Valavik was standing over something and when I strode over to him, I saw what I feared. A blood mark. The blood was still fresh and glimmering. The pattern it depicted was intricate, confined within a circle, all branching lines and deep swirls. Words written in thesarkias’ language, a language only they knew, shone black with blood. Their own? Or one of mydarukkars’?
“We don’t have much time,” I said, keeping my voice quiet so the others would not hear. “They may already be gone.”
Vavalik inclined his head in agreement. “How manydarukkarsshould we take?”
“As many as we can afford.”
And we couldn’t waste a single moment.
Spinning around, I bellowed out to the guards that had come from the gates, “Gather thirtydarukkars. Ready thepyrokis. We ride for the Dead Mountain immediately!”
Themrikrodidn’t waste a moment, even in his fear. He ran with the guards back towards the horde, no doubt heading for thepyrokienclosure.
My gaze went to Mina, my expression grim. Her eyes met my own, but I knew she understood. She would have to guide our way, sooner than expected.
“The plan is still the same,” I told Valavik when he came up to my side, though my eyes never left my wife’s. “We just ride with moredarukkars. And we must find thesarkiasquickly.”
“Lysi.”
Walking to the fire basin, I deposited my torch, my sword still hanging heavy in my other hand.
Just when I started to stride towards Mina, I felt a prickling at the back of my neck.
I froze, though my palm clenched the hilt of my sword harder, as if on instinct.
Theair…the plains…
Everything went silent.
Even Riva’s cries ceased. All breath ceased. No one daredmove.
And when my eyes met Mina’s, I saw hers were wide. Her lips were parted and her face had paled.
Dread churned in my belly. The tip of my sword dragged on the ground when I turned to regard the fog, the scrape of the metal jarring and impossibly loud. The creaking of my trews, the whisper of my hair as I turned, seemed amplified.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then I heard a roaring sound. It came from deep within the fog. But it wasn’t a Dakkari sound. It wasn’t a human sound. Or one made by a wretched beast.
It was the earth. It was themountain.
The roaring grew and grew and then it was coming straight towards us. Hurtling right towards us!
No one had time to move. No one had time toact.
A violent gust of wind pushed from the fog and threw itself at us, knocking us back. The roar had been wind. Wind unlike I’d ever heard or felt before.
It went quiet once more.
“Rowin!” came Mina’s cry. “Get back!”
Her voice tunneled towards me but it sounded thick and muted. Not a moment after her words pierced the air, the ground began to tremble. I heard the cries of alarm rise up from my horde, carrying over the congealed air.
“Get back to the gates!” I bellowed. “Get back to the gates now!”
But it was too late. A massive ripple of energyboomed, energy I remembered feeling once before. An energy similar to Mina’s own power.
The red fog actually retreated towards the Dead Mountain—as if the mountain were breathing and it wasinhalingthe fog—revealing stretches of land that Mina had once revealed to us all. For a moment I thought she was using her powers. For a moment I thought thesarkiasmight have actually beenrightand—
