“I only have to lift it once,” Neil pointed out.
“Jah,” Slautwulf managed, spitting blood as the greatsword dropped from his hands. The warrior hadn’t any armor beneath his battle skirt or undergarments, for that matter. Battlehound had pierced straight up through his groin, pelvis, intestines, and lungs.
Neil managed to roll away before the giant toppled. They lay there for a moment, staring at each other.
“Never worry,” Neil rasped in the Weihand’s tongue. “Saint Vothen loves you. I see his valkirja coming for you already.”
Slautwulf tried to nod. “I’ll see you in Valrohsn, then.”
“Not just yet,” Neil said. He put his fist into the ground and began to push himself up.
But an arrow knocked him back down, and all the wind out of him.
I’ll just lie here a moment, he thought, gather up my strength. He closed his eyes, listening to his ragged breath.
The ships, he remembered, and he wanted to see them again.
His eyes felt as if they had been sewn shut, but after what seemed like an unimaginable effort, he managed to open them, only to find himself still facing Slautwulf. Sucking a deep, painful breath, he managed to turn his head to face the sea.
Another arrow thumped into his breastplate.
Right, he thought. Stupid, Now they know you’re still alive.
But he didn’t have to move anymore. He could see the ships, the Lierish ships. Had he saved them? If Edhmon and the others managed to take down even one of the siege engines, Artwair could risk another charge, and enough would get through to take the waerd. With the elevation of the waerd to provide cover, they could take down the Thornrath gate in a day. They didn’t even have to occupy the whole wall, just enough of it to allow ships to enter through one of the great arches.
If…
His vision blurred until the sails and sea began to melt together. He tried to blink it away, but that only smudged things more. Gradually his vision focused once more, but instead of the sea he now saw a face, high-cheekboned, strong, pale as milk, with eyes so blue that they seemed blind. At first he thought it was the valkirja he’d lied to Slautwulf about seeing.
But then he knew who it was.
“Swanmway,” he murmured.
Brinna, she seemed to say. Remember? My real name is Brinna.
He remembered kissing her.
He knew he ought to be thinking about Fastia, but as the light faded, it was only Brinna’s face he could hold in his mind.
11
Free
Stephen shivered as he stepped onto the ledge. His vision plummeted through empty space for what seemed the better part of a league before it reached trees and stone. It couldn’t really be that far, because he could make out the figures of the praifec and his men approaching a sort of cul-de-sac in the mountain.
Still, he gripped Zemlé’s hand more tightly.
“I think I’ll be sick if I stay out here,” he said.
“You’ve stone beneath your feet,” she answered. “Just remember that. You won’t fall.”
“If a strong wind comes—”
“Not very likely,” she assured him.
“Look there,” said lone, the ancient Sefry who had led them to this high aerie. He pointed, flinching as his hand came in contact with the light. Fend and his warriors wouldn’t have any such worry; the westering sun had already filled the valley below with shadow.
Stephen leaned a little farther and saw what the old man was pointing at: a pool of deep blue water. And as if on cue, the woorm—khriim?suddenly erupted from it.
“Saints,” Stephen prayed, “let me have done the right thing.”
Aspar froze for an instant, then grabbed for the pack on his back, cursing his luck. Naturally he would have his best shot at the thing when his bow was unstrung.
He fumbled out the watertight bag and pried at its fastening, but the wax made it tough to get the knot open, especially when he found himself glancing up at the woorm every few heartbeats. It grasped at the trees with its short forelimbs, dragging its tail from the pool, rearing almost as high as Aspar sat. A perfect target…
He heard the whir of an arrow and knew suddenly that the woorm wasn’t the only easy target. He heard it skip off the stone behind him. That meant the only place it could have come from was…
There.
Fend and his companion were in the monsters saddle, and the companion was taking aim at Aspar again. Cursing, he levered himself up just as a red-fletched missile struck his boot. He didn’t feel any pain, but the impact and his reaction sent him tumbling toward the edge. He threw his arms out to catch himself…
… and watched his bow, the string, and the black arrow fall toward the forest floor.
“Ah, sceat,” he snarled.
He spent exactly one heartbeat deciding what to do next. Then he leapt for the nearest treetop, some five kingsyards below him.
The presence of the Kept seemed to uncoil all about her, stretching vaster with each instant, and her bones hummed as if a saw were cutting through them.
Free.
The word struck her as if the Kept had somehow cast it into a lead ingot and hurled it at her. Her breath voided her lungs in a single painful gasp, and her heart felt as if it were liquid with terror. Confidence, command, certainty—all were swept aside, and she was a mouse in an open field, watching the hawk descend.
Free.
There was no joy in the word. No elation, no relief. It was the most vicious sound Anne had ever heard. Tears exploded from her eyes, and she trembled uncontrollably. She had doomed them all, ruined everything . .
Freeeee.
Something cracked like thunder, so loud that her shriek was lost in it.
And then… nothing.
He was gone.
It took what seemed a very long time to regain control of herself and her emotions. She heard the others weeping and knew she wasn’t alone, but that did nothing to ease the humiliation.
Finally, after an age, Austra had the presence of mind to relight the lamp.
Their eyes confirmed that the chamber was empty. It was much larger than she had imagined.
“What have you done?” Alis asked weakly. “Dear saints, what have you done?”
“W-what I thought was best,” Anne managed. “I had to do something.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Cazio said. •
Anne started to try to explain, but her breath caught, and she suddenly felt like crying again.
“Wait,” she said. “Wait a moment, and I’ll try—”
Something suddenly hammered on the other side of the secret door.
“We’re found!” Austra gasped.
Cazio came to his feet and drew his weapon. He looked shaky, but it gave Anne heart. Screwing up her resolve, she determined to be strong.
“The Kept promised to kill Robert’s men,” she said.
“I’m thinking he lied to you about that,” Alis replied.
“We’ll see,” Anne replied.
“Someone give me a weapon,” Prince Cheiso said weakly but with determination. “I need a weapon.”
Cazio caught Anne’s eye, and she nodded. He proffered the Safnian a dagger. He glanced at the other three men, remembering vaguely there once had been four of them. What had happened to the fourth?
But after the soul bending he’d just experienced, nothing would surprise him.
“What are your names?” he asked the warriors.
“Sir Ansgar,” one of them said. Cazio could just make out a small beard. “These are my bondsmen, Preston Viccars and Cuelm MeqVorst.”