Spin the Dawn(72)

I patted Opal firmly. “Come on, love. It’s fine.”

Obediently, she trotted forward. The land sloped downward like a shallow bowl. But my breath caught when I saw a sword staked in the ground. Beyond were arrows, many with crimson plumes, some erect and others slanted, as if a careless tailor had punctured the earth with his pins and needles.

Then Opal balked. She wouldn’t go any farther, so I dismounted.

The scene before me turned my stomach. Broken drums, slashed war banners, mounds of bones—human bones. And bodies.

“Soldiers,” I whispered with a shudder. I’d never seen a battlefield. Never even seen a dead person.

Over time, rain had washed the grass clean of blood, but the soldiers’ uniforms were still stained. Some of the men had frozen to death. I could tell from their ashen faces, tightly drawn blue lips, and curved-in shoulders—the snow had buried them and preserved them until the thaw. Others weren’t so lucky: vultures and other scavengers had long since eaten their flesh. Only a few still had their eyes—which stared ahead blankly as I approached.

“Maia!” Edan called from behind. “Maia, don’t.”

But I’d already crouched beside the nearest corpse. The smell made me want to retch, but I kept it in me. What was left of the boy’s face was moist from recent rainfall. He’d been struck three times—arrows in his knee, his abdomen, his heart.

He couldn’t have been older than Keton.

I hugged my arms to my chest, holding back a sob. Finlei and Sendo had died this way—alone, yet not alone. Hacked by a sword or impaled by an arrow. Sendo…Sendo had died in these very mountains. His body was somewhere among the thousands strewn around me, rotting under a coat of earth and snow. I wouldn’t even recognize him if I saw him. Just thinking about it made me want to weep.

“Are you all right?” Edan said quietly when he caught up with me.

“Were you—” My voice choked. “Were you…here?”

“No.”

Of course not. If Edan had been here, more of the emperor’s soldiers might have survived. We’d heard of Khanujin’s miraculous victories. I’d always thought they were because he was a fighter equal to none, like his father. But now I knew…it was Edan. Edan whose magic was worth a thousand soldiers. Edan who had enchanted the emperor into a ruler, a warrior, a man A’landi loved and esteemed.

It had always been Edan.

“But you were a part of the war,” I said, clenching my fists. “How could you…”

Edan didn’t reply. He simply wrapped his arms around me. I could feel his steady heartbeat, and it soothed me. It felt too soon when he let go.

I didn’t venture deeper into the pass. Nor did I complain when Edan led me back the way we’d come.

We were almost to the horses when the wind began to bluster. Something was wrong—I could tell by the way Edan stiffened.

“Mercenaries,” he said, pulling me behind a rock and pushing my head down.

My pulse spiked, and I peeked out.

Balardans. I recognized Orksan’s brother among them. Vachir.

My muscles tensed, and I reached for the dagger. I counted at least a dozen, no, two dozen men. We wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

Edan crept back to my side. He’d gone to the horses for a bow that I’d never seen before. It was almost as long as I was tall. “When I tell you to run,” he said, “take Opal and make for Rainmaker’s Peak.”

“I’m not leaving here without you.”

“I’m a decent marksman,” he said sternly, “but you’re not. Together, we’re not going to cut down thirty men.”

I swallowed. “I thought they wanted to capture you.”

“That would be preferable,” Edan said tightly. “But the shansen isn’t a picky man. They’ll settle for killing me if I prove too difficult.”

As if Edan had summoned them from their hiding places, men rustled among the bushes on the hills. Arrows glinted in the sun. Archers.

My world began to reel, and all of me went numb. If we fled to the valley, the archers would kill us.

But if we stayed where we were, the foot soldiers would kill us.

I couldn’t move. My feet had rooted themselves into the earth. All I could do was watch the men run toward us, shaking their weapons and shouting battle cries that were lost in the wind.

Vachir led them, the string of coins and teeth around his neck jumping as he ran. He wore the same faded tunic I’d seen at dinner with Orksan and Korin—the tunic whose frayed sleeves I had mended for him.

“Surrender!” he boomed, loud and deep. “Surrender now, enchanter.”

Edan lifted his bow, pulling the string wide across his torso as he aimed. He fired three arrows in quick succession. Vachir eluded each shot, but the men behind him weren’t as lucky. Two fell. Vachir let out a shout, and his mercenaries stopped running. They reached behind their backs for their bows to return Edan’s favor.

Edan grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me behind a wide oak, pressing my back against its trunk. Arrows zoomed straight for us. Three, four, five arrows plunked into the oak’s bark, grazing Edan’s thigh and missing me by only a hair’s-breadth.

“Go!” Edan barked, pointing at the mountains up ahead.

I didn’t budge. “I’m not leaving you.” I held Edan’s dagger in my left hand, and with my right, I brandished my magic scissors.