“Now!” Vi barked, standing. Taavin took Aldrik’s other side. “Fetch his horse and every other warstrider or hearty breed.”
“Who are you to give orders?”
“I don’t have time for your strutting and self-importance,” Vi sneered, looking down at the man as she passed. “Your prince is dying. I am the woman trying to save him. That’s all that matters.”
The other soldier snapped into action, running from the tent and shouting, “Horses! Get Baston and five more mounts!”
As they emerged, six horses were trotting over, already saddled and ready to ride. War made people prepared to move at all times.
The soldiers helped Vi and Taavin hoist Aldrik into his saddle. They tied him to the saddle and packed healing herbs into his wound, bandaging it. Deneya was one of the women quickly stocking their mounts.
“I’ll sneak off and head west,” she whispered hastily. “I’ll grab the crown from our place and meet you south.”
“Thank you.” Vi squeezed her hand.
“I’m ready to be out of here.” Deneya followed Vi over to one of the other mounts. “You need to go. The prince doesn’t look good,” she said, louder.
“The Minister of Sorcery will be able to extract the poison from his blood,” Vi declared to those assembled as she mounted one of the horses without permission.
“Who in the Mother’s name do you think you are?” Some major Vi didn’t recognize balked at her and Taavin as they saddled up. “Those are my—”
“There’s no time!” Vi shouted and snapped her reins. As she passed the large, familiar black horse Aldrik was riding, she gave it a light smack on its rear.
The mount’s dark eyes met hers and Vi could’ve sworn she saw recognition there. He might be called by another name now, but Vi would know Prism anywhere. The beast followed closely behind her.
Four soldiers, Taavin included, took up the rear as they began to race across the continent.
The North was a blur. The Waste even more so. The party stopped at the Crossroads, briefly, demanding fresh horses for the non-warstriders among them, food, and clean bandages for the prince. Two soldiers threw around the idea of staying and sending for Western healers, but Vi overruled that decision. Just when the debate grew heated, Aldrik gained enough clarity to side with her. She wasn’t sure if it was Yargen helping her in that moment, but Vi said a quiet thank you to the goddess anyway as they set out once more.
Hooves thundering on the Great Imperial Way filled her ears. The noise was monotonous and deafening, and the only sound any of them could hear. When they left Shaldan, they had all been too panicked for small talk. Now, they were all too exhausted.
Sweat rolled down her neck, plastering her clothing to her skin underneath her armor. The heat of the desert made the appearance of the Southern treeline in the distance a welcome sight. She was even grateful for the storm clouds on the horizon. The idea of rain was a balm to her sun-beaten cheeks.
She was such a fool.
Rain pounded down around them nearly non-stop after they entered the forests. Tiny rivers ran around the horses’ hooves and down the road. She went from constantly wiping sweat out of her eyes to blinking away rainwater.
A yell distracted her from her riding trance. Vi looked over her shoulder in a panic. A horse was down, its rider shouting curse words as his leg was pinned under it.
“You’re not far.” One of the other soldiers riding a standard mount pulled on his reins, rounding back to the other man. “You three go on ahead. Get the prince there. It’s a miracle he’s held on for this long,” the woman shouted over the rain.
“You heard her, let’s go!” Vi kicked her horse’s heaving sides to force it up the steep incline toward the Capital.
Horns trumpeted off every wall. The sound echoed around them all the way to the palace. Vi followed the calls to a side wall where two large doors were opening.
Palace servants rushed to meet them. They went immediately for Aldrik, who nearly fell into their waiting arms the second he was untied. Vi dismounted and her knees bit into the stone of the Imperial Palace as she slipped and lost her footing.
“Soldiers, report!” A man rushed out to meet them. Vi blinked up at him and then, with the help of her horse, stood.
“The crown prince has been poisoned. Fetch the Minister of Sorcery. Have every cleric help him.” It was more of a command than a report.
“We couldn’t identify the poison, but the Imperial library will have the answer,” Taavin interjected from her side. He looked as wobbly as she was. But his head was clear enough not to forget the most important part. “Have the library staff summoned to look up information on Northern poisons—poisons in general. Anything will help, just get every library apprentice on the task.”
“With haste.” Luckily, the guard on duty didn’t seem to mind their barked orders, or at the very least he understood where they came from. “Marcus, help them inside. I’ll go to the clerics.”
“Sir!” Another soldier saluted and then guided them into the palace. The four of them entered through a side receiving room, shivering and soaked to the bone. Vi looked over her shoulder, staring at the door Aldrik was taken through. “I’ll take your full report later. For now, let me find you food and some warm clothes.”
“That’d be much appreciated,” their companion said through chattering teeth.
