I grunted in affirmation.
“Stay there,” Rohak said, ever the tactician. “Hide amongst the trees and hills. Use the landscape to your advantage while you rest. If they make it through Alvor,you surprise them there. We’ll be there as soon as we can to help. Hold them off as long as you can, Torin.”
I ended the call after agreeing to his plan, shaky fingers already reaching for Peytor’s stone.
“Peytor,” I said into the stone, waiting for his reply.
When none came, I took a deep breath and tried again.
After the second and third attempts, a heaviness took residence in my gut, sinking it to my knees. Heart thumping in my veins, I tried a fourth time in abject desperation, but was met with only silence.
The stone slipped from my numb fingers, bouncing in the grass.
Peytor was dead. Our navy, gone. Alvor, Folami, and Talamh were next.
How many more of us had to die before this was all over? Before Solace was finally brought to heel?
My magic responded to the despair and anger pulsing through my veins. It ran wild, feeding my emotions and blinding me to most rational thought.
But I embraced it, reveled in it, even.
“Hide in the hills and trees,” I commanded, my voice ringing with otherworldly authority. The soldiers stopped their whimpering and crying, focusing instead on my directions. “When Solace comes through, we crush her and her army with the same grace they showed our brothers and sisters on the ships.”
I smiled, a feral thing, as I moved with my soldiers to scope the land for the most advantageous positions.
Yes, when Solace marched through here, she would be met with more than just well-trained soldiers.
She’d be met with a furious God of Earth and Fire, and we’d see whose blood would soak the earth beneath our feet.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Solace
The white hulls of the ships scraped against the jagged ends of the wooden docks, a crunching sound preceding our arrival. Not many, if any, of the soldiers in my army had experience commanding a ship, even these smaller schooners Samyr used.
The ships hit the docks with little finesse; some of the hulls splintered apart from the strength of the impact, my sycophants jumping from the low rails to roll onto the docks below. No matter; the carcasses of these vessels would sink and rot like the corpses of my enemies at the bottom of the sea.
Either I conquered Elyria or . . . there wasn’t another option. In no realm would I be bested by some fledgling gods and their unaware armies.
I hummed in satisfaction as I floated gracefully from the boat, landing lightly on bare feet. The docks were wet from sea spray and rain, quickly saturating the bottom of my dress. I would rather it be bathed in the warm blood of those who dared to oppose me, but that would all happen in due time.
I inhaled deeply, letting the tang of salt and scent of fire burn my nose, relishing in the way it seared my lungs.
“Where to, Goddess?” Razia purred from just behind my left shoulder. He was much too close for comfort, and I nearly flinched at his sudden proximity. The man was like a rodent, hiding the majority of the day and only appearing when it was most beneficial to him.
“Through Alvor. Kill anything that moves,” I spoke, my voice a scratchy whisper filled with malice andexcitement.
I glided away from Razia, leaving him to organize the rabid masses as I continued my trek through the city.
I expected an army or, at the very least, a contingent of palace guards ready for my arrival.Somethingto abate the growing need for bloodshed that bubbled to the surface with every step. My magic writhed beneath my skin, occasionally bleeding through to wind around my legs and hands. I absently played with a diaphanous strand of water, letting the coolness of the magic ground me, though it did nothing to temper my rising suspicions.
Where were the armies? Where were my enemies?
I grunted as I climbed a rather dangerously sloped road, cresting the top of the hill to view the palace and city below. While Samyr was made entirely of white trees and nearly whimsical details, Alvor was all grey stone and stout buildings, sturdily built to withstand siege and the relentless lashing of salty wind.
It was . . . underwhelming, especially with the notable absence of anything to kill.
I felt Razia at my back before he approached this time, and I stilled him with a raised hand.
