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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It’s well into the next afternoon before Master reaches out to me. I’ve been waiting for an update from him all day, and between that, not having slept well, and having to listen to Arimen’s chatter—because as long as I’m not looking at him, he has plenty of confidence—I’m in a rotten mood.

“What?”

Master pauses. “I beg your pardon?”

In a different part of my head, Leicht snorts. I asked him yesterday if he could hear when I communicate with Master, and he said not the words, unless I let him. Just the tone. It’s an interesting little fact that I’m sure I’ll want to think about in greater detail one day, when I’ve processed being bonded to a dragon. Since that’s a task I haven’t even added to my list yet, I don’t anticipate it being anytime soon.

“It’s been a long day, Master. I apologize.”

The sense of his understanding and compassion makes me wish Sweetie would try to unseat me or something. The last thing I want right now is to cry. “I think I can forgive a sharp tone, Talon, considering everything you’re going through. There’s no need to apologize.” He hesitates. “I’ve been asked to convey sympathies by a great many people.”

Yeah. “Everyone liked Tia.”

“They did. Emotions have been running very high amongst the riders, and the feeling has spread to the other two academies. Especially after we got back and gave our reports.”

My stomach sinks. I have no fondness for the temples—as anyone who ever talks to me would know—but now isn’t the time for war with them. I want vengeance for Tia, yes, but not only do we need to be united as a continent now that the zombies are actively wreaking havoc, I also don’t want to be dodging priests in our search for the champion. “War, then?”

“We’ll see. The riders will send their demands within the hour, and the mages and healers agree to support them. The wording agreed upon for the statement was that it’s intolerable and abhorrent that a mage, a healer, and a dragon rider on sanctioned business of the City of Knowledge would be waylaid in any way, much less attacked. Further, that the business is that of the utmost holiness and that a rider was murdered ? —”

“Murdered?” I interrupt. “That’s the word they chose?” Not that I dispute it, but I know the temples will.

“Yes. The temples will argue that she was killed in battle, but in order for them to do so, they’d be ? —”

“Admitting that the battle occurred and conceding the point that we were attacked. What’s the expected outcome?”

“The riders have demanded reparations, of course, for your family and for Leicht. The healers and mages demand an apology and assurances of your safe conduct for the remainder of your journey, plus any food and lodging you might request along the way. Don’t expect them to agree to that part,” he adds. “But the council was outraged enough that nobody even commented when I suggested it.”

“Good.” Though part of me thinks some of the councilors see it as a way to minimize the expense of my journey. Leicht must agree, because his amusement echoes through my mind. “So now we await a response.”

“Yes. Be very careful, Talon. For the time being, at least, you’ll need to watch for the temples as well as zombies. It might be wise to avoid any of the larger towns that have more than one priest in residence.”

“Noted.” If we continue on the highway as we have been, the next big town is still nearly a week away. I hope there’s a positive resolution before then, because if the stone needs us to go there, I’m not sure how we can hide ourselves. It’s not like we all packed disguises. “Any further updates on the zombies?” I managed to find time to update Jaimin last night, and he said he’d talk to Coryn. We agreed that it might be a little soon to tell Arimen, given his youth, but Coryn needs to know. There’s not much any of us can do, unless we come across zombies—our focus has to be on finding the champion.

Master’s sigh echoes across the miles to me. “Yes. When we reached out to others, we started getting similar reports. Villages seemingly attacked but with no bodies—the soldiers assumed the inhabitants were frightened off by bandits or that their bodies were burned.”

I clamp down on my instinctive urge to ask if those soldiers are stupid. Why would bandits burn the dead of villages they’ve pillaged?

“Unfortunately, the attacks don’t seem to be localized by region. We’ve heard from mages and monarchs in every country, and we expect to hear of more incidents now that they’ve briefed their commanders.” He hesitates. “The councils have decided we can’t wait. We might not be facing armies on a battlefield, but we must deploy mages and dragons to assist.”

I swallow hard. Dragons aren’t precision weapons—point them to a massed army and let them loose, and you’re guaranteed victory, but against small guerilla groups in hiding? As we’ve discovered on this journey, they have limitations.

Leicht huffs in offense, but I don’t need his input right now. “How have they decided to do it?”

“We’re pairing mages and dragon riders,” Master replies. “The hope is that in doing so, we’ll be able to cover any eventuality. The pairs—and dragons—will be assigned to scout teams in each country.”

That’s sensible enough and will reduce the risk to the soldiers doing the scouting. “If we see anything that might be helpful, I’ll let you know immediately,” I promise. “It worries me that there are so many zombies already—and that they’re taking all the bodies of those they kill. How many necromancers do they have, that they’re able to raise so many dead?” Worse, how long have they been doing this without our knowledge?

“It worries me also. Each of those necromancers is a mage I likely have met at least once in the past forty years of my time here. It disturbs me that even one of those would do something like this, much less more.”

That hadn’t even occurred to me, but of course Master probably knows the necromancers by sight and name, if nothing else. He’s been at the academy for a long time.

“Talon.”

I brace myself. He’s rarely reticent about telling me anything. “Yes?”

“It’s been decided that the first years will be sent out with some of the more battle-experienced masters to provide support.”

For a long second, I feel like I can’t breathe, and Jaimin turns sharply in his saddle. “Talon?”

“I’m okay,” I assure him, though I’m not sure how true it is. He studies me, his lips tight, but then turns back to his conversation with Arimen.

“I suppose I should have expected it,” I reply to Master. “I hoped they’d be kept in reserve, though. Couldn’t they have sent the older students?”

“All the students are going,” he informs me, causing a ripple of shock. The reports must be even worse than he made out for even the students to be sent. There are a lot of mages at the academy and around the continent. “It was a topic of hot debate, but ultimately, we decided it wasn’t right to risk the soldiers against an enemy they cannot defeat without weighting the odds in their favor.”

I understand that logic. I can even respect it. But my very being objects to the idea of my students having to face a zombie. They’re so young. They’re not ready. I swallow hard. “I suppose I just have to hope Preet managed to drill enough common sense into them. Who argued against? Master Eldridge?”

“Yes, and Master Cranch and I. A few others sided with us initially but changed their minds. Surprisingly, the most fervent dissenter was Leng.”

I blink, scrabbling to comprehend. “Master Leng, the prophetic scholar? The one whose theory was proved right?”

“No, that was Gao,” Master corrects. “Leng’s the one whose theory was wrong. He thought the stone itself would be the champion.”

A lot of that meeting is a blur in my memory, due to the moment when the stone announced I was going on a ride across the continent. “Regardless, I wouldn’t have expected him to be fervent about student safety.”

Master makes a mental sound of agreement. “It surprised us all. In the end, it didn’t matter—we were outvoted.”

I take a moment to pray to any of the gods who might be listening that my students will be safe. I can’t protect them myself, but if the gods have any mercy, they will. “You did what you could. This will give them maturity if nothing else,” I add, trying to look on the bright side. “Thank you for the update, Master.”

“Have you… spoken with Arimen yet?” I sense Master’s hesitation and try not to sigh.

“He knows about the zombies. I showed him the stone, and he had some kind of religious experience. It was a little disturbing, but I think as long as we’re doing what the stone wants—which is our intention—he’ll happily follow along.”

“That’s good. But… has he said anything more about his time with the priesthood?”

“Not anything more than what you heard yesterday. Why? What did you see when you flew over the ‘sanctuary’?”

Master makes a mental noise of disgust. “It’s a full compound. Not a temple at all. There’s a godsdamned farm attached, Talon, and not a village for miles. I may not be a priest, but even I know a place like that goes against the teachings of all our gods.”

It does. How can priests minister to the spiritual needs of others if they’re isolated, surrounded only by other priests? Even those who dedicate their lives to learning and study have the additional duty of teaching . Our gods once lived amongst us, and they expected the same of their servants. Their credo was always that one could never understand the needs of others if one lived apart.

“Did the dragons see anything that might be significant?” I don’t know what the purpose of this sanctuary can be.

“We’re not sure. The riders are having detailed maps drawn up for examination. It’s possible something that we thought was inconsequential will have meaning for someone else.”

My head starts to ache. This isn’t a distraction I need, but considering I have an acolyte from the damned sanctuary riding six feet behind me, telling Jaimin animatedly how nice it is that winters here are so much shorter than in the Isles, it’s been dumped in my lap.

“I’ll ask Jaimin and Coryn to talk to Arimen about the sanctuary,” I concede. Since it seems like he’ll be talking anyway, it might as well be about something useful.

“Or you could do it,” Master counters.

“I don’t—” The pulse of the stone cuts me off.

“Talon?” Master’s voice is sharp, worried.

“It’s fine. I think… I think the stone wants us to leave the road.” That can’t be right.

A series of images rises in my mind’s eye: us, on the road; that oddly forked tree up ahead; us turning our horses off the road when we get to the tree, heading…east?

I blink the images away and peer ahead to the tree, looking for any sign of a turnoff. Part of me is aware of Leicht circling back from his scouting position ahead of us, veering off to the east to check for… anything.

Because there’s no road. Not even a goat track. And if I remember the map correctly, this part of Camblin is just farms, most of them lying fallow for the winter. We’re still not far enough south to get a reliable winter crop.

I rein Sweetie in. “Hold up for a moment.”

Jaimin circles his gray back to stop beside me. “What is it?”

“The stone wants us to turn here.”

He looks around. “Where, exactly? There’s nothing.”

“Talon?”

Turds.

“Master, the stone wants us to leave the road. I’ll update you when I know what’s happening.”

He sends an acknowledgment, and then our connection fades.

I glance up and down the road, see nobody, and pull the stone from its pouch. “Here?” I demand. “Really?”

~Yes~

“Ohhhh,” Arimen sighs. I try to block it out.

“To be clear, you want us to turn left at that forked tree?”

~Yes~

“Where there’s no road?”

~Yes~

This time it’s accompanied by a hint of impatience.

“Don’t get snippy with me. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good road that heads east somewhere along here—can’t we take that?”

~No~

Ignoring it, I fumble in my saddlebag for Tia’s map, wishing she was here. Reading maps is not my strength. Nevertheless, I get it unfolded—with my one free hand—and peer along the line that denotes the highway.

“Talon,” Jaimin begins, “maybe we should?—”

“There!” I jab at the map. “We should be there sometime tomorrow, right?” I glance at Jaimin. He sighs, leans in closer, and studies the map.

“Probably in the early afternoon,” he agrees.

“And it’s a perfectly good road, heading in exactly the direction you want. So we’ll take that.”

~No~

The sound that escapes me is a strangled scream of frustration.

“I guess we’re riding cross-country,” Coryn says. “At least the ground’s had a few days to dry off a bit since the last rain.”

On cue, we all look up at the dark gray clouds overhead.

“There is no road or village for miles,” Leicht reports. “A few farmhouses and barns. And it’s raining about two miles east of here.”

I glare at the stone. “I fucking hate you.”