They took one more moment, just to see if the hall would clear out against all odds, but when that didn’t happen, theyhad to move. Footsteps echoed up the corridors behind them, and they were out of time to stall.
Xan went first, then Ellis. Eiri took a deep breath, gathered his dwindling courage, and followed.
He made it two steps down the hallway before a hand clapped over his mouth and an impossibly strong arm coiled around his waist. He didn’t even have time to struggle before a door clicked open behind him and he disappeared from the hallway.
Chapter 25
Syrus
“Will he live?”
“It’s hard to say. I can’t identify what’s causing this.”
“How long until we know?”
“If he survives the night, he may make it.”
“The odds of that?”
Silence met that question.
The voices. He knew those voices. The words came in waves, echoing and distorted, as if he were underwater. Fire burned through his body, raging unchecked within him. Pain unlike any he’d known followed in the path of that fire. He wanted to scream, to rage. He wanted to claw the agony from his body, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even open his eyes. He could only lie there listening to those voices calmly discuss his death.
“What of the other one?” the first voice, the woman, asked.
“The guards are on alert and everyone available is searching for him.”
“And his accomplices?”
“Unknown.”
The words faded into nothingness, the words less than meaningless to his pain-wracked mind. Something pulled athim, a gentle hand trying to guide him into the warm darkness, away from the agony tearing his body apart. It would be so easy to just let go and put an end to this endless suffering. His strength was already depleted, his body exhausted from fighting the flames trying to destroy him from within. Why not just let go?
“I never took you for a coward.”
Another voice, but this one wasn’t in the room with him. This voice echoed in his mind, slicing through the pain with the blatant challenge. Like the others, he recognized this voice, but where the first two left him feeling small and worthless, this one goaded him, pushed at him, urging him to stand and fight.
He was thirty-three years old, a leader who’d earned his rank through action, rather than his bloodline. He’d spent the last fifteen years of his life as a soldier, first following orders, then giving them. While he’d seen action along all the borders of Vaetreas, most of those years had been spent on the coast, dealing with the endless raids from the Canjiri.
Today was no different.
The Canjiri had miscalculated, not realizing he’d made an unscheduled stop at the barracks here in Altana, on the coast near the border of Nevarre. The Tyjer River separated the two countries and they’d been allies for centuries, but recent trade disputes had caused enough tension that he’d decided to stop in and make sure the tiny garrison here was on alert.
It was a lucky move on his part. When the gray sails of the Canjiri appeared out of the fog, the soldiers were prepared. The Canjiri depended on the element of surprise, allowing them a few vital minutes to grab what they wanted and run while the troops scrambled to face them. This time, though, Syrus had them at the docks only moments after the skiffs landed, meeting the raiders with a show of force they were unprepared for.
A familiar boat at the end of the docks caught his eye and sent abolt of anticipation coursing through Syrus. Even from a distance, he could spot the tiny flowers painted onto the hull, cascading along the prow in delicate swirls. As always, they appeared untouched by the ravages of the water, bright spots of color against the sun-bleached wood.
It only took a moment to scan the line of raiders and spot one who stood tall, shouting orders in lilting Canjiri to the faltering raiders.
That anticipation surged higher and he made quick work of sending the troops into action, leaving him free to cut across the docks toward the raider. They’d met in battle countless times by now and neither had come away victorious, something he was determined to change today.
He’d nearly reached the raider when a pained cry caught his attention and he spotted another Canjiri sprawled across the docks, a bloody wound on the back of his head, dripping down the collar of his lavender shirt. One of his own men stood above the raider, sword raised to strike down the injured man.
Syrus moved quickly, his own blade clattering against the soldier’s. He put enough force behind it to knock it out of the man’s hand. Whatever self-righteous insult the soldier turned to spew at Syrus died on his lips when he saw who’d stopped him, but only just.
“There’s no honor in stabbing someone in the back while they’re wounded,” Syrus snapped before the soldier could recover his composure. “Our orders are to capture, unless our lives are in danger. I fail to see how he’s a threat to you right now.”
“He’s Canjiri trash.” Hatred burned in the soldier’s eyes, a fanatical fire fanned by the anti-Canjiri sentiment that ran so strongly through Vaetreas.
