Haldir screamed in pain as they played a grisly game of tug of war with the dragobat. Blood showered like rain.
The creature lurched, and Valenna’s hands slipped on Evander’s waist; she lost her hold and fell hard, her chin striking the dirt. Evander’s heels scraped, and he clung onto Haldir’s ankle.
Haldir wailed, and Valenna’s stomach pitched. A powerful sensation, a river of warmth, ran from behind her ribs, spread to her fingertips. It wasn’t acidic and burning like her old magic. This was warm, tingling, like light or static electricity.
And then, with a rending groan, the earth split and flowering vines burst beneath her feet. They crawled over the stone walls, wrapping around Evander’s legs, rooting him down. The dragobat squealed and released Haldir. He thudded to the ground, and Evander dragged him out of the cavern and into the sunlight.
Haldir’s face was gray, his body limp. He bled from six deep punctures in his chest and shoulders.
“I need bandages! Quickly!” Evander barked, tearing Haldir’s shirt open.
Haldir gurgled, blood bubbling between his lips.
“You are not going to die!” Evander commanded. “You cannot die!”
Valenna grabbed whatever she could find—jackets, Ignatius’ shirt, someone’s rucksack—and pressed them against the wounds. Haldir breathed out a low rattle and his chest stilled.
“No!” Evander shouted. “NO! You cannot die!”
He shook Haldir, his face livid.
Valenna gripped his shoulders. “He’s dead, Vander,” she said. “He’s gone.”
Evander sat heavily and pressed his arm to his forehead, looking stunned. With Haldir dead, they were doomed to fly into the invasion at the front. The first dreadnought into the teeth of the enemy.
The Dread Five crew stood still as statues, edging away from the red rivulet running past their boots.
Evander rose to his knees, gathering himself like a man picking up spilled groceries. Then he stood.
“Well done, everyone. None of you should feel one ounce of shame. You were brave. That man”—he pointed at Haldir’s lifeless body sprawled in the dirt—“was the coward.”
Valenna raised her eyebrows. It seemed callous when Haldir had died only moments before, but Evander had never been one to gloss over the truth for niceties.
He looked at her and lifted his shoulders. “He was.”
“He was,” she replied, and she had the absurd urge to laugh; she stifled it.
“What do we do with the body?” Samara asked. “Should we bring it with us?”
“We have to bring it with us,” Rosemary said. The sun slipped behind a cloud, and the mountain fell into shadow. “We have to prove the dragobat killed him and not …”
But before she could finish, wings thundered in the cave entrance and the dragobat shot out, grabbed Haldir’s body in its talons, and, before anyone could react, disappeared into its lair.
Everyone stood in shock. Then Valenna said, “We need to get out of here.”
Evander was already taking her hand, moving to the front of the group, waving for them to follow him. They hurried down the path, casting anxious glances over their shoulders.
Valenna did not like what Evander had just done—refusing help for himself to save Haldir. Silvanlight Evander would never have done that. She’d resented his somber self-containment before, but now she wished he would be a little more selfish. Selfish men survive battles; fearless captains make terrible sacrifices.
Chapter fifty-one
Evander
“Do you think we’re ready?”
Samara’s eyes shone in the firelight, and Evander gazed at her, noticing again how young she was, how small. She should be in school, not crouching in an army camp, awaiting her first battle.
“We will have to be,” was his somber reply.
