Her breath was sweet, her skin soft, and her body warm.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You saved Madomar from Skald. The other towns under his rule will also be glad for your help. They are all in your debt. I am in your debt.”
“I don’t need to have anyone owe me anything,” I said.
I almost wanted to tell her that she was the reason why Madomar was attacked, but that wasn’t what she needed to hear now. I didn’t know why Skald had been so intent on finding her, but I hadn’t been willing to just hand her over. Skald had been responsible for the damage to the town, not Yaltu.
The people were cheering and surging to get as close to me as they could without crowding too much. But all I saw was Yaltu, and all I heard was her voice. Everything else seemed to fade into the background; it had become nothing more than a soft breeze pushing leaves across dry grass. My head felt light, and I wondered whether I was being influenced by some kind of drug. Was it Yaltu? Was she doing something to my head?
“Who are you?” I asked. “There’s something you’re not telling me. You’re a leader of some kind. Skald wanted to flush you out so badly, he was willing to destroy this whole town to do it.”
She didn’t answer, and though she kept her arms around my shoulders, she leaned away from me.
“What is it you’re not telling me?” I insisted.
Her answer was a glance over each of her shoulders and a soft shake of her head. Whatever secret she was keeping wasn’t one she seemed willing to share, at least, not in front of all these people. I decided to drop it. For now. I’d get my answers later.
“Skald is dead! On to Brazud!” someone in the crowd shouted. “Let’s take the entire city!” Several others cheered in response. It was a kind of cheer I recognized. It was bloodlust. They were ready for a fight and didn’t care if they died in the process.
I gently pushed Yaltu away and looked for the person who’d yelled the battlecry. It was a tall human, nearly as tall as me, with a long beard and shaved head. The scars on his arms, face, and hands suggested he worked with hot metal. A blacksmith, or something like it.
“It’s not time for that,” I said.
He frowned and ground his teeth together. “What do you mean it’s not time for that? We have you, our champion. You could bring down all of Brazud, and the king who rules it.”
I didn’t want to bring an army of people who couldn’t even fight with me to a city I knew nothing about. For all I knew, I would be leading them to the slaughter.
“People,” I said to the townsfolk surrounding me. They grew quiet and hushed each other. “Skald has been defeated!” I had to wait for their cheering to quiet enough so that I could speak again.
“If he’s alive, he will return with ground troops, maybe some Enforcers. If you leave to go on this war-party to the city, your town will be unmanned. Those left behind won’t be able to defend themselves against the force Skald will bring with him. Is that what you want? Do you want to hand him an easy victory?”
A murmur drifted among the people. The consensus was that they hadn’t even considered that Skald might still live. I doubted that was the case, but I also needed to convince the people that they were better off staying in Madomar.
“So, what do we do?” the bearded man asked. “Just sit here and wait for him?”
“No,” I replied. “You take the wrecked burners apart. You use what you can and create new weapons for your people. You defend Madomar and your own interests.”
“It’s a good idea,” he said after a moment.
“You need to think smart. And I’m not sticking around to help you fight a war,” I said. “What is your name?”
“I am called Bijorn.” He added emphasis to his words by pounding a fist against his broad, barrel-like chest. “I am the smith.”
“Good,” I said as I began counting off items on my fingers. “You’ll need to find people like yourself, leaders who can not only take orders but can tell people what to do and have them obey. You’ll need weapons, people to disassemble the burners, food, physical barricades, traps, and as many weapons as you can craft. Do you know what catapults are?”
Bijorn nodded.
“Good,” I said. The crowd had quieted, and everyone was listening intently. “You know your people. Organize them and get them building your defenses as quickly as possible. If Madomar is to keep itself from the clutches of someone like Skald, you’ll need all of it and more.”
He nodded, but then his expression grew dark. “I have been working on something,” he said, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. “But it’s missing a key piece. A fex.”
“A what?” I asked.
“It is called a fex.” Bijorn held up his thumb and forefinger and peered at me with one eye through the gap. “They are about as black as your sword and perfectly round. If I had one,” he said with a laugh, “I could teach Skald’s troops a powerful lesson. And it would be a lot of fun.”
A fex, my mind whispered. I knew what it was. The description was unmistakable. I could feel two of them in my pocket. They were power sources. I reached in and froze when a screamed whisper from far away burned a fiery path through my mind.
No! The fex is of us! We are the Lakunae! You must gather our artifacts. You must bring them together. You are our avatar. We will bring peace. There will be peace in your universe.
The pain wasn’t physical, but it hurt. I had a vision
