I leaned heavily against his side as I led us quickly away. When we reached the safety of the mountain, I sank down to the ground, my back to the black rock, trying to catch my breath. I felt drained. Spent. Like I’d been on the training grounds from morning to night. Or in the bed of a ravenous female or two, who had been eating away at me bit by bit.
How long was I in the fog?I wondered, furrowing my brow. It had seemed like brief moments and yet, the sun was much, much higher overhead than it’d been before I entered.
My temple began to throb and with the last of my strength, I drew myself up and managed to climb onto Okan’s back.
“Vir drak ji vorak,” I ordered him.
We ride for the horde.
* * *
“You went inside again,”Valavik accused upon seeing me. “Didn’t you?”
I grunted, leaning heavily upon the table in my council’svoliki. Only Valavik,mypujerak, my second-in-command, was present.
Slowly, my strength was returning to me. My legs didn’t feel like they would give out underneath my weight, at the very least.
“It grew towards me,” I told him quietly, staring down at the map of Dakkar spread on the table. “Like it knew I was there. I felt it taking from me. I felt itfeedingfrom me.”
“Vok,” Valavik cursed. “You must stop this, Rowin. Send a group ofdarukkarsin your stead. They can take the fog in turns. It’s too dangerous, too unpredictable.”
There were only two beings that I knew of that were immune to the fog. TheVorakkarof Rath Drokka—the Mad Horde King, as they called him—and his humanMorakkari, his queen, the white-haired sorceress that some believed had caused the red fog to billow out from the Dead Mountain.
Both possessed powers of Kakkari. Gifts from her, given to them at birth.
None in my horde, however, were immune to it. I certainly wasn’t. And none of our creatures were either. Thepyrokis. Thethespers. Or the beasts that the fog had banished from the surrounding land.
I shook my head, reaching out to snag the skin of water on the table. Taking a long swig, I felt it soothe my throat, scratched and bone-achingly dry.
“How are our rations today?” I asked Valavik.
His lips pressed. “We have enough until the bright moon but not much more. The game is gone from these lands. Though we will receive aid from Rath Kitala and—”
“Send our hunters farther north,” I ordered him, not liking the idea of relying on otherVorakkarsto feed my own horde. It built a restless ache in my chest, as did our dwindling supplies. “No more than ten.”
This season, we had been meant to be far to the west, far from here. Yet, duty called on us—on me—to stay in the east, where the land was depleted. Dead. Wasted and covered in a fog as red asvekkiriblood.
Valavik inclined his head. “I will.”
For a moment, I debated telling mypujerakabout the figure I’d seen in the fog. A small figure. Not Dakkari, nor Ghertun.
But I held my tongue, not entirely certain Ihadseen anything.
“Rowin,” Valavik rasped, spearing me with a look that I recognized. “I know it is not my place to give you orders. But I beg you, stay away from the fog. For all our sakes.”
My jaw tightened. It was not in my nature to run. To turn my back on something I deemed a threat. Dangerous. Especially if it was a danger to my own horde, to my own people.
“You are right,” I said quietly, meeting Valavik’s eyes. “It is not your place.”
Chapter Three
“We can run, Mina,” Tess whispered in the dark. Her words were forbidden and lush and so sweet that I could almost taste them on my tongue. “Before…before they make you…”
She trailed off.
Even Tess knew it was hopeless. I heard it in her voice.
“Whe-whe-whe—” I took a deep breath when I saw Tess’ lips press. I tried again with, “And whe-where would we go?”
