remained, a buried resentment toward Tylar for his role in the loss of their child. He had willingly plied with the Gray Traders, opening himself up to accusation and misuse. A path that eventually led to a bloody bed and a tiny body in her palms.
Brant moaned in Krevan’s arms. A hand rose. At least this boy would live.
She took a shuddering breath and continued onward.
As if sensing some dam had broken inside her, Tylar pushed up to join her. “Argent will be furious,” he said.
“I’ll deal with him,” she said coldly.
And for the moment, the warden was anything but furious. Jubilant was more the word to describe him after he discovered that Eylan had been slain. He had been more than willing to allow them all to flee up into the highest levels of Tashijan, their duty done. With the storm’s deadly emissary gone, the ice had melted and receded from the lower hall.
But for how long?
They needed to be prepared.
Argent took over the refortification of the first level. Fires had to be relit, stations posted, and the broken main gate repaired. He had Master Hesharian leading a group of masters to discern some defense against another attack. They didn’t know how long a respite was bought with Eylan’s life, but all knew the war was not over.
“Have you heard any further word from Master Gerrod?” Tylar asked.
She shook her head. “I sent a runner up to let him know our urgency. Dart should be ready as well.”
“We’ve shaken them up,” Tylar said, referring no doubt to the powers that wielded the storm. “But it won’t last long. We must take advantage of it.”
She nodded.
As they rounded another landing, a booming shout rose to their right. “Master Brant!” From the hallway, a massive shape pushed out on the stair. A loam-giant. “What have you done with Master Brant?”
There was an equal amount of threat as grief in his voice.
Tylar held up a palm. “He lives. We’re taking him to the healers up in the castellan’s hermitage.”
“I’ll take him, then.” The giant pushed toward Krevan.
Once his shoulders cleared the hall, Kathryn spotted a gathering of others, hanging back, plainly curious for news. She also saw the Oldenbrook guard who had accompanied Tylar into the cellars. He stood next to a lithe woman in a silver nightrobe.
“Back to your rooms!” she ordered them.
There was a small motion back, but she was mostly ignored. She had no time to argue and turned to the giant, ready to give him the same instructions.
Rogger, though, touched her arm. He whispered. “That is the twin brother of the giant that died below.”
Kathryn let her angry breath sigh out of her. Only now did she note the watery pain in the giant’s eyes, still angry, needing something to do. Apparently the Oldenbrook guard had brought word of his brother’s demise.
She waved to Krevan. “Let him come.”
He took the boy up in his massive arms with surprising gentleness.
Brant stirred, jostled. His eyelids opened. “Mal…” he said hoarsely.
“I got ya, Master Brant.”
A feeble hand rose and touched the giant’s chin. “Dral…”
“I heard…I know, Master Brant.” The giant nodded for them to continue. “We’ll get our blood from them yet. Then we’ll mourn.”
They wound the rest of the way to the top of Stormwatch, reaching her hermitage again. The remainder of Krevan’s Flaggers still guarded her door. All had been quiet, they reported.
Such seemed impossible after all the chaos below, but she took them at their word and led the others inside. Dart and Laurelle shared chairs by the hearth, while the young wyld tracker napped against the curled bulk of the bullhound.
They all rose, one after the other as the party pushed inside.
Dart’s eyes widened as she saw the giant carry in Brant’s weak form. A hand rose to her throat with concern.
“He’ll live,” Kathryn promised her. “Can you show him to the healers? He might have to share the bed with Lorr.”
“Not this night, my lady.” A form hobbled in from the back room, drawn by their arrival.
“Lorr-what are you doing out of bed?”
Though barefooted, he had donned his breeches and had a loose shift open. His left arm was swathed with bandages, but his face was uncovered, baring his burns. The blistered flesh had already settled to a pinkish hue across his cheek and in a goathorn curl up the side of his head.
“The work of your fine healers…masters of Grace, they are.”
A grunt discounted his words as Healer Fennis rounded behind him. “Stubbornness of this prickly tracker, more like it.” He waved the giant over to him. “And a fair amount of quickened healing due to his Grace-blessed nature.”
Lorr shrugged.
Healer Fennis followed the giant into the next room, calling to his wife. “Don’t put away the whistlewort yet, my dear.”
“They’ll have to manage as best they can,” Tylar said. “Weak or not, we must be gone with the boy in the next quarter bell.”
Kathryn understood.
“We leave so soon?” Dart said.
Kathryn turned to her. “Do you have your bag ready?”
“I helped her,” Laurelle said and nodded to a stuffed sack-cloth beside the hearth.
Tylar turned to Krevan. “Can you send Calla above? Have her check with Master Gerrod on how long until the flippercraft is ready?”
Krevan obeyed, then returned. He knew of their plan, plotted before they’d ever ventured into the cellars, but he did not know everything. “How can we hope to pierce the storm? Won’t the storm suck the air alchemies from the ship?”
“Tylar and Gerrod have worked something out,” Kathryn said. “The better question is what to do after you make it through?”
The plan had been simple before. To get Tylar and Dart out of Tashijan. They could not risk Rivenscryr falling into the Cabal’s hands, especially with Dart here, too. And once through the storm, Tylar could rally the gods of the First Land and whatever forces could be brought to bear.
But now matters had become more complicated, with the skull, with the boy, with the dying words from Eylan.
“We must find the rogues,” Tylar said. “We knew the storm out there had to be fed by more than one god. Ulf alone could not wield such forces from Ice Eyrie. We assumed he had the support of a cadre of gods, more of the Hundred who sought my downfall.”
“It was a reasonable assumption,” Kathryn said. “No one considered rogue gods might be involved. They are wild and raving creatures, beyond such masterful manipulation of vast amounts of Grace.”
“Unless they were enslaved,” Tylar said. He glanced to Rogger, who had the skull wrapped up in his satchel. “Like Keorn must have been, trapped in seersong. Somehow he was able to escape, to flee into Saysh Mal, sacrificing himself to bring a warning out.”
“And carrying with him a means to free his trapped brethren.” Rogger nodded toward the next room. “The stone…bonded to the boy.”
“I’m not sure that all is so simple,” Kathryn said. “There is more going on. But either way, does any of us doubt the Cabal is behind the enslavement of these rogues?”
No one voiced a dissent.
“Then that answers my earlier question. Mirra’s forces and the storm were brought against us as a unified strategy. A coordinated attack to capture Tylar and gain the Godsword. Mirra may even know about Dart. And once they gained such power, Tashijan would surely be torn apart, not only destroying the bastion for all of Myrillia, but
