another one of the scourge and cringed at the sight of its skull caving in, no blood oozing from it, instead a thick, black liquid puddled underneath the unmoving creature. “Why would he do something like that?”
“You remember that sword you brought me? From that dark knight I killed on the bridge in Termina?” Cyrus’s gauntlet caught the bite of a scourge, and he twisted it, breaking the creature’s teeth as he jammed his sword down its throat then threw the corpse away.
“Yeah? Oh. Oh! OH! That was his father? The dark knight?”
“Apparently.”
“Oh, wow.” Aisling slung her blades in a perfect arc, catching another one of the beasts as it attacked her. Her dagger ended up buried in its head, and her hand moved like lightning, catching it with three more thrusts along the neck and flank as it dropped. “Whoops.”
“That doesn’t quite cover it.”
“It’ll have to do until we get out of here.” Aisling’s back bumped against his, and Cyrus felt her push against him as the circle around them tightened. Cyrus looked to the side and saw Curatio and the others falling back, the numbers overwhelming them. Mendicant cast another spell, and a fireball flew toward them as Cyrus ducked out of instinct. It flew past and landed in a thick knot of scourge, exploding and sending bodies and limbs flying in all directions.
“What the hell was that?” Aisling cried. “Is that goblin trying to add us to the corpse pile?”
“No,” Cyrus said and pointed to where the fireball had impacted, “look!” He pointed, and only a few feet-and twenty or so scourge away-Mendicant had cleared a path for them. Beyond was open ground to the west, heading toward a mountain in the distance, but it was a long ways off, with plenty of room to outrun the scourge-
“Windrider,” Cyrus said, but the horse was already kicking and bucking, making his way toward the open ground. “We’ll only have a moment here,” Cyrus said to Aisling, “you need to get on the horse first.”
“Fine,” she said tightly and was gone, already slipping into the saddle, “but get your sweet ass moving, will you?”
“I will,” he said, and tensed himself. With a deep breath that lasted only a second, he let out a bellowing warcry that echoed through the mountain pass and charged forward, blade in motion, clearing the way for Windrider and Aisling to pass. His sword moved with the fluid grace he had come to expect after so many battles with it at his side. The scourge seemed to move slowly, unable to keep up with his speed but overwhelming in numbers. His blade found target after target, casting the bodies aside, damaged or dead. He kept going, heard the horse at his back, until he cut the last of them down and broke free to open ground and he felt Windrider thunder along beside him. He hoisted himself up, sliding onto the back of the horse behind Aisling and they galloped away, thousands of the creatures following in their wake.
Chapter 35
The mass of the scourge moved in a fluid line, not interfering much with each other as they ran, more slowly, behind Windrider as he carried Cyrus and Aisling toward the top of the hill. Far, far behind them, Cyrus could see the line of the Sanctuary formation falling back, Terian watching him from a far distance, along with Curatio. “They don’t know that Terian tried to kill me, do they?”
“I don’t think so,” Aisling said, “unless one of them was paying more attention than I was, and I doubt it because I was the first one to start back for you.”
“Then he’s with them now,” Cyrus said. “Hopefully he doesn’t have any righteous vengeance he’d like to inflict on anyone else.”
“It seems to me,” Aisling said, the wind blowing her white hair into his face, “he’s known for quite some time that you killed his father. I’ve seen him carrying that blade since before we left Sanctuary. So why did he wait until now to strike you down?”
“I don’t think he did,” Cyrus said. “He let Partus kill me before, at Harrow’s Crossing.”
“But he must have known you’d get resurrected,” she said, her hands clutching the reins, holding on tight as they continued forward. “He can’t have thought that would kill you.”
“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Cyrus said. “Maybe he didn’t want to get caught and waited for a moment he thought he could get away with it.”
Aisling seemed to think about that. “He very nearly did; this was the perfect time. No one could have recovered your body from that onslaught, not with the numbers we were against.”
Cyrus waited a beat before he answered her. “You did.”
She kept facing away from him, looking straight ahead, the wind brushing past both of them as he realized for the first time that his hands were snug on her hips. “I’m no one,” she said. “At least to you I have been.” They reached the top of the hill and Windrider went on, west, toward the mountains in the distance. The mountain to the south of them was high, and a series of cliffs and gullies was visible to block them from passage. “Can’t go south, can’t go north because these little bastards are pretty heavy thataway … same with east, since we just came from that direction.”
“West it is,” Cyrus said, and Windrider galloped on, not waiting for any other word on the matter. They plunged into a copse of withered pines as the land slumped down, and Cyrus kept an eye on the ground above them on the hill. It remained empty for quite some time, until finally he saw the first of the scourge crest it, a mile or so behind them. “They’re pursuing,” he said. “Not very quickly, but they are coming for us.”
“That’s of some consolation,” she said, “because I’m not planning to stop to let them catch up anytime soon. And I doubt your horse is going to stop for water until he has to, unless I miss my guess.” A breathy snort greeted her words. “Clever one, aren’t you?”
They continued downward, along a loping plateau, still moving toward a mountain in the distance. “I’m hoping there’s a pass somewhere around here,” Cyrus said, “and maybe we can move ourselves around this mountain and join up with the expedition as they head south.” He shook his head. “I daresay they’ve shown the envoys enough evidence to bring armies back to help combat this threat.”
“What is it with you and the word ‘daresay’?” Aisling asked. “You say it all the time. ‘I daresay’ this and ‘I daresay’ that. What does it even mean?”
“It’s just a way of saying, ‘I think.’”
“Then why don’t you just say ‘I think’?” She looked back at him, a little smile showing.
“Because I’m being pretentious,” Cyrus said. “And you should allow me a little pretention in my life.” He felt a dark humor settle over him. “After all, I’ve been betrayed by a good friend recently, as well as by two women I cared for.”
“I’ll allow you just about anything you want,” Aisling said. “It matters not to me, I was just curious what it meant.” She waited a moment further before she spoke again. “And it was ‘loved,’ not ‘cared for,’ if you want to be accurate about it, Mr. Pretentious.” She leaned her head forward, bowing it slightly. “You loved them, both of them, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Cyrus swallowed, hard, felt the pain rise in his throat, the bile that told him she was right. “Yes,” he whispered. “I did. But at least they didn’t try to kill me, as my friend just did.”
“Rough year,” she said. “Perhaps it’s the company you keep.”
“I was beginning to think maybe it was me.”
The skies began to darken after midday. Clouds rolled in and a light snow began to fall scant hours later. The woods became thicker, and the snow blew with the wind, causing Cyrus to remove his helm in order to see. They kept going, but had long since lost sight of the horde behind them. The last hilltop that Cyrus had sighted them from was now hours behind them, and visibility was so poor that even when they reached a high vantage point they could see only a little ways.
“I don’t see them,” Aisling said, staring behind them. “When we find water, we should stop briefly before we continue.”
“Agreed,” Cyrus said.
They continued until past nightfall, and came out of the woods in a dark encroachment of rocks, leading a steep, impassable embankment. Windrider let loose a quiet whinny upon approaching it, scaring Cyrus for the implications.
