The Bloodbound (35 page)

Then he saw the cloud of dust rising in the near distance, and he understood. The fear he had locked away tore free, for its time had come at last.

With a broken cry, the King of Alden fell to his knees.

E
rik stared, unseeing, at the bloodied flagstones. His ears rang. His thoughts were thin and watery. He could not feel his heart beat in the cold hollow of his breast. Vaguely, as from a great distance, he heard voices calling him. Someone put a hand on his shoulder.

Breathe.

He looked up. Soldiers were gathering around him. “Are you hurt, sire?” “Someone fetch a healer!” “Look to the king!”

Get up.

Leaning heavily on his sword, Erik pushed himself to his feet. He stood on an island of stillness in the midst of a raging river of thralls, a small crowd of Kingswords standing around him in a protective perimeter. The sight of the enemy fleeing inspired no emotion; Erik merely registered the fact as he would the direction of the wind, or the course of the tides.

Focus.

The Andithyrians could be left alone. They had never been the enemy. But the Oridians themselves had started to trickle through the shattered gates, and twenty thousand more stood outside the city walls. They were still a danger. Erik drew a long, steadying breath. Then he started giving orders.

Many of the men had paused to celebrate, but they moved back onto the attack with little prompting. They fought with renewed energy, their blood spiked with triumph and the intoxicating fear of the enemy. Erik was fuelled by a different fire. Grief and rage mingled to form a powerful alloy, and he hacked through his enemies with a strength he had never known.

“Your Majesty!”

A wall of Kingswords closed in around him, and Raibert Green appeared, bloodied but seemingly unharmed. Grateful as he was to see Green alive and well, Erik did not understand what he was doing here. “Who commands the west gate?”

“Commander Ibon, though there's little enough for him to do. We've got the enemy pinned to the south, just outside your gates. Those that aren't running will be crushed soon enough. I'm here to relieve you.”

“The battle is not over . . .”

“It will be soon enough. Lord Black ordered the cavalry onto the field, all three battalions of them. The enemy ranks have scattered. We'll ride them down and butcher them like sheep.”

“They're retreating?”

“Their Trion and their general have fallen, and their thralls have deserted them. They're disorganised and confused. Easy prey. I can take it from here. Go find Prince Liam.”

Hearing the name unleashed a fresh wave of grief.
There may be nothing to find
, a treacherous voice within him whispered.

Seeing Erik hesitate, Green grabbed his shoulder. “This isn't a battle anymore, Your Majesty. The men no longer need their king. Go find your brother.”

A moment more was all it took to decide. “Thank you,” Erik said, and he called for a horse.

He did not dare ride out the south gate, where the fighting was heaviest. He headed east, clattering through empty cobbled streets with a half-dozen knights in tow. He flew past bolted doors and shuttered windows, empty livestock pens and boarded-up warehouses, scarcely conscious of the twists and turns he navigated through. An ache was welling up in his chest, rising steadily to his throat, as though he were slowly drowning. He welcomed it. The pain he could endure—it was the fear that tortured him. He did not want to face it, to know its shape.
How shall I pray to you, Virtues? Shall I ask to see my brother again, or the woman dearest to my heart? Have you not yet tired of making me choose between them?
He didn't care that the thought was blasphemous. There could be no punishment greater than this.

When he reached the east gate, he saw that it had not been breached. The ramparts looked a wreck, with shattered merlons and heaps of broken corpses littering the wall walk, but Rig had obviously managed to hold off the bulk of the assault. Lord Black himself was nowhere to be seen. His second, Commander Morris, presided over the gates, and he hesitated when Erik demanded passage.

“But, sire, there's still fighting out there.”

“Where is Lord Black?”

“Outside, Your Majesty, looking for his sister.”

“And I am looking for my brother. Now open these gates.”

Commander Morris obeyed unhappily, and Erik and his retinue rode out. It was quiet outside the walls, but Erik could hear the sounds of battle from the south. He rode flat out, following the city walls until he reached the southeast corner, where he drew up to take in the scene.

Disorganised and confused
, Raibert Green had said, but that did not begin to describe the state of the enemy ranks. Hemmed in on both sides by Kingsword cavalry, some were still trying to fight, but most were fleeing, pouring through every gap in the crumbling imperial walls. The Elders' Gate was a ruin of rubble, completely impassable. It forced the tide of fleeing Oridians west, where the old walls were weakest. The gate itself seemed to have been cleansed of enemy soldiers. Erik could see at least a score of Kingswords gathered at the foot of the old temple road, standing guard.
Rig's men
, he realised. With his heart in his throat, he kicked his horse into action.

He did not draw up until he reached the gate, and even then, the animal had barely slowed before he swept down from the saddle, stumbling a little as he started toward the shattered pile of rubble. The gate tower had collapsed northward, spilling itself over the walls and leaving only a ragged crescent of masonry on the southwest corner. The air was still choked with dust; men coughed and rubbed their eyes, and the horses twitched their ears. Erik's gaze raked over the scene, but he saw no sign of Rig.

“Where is Lord Black?” he demanded of everyone and no one.

“Here.”

Erik spun to find Rig walking toward him, cradling a limp and bloodied form in his arms. A tattered braid of copper hair dangled at his elbow, swaying with each step. Erik's breath failed.

Her skin was white as alabaster, and her lips were blue. Blood caked her body from her greaves to her hairline. “She's alive,” Rig said in a voice like shattered stone.

Erik reeled against a rush of nausea, relief crashing against despair as his prayers were answered and his hopes destroyed in a single breath. He could only nod weakly as Riggard Black carried his sister off the field.

Erik lingered, unable to move, staring at the ruin of the ancient Elders' Gate. The hurt was worse than he could have imagined. He felt small and broken in its grip. Around him, the air crackled with latent energy. Soon, joy would overcome weariness and fear, and the men would rejoice. A good king would rejoice with them, thanking the gods for sparing his city. But Erik was not that king. He was only a man who had lost his brother.

Both of my brothers, gone. The last of my family, gone. One I killed, and the other I sent to die.
The pain clutched at him, tightening its grip, squeezing the air from his lungs. He felt himself cracking. The scene swam before him, and he sucked in a sharp breath, blinking furiously.

He tried to distract himself, to focus on the happenings around him. He spotted his brother's former comrades, the little blond scout and her tall, lanky friend. The blond girl was sobbing, and the other looked red-eyed and miserable.
They weep for Liam. As I must.

“Erik.”

He turned. The face that stared back at him was spackled in dried blood, but he would know it anywhere. Erik could not even speak, for there was no breath in his body. All he could do was throw his arms around his brother.

Liam returned his embrace warmly. “I'm so glad you're safe, Your Majesty.”

“
You're alive.
Both of you. How is that possible? They told me Green was taken!”

“He was.”

“But then who . . . ?”

“Blew the gate?” Liam smiled sadly. “Gwylim.”

Erik stared. “Gwylim? The scout? He was with you?”

“No.” Liam looked over at his friends with a sigh. “He followed us. I should have known he would. He was so adamant that Green bring him along . . . When Kerta realised he was gone, she knew what he'd done. She and Ide came looking for him, but by then it was too late. I don't know what he meant to do if everything went according to plan. I guess we never will. But when he saw what happened to Green, he took matters into his own hands.”

“What about Alix? What happened to her?”

“Oh. That.” Liam winced. “We couldn't exactly agree on who should light the powder, so . . . I may have . . . er . . . You know Gwylim's darts?”

Erik's mouth fell open. “You poisoned her? On
purpose
?”

“She would have done the same if I'd let her. She almost got me.” He looked over his shoulder to where one of Rig's knights was helping him gather his sister onto his saddle. “She'll be all right, won't she?”

Erik let out a laugh that sounded half manic. It was all too much—he could not hope to process it, not until the fear and grief and rush of battle had faded. For now, all that mattered was that his loved ones were safe. “Don't worry,” he said, putting his hand on Liam's arm. He could not help squeezing it, just to reassure himself it was really there. “She'll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

For the first time in a very long time, he truly believed it.

*   *   *

Alix's eyes flew
open. She lay still, letting her surroundings sink in. She recognised the panelled ceiling of her bedchamber in the palace, and for half a heartbeat, she sagged with relief. Then she
remembered.
The look in Liam's eyes the moment before he struck. The strength of his grip on her wrist. The prick of the needle, the sigh of the grass under his boots as he left her. And later, as darkness took her, the deep, slow rumble of a dying tower. Her heart had screamed at the sound.

Despair flooded in. It pooled in her chest, into her throat and her eyes, until tears ran hot down the sides of her face. The Elders' Gate had come down, and she had not been the one to do it. That could only mean one thing.

“Allie.”

The voice was like a spear in her guts. She froze, her whole frame rattling with unspent sobs. She didn't dare to move, afraid to disturb the vision that knelt beside her like a visitation from beyond.

“Don't cry, love. I'm here. We're safe.” Warm fingers gently brushed the hair from her eyes. His breath caressed her cheek. Hesitantly, her arm trembling, Alix reached for him. She rested a hand against his face. He met her searching gaze with silence. As the moments crawled past, amusement warmed his eyes, and a corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “Yes, I'm real. You can stop looking at me like that.”

She flung her arms around his neck. In that moment, she didn't care if he was real. She didn't care if she was dead, or in some hell. All that mattered was his warmth, the strength of his arms. Real or not, he was
here
.

“Gwylim did it,” he said. “He blew up the gate. He'd been following us, and when he saw what happened to Green . . . While you and I were arguing about who would do it, he got on with the business.”

“You pricked me with a dart.” Or had he? It all felt like a dream.

“Yeah, about that . . . how are you feeling?”

“Gwylim blew the gate.”

“Right.”

“You're alive.”

He grinned. “Seriously, are you all right? Didn't hit your head or anything? You seem a little slow.”

She clutched at him again, so tightly it hurt. “You're alive!”

“Not for long, if you keep that up. You're choking me, Allie.”

Abruptly, Alix realised that her head hurt. A lot. Until this moment, she hadn't even noticed. “I think I'm going to be sick . . .”

The door opened, and Rig appeared. He paused at the threshold, his brow crumpling in a mock scowl. “Honestly, Allie, I've been gone for less than a quarter hour. You just had to wake up at exactly the moment I stepped out?”

“While we're on the subject,” said Erik, poking his head in the door, “it's wretchedly bad protocol not to wait for the king.”

Without thinking, Alix rolled out of bed to greet them. The impulse was rewarded with a wave of dizziness that left her staggering.

“Are you insane?” said Liam.

“Careful,” said Erik.

Rig just rolled his eyes.

Alix paused to let the blood return to her aching brain. “I'm fine.” She resisted the urge to cradle her head in her hands.

Liam gave her a flat look. “Yeah. Just so you know, that was—”

“—completely unconvincing,” Erik said.

Alix glared at the brothers. “You're finishing each other's sentences now? Well, isn't that touching.”

Rig snorted. “See? Didn't she say she was fine?”

She ignored him. “The city . . . it's safe?”

“For now,” Erik said. “The Oridians have scattered to the four winds. No doubt they will regroup in time, and the Warlord is still perched at our border. But with the Priest gone, Sadik will think twice before marching on us again. We have time.”

She tried to understand, but her mind felt sluggish. Liam's earlier words were only now starting to sink in. “Gwylim . . .”

“His memory will be honoured for as long as a White wears the crown,” Erik said.

It's true, then. Gwylim did it. He saved us. Liam, me, the whole city . . .
He'd sacrificed himself for all of them. What could they possibly do to honour something like that? An image flashed into her mind, a vision of a small stone man with kind eyes presiding over the Gallery of Heroes, and she almost laughed.
He would have laughed too.

“I'm starved,” Rig announced, drawing her out of her reverie.

“You're always starved,” she said with a tired smile. Her brother only shrugged.

Liam put a hand on her arm. “Are you sure you're okay to be out of bed?”