Aerax would survive, regardless. She looked to him, at the silver chain that now held her braid pouch nestled in the hollow of his throat.
“When will we likely hear from my sister?” Tyzen asked Kelir. “Ferek and Raceni will not have to travel as far as the Burning Plains to reach her, I imagine.”
“Yvenne and Maddek will likely have the message from Oana and be heading north soon,” the warrior said. “They should already be in Krimathe by the time we return from the northlands.”
“With so many stories we will have to tell them,” sighed Seri happily. “The wraith, the dragon . . . and of Lizzan and Aerax killing a demon twice.”
“Finally,” Lizzan said. “I have a story worth repeating.”
“But one I do not want to relive again,” said Aerax, and despite his light tone, she heard the agony that still lingered beneath as he remembered her death.
“You will not relive that again.” Heart full, she took his hand, threading her fingers through his. “Even though the Destroyer comes. Because we will defeat him, too.”
And because their story was far from done.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am eternally grateful to every reader who has enjoyed my work, but I have been particularly floored by the response to this series—thank you to everyone who took a chance on A Heart of Blood and Ashes, and I hope you’ve enjoyed Lizzan and Aerax’s story, as well.
As always, thank you to my editor, Cindy Hwang, for her amazing patience and encouragement. To my agent, Nephele Tempest, who always smooths the way for me. The entire team at Berkley deserves a thousand rounds of applause for all that they do to make this book into a gorgeous package and to strengthen the story inside. This particular book had the additional challenge of being produced while the world around us went through a strange and uncertain time, and I’m writing this acknowledgment during a quarantine and lockdown—as the production and editing teams have been undergoing, as well, and yet this book is still making it onto the shelves. And I thank all of you so very much.
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Gathering of Dragons book by Milla Vane
A HEART OF BLOOD AND ASHES
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MADDEK
Commander!” A young Syssian soldier called out as Maddek rode toward the bridge. “Something’s got the savages on the run!”
Her polished helm gleaming beneath the early-morning sun, the soldier pointed across the river. Maddek slowed his mare, his gaze scanning the opposite bank. This was a grim stretch of the Lave. On either side of the swift-flowing waters, sparse grasses grew on stony ground that buckled and heaved into hills and ravines. The Farians’ hunting party was camped in one of those gullies, hidden from Maddek’s sight—though he knew well its location and had posted soldiers along the riverbanks, eyes covering every route out of the ravine that the savages might take when they finally attempted to cross.
Covered in the mud they painted over their translucent skin, now Farians scrambled their way out of the ravine using all of those routes—but not in concerted attack. Instead they were as gutworms wriggling free of infested dung tossed on a fire. Some carried spears and spiked clubs, but most had no weapons, as if they’d been surprised in camp and chose to run rather than arm themselves. Faintly Maddek heard their urgent hoots over the rush of the river.
“A trap jaw?” Maddek asked Kelir as the warrior rode up alongside him. If one of those giant predatory reptiles attacked the alliance army camp, Maddek would not have reprimanded any soldier for fleeing there, too.
His second captain cocked his head, dark braids brushing his shoulders. “Too quiet.”
So it was. A trap jaw was silent until it rushed its prey. Then it often loosed a trumpeting roar—one that would have reached them even over the sound of the river.
A handful of savages scuttled nearer to the bridge, as if preparing to escape across the water, though this side of the river was no safer for them. Two dozen of Maddek’s mounted Parsathean warriors and a handful of soldiers waited to separate the Farians’ hairless heads from their hunched shoulders.
In nearly eight years of holding the Farians at the Lave, Maddek had seen savages run toward death many times. Never had he witnessed a Farian flee from anything.
“There it is!” a soldier cried out.
Coming up the stony path out of the ravine. A siva beast.