Page 116 of Scorched Earth

Casting his eyes skyward, Killian fell in next to the boy. “You know, Xadrian,” he said, “we’d get along better if you didn’t insist on treating me like I’m less than you.”

The boy lowered his scarf and frowned. “But you are. I am crown prince of Anukastre, destined to rule as king on the day the Six decide to take my mother’s soul into their embrace. You are the youngest brother of a High Lord and destined to rule nothing. I respect you for your martial prowess, like you for your wit, and honor the mark you bear, but that does not make you my equal.”

Killian sighed. “You’re hopeless. What do you want, Xadrian? Because I don’t for a second believe that you’re worried about me reaching that ship.”

The boy’s jaw worked back and forth. “My mother believes this is not our fight. That the sands and the Six will protect Anukastre, as they always have. But I’ve thought hard on your words, and I think she’s wrong. The Six do not reward those who stand back in a fight against the Seventh. I will make her see reason, so that if Mudamora calls for our aid, Anukastre will answer.”

“Thank you.” Killian rested a hand on the prince’s shoulder. “It would be an honor to fight at your side.”

Xadrian started to smile, caught himself, then shoved Killian’s hand away. “Do not thank me, Calorian. Once the Corrupter is defeated, I fully intend to resume stealing Rowenes gold and I’ll not have you weeping about alliances.”

“I look forward to it.” Killian increased his pace to catch up to his companions. “Take care of yourself, Your Highness. Look for word via the Maarin.”

But Xadrian was already walking away.

Agrippa frowned as Killian reached them. “Everything all right?”

“Anukastre will fight with us in the battle to come.”

“Says who? Xadrian?” Agrippa snorted. “Ceenah seemed set against it, and last I heard, it is she who wears the crown.”

“If Ceenah didn’t want him making promises, she wouldn’t have given him the opportunity to do so,” Killian replied. “Anukastre is with us.”

“What remains to be seen is how many ofusare left,” Malahi said, drawing up at the base of the singular dock.

Her unease was shared by all of them, for the Maarin would have the latest word of Mudamora’s fate, and none of them were fool enough to believe what they’d learn was good.

They started up the steps onto the dock, walking down the length to where the ship was moored in the deep water, and Killian cast a sideways glance at Lydia, knowing that she’d be thinking of Teriana. “They might have news of her,” he said, and she gave a tight nod.

“Madoria believed she was where she was supposed to be, and I have to trust in that, if not in those she is with.”

Shouts of recognition echoed off the ship as they were spotted, Lydia’s name, and Killian’s own, repeated, and then a familiar face raced down the gangplank in a limping run.

“Lydia!” Bait exclaimed as he reached them. “Thank the gods, you’re alive!”

Lydia hugged him tightly. “Bait, what are you doing here? How did you know where to find us?”

“We didn’t,” Bait answered. “But Dareena Falorn has asked every Maarin vessel sailing the coast to keep eyes out for you. You too, Killian. And for…” He faltered as his eyes landed on Malahi’s scarred face, though he recovered by bowing low. “For you especially, Your Grace.”

“What news do you have?” Malahi demanded. “Has the blight spread?”

Bait hesitated, eyes skipping between their group. “Nearly half of Mudamora is lost to it, and every day, the blight presses south.”

Killian’s stomach plummeted, everything they feared swiftly becoming reality.

Bait gestured for them to cross the gangplank. “Rufina has traveled back to the eastern side of the Liratoras to take her place at the head of a new army.”

“The Derin blighters?” Agrippa demanded. “She’s moved them across the Liratoras already? That’s not possible.”

Bait’s brow furrowed as he looked the ex-legionnaire over. “No,” he finally answered. “They aren’t from Derin.”

Drawing in a steadying breath, Baird said, “Her army is made up of Mudamorians, all raised from the dead.”

43LYDIA

No one spoke, the only sound the slap of water against the hull of the ship and the distant conversation of the Anuk watching from shore.

“What do you mean, dead Mudamorians?” Malahi finally asked.