Twelve men, including Polan. Open killing ground between their ridge and the cage. It was a long bowshot away—too far to rush before the leveled crossbows cut them down. Night was the bait. Gessa was the prize.
He searched for an opening, a weakness. A charge was suicide. Gessa’s magic? She was already swaying on her feet, the power spent. Her hands trembled. Her eyes were glassy. She couldn’t tear the world open again, not with the precision needed to save them. There was no strategy left. No maneuver to execute. Polan had set a perfect snare, and they were already caught in its teeth.
Gessa shifted beside him. He glanced at her. He saw the resolve hardening in her eyes, saw her gather herself, and he knew what she was about to do before she even moved.
“No,” he hissed, his voice a low, desperate command. “Don’t.”
But she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was locked on the caged form of Night, on the magnificent beast held captive because of them. Because ofhim. Then she looked at Polan, and Ky saw the terror in her expression contained by a will of tempered steel. She was making a choice.
“Gessa, don’t,” he tried again, but it was useless.
She stepped out from behind the cover of the rocks, her hands raised in a clear gesture of surrender. “Alright,” she called out, her voice clear and steady, betraying none of the trembling he had seen moments before. “Let him go. I’ll come with you.”
Polan’s lips curved into a thin, patient smile. “Excellent. I knew you would see reason eventually.”
“No!” A roar of fury ripped from Ky’s throat. He started to move, to charge, to dosomething, but Gessa’s voice stopped him cold.
“Stay there, Ky,” she said, not looking at him. Her tone brooked no argument. “Don’t make this worse. Please.”
He froze, trapped. A cold, distant part of his mind, the part that was still a pure Iron Spur, ran the brutal logic: sacrifice the hostage to save the charge. Let Night die to create a diversion for Gessa’s escape.
He rejected the thought. He had made that choice once before—the mission over the soul—and the cost had been Dawn. He would not become that man again. Not for any mission. Not for any price.
He lowered his sword, the metal feeling impossibly heavy. He stepped out from the rocks, his own hands raised in surrender.
“No!” Gessa cried out, turning to him, her mask of defiance crumbling into disbelief and horror. “Ky, don’t! That wasn’t the deal! Run!”
He met her desperate gaze, giving a single shake of his head.I’m not leaving you.The silent message passed between them, a grim acceptance of their shared fate.
Polan sighed, a sound of staged resignation that couldn’t quite mask the smug quirk of his lips. “How... wonderfully predictable,” he murmured. “The loyal protector, unable to leave the side of his charge. It’s almost touching, really.” He gestured vaguely to his men. “Bring them all. But gently. We aren’t barbarians.”
“No!” Gessa’s voice cracked, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten in her outrage. She took a staggering step toward him, her hands balling into fists. “That wasn’t the deal! You said if I came back, you’d let them go!”
Polan looked at her with mild confusion, as if she were speaking a foreign language. “My dear, I said you made an excellent choice. I never agreed to your terms.” He gestured reasonably to the cage. “I cannot let a dangerous, magical predator loose in my mountains to hurt my men. Nor would I leave a crippled Spur to die in the wilderness.”
He smiled, that horrible, benevolent expression returning. “I am saving them, Gessa. Just as I am saving you. One day, you will thank me for it.”
She didn’t get within five feet. A bandit stepped into her path, shoving her roughly back. The impact knocked the wind out of her; she stumbled, fighting to keep her feet on the uneven ground.
Polan didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He simply watched her with the patient, slightly bored expression of a parent waiting for a child’s tantrum to run its course. He shook his head slowly, offering her a look of tragic forgiveness, as if the insult were merely a symptom of her illness that he was generous enough to overlook.
The descent was a new kind of torture for him, not just from his leg, but from watching her. Each step seemed to cost her more than the last. She swayed, color draining from her face as the backlash from her own power took its full toll. By the time they reached the bottom of the ravine, her legs gave out. He caught her just before she collapsed, her body a dead weight in his arms.
Polan watched with a frown of concern that didn’t reach his eyes. “Pathetic,” he murmured. “Look what they’ve done to you, Gessa. Running you into the ground like a common mule.” He then gestured to a bandit. “Put her on her horse.”
A rough-looking bandit approached, making to take her from him. Ky instinctively tightened his grip, turning his body to shield her, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The bandit just laughed, a harsh, ugly sound, and shoved Ky hard. Off-balance, Ky stumbled back, and the man easily wrested Gessa’s limp form from his grasp.
The bandit tried to heave her onto the horse, but Gessa couldn’t help, couldn’t even find the stirrup. She was completely spent.
Polan clicked his tongue. “She’s useless like this,” he said, his tone flat and practical. He glanced at the wagon carrying Night’s cage, then back at Gessa, weighing her like a sack of grain. “Fine. We haven’t the time for this. Put her in the wagon with the beast. At least she’ll be out of the way.”
As the bandits hauled Gessa toward the wagon, Polan turned his horse, bringing him uncomfortably close to Ky. He looked down, his expression laced with a kind of disappointed pity.
“I expected better, Instructor,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only Ky could hear. “You were supposed to be aguardian. Instead, look at her. Exhausted. Filthy. Broken.” He shook his head, adjusting his gloves. “I suppose it was too much to ask a cripple to carry such a heavy burden. Don’t worry. I’ll see that she’s properly mended. It will take time to undo your negligence, but I am a patient man.”
Ky watched, his jaw tight with rage, as they lifted her unceremoniously onto the hard, rattling floor of the wagon.
A rough hand shoved Ky forward toward his own horse, but the scar-faced lieutenant grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. The man’s eyes dropped to Ky’s boots, catching the glint of serrated iron.
