darkened blade_ A fallen blade novel - Kelly McCullough Page 0,66

is proud in her grief.

Me? I ended up hanging over the edge of the trail, saved by Kelos, and Altia, and by the goat whose legs I clung to as he dangled from the rope I’d used to tie him to the rocks.

When the world stopped coming apart, Kelos pulled me and the goat back up—the fall and my weight had broken the poor thing’s neck. Six of its fellows had simply vanished, though whether they were crushed or escaped is anyone’s guess.

It wasn’t until Jax and the others had climbed down and Siri and Javan up that I found out about Altia. Her name we carved deep in the stone where she had fallen, along with that of Olthiss, and the balance that holds all the grief and guilt I have generated in this world tipped a little bit farther against me.

I do not court death, but I do not turn away when she comes close, and when she finally takes me, I will not be sorry to leave the world behind.

* * *

“I hope they saw that.” Faran let her arms fall back down to her sides once the last glimmers of the column of spell-light faded from the sky.

It was midnight, and she had just sent up the third round of signals to let those who had gone ahead know that we had stopped the oncoming dead. The spell-light was very bright and they were supposed to stop and look for that signal at the appointed hour, but there are many turns on the path that runs down from the mountains, and it was always possible that they might miss it.

We would know for sure in a matter of hours, when we caught up to them or failed to—ten at the most. They couldn’t have gotten any farther ahead of us than that. If they did miss our signal we had a backup plan to meet at the mouth of the Evindine where it fed into the sacred lake.

Faran rubbed her hands together. “It’s getting cold fast, and it’ll be worse before we see the sunrise. We should catch up with the others.” They had moved on ahead to get out of the wind—brutal there on the broad outside curve we had chosen for the signal.

Kelos was in the lead again, with Siri a half pace behind. Kumi had the much reduced string of agutes a bit farther back, while Javan staggered in their wake, looking more than half dead. Jax had taken on the task of shepherding him along and making sure he didn’t fall off the trail—as much I think because it gave her something to think about besides Altia as because Javan really needed the help.

Altia.

“Why did she do it?” I asked aloud.

“She thought you were worth it,” said Faran. “I’d have made the same choice in her place.”

I didn’t have any answer to that, so I looked away into the darkness below the edge of the path.

“She told you the answer to that herself,” said Triss. “You were her khan.”

“That, too,” said Faran. “You are First Blade, a role that weighs all the heavier now that Namara is gone along with the priesthood. We have no other leader.”

“I don’t suppose I could resign my commission?” I kept my tone light, but I really did want to bolt.

Killing people who were just in the way of those who needed killing was bad enough. Being responsible for the deaths of those who followed me, of those I cared about . . . I shuddered in the cold wind. What if it had been Faran? Or Siri? The very thought of it made me want to slip quietly away in the night never to return. I found myself riding the ripping edge of panic in a way that I had not since before the temple fell. In all the time since, I had only ever been risking my own life, and that generally hadn’t mattered to me all that much.

“No, you can’t resign,” said Faran, her tone deadly serious. “Not if you want the dream of the goddess to survive. Not yet anyway.”

“What do you mean by not yet?” Had she thought of a way to get me out of this?

She laughed in a way that suggested she had read my tone if not my mind. “I mean not today, and not tomorrow, nor any time in the next year or two probably. You’re stuck for a goodly while yet because there is no one else