The archer’s smile widened even more. She bowed to him and to Azarion as he paused in front of her and waited until Erakes was out of earshot before speaking. “I’m in your debt, archer.”
“I don’t know if I succeeded,Ataman.”
“You did,” he said. “And you’ll be rewarded. You honor your family with your bravery and your skill.” He made sure to learn her name before he spurred his horse to catch up with Erakes.
It would be too much to hope that the arrow had killed Dalvila outright. Azarion could hardly believe it managed to hit her at all. His need for revenge against the woman who had debased him in ways his mind still shied away from was blade-sharp, though the archer’s arrow had blunted its edge a little. With any luck, whatever wound it made would poison and kill the Spider of Empire.
They returned to the camp and had barely come out of the saddle when another scout arrived with different news.
He gave a quick salute. “I have news,Atamans. We’ve captured a group of women and children fleeing the city. They made it outside the walls but were caught trying to reach the river. All of them say they’re from Beroe. That Azarion Ataman keeps his promise.”
The blood still singing through Azarion’s veins from his brief confrontation with Dalvila rushed even faster through his body. Gilene. Those were Gilene’s words. The scout’s eyes widened, and he took a hasty step back when Azarion stalked him. “Where are they?”
“Just outside. Riders brought them here when they mentioned your name.”
“This has been an eventful day,” Erakes said and followed Azarion and the scout to where a small crowd of Savatar clustered around a ragged group of women and children. They held on to each other for support, their faces bleached of color, eyes rounded with terror as they stared at the fearsome nomads surrounding them. None wore illusion. Gilene didn’t stand among them. The tiny hope that flared to life inside him at the idea she might be here, in his camp, died.
Azarion approached carefully, hands at his sides, body relaxed. It would do him no good to scare them more than they already were. “Who speaks for you all?” he asked in a quiet voice.
There was a long pause, in which no one moved, before a tiny woman with big eyes and a generous mouth stepped forward. She folded delicate hands in front of her and lifted her chin before addressing him. “I do.” She spared a quick glance behind her. “I think.”
“Who told you to say you were of Beroe?” He knew. Knew inhis gut but wanted to hear this woman say it. He didn’t get his wish.
A graying redhead stepped up alongside the petite woman. “She never told us her name. She was a Flower of Spring like us. She gave me the message before we escaped the catacombs.”
Secretive, suspicious Gilene. That wariness had served her well on numerous occasions. “Was she tall with dark hair?”And beautiful. The most beautiful woman ever born.Those words Azarion kept to himself.
The tiny Kraelian woman answered this time. “Tall, yes, but with light hair and blue eyes.” Awe altered her expression. “She can wield fire.”
His eyebrows shot up. Her powers had replenished then over the winter months. He knew they would, but that she had revealed them to those who would recount what they witnessed had been either an act of desperation or one of dark resolve. Neither lessened his worry. “She isn’t among you.”
“She stayed behind to face any guards who would follow us. If she escaped, we didn’t see.”
Erakes spoke up this time. “How did you escape?”
The Kraelian paused, reluctant to answer. “There is a tunnel forgotten by all. My father told me about it. It leads from a storeroom in the catacombs to the city’s outer curtain wall. You can’t see the entrance because of the wall’s angles and the growth of bushes there. It was barricaded. The barricade has collapsed.”
A rush of bitter laughter rippled up Azarion’s throat, and he clamped his lips shut to keep it from escaping his mouth. What he wouldn’t have given during his ten years of enslavement to learn of that tunnel.
An insidious voice entered his thoughts.But would you have met the fierceagacin?
Fate was a vicious taskmaster of cruel, arbitrary humors, but every once in a while, it granted a boon in its own twisted way.
He glanced at Erakes, whose eyes glittered, before returning his attention to the Kraelian. “You all made it through.”
She nodded. “Aye, though some spots are narrow and low. We had to crawl in places, one behind the other.”
Erakes grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side out of the women’s earshot. “Six armed Savatar. That’s all we need to get inside. Three to kill the soldiers manning the catapults and destroy the devices, three to kill the guards at the main entrance and open the gates.”
It was the perfect solution to victory without catastrophic losses to the Savatar horde. It seemed fitting that it was a Flower of Spring who handed them the means by which to sack Kraelag.
He might have celebrated more if Gilene were among the women who escaped. Maybe he could follow the tunnels as well.
Erakes must have read his thoughts. “You’re too big, and you know you can’t be the one to go in there. Your place is here with the warriors you lead.”
It was a stray thought, nothing more. A temptation to torture him while he stood with Kraelag in sight and Gilene so far out of his reach. Azarion sighed. “We step up our arrow attacks, keep the army and the guards on the ramparts occupied while the six sneak into the city.”
Erakes gestured to the Flowers of Spring. “What do you want to do with them?”
