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When his form became solid once more, I told him to remain where he was. Carefully cloaking myself, I called on my wings and swooped through the chaos to the path below, where Vadim’s broken and bloodied body had been abandoned. Hefting him into my arms, I returned to my earlier spot, settling his body across a smooth, bare stone nearby.
His lifeless eyes stared at the brilliant blue sky overhead.
I felt nothing as I softly closed his lids.
Desmond appeared beside me. “I am so sorry.”
“For what? His sister was a traitor,” I stated, stepping back.
“But he was your general, and a very good friend from my understanding,” Desmond said, almost like a reminder.
Not even the chill of the altitude could make me feel anything. I was utterly numb.
“He was,” I murmured, spinning on my heel and leaving him lying there.
I returned to my perch, the binding magic in my chest begging to be fully unleashed.
Kazimir…
Kazimir…
Kazimir…
The voices echoed in my brain again.
“I will, soon.” I ran a hand over my face, trying to find an area to focus on. I still searched for Ruslan and Izidora, and I wasn’t going to waste too much of my magic before I found them. I needed every ounce of it to destroy what they both held most dear.
Each other.
“What was that, sir?” Desmond asked.
“What? I didn’t say anything,” I grumbled, waving a hand at him. He must have heard something from below. Even from up high, the screams of pain and rage were audible, assaulting my ears with their cacophony. The sun tracked higher into the sky, nearly blinding me as it shone against the white snow. With a frustrated sigh, I turned in another direction, scanning and scanning, waiting for the scout’s return.
He appeared, first like a black dot sweeping through the rocks, then larger as he soared upward, skimming the face of the cliff before landing in front of me. He swept into a deep bow. “My King, there is a healing camp beyond those mountains. No fighters.”
“You are dismissed,” I said, returning my attention to the area, waiting for Drazen, Endre, and Liliana to reappear.
But they didn’t.
Shifting my weight from foot to foot and repeatedly clenching and unclenching my fists, I made a decision.
“Desmond,” I barked, and the Mage immediately appeared at my side.
“Yes?” he questioned, ready for his orders.
“I am going there. If I cannot find them, I will make them find me.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond before I brought my wings forth and shot into the sky. I flew a straight path beyond the peaks, still scanning for any sign of the traitors. The battlefield was large and complex, especially since we were waging war on the sides of Goddess-damned mountains, but I had no doubt that if their healers were attacked, Ruslan and Izidora would come running.
If I couldn’t find them, I’d make them come to me.
The tents appeared like gray beacons among the cleared dirt along the path, and I cloaked myself, mixing the black ropes of my binding magic with the tendrils of moonlight that remained in my chest. Noiselessly, I dropped to the ground, then crept among the structures.
It wasn’t long before I found what I was looking for.
A dozen healers tended to rows and rows of beds filled with wounded soldiers. All rushed about or shouted for herbs and salves from their attendants, paying no attention to anything beyond what was right in front of their faces.
Dropping my magic, I startled the nearest one, having suddenly appeared in her tent.
