Gilene stared hard into the Veil, finally seeing the shadowy outline of riders coming toward them. “The fire is obvious in its protection, but surely it can be defeated? A protective shield wall, wagons that can withstand the flames long enough to break the Veil and drop Kraelian soldiers onto Savatar territory.”
“They’ve tried all those things. The wagons will make it through but carry nothing but men turned to kindling. This isn’t flame made with flint and fatwood. It’s god-fire like you cast. Water doesn’t quench it, and any person who touches it is instantly burned, no matter how well protected.”
She swallowed hard and edged her mount farther back from the Veil. Gilene knew herself to be impervious to the flame built by men and to the fire she summoned in the Pit each year, but who knew if this was the same? Despite Azarion’s insistence that she was his goddess’s handmaiden, she didn’t think herself beyond risk.
“How do you expect to get through?” she asked. “How do you expect to get your horse through?” The shadows of the riders on the other side grew clearer as they rode closer to the Veil.
Azarion watched them, his brow furrowed in thought. “Theagacinswho raised the Veil understood the need to protect but not to trap. This fire allows animals through as well as those who are marked by Agna’s blessing. I’m marked.” He pulled aside the neckline of his tunic to show a small starburst pattern etched into his flesh just under his collarbone where it met his shoulder. Gilene had noticed it when she helped him wrap his ribs in his cell but hadn’t thought it anything more than some self-inflicted scarification the gladiators practiced. Azarion straightened the tunic. “At their first year and naming day, every Savatar is given Agna’s mark by anagacinas protection against the Veil’s fire. As one of her handmaidens, you’re already protected from Agna’s fire by her blessing. You don’t need the mark.”
He sounded so certain. She wished she could believe him. “What if my witchery isn’t born of Agna? I will burn in her fire.”
He shook his head. “You won’t.” He guided his mount closer until both horses stood side by side, and Azarion’s leg pressed tohers. “You have to trust me,Agacin. I can’t leave you on this side of the Veil, and I can’t stay, but if I thought you’d burn, I’d figure out another way.” Again that wry smile flitted briefly across his mouth. “You aren’t much good to me as a pile of ash.”
“Ride through on my own, or you’ll carry me? That isn’t much of a choice. I risk death by fire no matter which I choose.”
He refused to bend. “You won’t burn.”
“Such faith in your goddess and her blessings,” she scoffed. The Veil simultaneously roared and whispered, its fire crackling, its flames blinding. “I’ll ride. At least if I die, I’ll do so knowingImade the choice.”
“We’ll blindfold the horses and lead them through. They won’t balk so much if they can’t see the flames.”
“What about the patrol on the other side? Will they be friendly to us or put us to the sword the moment we cross?” The irony of surviving the Pit, Midrigar, Nunari trackers, and an enraged barrow wight only to die at the end of a Savatar sword point would have made her laugh if it weren’t so frightening.
“It’ll depend on who they are and if they recognize me.” Azarion sounded supremely unconcerned.
She briefly closed her eyes. “I will die on this journey.”
They prepared the horses, using Gilene’s shawls to cover their eyes. Azarion held the reins of both mounts. Gilene stood next to him, staring at the horsemen who waited on the other side.
Azarion’s green eyes flared in his sun-bronzed face. Eagerness, triumph, confidence. All the things Gilene didn’t feel. Her stomach lurched this way and that, an internal dance of fear, and she knew the steps well.
“We’ll walk through together,Agacin,” he said.
She frowned. “I will haunt you until you die should you be the cause of my death. You’ll know no peace.”
He didn’t mock her threat as she half expected. Instead he offered her a brief bow and a solemn expression. “I haven’t known peace in a long time.” He gestured with a hand toward the Veil. “Come. It’s time.”
CHAPTER TEN
Their pass through the Veil was less of a rush and more of a crawl. Azarion held the reins for both horses in one hand and walked slowly through the fire. Gilene followed, her palm pressed against his back as the flames swallowed them. He could hear the staccato rhythm of her breathing. He knew she’d cross the Veil without incident. Knew it down to his bones. She didn’t, and she didn’t fully believe him.
“Can we not go any faster?” Her voice trembled.
He wished he could grant her request and rush them both through the Veil, but he risked spooking the already anxious horses. “Just keep walking,Agacin, and don’t look at the fire. We’ll be through soon enough.”
Her fear was justified. As a young boy, he and other boys in his clan would ride out with the patrols, learning the roles they’d assume as men and warriors. They often went back and forth through the Veil—as much to numb themselves to the fire’s intimidation as to train their horses not to fear it when they crossed into Nunari territory on raids. It didn’t matter how many times he crossed; the first sight of the roaring, crackling beast always made his stomach drop to his feet.
“Shouldn’t you be holding your sword instead of the horses’ reins?” she said, the words muffled as she spoke them into his tunic. Her steps shadowed his from behind as he led them through the Veil.
“Only if I want to be shot full of arrows the moment we reach the other side.” The fiery wall towered above them, blinding but oddly lacking any heat. It was a trap for the unwary and the unknowing who assumed that such an absence meant it was harmless. “There are at least four Savatar archers watching us with their bows drawn and their arrows nocked. If they see me holding steel, they’ll kill us once we emerge.”
“Remember what I said. My spirit will haunt you all your days.”
Magic and fire spiraled and pulsed around them, flames licking at their clothes, skin, and hair. Nothing burned. Behind him, Gilene gasped in wonder at the brilliance around them.
The great fire, summoned byagacinsnow long dead and fed by those who came after them, generation upon generation, cavorted in a chaotic dance all around them.
“I’m not burning!” Relief rang through Gilene’s exclamation.
