the Ghertun’s weapons. He knew something about me was different now. He’d realized that the moment the Dead Mountain had come into view and I’d dropped my previous command from his mind.
But he also knew that I would do anything to help Davik and so, he did as I asked.
Another darukkar came forward with rope and only once the Ghertun were tied did I release the command with a shuddered breath. Immediately, the Ghertun were hissing and struggling against their binds but they stilled when a group of warriors surrounded them, their swords pointed at their throats.
I didn’t waste another moment and I strode inside the Dead Mountain, taking the darkened stairwell down to the depths, where most of the Ghertun lived. Already, that musty, moldy, cloying scent filled my lungs, making me want to retch. Behind me, I heard the remainder of the warriors follow, including Hedna and Rath Kitala, their swords hissing from their sheaths.
Once we reached the main landing, I pointed down the darkened hallway to our left. “The sibi who own slaves live down there,” I told Hedna, connecting eyes with him. “Find them all. My family is among them.”
Hedna jerked his head and a group of Davik’s warriors followed him. I had faith that they’d be able to handle the Ghertun they encountered, since most of the sibi would be in the great hall with Lozza, especially if they had Davik as their entertainment.
The thought made my gut churn as Rath Kitala’s eyes found mine.
“I hope you know what you are doing, kalles,” he murmured.
“I haven’t a clue,” I confessed, reaching into my pocket, my palm squeezing around the heartstone, clutching it to me. I needed to be brave. For my family. For Davik. “This way.”
The pathway to the great hall was long and narrow, winding in a seemingly endless circle to the very center of the mountain.
Then we heard screams, hissing shrieks of horror and surprise, echo from the hall up ahead. My stomach dropped, my blood freezing to ice, as the whole mountain seemed to awaken.
“Vok,” Rath Kitala cursed as we, and the handful of darukkars that accompanied us, pressed close to the walls.
Most of the population of Ghertun lived on the level where the great hall was and soon, I heard hordes of them begin to approach from all directions.
We slipped into a shadowed alcove, my nails piercing half-moons into my palm around the heartstone. A moment later, there was a rush of dark bodies, the walls vibrating as more and more Ghertun streamed into the hall, all heading towards the awing blackness at the end of it.
Davik was in there.
I knew it. I could feel him.
And I couldn’t afford to wait until the hallway was cleared because Ghertun would pour from every dark crevice of the mountain until we were swarmed and unable to move.
“Kalles,” Rath Kitala bit out when I stepped out from the safety of the alcove. A Ghertun ran into me, making the breath whoosh from my lungs, but I felt the heartstone burn even hotter in my hand. The Ghertun wouldn’t think anything of a human—one who wore the slave mark—so I ran with them towards the great hall, getting lost in the crush of their bodies, the acrid and bitter scent of their flesh, until I reached the entrance and peered within.
What I saw made panic claw at my throat.
The Ghertun king was bleeding and slumped near his throne. And Davik was near him, a deep wound in his chest, blood dripping down his face, fighting off a legion of Ghertun that had begun to swarm, no doubt at Lozza’s command.
“No,” I whispered, throat tightening with fear and panic. There were too many.
My power rose.
My first instinct was to help Davik, though I didn’t know how. My only thought was of saving him because he wouldn’t be able to fight off the hundreds of Ghertun that were pouring into the great hall alone. And more would come. They wouldn’t be satisfied until he was dead on the floor.
No.
If he were gone from this world…I didn’t think I’d be able to bear it.
Kakkari, help me, I pleaded, panicked, pressing my palm around the heartstone tighter and tighter until I thought it would burrow into my hand. Help me save him.
That burning heat sank into me and filled the cavern of my chest. Just like at the tree in the ancient groves, that heat began to sear me from the inside, painful and scraping, a silent scream lodged