returned to his fallen rider. With his teeth, he pulled the arrow out of Casto’s back and then waited while his brother’s body started to heal. Coughing, Casto rose to a sitting position, patting off the dust from his clothes.
“Damn, what just hit me?”
Lys didn’t answer. Instead, he bit Casto’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Casto winced.
“What was that for?”
Just to bring his point across, Lys pushed Casto to the ground, looming over him like a particularly bad nightmare. His anger flooded Casto until the king held up his hands in defense.
“I get it. I get it. I’m sorry. What I did was stupid. I really don’t know what came over me.”
Lys snorted and kept Casto from getting on his feet again. Their gazes locked. It was Casto who broke first. His eyes lost the hint of an impending thunderstorm as the color returned to its usual stunning blue and something akin to contrition tinged his features.
“Really, I’m sorry, Lys. I promise I’ll stop with the self-destructive behavior from now on. I just don’t know what to think. I can feel my anger gradually dissipating, because I really understand why the Barbarian acted the way he did. Also, I miss him like crazy. And whenever I start thinking about forgiving him, about going back, I get angry with myself. I just want to hurt, and I don’t care whom. Oh, Lys, what should I do? I can’t go back like this. Nothing will ever change if I do.”
Tears streamed down Casto’s face like a river. Lys knew he was the only one Casto allowed to see his weakness, his vulnerability, and so he nudged him gently and blew his warm breath on Casto’s face. As much as he resented it, the connection between Casto and Renaldo was already too deep to be easily severed, as he had dared to hope when they left the Valley. If he wanted his rider to be happy, he had to help him gain perspective. Lys cursed in the privacy of his thoughts. He could understand Casto’s dilemma a lot better now that he faced something similar. Helping Casto find peace also meant helping Renaldo, and Lys hated the Barbarian for everything he had done to Casto. Unfortunately, Casto was bound to Renaldo as much as Lys was bound to him. The Emperor of the Storms had no choice, and he abhorred it.
TWO WEEKS had passed since the Pack had left the Valley for the Dark Forest, and Cornelia was already wishing it would be fall soon. In addition to the increased workload the absence of the mercenaries and so many slaves meant, she also worried about her brother. She couldn’t remember when Bantu had last gone on a campaign with Canubis and Renaldo, but she did remember the feeling of dread that accompanied her like a shadow. She sighed. It was a good thing she had so much to do; otherwise she would probably worry herself to death. A knock on the door to her office tore her thoughts away from all the bad things that could happen to her brother.
“Come in!”
The door opened and Sira entered. When Sic had brought the young woman to the Valley, Cornelia hadn’t known what to make of her. She felt a connection to her, based on their similarly bad experiences with men, but as an Emeris, she had also resented her for being such a stubborn slave and causing Sic so much trouble. After the big fallout with Renaldo, Sic had come up with an interesting solution to his whole slave-keeping problem, namely giving them all their freedom and paying them for their services. It worked remarkably well, and Cornelia had to admit Sira was a great help. Since she didn’t accompany Sic to the Dark Forest, she had offered her services to Cornelia, and with each passing day, she found herself relying more and more on the young woman.
“Good morning, Cornelia.”
“Good morning, Sira. How did you sleep?”
It was more than just politeness that had Cornelia asking this particular question. Sira looked tired. She had dark circles under her eyes and her skin was pale. She combed her hand through the wild strands of hair sticking out from her head in all directions. She had come to the Valley with a shaved head and was now growing her hair out.
“Not so well. I had several nightmares, and not even drinking some tea helped. I feel like I’ve been run over by a bunch of horses.” She tried a smile and failed quite spectacularly. “But there’s work to be done, and with some luck, I’ll be so tired tonight, I won’t dream at all.”
Cornelia furrowed her brows. She had heard several people complain about nightmares and not sleeping well but had chalked it up to the recent departure of the Pack. Now she wondered how many people were affected and if she should inquire.
“Is this the first time you had those dreams?”
Sira looked thoughtful for a moment. “No. I’ve been having them for a few days now. And they’re always the same.” She shrugged. “Probably all the stress. I never thought I’d ever say this, but I wish the masters were back.”
Cornelia smiled. She knew well what Sira thought about masters and men. For her to wish them back, she had to be really stressed. “I’m sorry to break the bad news to you, but they won’t be back for another ten weeks, at least. Probably more. And our list of things to be done is steadily growing. Are you ready?”
Sira winked and smiled back at Cornelia, which made her look like a little girl without a care in the world. “Since I’m being paid, I’m more than ready.”
Cornelia got up, with two sheets of paper in her hand. She gave one to Sira. “This would be your itinerary for today. Do you think you can manage?”
Sira quickly read over the impressive list before she nodded. “Consider it done. Can we meet for lunch? Just in case I run into trouble.”
“Of course. My chambers. At noon.” Cornelia grazed Sira’s arm with her fingertips and felt the young woman shudder through the thin cloth of her simple dress. There was something between them, something growing from the connection they had through mutual experiences in life. Cornelia wasn’t sure if she wanted to explore it or to run.
Sira touched her arm as well, mumbling her goodbye, and from the way little jolts of energy erupted under her skin, Cornelia knew she would have to make a decision soon.
“MAY I come in?” Canubis tapped his fingers on the closed flap of Renaldo’s tent. They had set up camp the day before, and his younger brother hadn’t come out since then. Canubis could feel Renaldo’s despair, the big black hole threatening to swallow him with every heartbeat his immortal body gave. For what had to be the thousandth time, Canubis cursed Casto for leaving them and creating such a mess.
The campaign against the rebels in the Dark Forest had already run into the first problems, and they hadn’t even really started yet. The spies he had sent out to check the places Xe’lien had told them about were all deserted. Worse, they looked as if nobody had ever been there. Which meant either Xe’lien’s own people were just plain inept or the queen was trying to play Canubis. He did feel the urge to break up camp and march directly to her palace to have an intimate chat, but for the time being, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.
The Dark Forest was vast, after all, and laced with magic. Canubis could feel it deep in his bones, and he didn’t like it. What he liked even less was that Noemi wasn’t sure what kind of magic it was. Whether a remnant of the wild, chaotic power that had destroyed so much of Ana-Darasa before the Mothers had found ways to bind it or if it was put there by man, most probably followers of the Good Mother. While the first was already bad news, the latter would be catastrophic. Canubis had no intention whatsoever to fight against an enemy on territory said enemy had rigged with magic. As with Xe’lien, he couldn’t be sure. Not with magic so basic. And while he didn’t care much about what people thought about the trustworthiness of the Pack now that the end was in sight, his pride forbade him to simply turn his back on a contract.
Since he hadn’t gotten an answer from inside the tent, he pulled the flap away and entered. It was gloomy inside, the only light coming from the opening through which he had come. Renaldo was sitting in a chair, a cup of wine in his hand. His usually expressive gray eyes stared into nothing, and his features, while still breathtaking in their beauty, lacked any kind of life. The only thing indicating Renaldo wasn’t just a lifeless hull was his inner fire shining through. Given how empty Renaldo seemed, it was a disturbing thing. Like watching a statue burn, knowing the fire could spread any minute and there was nothing to stop it.
“How are you today, brother?” Canubis tried to sound soothing and encouraging at the same time, not an easy feat for somebody who was used to giving orders that were instantly obeyed. This wouldn’t work with his brother, though, and Canubis didn’t want it either. Renaldo slowly raised his head. The pure agony in his gaze made Canubis flinch.
“I’m worse than yesterday. Every day is worse than the one before.” He exhaled and slung his arms around his torso as if he wanted to protect himself from whatever pain was ailing him. “I feel like my soul is dying, even though I know that’s impossible. And I’m losing control, brother. Every day a bit more. The less I move around, the better I can keep it contained, which is why I stay inside the tent.”
Canubis wasn’t surprised his brother was voicing his exact thoughts. They were siblings and gods. There were no secrets between them.
“Do you think you can fight?” Canubis wanted Renaldo to get his mind off his loss, though not at the price of losing some of his own fighters when Renaldo lost control.
“I’m not sure. To be honest, I wouldn’t risk it. You know what it was like after Mother took our hearts. This here—this is a hundred times worse. There is so much power, so much more than before. I’m not sure I can contain it under stress. I will try, of course, but I don’t want to be a liability. If I let loose, I’m probably going to burn the entire Dark Forest.”
Canubis allowed himself a grim smile. “It might come to that, brother. I’m almost sure we’re running into a trap here, and I don’t like the way this place is laced with magic. Your fire might be exactly what we need.”
Renaldo let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t even joke about that. This has to be our last resort, as you well know. We cannot repeat Quell’renar.”
Canubis shook his head. No, Quell’renar had been a mistake. A grave one, even though it had been necessary and inevitable. He put a hand on Renaldo’s shoulder. “We won’t let that happen. We’re gods now, true gods, and we’re more mature than we were back then. There is a way. We will find it, and we will grind our enemies into the dust.”
Renaldo nodded. “We will. And I will be ready to fight at your side as I have always done, brother.”
Satisfied with his answer, Canubis patted Renaldo’s shoulder and left him alone again.