Jon Sprunk - Shadow's master

She tried to stifle her elation. What mattered now was the welfare of her people. And she had the inkling of an idea. “Keegan, what if the invaders reach Othir?”

“It's a big city?”

“Yes. It's the largest city in Nimea, rivaling Taralon, Firenna, or even the city-states of Altaia. It has two sets of walls and several fortresses inside them.”

His eyes narrowed into slits as he stared into the fire. “That will make things…difficult. It would be hard to reach the Thunder Lord if he were to take such a well-defended position. But we will still have our revenge.”

“What if there was a way to attack him now? With more force than you've been able to bring to bear?”

“You mean to join forces.”

Josey smiled. He wasn't as backward as he looked. She could see why Caim had left him in charge. “Exactly. More of my soldiers may have survived the battle, and reinforcements are being assembled as we speak. If we combined our strength, we could give this Thunder Lord a real war.”

He shook his head. “We are done with Nimean rulers and Nimean troubles. We will do this our way. Alone.”

“Keegan, listen to me. I understand how you and your people must feel-”

“No, my lady. I don't think you do. We have been slaves to your empire for four generations. We fought for our freedom, and won it, only to see it trampled by one of our own. Now that we are free again-truly free-we'll never go back to that life. We'd rather die to the last man.”

Josey stood up. All eyes in the camp turned to her. She took a breath and steadied her nerves, fully aware that the future of her nation might well depend on what she did here. “I hereby pledge, as empress and sole ruler of Nimea, that if you and your warriors assist us in this time of need, henceforth Eregoth shall be a free and independent nation, subject to her own laws, creator of her own destiny, for now and all time. I so swear by my crown, and by all the emperors who have ruled before me.”

Keegan opened his mouth, and then closed it. Then he stood up with her. “My father once told me only a fool turns down a piece of bread when he's starving. We'll fight with you, my lady. And we'll hold you to your end of the bargain when it's done.”

He ordered her soldiers freed and their weapons returned, and then he left to look to his own men. Josey stood by the fire, wrapped in her thoughts. I hope I did the right thing. It felt right, but I wish Hubert were here.

“That was smartly done, lass,” Hirsch said. “Now, what are you planning to do with your new allies?”

“I'm going to use them to bleed the enemy, Master Hirsch. I'm going to bleed the invaders every step of the way until they leave our lands or fall dead on Othir's doorstep.”

She gazed over at Brian where he stood with a group of her bodyguards. But what am I going to do with you, sir?

The colorless void transformed into black granite ceiling and walls as Balaam emerged from the portal. Stale odors met him in the great room. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, but a chill lingered in the air.

He heard the pad of the servant girl's bare feet in the hall. She paused at the doorway, staring at him with her large, pale eyes. “Send for your mistress,” he said.

Balaam collapsed into his chair facing the fireplace while he waited. His hands caressed its supple leather arms. He was hungry, but just the thought of feeding made him ill. He rubbed his hands together, feeling the grit in the creases of his skin, the tiny flakes of blood that broke into smaller and smaller fragments. Deumas had been a good soldier, a good comrade, until she tried to escape her fate. None of us will leave this world alive.

Would he be allowed to end his own life with honor? Or would he be fed to the gateway like the Master's daughter? The thought sickened him. That was no way for a warrior to die.

His wife entered the room, and for a moment Balaam saw her as he had the first time they met half a century ago, when he visited her father's estate as part of his Master's entourage. She had been a maiden in the first blush of womanhood. She was still a young woman, still lovely, but something had changed. It was her eyes, he decided. They had lost their luster, dulled from all the lotus pollen, or perhaps because of him. It could not be easy to be wed to a killer.

“You're back,” she said. Her tone was even duller than her eyes. She could have been talking to a slave, or a wall.

“I've come to see you.” Balaam stopped before he added the words “one last time.” He wasn't sure why he spared her that. He wanted to tell her about the failure he'd suffered, and the price he might be forced to pay, but instead he leaned back in the chair and watched the shadows ooze along the stones.

Dorcas came closer, but stopped at the edge of a low table. Platinum cubes of differing sizes were arranged artfully on the black lacquer finish. “You look tired.”

Silence grew in the space between them until he couldn't stand it any longer. “I have been given a mission, and it's possible I won't be coming back.”

“That's foolish talk. You'll be back. You always come back.”

“I have provided for you.” It was easier now that he'd said that much. The rest was just details. “Go to Catolus in Hveifeld and tell him to-”

“No.” She came around the table. The folds of her long turquoise gown moved, showing the flatness of her stomach, the lean length of her legs against the fabric. “Balaam, stop it.”

“He is holding money for you. When I'm gone-”

“No!” She stood just outside the reach of his arm now. Her eyes were red and swollen, but alive like he hadn't seen in so long. Ah, Dorcas. Would that we could have seen this day coming and lived our lives another way.

“If you're afraid, don't go, Balaam. Give up your post. You've done enough.”

He released a long breath and felt his chest collapse. Couldn't she see how he longed to do just that? “It is my duty.”

“Your duty.” She scoffed, making it sound obscene. “What of your duty to me? All those promises you made when you asked for my hand. Were they all lies?”

“No.” He lowered his head into his hands. “But I was naive. I'm lost, Dorcas. Everything I've done, my whole life, is wasted.”

She touched his shoulder, as lightly as a bird settling on a branch. He smelled the acrid bite of the lotus pollen on her breath. It should have infuriated him, but he was too tired to fight. “Nonsense. You have me.”

“I let her go, Dorcas.”

“Who? The scion?”

Balaam slammed his fist onto the chair arm, making her jump. “No! Deumas fled. I found her in a dingy roadhouse in Illmyn. I could have ended it then. I could have done my duty. But I let her go.”

His wife knelt beside him. “Balaam, you must go to court and explain. You cannot be blamed for someone else's cowardice. You must convince the Master.”

Balaam stood up and stepped closer to the hearth, away from her. “There will be no forgiveness. I will face the consequences for my failure. You must leave Erebus.”

“Leave? Where would I go? This is my home.”

He thought back to the seas of the Shadowlands. The quiet roar of the waves lapping against the black sands. “If I wanted to leave, would you come with me?”

Dorcas stood up, too, her drawn eyebrows pinched together. There was something in her gaze, something he hadn't seen in a long time. Concern. She's frightened. She finally sees what lies ahead for us.

Then she smiled. “Were you following me today? I thought I felt your presence earlier when I went out.”

“No, I only just return-” He turned to her. “Where did this happen?”