Kartok the Zemyan sorcerer.
The loss of my pockmarked friend brings an unexpected pang.
“I’m afraid it’s a bit of a mess when the magic unravels.” Kartok gestures to his face. “But all will be set to right soon enough.”
I shudder and turn over. Nothing will be right while he is in Ashkar.
“What? No sad stories or tender musings to share with me today, Destroyer? I grew so fond of our little heart-to-hearts.”
“There’s nothing left to say,” I grind out. “You’ve made your intentions perfectly clear. As have I. I won’t help you—at least not willingly.” My eyes flick to the rows and rows of massive urns behind the altar, wishing I could bring every star crashing from the heavens to obliterate them.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. Youwillhelp us. Happily and voluntarily.”
“Never.”
Kartok shrugs. “Have you seen your eagle lately?”
I roll over with a growl. “What have you done to her? Leave Orbai alone!”
“No need to beferal.” Kartok tuts his tongue. “Or they really will think you’re a monster.” He places two fingers in his mouth and whistles.
Several seconds later Orbai’s shadow smudges the sky. I sigh with relief as she wings into the temple and turns a tight circle around the altar. I wait for her to alight on the ground beside me and nibble the ropes around my wrists. But she flies over me without a glance and lands on Kartok’s arm.
He offers her a nut, which she happily takes. “So hungry, this one.”
I gape at Orbai on Kartok’s arm, my mouth dry, my ears ringing. She despises strangers.
“Get your hands off my bird!” I bellow. The ground is bucking beneath me, but I buck even harder. Desperate to reach Orbai. To get the Zemyan’s filthy hands off her.
“If she’s your bird,” Kartok says, “call her.”
“What are you talking about? Of course she’s my bird!”
“Call her.”
“This is ridiculous,” I snarl, but I steady my voice and call her name. When she doesn’t budge, I call again. Louder. I cluck my tongue and whistle, but Orbai simply cocks her head and gazes at me with vacant yellow eyes. As ifI’mthe stranger. “What have you done to her?”
Kartok strokes Orbai’s back. “What do you suppose Loridium is made of? Surely not the tears of Father Guzan …”
I think back to the little leather chest, to the black powder and green liquid—I had never seen anything like it. “You poisoned her with your vile Zemyan magic.”
“No, Isavedher with my ‘vile Zemyan magic.’ But magic has a price. It’s only fair I get something in return … such as loyalty.’”
“You can’t fabricate loyalty. It has to be earned.”
“Can’t I?” He looks at Orbai with genuine pride, and I can’t refute his claim because she’s been drifting from me for weeks now, growing less and less responsive as his sorcery tainted her. Shifting her allegiance. “She lives because of me, which is why she is now bound to me. As is Temujin. As you soon will be.” He sets Orbai on the altar, removes the chest from his cloak, and places it beside her.
My heart skips a panicked beat. “But I’m not dying.”
“That can be easily fixed.” A curved blade whips from Kartok’s sleeve, as fast and efficient as when he disposed of the guards at the fort. He brings the serrated edge beneath my chin and I try to scream, but my voice no longer works. A bright burst of pain pricks beneath my jawbone. I tense, waiting for it to slash across my throat. Waiting for a curtain of blood to spill down my tunic. But aboomas loud as cannon fire rends the air.
Even larger swells roll across the fields and crash through the temple like waves. The knife slips from Kartok’s hand and he collides with the nearest pillar. I’m thrown backward, into the altar. I gasp, savoring the air that hits my lungs because it means my throat is miraculously still in one piece. Plaster crackles from the domed ceiling. The mosaic floor beneath me shatters, spitting shards of jeweled teeth. A second later a pulse of heat ripples the sky, followed by a blinding burst of light.
Through raining fragments of stone, I watch the colorful Shoniin encampment explode in the valley below. The gauzy tents crumple. Plumes of dust and debris geyser into the air. Blue flames from the bonfire flash across the field of globeflowers. Spreading. Devouring.
Kartok wheels around, clutching his head and spitting Zemyan oaths. “It wasn’t supposed to collapse so quickly.” He sprints toward the encampment without sparing a glance for me. Orbai follows with a screech.
“Wait!” I beg, but she’s already gone, winging into the smoke.
