Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(120)

“They’re drugged,” S?ren explains quietly. “It keeps them manageable, makes them more inclined to follow directions.”

The Kalovaxian commanders press gems into their hands, which they accept eagerly, the way a parched man would accept water.

“To push them over the edge,” I remember Erik saying when he told me about berserkers. But he didn’t tell me how it affects them. As soon as they touch the gems, it’s like something deep in them sparks to life. Something feral and inhuman. The air around them sharpens.

Gems in hand, the berserkers take a few hesitant steps toward my army. Their movements are still slow and drugged, but there is an energy to their movements now that is unnatural. They jerk like puppets on strings being urged forward by some force I can’t see.

My army hesitates. It doesn’t matter that we knew this would likely come, that everyone had been instructed on what to do when it did. It doesn’t matter that a few dozen warriors have arrows nocked and ready for just this moment. They hesitate in the face of it, and I can’t even blame them for that. The figures approaching are not berserkers, after all. That is a Kalovaxian word for a Kalovaxian idea. They are not weapons; they are people. Sick people who need help we can’t give them. We can only offer the mercy of an arrow to the heart.

“Shoot,” Blaise murmurs under his breath, his gaze intent. “Shoot now.”

S?ren, however, remains silent, his eyes heavy on the scene.

Finally, one arrow fires, striking a berserker man square in the chest. He looks down at it, the drugs in his system making his reaction slow. He falls to the ground as if he’s sinking through water instead of air.

That shot breaks the spell and other arrows follow, some missing, others finding their target. Berserkers drop, one after another, gems tumbling from their slackened grips and rolling away harmlessly. I count them as they die, my heart lurching with each one. They all die mercifully, until only one is left, a young girl who can’t be more than eight. Her steps drag like she’s forgotten how to walk, and though I’m too far away to say for sure, I think she’s crying.

The arrows stop but she doesn’t. She takes another step, then another, crossing the field between armies, a figure so tiny that she nearly disappears altogether.

Even Blaise is silent now, though I know all of us are waiting for it, waiting for the arrow to fly and find its target, waiting for someone to end this, to put her out of her misery.

No one does. No one can.

The girl reaches our front lines before stopping short. Standing in front of thousands of armed warriors, she looks even smaller. Too small, surely, to hurt anyone. My armies retreat as quickly as they can, but for many it isn’t quick enough.

Something sparks. She sparks. One moment she is there, a crying, frightened girl, and the next she is a ball of flame, engulfing everything around her for yards. They scream as they burn, but she screams the loudest.

I stumble back a step and it takes everything I have not to look away, not to turn from the gruesome sight until it’s over, but I somehow don’t. I keep watching, even when it feels like it will kill me.

The fire dies as quickly as it started, and all that is left is a fifty-foot circle of charred grass and close to thirty burned corpses, including one that is far too small.

I’m going to be sick. I lift my hand to my mouth and breathe through my nose until my churning stomach stills.

“It could have been worse,” S?ren says quietly. “It could have been much worse.”

I know he’s right, but I still have to fight the urge to slap him.

Erik told me about berserkers, he told me what happened, what they became, but no words could have prepared me for the reality of it, for the feral humanity of the people, how they cried as they walked to their deaths.

My army is as shocked as I am, and they are slow to respond. The Kalovaxians are not. They use our hesitation to push forward, gaining the few yards that we fought so hard for before my army gets a hold of themselves.

But when they do push back, they are angrier than ever.





THE BATTLE RAGES ON FOR hours, but there are no more berserkers and for that I am grateful. I know it will be a long while before I close my eyes to sleep without seeing that crying girl in my nightmares. I’m not the only one shaken—Blaise hasn’t said a word since it happened, though against all odds we actually appear to be winning now. It’s a slow progress, fighting for every inch we gain, but it’s progress.

By the time the sun is directly overhead, we reach the slave quarters and a few dozen warriors slip in to free the slaves there. There are still Kalovaxians remaining—maybe a couple hundred fighting with everything they have—but I can’t imagine they won’t surrender any minute, especially once the slaves who want to fight join the fray. Stubborn as Kalovaxian warriors are, they know a lost cause when they see one.

“Should we start making our way down?” I ask, but S?ren holds up a hand, his brow furrowing deeply.

“Something isn’t right,” he says, staring at the battle still raging as if it’s a puzzle he can’t solve. “They should have surrendered by now. It doesn’t make sense.” He pauses and the color leaves his face. “Unless they know help is coming.”

I shake my head. “That’s impossible, S?ren,” I say. “The closest soldiers are days away. They couldn’t possibly arrive quickly enough.”