The Neil puppet raised his arms to the sky. "Finally. I found my way back."
It's been a long time.
The Neil puppet went still, his face twisting with ugliness as he spat at Orion. "Kyren."
What do you call yourself these days?Orion asked.
"The Whisperer," Eva said, answering for him.
Rather appropriate, I suppose. Our stories suggest you always were good at luring your victims with promises of greatness. They never realized agreeing would give you a permanent hold over them.
The Whisperer snorted. "Do you think I care what you think? I stand in the seat of your power. When I leave, nothing will stand in my way."
Time has faded your memory. This place will not allow any piece of you to leave. When you die here, you die forever,Orion said.
The Whisperer lifted a shoulder, unaffected. "No matter. My copies can carry out my work in my place."
Eva's heart thumped as he voiced the thing she was worried about. How do you kill something that can separate itself and replicate as needed?
Maybe you could if you hadn't had to recall all those pieces to breach the Caller’s mist so you could follow her to our herd lands.Orion seemed very certain as Eva's gaze darted to him.
The Whisper's jaw tightened. "I suppose you're right, and if you could actually step foot in these lands without her permission, I'd be worried."
The Whisperer leaned down, picking up a rock as Orion held motionless. He straightened and chucked it at the Kyren, smiling as the rock passed through Orion's image and landed on the ground behind him.
The Whisperer smiled. "But you're not really here, because no Kyren can step foot in this place without human intervention. Only those the Caller deems worthy. It's penance for your greed when your kind killed your Caller all those years ago."
The Whisperer's gaze moved to Eva as a dark light filled his eyes.
"I'm going to enjoy hurting you—and there's nothing he can do to help you."
He started for her as Eva crouched, sliding her hand toward the dagger in her boot.
"Another wave is coming from the ridge," a Trateri yelled from Caden's left as riders massed on the high ground.
"I guess they got tired of their ambushes," Van said, riding up beside Caden.
Impatience thrummed in Caden at another delay as he wheeled his horse to face the oncoming threat. "Archers—to the ready."
Van helped Chirron slide to the ground. "Stay to the rear where it's safe."
Chirron gave him a look. "I can take care of myself."
Van's eyebrow lifted slightly. "I remember."
The response drew a small smile from the healer. "Take care of yourself."
"Always." Van straightened, his attention turning to those on the ridge as he pulled his blade from the scabbard on his saddle. His horse danced in place as he sent a look toward Caden. "It's been a while since we fought together."
Caden pulled his sword free with a graceful motion. "See if you can keep up."
All those who could still ride assembled in a line next to them. Spearmen to the front. Archers behind.
They awaited Caden's order as they eyed the opposing army as it began its descent. The riders plunged down the ridge toward them in a huge wave, their lines scattered and disorganized.
Those Trateri next to Caden gripped their weapons, their gazes steely and determined. They were better trained but far outnumbered.
"Lion—we feast," Van roared and pointed at the oncoming riders.
