Endure - Sara B. Larson Page 0,92
I could more easily protect them. It took a few days, but I eventually convinced them that Blevon was not our enemy, and that we needed to do as King Osgand asked. Our only hope of surviving this is to join our forces together.”
“These tents …”
“Are for the many soldiers from both Antion and Blevon. Those who didn’t wish to fight have fled to the farthest reaches of Blevon, into the mountains or to the southwest, far from the castle and Sì Miào Chán Wù.”
The temple that Armando wanted to take possession of — where he believed he would be able to claim the ultimate power for himself and his people by drinking from the golden waters.
“We will stop him,” I said, though a pulse of fear beat low in my belly.
Damian squeezed me tightly. “Yes, we will.”
I wondered if he, too, was ignoring the worry that we were both wrong.
The sound of shouting outside jerked me awake the next day. After our discussion of King Osgand’s letter, we’d both fallen silent, and eventually I’d relaxed into the warmth and strength of Damian’s arms and drifted off to sleep. But when I lurched up, gazing wildly around the tent, I realized he’d stayed true to his word and left during the night.
I was alone.
The air was still bitterly cold, even though it was daylight outside. The tent was lit by a muted glow that could only have been from the sun. I quickly stood up and ran out of the tent to see hundreds of men and even some women rushing back and forth. I recognized a few of the Antionese soldiers, but none by name. A strange panic seized me, clutching at my lungs until I could barely breathe. I spun in the direction Nia and I had come from last night, positive I was going to see Armando’s armies on the summit we’d traversed. But the rocky incline was empty, save for some scraggly trees — and a fine coating of snow, painting the entire scene white.
Where I stood in the valley, the ground was frozen hard, but there was no snow. Yet. I turned back toward the camp, searching for anyone I knew, when I heard a voice from behind me that I’d been positive I’d never hear again.
“Alex!”
I spun to see Rylan running toward me, pulling Nia behind him.
“Rylan!” I met him halfway, letting him scoop me up with one arm — his uninjured one — pulling me against his chest. “I can’t believe you made it! I was so afraid that you’d died in those tunnels.”
“You can’t believe I’m alive? Of course I made it.” He sounded insulted. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”
“It was a close call,” I admitted.
“I’ll have to tell you someday about how I killed a black sorcerer by pretending to be one myself and then barely made it through that gate alive by hiding in the back of a cart, but for now, the king needs you.” He handed me Nia’s reins, and I eagerly stepped forward to rub her nose.
“Hey, girl,” I murmured. I hadn’t been separated from her for more than an hour or two since we’d escaped from King Armando until last night, and it was a relief to be with the small, tenacious mare once more. “Where is he?” I asked, turning back to Rylan.
“He’s waiting for you up there.” He pointed down the path between the row of tents where we stood. “Our outer scouts have spotted the Dansiian army. They got here more quickly than we anticipated, and King Osgand and King Damian have both ordered their armies to retreat to the city and the mountains surrounding the castle. We’ll be target practice for the sorcerers out here.”
I threw Nia’s reins over her head and hurried to her side so I could swing myself up into her saddle. “Are you coming, Captain?” I asked once I’d settled into my seat.
Rylan smiled ruefully as he looked up at me, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes more prominent in the sunlight. “You weren’t here to claim the title. I was the best of what was left, I suppose. And to answer your question, no, not yet. I have to help organize this chaos and get our men where they need to be. And women,” he added, looking past me.
I twisted in the saddle to see another familiar figure standing a little way off, arguing with an Antionese soldier I didn’t know. She looked different —