“Are you in there?” Talon whispered.Oh, right.He’d only said one word since waking up. He should say more. His throat was hoarse from first screaming and then disuse. Zane placed his hand over Talon’s, stroking his knuckles.
“Hi,” he whispered. The resulting smile that spread over his friend’s face because of the simple word lifted Zane’s heart and soul. After today, he was going to ensure Talon understood how much he meant to him, and he would ask him to be more than friends. There was no way he would go throughout life without him by his side. His father be damned.
A smaller, calloused hand landed on his forearm. He glanced over his shoulder, Talon’s hands falling from his face, to see Iyana scrutinizing him. “I’m just checking your injuries.”
“You healed me?”
Iyana nodded.
“Thank you.”
She smiled sadly. “Thank Talon here. He encouraged me to try.” She removed her hand, astonishment clear on her face. “You’re completely healed.”
Zane ran his hands over his body searching for injuries he only had vague memories of incurring. And promptly realized he was naked.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Talon said, the sparkle having returned to his eyes. Zane grinned at the sight.
“I’ve never done this before, so give me a moment, but I’ll try to get you some clothing,” Iyana said. Zane frowned, noticing the new necklace she wore, which then glowed a pale silver. Clothes slowly formed around him, and too scared to move and potentially distract Iyana or cause the clothing to strangle him in some freak accident, Zane’s gaze roved around his surroundings, taking everything in.The dead man near them was wearing the dark green, almost black, uniform of his father’s elite soldiers. Fantastic. Then he spotted the bleak, drab, brown landscape surrounding them. They sat underneath an extremely dead, twisted tree. The ground was dry and brittle, cracked in more places than it wasn’t. Sounds of fighting finally reached his ears, and he saw Altair, Emmeric, and a black leopard (Kaz, he remembered) battling against more of his father’s men. Bodies littered the floor. A couple of them were taller than any man he’d ever seen, skin a stark white, faces with mouths that were too large and no eyes. What in the nine hellswerethose monsters?
But where was Uther?
There.A ripple in the stale air was the only sign something was amiss. As Zane stared at it, he convinced himself it was vaguely human-shaped. He had immediately presumed he was in the Dead Lands judging by how everything was, well, dead. So he knew this piece of land did not act like any other. If he were in the desert, the anomaly would easily pass off as heat waves emanating from the ground, but this was no ordinary desert. The ripple moved, and those were definitely legs walking. It must be his father. Knowing he had the astmina in his possession, it had to be how he was cloaking himself. Zane glanced down, now fully dressed. In sleek black leathers, no less. Not Holygazer green. Gods, he’d had enough of the shade to last him a lifetime.
“Nice work,” he said, his voice having regained some strength. His muscles creaked as Zane subtly stretched, trying to not attract attention towards them. So far, the other three in their party were doing a solid job of covering them, but they were flagging. Even Altair appeared to be breathing hard. But he felt fantastic. Seriously, Zane couldn’t remember feeling this good in years. Being healed by the Aztia was incredible. No wonder Uther wanted her for his own devices.
“Listen,” Zane murmured. “There’s a slight disturbance in the air at the edge of the battle. I believe it’s my father cloaking himself.”
“How?” Iyana asked.
“Most likely with the astmina. Iyana, I need you and the others to keep his attention off of me as I come up behind. Some magical displays may be necessary.”
She frowned, lips thinning, but nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
“I don’t like this plan,” Tal said, looking at Zane in earnest. His tone softened. “Let me do this for you, so you don’t have toshoulder the burden.”
His willingness to take this pain and difficulty away from Zane shone through his words. Zane appreciated it more than he would ever know. He smiled sadly, squeezing Talon’s hand. “Thank you. Honestly. But this is my fight.”
“Are you sure?”
Zane nodded, resolution diving deep into his bones. Taking on his father…he was more than capable. He’d almost bested him the day at the library—he’d seen the fear of defeat in Uther’s eyes.
Talon heaved a deep breath, pushing his exhale through pursed lips. “Okay. I don’t like it, but okay.” Tal rested his brow against Zane’s. “You come back to me, yeah?”
“Always,” Zane whispered, wanting to stare into Talon’s eyes for an endless amount of time. But he knew he’d never have that chance unless his father was gone. He had to do this for their future. For his past self, who flinched at any movement Uther made. And to avenge his mother.
Iyana put on an impressive show. For someone who abhorred running or any form of exercise, she was darting around the battle, flinging fire, air, and silver light towards enemies. Not enough to kill any of them, but enough to distract and draw them in towards her friends, who then finished the job. As he crept around the melee, Zane’s vision continued to stray towards Talon, making sure he stayed safe and uninjured.
It was impossible for him to tell which way Uther was facing. His father might be watching his approach instead of Iyana, and Zane would be none the wiser. He sent a prayer to Otho that his friends kept the emperor thoroughly distracted; then, remembering Otho was his father’s preferred deity, he sent a prayer to Thelena as well. Maybe the goddess would smile upon them since Iyana was a daughter of Istora.
Zane gripped the sword—which he’d taken off the dead man—so tightly his knuckles turned white and the tips of his fingers began to go numb. He forcedhimself to loosen his hand as he snuck closer to the inconsistency in the air. Once he was directly behind it, he grasped the pommel with two hands and swung as hard as he could towards where a head should be, figuring even if he missed he would still cause enough damage that it wouldn’t be too hard to finish the old man off. But instead of slicing through flesh, Zane’s arms vibrated as his sword hit something solid, the sound of clashing metal ringing around him. The ripple in the air dissipated, sloughing away to reveal his father. Sword in his hand, fighting against Zane’s might, and that damned cape clasped around his neck by the astmina.
Uther sneered at Zane, showing all his teeth. “Finally grown some balls, have you, boy?” He, unfortunately, didn’t seem at all surprised to find Zane healed.
Zane strained against his father’s sword, still trying to slice through his neck. “It’s time for your reign to end,father.”
The emperor cackled as he jumped backwards, disengaging their swords and then going on the offensive. Zane blocked swiftly, the force of his father’s strike rattling through him. “I told you, you are no son of mine.”
“I’m really hoping you mean that literally.” Uther continued to advance, and Zane parried every attack, biding his time. Eventually the fatigue would set in, Uther’s age and current lack of practice would catch up to him. Plus, Zane was positively buzzing with energy following his healing. He let Uther come after him, blocking, ducking, and darting away. The astmina was the unknown factor in this fight—would Uther use it if he thought he was losing? Could he use it if the cape wasn’t around his neck? The answer to the first question would be a resoundingyes. Of course, Uther would use the magic against Zane. The emperor was not accustomed to losing and, unwilling to accept defeat, would use anything at his disposal to continue his despotic rule. The answer to the second question… Well, it was worth an experiment.
