“Gold,” the hundreds, maybe thousands, of voices say at once.
Iridiel whinnies.
“I’ll give it to you.” I hold it up as high as I can.
“Give it to me.” It slows and reaches for me, all those lavender eyes focused on the candlestick.
“And there’s more.”
The giant leans toward us, and the gremel on the very tip of its paw reaches for the candlestick and grabs it. The others begin to squabble over it immediately. “More gold!” I point behind us. “Look there, in that bag. It’s the one you saw in the wagon, full of gold.” Thousands of lavender eyes rise and focus on Parnon.
A shower of arrows fall around him, and some of them bounce off his sandy skin.
“Gold!” The creature begins moving again, and Gareth steers Iridiel between its furry legs and out the other side.
I take a breath as we turn again and watch the giant Iwoo stomp toward the towers, the mass of writhing gremels clamoring for more gold.
When it’s almost to Parnon, I yell for him to throw the bag. He doesn’t need the hint, because he’s already chucking the gold all the way to the top of the nearest stone tower, then moves faster than I even thought possible before diving behind the stone barrier with the others.
The mega-gremel rushes forward. Screams from inside are quickly buried under the sound of bending iron and crunching rock. With a hard swing, the giant Iwoo snatches the gold from the tower, its massive, grasping fist sending the structure crumbling in on itself, crushing those within.
It lifts the bag, and all the small gremels chant “gold” over and over again as it swings around, its arm destroying the other tower on a happy accident.
With a gleeful yell, it launches itself over the broken gate, past the stunned unicorns, and into the inky blackness off one side of the road. The word “gold” reverberates even after the tower is still, as if the hundreds of gremels have scattered into every nook and cranny of the Abyss to continue their worship of the precious metal.
“That was … interesting.” My adrenaline fades as I watch Parnon drag the few soldiers who survived from the rubble. “He’ll spare them, right?”
Iridiel snorts. “I certainly hope not.”
“Mean.” But I can’t scold too much. These are hired blades, beholden to the slavers with no care at all for the enslaved. Besides, I don’t have the energy.
“Is there nothing my beloved can’t do?” Gareth kisses my hair as I go limp in his arms.
I take a deep breath and exhale. My mate is strong at my back, the gremel blood coating him giving off a pungent, unpleasant aroma. I don’t even care. What little vigor I had left vanishes as quickly as the monster gremel, and I fall asleep just as the sun pierces the misty clouds.
7
Gareth
Beth slumbers in the slavers’ quarters on this end of the Abyss. They’re not quite as fine as the others, but the bed is far softer than the burlap bags in the rear of the wagon. I settle in next to her as Baralja walks past just outside the suite. Several of the fighters have taken up patrols. We’re so near the mines now, the slavers there could send a greater force to try and stop us.
But for now, my mate is comfortable. Her tired body is curled against my side, and I stroke her hair softly. A cunning strategist, she saved lives with her idea to use the gold as a lure. The enormous gremel took down our enemies with ease, though we did lose a few lives. Still, it was a victory. But now we must continue down this path, one covered with danger that grows by the moment.
She twitches and frowns in her sleep. “Clotty, no … didn’t eat … honey. Don’t know … why I’m … sticky.”
“Shh.” I run my fingers down her back and she stills.
Clotty. We’re almost there. Is she still alive? I hope so. I send a prayer to the Ancestors that she’s all right. The blow to Beth would be unbearable if we were to find out otherwise.
A shadow hovers at the door to our room, and I sigh as I position Beth in the center of the bed, then pad over to Chastain.
He waves me into the hall as another guard passes by. “Look, I know what your magic can do.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
He notices, but continues, “We’ve lost more fighters than I’d anticipated, and I’m going to need help to overthrow the slavers at the mines. You could—”
“No.” I bite the word.
