“Five thousand? Really?”
“Give or take, Em. I don’t know.”
“Hmm.” Ember shifted in the crawler’s seat and frowned at the travelers ahead of them. L’zar kicked huge chunks of loose stone over the ridge down which Cazerel led them, snarling and hissing curses at something or someone no one else could see. “He looks like the kind of drow I’d want to lock up tight right now.”
“Yep.” Cheyenne waited for the clunky, awkward crawler to scrabble its way over a steep drop in the path before she jumped down after her friend. “At this point, I think the only prison that can keep him locked up is the one he’s building inside his head.”
“Makes sense. The drow Weaver, former heir to the O’gúl throne, practically unstoppable…and then he goes insane. That would be game over for us, wouldn’t it?”
“No.” Cheyenne grimaced when L’zar’s next wild kick sent him reeling dangerously close to the edge of the ridge. Corian moved in a flash of silver light and grabbed the drow’s shirt to jerk him back onto the path. “I have a feeling he’s almost done being able to help us.”
“Almost, huh?”
“Yeah. As soon as we figure out what the hell terms I’m supposed to use for the Crown, it wouldn’t surprise me if L’zar dipped out early and left the rest of us to pick up the pieces without him. That’s what he does.”
“Or maybe he’ll stick around as long as you do. ‘Cause the next time he makes the crossing Earthside, he can’t come back.”
“I know.” Cheyenne shook her head. “Looks like he’s getting exactly what he wanted.”
“Except for you on the throne.”
“Well, that’s not happening, no matter what side of the Border he’s on.” The halfling shot her friend a sidelong glance and smiled. “It looked like you and the chief were having a nice little chat.”
“Sure, I guess.”
“I thought you’d still be up there with him, enjoying your place as honored Healer.”
“Shut up.” Ember playfully rolled her eyes. “I need a little break from a giant raug falling all over himself, asking if I need anything and planning our super important conversations after this little detour’s over.”
“Did he offer you all the stone riches of Hirúl Breach yet? You know, to stay with him forever.”
“Very funny.”
They chuckled, but it was tense and distracted.
“What stories were you telling him, anyway?”
“Well, they weren’t about you, so you can relax. Your secret’s still a secret.”
Cheyenne raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
“He wanted to know about where I come from.” Ember shrugged. “So I tried to describe Chicago without giving anything away.”
“Wow. He didn’t understand any of it.”
“Yeah. If you wanna make a raug laugh, confuse him, I guess.”
“Or suck the blight out of his chest.”
Ember steered the crawler carefully over a rotting fallen tree trunk in the path and shrugged. “Honestly, I’m a little worried about what’s gonna happen once we head back to the capital after this. Like, am I gonna have a raug chief following me around everywhere because he feels like he owes me his life? Can’t exactly take him home with me.”
“Right. He’d break the elevator.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Despite the sun shining directly down on them and the lack of shade as they passed through the rocky mountain range after Cazerel, the air was cool. The wind whipped up every time they crested another rise on the path the raug chief seemed to recognize. It made conversation harder, and the magicals traveled with a stoic concentration when they hiked over the top of another narrow ridge with long, straight drops on either side.
“Whew.” Byrd stopped to wipe a sheen of sweat off his green forehead. “You know, I think I’d take a freakin’ Stairmaster over this. Can’t we have one of the nightstalkers port us into this secret place and get it over with?”
Lumil smacked the back of his head as she passed him. “You don’t think we would’ve done that if it was an option?”
“Hey, I dunno. Everything else around here is freaking out and doing weird shit. Case in point right there.” He nodded over the side of the ridge at the valley below and narrowed his eyes. “Kinda seems like the worst place to build a town, but again, the whole world’s lost its mind.”
“A town?” Corian stopped near the edge of the ridge. “Zokrí.”
“Nightstalker.” Cazerel turned around with an amused look, but it faded when he saw Corian’s darkening frown. The raug chief looked in the same direction and sucked in a sharp breath. “So it’s come this far.”
“How long has that town been there?” Corian’s jaw clenched and unclenched quickly.
“Last I knew, there was no town there.”
Cheyenne peered over the edge and barely made out the rising blocks of stone buildings interspersed with shacks that looked a lot like the skaxen village. And every magical there turned into some kind of O’gúleesh zombie.
Ember shielded her eyes with a hand, trying to get a better view of the small town nestled in the valley far below them. “Wait. Are you guys saying a whole town popped up out of nowhere? That is new.”
“The Outers have been shifting around for a long time, like Cheyenne and Persh’al told us they were.” Corian’s silver eyes blazed in his frowning face. “Wouldn’t surprise me if that included whole settlements shifting with them.”
“Looks like something else is shifting too.” Byrd’s eyes widened, and he leaned over the edge of the ridge, trying to get a better look.
Lumil stared at the dark wave of shadow moving steadily across the valley below toward the small town. Her arm shot out to thump Byrd’s chest, making him stagger backward instead of falling over the cliff. Her eyes widened too, and she looked slowly up at Corian. “What the hell is that?”
Cazerel grunted. “Out of our control. Keep moving.”
As the raug chief continued across the ridge, an echoing crack
