He crumpled, blood slicking the floor as the guards surged forward.
“Put him in the southwest tower,” Dimitrios ordered. “I don’t want him near the other prisoners.” Then he muttered under his breath, “God only knows the damage he’d inflict on the others.”
Augustus fought back for the first time. He would beherefor this traitor’s last breath, even if he had to tear his arms from their sockets.
Feet planted, eyes glued, Augustus bared his teeth at the dying man. “I hope youburn, Bareas.”
Lazaros gave a rattling sigh, and his hand fell from his neck to the marble floor.
Augustus relaxed and unleashed a grin on Dimitrios that made the grown man pale. “You can thank me later.”
Dimitrios gathered himself and shook his head. “You’re not the man I met in Wairia.”
“No.” Augustus laughed, cold, hard. “That man had hope.”
And this one had nothing left to lose.
Chapter
Thirteen
Kai Silver Wolf glanced up at the packed galleries inside the Hall of Thunder.
Today wasn’t just a ceremony. It was a test of loyalty—hers to her people, and theirs to her.
Hundreds of spectators overlooked the entirety of the training grounds from the levels carved into the natural mountain stone. Today wasn’t meant to be special, but the number of Yirians in attendance made it feel like a tournament was underway.
In a way, there was. After a week of rigorous training and demands, asking for no less than everyone’s best, today was the day Kai would name her five. The Stormguard Legion. Her most trusted and valuable warriors, all of whom would ride into battle at her side.
She’d considered ignoring the seer and Eternal One’s request out of spite, but Kai didn’t feel like testing the gods any more than she already had in recent days.
Kai returned her attention to the grounds, where the clash of weapons gave rhythm to her heartbeat, the roars of the oxbeasts fed life to her soul, and the commands of the warriors were a summoning call to her life’s blood. There had never been a time when this room and these people weren’t necessary for her to live.
She often hoped her visage would one day stand alongside thesecenturies-old stalactites in which renowned warriors had been chiseled into the natural stone. Like them, she would guard these grounds along the outer ring for eternity. The stone warriors shimmered in the faint light of blue fungi, like ghosts carved into permanence.
The ground floor was a mix of packed earth and finely crushed stone. Stone barriers divided the arena into sections, many of which were in use. Silver Wolf younglings worked through the obstacle course—a circuit of barriers, steep inclines, and sharp turns to test the agility and endurance of both the warriors and their oxbeasts.
In the combat arenas, warriors engaged in combat either on foot or beast. The fierce females and males wore sleeveless tunics made from lightweight fabrics and flexible breeches tucked into boots. For those sparring, padded vests protected the wearer from rib injury. And everyone, down to the younglings, wore leather arm and leg guards and fingerless gloves with knuckle guards.
Otekah Silver Wolf approached Kai from a narrow path, her red headband soaked with sweat. Her attention was focused on one combat arena in particular, where a warrior and her mount faced another pair with unmatched ferocity.
“Do you see what I see?” her second asked.
Kai saw four potential females to be Stormguard who weren’t of First Clan, which would only stir trouble. To hear everyone tell it, the chosen would all be Silver Wolf. After all, First Clan’s number one responsibility was to the mountain’s protection. Very few—veryfew—joined these ranks from outside clans, and only when they showed an exceptional aptitude early on. It was this way with every clan and always had been.
“Name them,” Kai said. If she and Otekah were of the same mind, then she had her Stormguard.
“Niabi White Spirit.” Otekah gestured at the rider who always seemed to be of one mind with her oxbeast. Try as she might, Kai could never tell which controlled the battle and movement, the rider or her mount.
“The sisters—Tiponi and Pamuy Broken Axe.” The pair sparred with double-fisted axes, outnumbered two to one in the farthest arena. Even Kai’s heart raced to watch them fight. They liked to end a fight with their teeth on an opponent’s neck, stopping short of tearing their throats out.
“And Poloma Quiet Rock.” Fala’s cousin Poloma had been more likely to poison someone than heal them and was sent to train under Silver Wolfearly on. Anyone pricked by her spearhead was likely to become very sick by its poisoned tip—no one ever died. The same might not be said in a real battle, however.
Kai noted how Otekah hadn’t named a fifth, so she completed the list. “And you, Otekah Silver Wolf.” In fair conditions, mounted and on the move, Otekah could hit a target with her arrow from a mile out.
“As if you could be rid of me so easily,” Otekah said with a deep chuckle.
Kai turned her back to the room and spoke quietly. “There are many who will not accept them. Not with so many Silver Wolf warriors to choose from.”
