Mahrai broke free one last time and twisted around to face me. We sank into each other, and she wrapped her legs around me as I pushed her against the wall. Our bodies ran with sweat and dust, our skin slid against each other, and our moans joined in a single chorus until we hit a glorious peak, my body tingling from head to toe, and she cried out as we came.
Laughing and gasping, I stumbled back from the wall, Mahrai still wrapped around me. I dropped her onto the sofa and then lay down beside her. She squeezed me tight, then collapsed, exhausted against my chest. Moments later, she was asleep.
I could feel myself heading toward sleep too. I grinned as I lay there, thinking about the day that had just passed and the one ahead. Our chance to liberate the valley and defeat the Unswerving Shadows was almost here. Things were going to get hectic, and I was glad to have Mahrai on our side for the fight. It would have been worth it just for our own private skirmish, but it was tomorrow that she would really come into her own.
Chapter Twenty-One
A loud thumping woke me with a start. I sat bolt upright on the couch. Mahrai did the same, her head shifting from side to side as she looked around for the source of the noise.
The sky beyond the balcony was gray, the first pre-dawn light casting back the darkness of night and promising a new start for the land. Down the mountain, the towers of Hyng’ohr stood silhouetted against that gray, sentinels against the change sweeping across the sky. Little did their inhabitants know that change was coming in a far more forceful form.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Kegohr bellowed as he banged on the door again. “You in there Ethan?”
“I’m here. Just give me a minute.” I wasn’t sure how he’d found us, but Mahrai’s moans had probably been broadcast through the whole fortress. Vesma and Kumi would probably have been surprised, but they wouldn’t be mad; we’d already established that the Swordslinger would have a many-to-one relationship with his wives.
Mahrai swore and jumped off the couch. She snatched up her clothes and started hastily getting dressed, pulling on her tights, bodice, and skirt.
Following Mahrai’s lead, I walked around the room and grabbed my scattered clothes. The frenzy of the night before had left them a little torn, but there was nothing that couldn’t be covered up by careful layering, for now at least. With less haste but almost as much speed as Mahrai, I got into my robes and belted them up. It was time to return to the world and the work awaiting us.
Mahrai watched impatiently as I finished getting dressed, her foot tapping as she stood by the door. Once I was done, I went over, flashed her a last private smile before we left our sanctum behind, and opened the door.
Kegohr stood grinning in the doorway. He was all geared up for war, with leather bracers on his arms and his mace strapped across his back. His grin exposed the tusks at the corners of his mouth and the sharp teeth between them.
“We’re about ready to leave,” he said. “Just waiting on you and Mahrai. Lucky thing I found you together.”
He winked, and I stifled a laugh. Mahrai barged past us, glaring at Kegohr as she went, and headed down the stairs.
“What are you waiting for?” she called back. “I joined your side to fight, not sit around giggling.”
We hurried down the stairs and into the war room, where Mahrai and I had left our weapons the night before. She took up her staff, while I belted on the Sundered Heart Sword and slung the Depthless Dream Trident across my back. Yono and Nydarth chuckled to each other but didn’t say anything audible.
We headed out into the courtyard where our improvised army was assembled beneath the obdurate stone walls of the fortress.
The remaining initiates of the Steadfast Horn Guild were clustered in one corner, Onvar sharpening his sword, Drek tightening his armor, Elorinelle checking the flights of her arrows. Their heads were held high, their bodies ready for action, buoyed by the confidence that came from having survived their first battle. The wariness that encounter had left also showed as each of them carefully assessed both their own equipment and the people they would fight alongside.
Most of those people were the Pathless who had gathered in the center of the yard. They were equipped with a mismatched selection of weapons and armor dug out of the depths of the fortress. Most carried heavy, two-handed weapons with blunt heads designed to crush and smash. A few had spears or long swords, and two carried shields. Several had war drums, and these stood at the corners of the group, ready to keep pace and assert order as they headed to war. In the small amount of time available to him, Ganyir had done a good job of getting his troops into line.
Tahlis sat on the steps leading from the war room, his spear resting across his knees and his blind eyes seeming to stare into the distance. As Mahrai and I emerged, he turned his head toward me, and his tongue darted out to taste the breeze.
“Had a good night, did you?” he asked slyly.
“Better than a night with a dusty old lizard,” Mahrai said. “For starters, I don’t have sand everywhere.”
Ganyir appeared at the top of the stairs behind us. He was fully armored once more, encased in his shell of metal plates. He raised his gauntleted hands, and the crowd went silent.
“For too long, the Cult of Unswerving Shadows has cast its pall across our land,” he declared. “Its cruelty and spite has seeped into our society like a poison, leading
