The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch, #3)(90)
I nodded. “I’m fine, and I’m ready. The Drychta think we’ll be licking our wounds, and they’ll surely be tending to theirs. They won’t expect an attack so quickly after the last.”
Althy nodded. “I’ll send for the other asha.”
“Are you sure, Tea?” Kance asked, momentarily forgetting to be formal. “This is…” He paused, and his heartsglass supplied the rest: This is asking too much of you.
“This is bigger than any of us, Your Majesty. Aadil’s actions imperil the rest of the kingdoms, including his own.” I cleared my throat. “We won’t have much communication once we’re in the Wall, and I might need someone to scry in too, so I can inform you of what happens inside. I propose that Khalad be my—”
“No. Let me do it.”
“Your Majesty—”
“Khalad still has a lot of work to help the wounded, and my other generals need to focus on other matters should Aadil attack again. Allow me to be your Scrying vessel, Tea. Let me be useful.”
I took a quick, surreptitious glance at Kalen, who inclined his head ever so slightly. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
? ? ?
The planning was quick but meticulous. There would only be a handful of people heading into the mountains with us, mostly asha and what Deathseekers General Lode could afford to spare, while the rest surrounded the mountain in anticipation of further attacks. Mithra’s Wall, I learned, had dozens of entrances, and Knox supplied us with most of that knowledge. He too had volunteered to accompany us despite his injury.
“Most of the caves inside are interconnected,” he told us. “And from what King Kance’s spies have reported, Aadil entered one of the topmost entrances. I’ve explored those caves before with my buddies in the past, and I’m the only one here experienced with the routes and passageways along that tier. They’re not as many as the ones below it, and almost all the openings lead into a large chamber, so you should have no trouble finding anyone hiding inside.”
The remnants of the Drychta army were unlike what anyone expected. All the fight had leached out of the men. They were waiting almost meekly when we arrived and, once we were near enough, deliberately threw down their spears, axes, and bows.
“They’re surrendering,” Zoya noted with astonishment. “But why? Could this be another trap?”
“Let’s find out.” General Lode strode forward and barked a command in Drychta. One of the men responded in a long, halting monologue, and all sank to their knees in unison.
“They’re frightened,” the man translated. “They’ve been worked hard and nearly starved the last few days. The blighted were the last straw. All they want is some food and water, and they’re more than willing to let us pass. This man says they’ve been mistreated terribly. They were promised good wages for their families if they followed Aadil into battle, but they have not been paid. He says their king is a madman.”
“That’s horrible,” Althy breathed softly.
Lode frowned. “I’m not sure if I translated this correctly, but they claim there is forbidden magic in their bones, and that they have been condemned to the seven hells by Aadil, who threatened to turn them into demons if they disobeyed.”
A chill ran through me. I knew what that meant. Had Aadil allowed all his army to be blighted? “Stay away from them,” I barked at the general and wove my Delving. My heart lurched at what I saw: the runes festered red in the air before them, all compromised.
Kalen was already one step ahead of the others. “Channel wards on them all!” he barked at both asha and Deathseekers alike. “Do it quickly, while we still have time!” His hands were a blur, wrapping tendrils of protective magic around the Drychta who had spoken, then hurried to the next.
The others were quick to act, and before long, the air was alive with brilliant magic, spells cloaking the poor soldiers to keep them safe from further harm. “What tyrant would blight his own people?” Kance gasped. “His own loyal soldiers? This is unthinkable!”
“I am entirely unsurprised, given all the stories I’ve heard of Aadil,” Zoya said drolly, firmly tying off a ward around another grateful fighter. “Good thing we didn’t think to wait for them to come. Aadil could have sent them after us next.”
“Too late!” Althy shouted. Some of the other half dozen soldiers who had yet to be warded were starting to change. Desperate, still beseeching, their features warped, and I could only watch helplessly as their new, grisly forms sealed their fate. The other, more fortunate Drychta scrambled away from their transformed comrades, shouting frantically.
But how? Who had woven the rune? All the men were within my line of sight, and not one of them had moved.
Some instinct told me to look up. High above a ledge, a cloaked figure stood, an arm raised. There was a quick, cutting gesture, and the last of the unwarded, blighted men completed their horrific metamorphosis. The hooded shape lingered for a few moments, staring down at me. The distance was too far for me to make out any features, but I knew who it must be.
A blast of lightning erupted from Zoya’s fingertips, aimed at the cowled stranger.
But the figure stepped away, avoiding the attack, almost dismissive of the attempt, and the lightning sizzled harmlessly against the escarpment. The figure twisted its head in my direction. I could not see its face but knew its eyes were on me, cold and assessing, before it turned and disappeared back into the—