AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“A bit hard to do that when our general is missing,” Afya mutters. Mamie gives her a sharp look, but I do not blame theZaldarafor her irritation. Elias’s disappearance sent ripples of unease through the Tribes, even when Afya told them of his assurances that he’d return.
“He’ll be back,” I say. “Nur was a small victory in a greater war, and he has a stake in it. Mamie”—I turn to her now—“how goes the story-hunting?”
“It is slow,” theKehannisays between bites of stew. “Our stories have two qualities.SecheiandDiladhardha.”
“Truth... and—” My Sadhese is limited, and I shake my head.
“Diladhardhameans ‘to know the heart of pain,’” Mamie says. “We seek truth, Laia. And when we find it, we must approach it with empathy.We must understand the creatures, fey or human, who populate our tales. Respect them. Love them, despite the villainous things they do. We must see them. Else how will our stories echo in the hearts of those who hear them? How will the stories survive beyond one telling?”
TheZaldaraand Gibran listen, rapt, and even Shan, who has lived with theKehannihis whole life, stares at her with his spoon frozen halfway to his mouth.
“SecheiandDiladhardhaare the first steps to hunting a story. When you have attained them, then a story might be coaxed from the shadows. I have heard many tales of the Nightbringer. But none that will allow me to understand him or love him or respect him. I know him only as a creature of great evil. I fear loving him. I fear respecting him. I fear if I do, I will lose myself.”
“Such stories are dragons drawn from a deep well in a dark place,” I murmur.
“Where did you hear that?” Mamie asks.
“TheKehanniof Tribe Sulud,” I say. “She knew the Nightbringer’s story. But wraiths killed her before she could tell me.”
Mamie’s food is forgotten, and she looks at me intently. “Do you remember anything else of what she told you? Any hint at all as to what the story could be about?”
“She didn’t really—” I stop then and consider. “She spoke of his name. She said the story she told would be about his name. About how—how important it is.”
“His name,” Mamie considers. “The Meherya, you said. And it means...”
“Beloved.” Even thinking the word makes me sad. But Mamie shakes her head.
“It is not enough,” she says.
“You couldn’t help, could you?” I mutter to Rehmat. But she doesn’t respond.
A sharp call sounds from the northern end of the canyon, followed by the chilling rasp of dozens of scims being drawn at once.
Mamie is already kicking sand over the fire and shooing me toward her wagon. Afya sprints for her horse, Gibran following. Then Afya calls out.
“Laia,” she says. “Wait, look!”
She peers down the canyon, and I can see the glimmer of Martial armor now, and what appear to be about two dozen soldiers.
But it is not the soldiers who have my attention. It is the brown-skinned, lanky figure who rides with them, sandy hair blowing in the desert wind.
“Darin?”
I’m too far away for him to see, but I limp through the camp toward him now, until I can make out his face. He spots me and dismounts, a giant smile on his face.
“Laia!”
“Lower your weapons,” I call out to the Tribesmen, many of whom have never met him. “Skies, he’s the one who made them!”
My brother weaves through them and envelops me in a bear hug. I do not let him go, even when he tries to put me down.My brother. My blood.The only blood I have left in this world. I find that I am sobbing, and when I finally break away, his face is wet too.
“Thank the skies you’re all right,” he says. “I tried to tell you I was coming, but you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise when we spoke. The Shrike sent half a legion with me, to help the Tribes fight Keris. Most of them are a few miles away. The last we heard, Aish had fallen.”
“So much has happened since then.” I do not know where to begin. “What matters is that I have the scythe. I can kill him, Darin. But we cannot find him or his bleeding army. We think they’re here in the Tribal lands. Probably using fey magic to hide. We just need to get to them.”
Darin glances at the Martial commander with him—Jans, the Blood Shrike’s uncle. Something passes between them.
“That will be harder than you think, Laia,” Darin finally says. “Keris sent a massive force east. Three hundred ships. They left Navium when the rest of her forces were marching on Nur.”
