Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
With a dagger in his hand, Tyree pauses behind the door to listen intently.
I move toward him, but he points toward the window.
“We are three stories up!” I mouth. If I gave voice to it, it would be a scream.
With an arm around my waist, he ushers me forward. “At least they’re not castle stories. And it is our only choice. They are in the hall, waiting. Five soldiers.”
“Waiting for what?”
“The Azyr and the royal guard, I imagine.” He pushes the windowpane open all the way and eyes a wagon full of hay sitting in the alleyway below. “Hold my hand. We will jump together.”
“But—”
“Have I not protected you this far?” I see determination in Tyree’s eyes. “Trust me again. Please.”
All I can manage is a nod and then we’re climbing up onto the window ledge. I clench my teeth to stifle the scream as we leap out.
We land in the center and sink into the bales, Tyree, cradling my head in his arms, and then we’re rolling, scurrying to the ground. Loose straw clings to my clothes once again. If we weren’t in such grave danger, this would be amusing.
Destry hides in a corner, her pendant clutched in her hand.
“What is she doing now?” I whisper.
“Something useful, I am sure.” Tyree’s head swivels this way and that as he backs us into the shadows beside her, drawing his sword.
Moments later, a swell of crows swoops down, angling at the cluster of horses by the inn’s gate. The lone soldier left there to watch them loses their reins as they buck and rear and scatter down the street.
“That should keep them busy.” Destry struggles to get to her feet, stumbling a few steps toward the opposite direction where a gate waits. “There’s a path this way.”
“What about Ezra and Uda?” I ask. “We need them to get to the port.”
“We cannot go to the port. There will be soldiers and Azyr lining the path from here to there. Besides, Ezra is likely the one who turned us in.”
I frown. “But I thought you said—”
“Forget what I said. I have too much faith in people sometimes.”
I share a worried look with Tyree. “So then, how are we going to get out of Udrel?”
Destry holds up a wavering finger. “I have an idea, but we must go now.”
Fates, we are to be led to safety by a drunk. “To where?”
Her expression turns somber. “The Great Kaeli.”
51
Romeria
Cold wind whips across my cheeks, drawing tears from the corners of my eyes as Caindra speeds high above the mountains, Valk and Xiaric at her flank. The dragons use the cloud cover to travel west and then south over Venhorn’s range without any orders to do so. It’s as if they know the grim reality of what Atticus’s letter warned.
Zander and Abarrane fly with Valk, Zander’s stony focus below us, searching for proof that his brother lies. That was the first thing he declared when he finished reading the letter from Kier—that it had to be part of some elaborate new ruse to distract him while Atticus, making a rash deal with his captor, attempted to regain Islor’s throne.
But as everyone in the tent quarreled over the letter’s validity and how Atticus could have any clue of this impossible army he claims is sweeping toward Bellcross when he is in Ostros, Zander met my eyes, and I saw the fear shining in his.
How Atticus learned of Malachi’s plan doesn’t matter. What does is that our efforts to stop this impossible Saur’goth army from reaching Islor have failed.
It’s already here. I know it in my gut.
Without their usual screech to announce themselves, the three dragons dive in unison, breaking through the cloud screen that conceals us.
I gasp.
That’s Norcaster.
Was Norcaster. Now it’s a pile of rubble, the wooden wall that before encircled the town lying on the ground like scattered matchsticks. Bodies mark the grass.
“What should we do?” I yell. “Do we stop? Look for survivors?”
“Keep going!” Zander shouts, pointing south.
I nod. Right. There is potentially so much worse ahead.
Solange and another of her fire Shadows rest within Xiaric’s claws, witnessing the devastation. Trampled ground, flattened houses, bodies cast aside by stables where the army pilfered meals. There’s little evidence of overnight camps. Do these beasts stop to sleep?
Here and there, I spot a cluster of females, scrubbing blood from clothes or hauling bodies into a pile—likely to burn. But it seems all the men have been slaughtered.
“There!” Jarek points to the trees. From this vantage point, the movement is subtle, like ants scampering through grass, but the closer we get, the clearer the bleak picture becomes.
Thousands of Saur’goths charge ahead. And this is the tail end of it. As we fly on, the horde grows thicker, until the rolling hills that skirt Bellcross are moving, the blanket of warriors thick. “No …” My stomach sinks at the plumes of smoke that rise from the pale gray stone towers. The gates have been destroyed, the enemy flowing through freely. Once a welcoming city, it’s now overrun. Soon, it will be in ruin.