“Who are you to trespass on my lands?”
As the clansmother spoke, her cloak shifted, hundreds of iridescent feathers glinting in the light.
“I am Saga Volsik, rightful queen of Íseldur, and no enemy to you.”
She did not pause, not even at the flurry of whispers from the clansmother’s ladies.
“Kovograd is attacked by Urkans and will fall soon. Men will be killed, women and children taken to other Urkan colonies.”
The clansmother watched, her face impassive.
Saga dug deeper, desperate to find the thread that would pull this woman to her cause. “Once, clans came for help of the east—”
“That,” said the clansmother, “was centuries ago.”
Saga swallowed and tried again. “When Kovograd falls, Urkans will aim next for steppe.” She let that statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “They will come for horses and lands. And they will come for children.”
The faintest flare of the woman’s pupils was Saga’s only hint that her words had any effect. Still, she shouldered on. She twisted until the scars on the backs of her hands were bared to the clansmother. “Urkans are monsters.” Her voice wavered as the ladies leaned forward, studying the screaming bears branded into her flesh. “I once lived among them. Have seen many horrors. Please, listen to my warnings.”
The woman stared at Saga’s branding marks, silent for a long minute. Saga bit down on her cheek, trying to keep from shouting, from screaming and snarling like a wild thing. How could this woman pause even for an instant, when the blood of innocents spilled and her people were next? How was her answer not immediatelyyes?
“East and west must unite,” Saga pleaded, her desperation growing. “Alone, you are not enough. Urkans have power you cannot imagine.” She thought of the siege tower and the thousands of warriors. “Your horsewomen could break battle…expel Urkans from lands…”
The clansmother lifted a hand, and Saga fell silent. Her heart hammered in her throat and her skull; emotion clawed at the backs of her eyes.
“The wheel of fate,” said the clansmother, “works in mysterious ways.” Her dark eyes roamed Saga’s face. “I am sorry for what you have faced, queen of Íseldur, but I do not know you. How can I send my warriors into battle at the word of a stranger?”
The throb in Saga’s skull built to a deafening crescendo. “Please,” she begged. “I—I will give to youanything.They willdie.” Her mind spun with dizzying force. “Please.”
But the clansmother turned. “The east deceived us before. There is nothing that can convince me to trust them again.” And with that, she departed.
“Please!” shouted Saga, Kassandr’s face flashing in her mind. “They cannot die!”
Movement in the tent’s corner drew Saga’s gaze. There lingered Khiva, watching her silently. But after a moment, she followed the others.
And as the tent flaps slid shut, Saga’s sob broke free.
Chapter 41
Kovograd, Zagadka
Kassandr’s body ached as never before as he slashed and parried, retreated and surged forward. His Druzhina flowed around him, bending and parting like water. Guarding his flank, they relentlessly cut down berserker warriors as Kassandr lost himself to the frenzy of battle. Fat snowflakes had drifted downward all day, giving the battle a strange, muted feel. But everywhere he looked, red spattered the blanket of white.
Darkness fell, and the moons rose, and Kassandr became aware there were fewer Zagadkian warriors at his back. His Druzhina was falling.
But on he fought, not a man, nor a beast, but a being of destruction fueled by stimulant teas and battle thrill. Through the buzzing in his veins; through the battle haze shrouding his mind, Kassandr knew one thing for certain. The Urkans were set to win this battle.
Though time was lost to him, the moons told Kassandr it was sometime past midnight. Now fighting in his human form, he’d forced his beast away for the time being. In the early evening, Kass had lost his humanity, had lost his control, had lunged and snarled and tried to kill anything that got too near—be it friend or foe.
Rov had fetched the snare, and it had taken half a dozen men to drag Kassandr back to the fortress. But Rov had been unable to find Saga to help ease Kassandr. And in the end, he was thrust into abathhouse, the healer’s potent herbs drifting up from the steaming rocks. They’d rendered him senseless for several hours, and when Kass had woken, he’d been in his human form. Now his beast was confined, but it raged behind his rib cage, demanding to be let out.
When the Urkan warriors did not retreat with the last light of the day, Kass knew in the marrow of his bones that the battle would end tonight. He’d savored Saga’s presence as she’d slumbered beside him, but he wished he’d known it would be the last time. Perhaps he’d have said something different. Done something different. Perhaps he’d have found the courage to apologize for all the sorrow he’d brought to her life.
The Urkans could taste victory and drove forward with more vigor. The siege tower hurled barrel after barrel at the fortress walls and the buildings behind it, and Kassandr knew they were beyond what the nets of seaweed and soaked hides could protect. There were too many sparks; too many gods damned barrels.
Any warrior who could fight was now on the battlefield. Any who could fire a bow or pour buckets of boiling water—women and the far-too-young included—were now stationed atop the walls. Kassandr hazarded a glance over his shoulder, trying to regain his bearings. But the flurries were too thick, the battlefield too chaotic, and as a berserker lunged at him from his left, Kassandr slammed his blade into the man’s armpit.
As he hauled his sword free, crunching snow signaled Yuri Rovgolod’s arrival.
