The last living soldier sat in the driver’s seat of the motor carriage, facing down the ring of pistols aimed his way. Honovi froze when he saw who the soldier held on his lap in front of him like a living shield. Blaine didn’t appear to be conscious, head lolling forward despite the muzzle of a pistol pressed against his throat.
He wasn’t bound in any way, and the reason for that made Honovi choke on bile when he saw the ruined stump where his husband’s left arm ended at past the elbow. The ugly black stitches there tied up inflamed flesh. For an agonizing moment, Honovi couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.
“You’re going to let me go, or he dies,” the Daijalan said.
“Nura?” Ksenia asked calmly.
“Deployed,” a warden in the group said with a grim hint of satisfaction in her voice.
The pistol against Blaine’s throat pressed harder, tilting Blaine’s head at a sharper angle. “You really want to risk him dying?”
Ksenia snorted. “You Daijalans attacked our home and murdered our people and tithes. Your death is just the start of a never-ending payment for breaking the Poison Accords.”
The man opened his mouth, but then he jerked. His free hand made to slap at the side of his own neck—only his arm froze halfway through the motion, eyes bulging in his face. Saliva bubbled at the corners of his mouth in seconds, drooling down his chin.
A warden darted forward on quick feet, leaning into the motor carriage to knock the pistol away from Blaine and haul him out. They left the soldier inside, but no one took a shot to put him out of his misery. Something tiny and mechanical flew out of the motor carriage with a buzz of wings. Honovi only got the glimpse of what looked like a mechanical wasp that could have doubled as a wind-up toy before all his attention was taken up by his husband.
The warden laid Blaine down on the ground, checking his pulse before swearing and looking up at Ksenia. “I need a kit. He’s got needle marks in his arm. I can’t tell if it’s from what was done to him before or something that happened tonight.”
Honovi jerked forward, wanting to be by Blaine’s side, but Ksenia’s hand shot out, grabbing him by the wrist in an iron grip. “Let them work.”
“That’s myhusband,” Honovi ground out.
“If you want to make sure you still have one come dawn, you will let themwork.”
One of the wardens still on their velocycle climbed off and ran forward, carrying a travel case in one hand. He crouched on the other side of Blaine while two more wardens pulled out their handheld gaslights to provide more light to see by. It did nothing to ease the horror done to Blaine, nor the guilt he felt for leaving his husband behind to this horror.
Honovi couldn’t bring himself to look at the space where part of Blaine’s left arm used to be, and so he focused on what the wardens were doing. The pair had vials and tins out, both of them passing items back and forth as they concocted something on the fly that Honovi wouldn’t even begin to know how to mix.
“Broad-spectrum antidote,” Ksenia said when Honovi made a sound as one of the wardens tipped a yellow substance down Blaine’s throat. “We don’t know what was given him and can’t until we can test his blood, but we don’t have time for that right now.”
Honovi unholstered the flare gun from his hip and primed it, listening as the gears clicked together. “I’m calling Caoimhe in.”
He raised his arm over his head, pointed the flare gun straight up, cocked back the hammer, and pulled the trigger. The crack of the flare releasing was loud in his ears, light flashing at the muzzle as the flare rose into the sky, a red-orange glow that flew upward like a comet. Moments later, it flashed brighter, a lingering glow in the dark that would hopefully provide enough time for Caoimhe’s navigator to pinpoint their location with the astrolabe.
Honovi lowered his arm and reloaded the flare gun with another round from his belt. He’d need to shoot it off once the airship was on approach to better pinpoint their location. It hopefully wouldn’t be long.
“Is Blaine all right?” Lore asked from behind him. “They didn’t—”
She broke off with a horrible gasp as she came to stand by his side. Honovi knew she must have finally seen Blaine’s partially amputated left arm. He never looked away from where Blaine lay so still and pale on the ground between the wardens working to stabilize him.
“He needs a doctor and a magician with an affiliation for healing magic,” Honovi said.
“Is it safe to even move him?”
Honovi’s lips curled. “I’m not letting him stayhere.”
He’d left him behind to suffer and would hate himself for that until he died. Right now, he had every intention of flying straight to Glencoe if the wardens thought Blaine would make it. Blaine would get the medical care he needed back home. He’d get—
Honovi swallowed, shoving aside all the fear and worry clamoring at the back of his thoughts. Falling apart now would do Blaine no favors.
The remaining wardens not tending to Blaine or lying dead on the street staggered their positions in the immediate area to better keep watch. Lore never moved from Honovi’s side and didn’t offer any platitudes for the situation at hand.
It was minutes later when the thrum of an airship’s engine reached his ears, drowning out the distant sounds of bombs and gunfire at the outer wall of the city. The anti-airship guns had most likely been destroyed, which gave Caoimhe more maneuverability than she’d otherwise have.
Honovi aimed the flare gun at the sky again, shooting off another round to mark their position. Then he shoved it into his holster once the round was released and stepped past Ksenia to where Blaine lay.
“The airship is on the way. I’ll need to carry him on board,” Honovi said.
