Adamat grasped desperately for his cane sword or for anything he could use as a weapon.
Not that it would help.
It moved forward slowly, as if suddenly hesitant, squinting at Adamat with brutish suspicion, thick brow furrowed. What the pit was taking so long? Adamat couldn’t find a weapon. His hands were shaking so hard he likely couldn’t have held one.
End it already, you foul creature.
The beast reached for Adamat’s throat and Adamat’s eyes fell on its thick, twisted hand. Its right ring finger was missing. A strange detail for Adamat to focus on. But then, men did strange things when they looked death in the eye. Adamat felt his hand touch something – the handle of his cane sword. It had fallen on the wagon. He grasped it and prepared to ram the thing as hard as he could into the Warden’s face. It was his only chance.
He tensed, ready to swing.
And felt his heart drop into his stomach. Those dull eyes and the sorcery-twisted skin suddenly looked all too familiar.
“Josep?” Adamat heard himself croak.
The creature leapt back as if it had been burned. It slammed at the ground with both hands, baring its teeth at Adamat.
“Josep, is that you?”
Adamat didn’t have a chance to hear if the creature answered. Three Adran soldiers appeared around the edge of the wagon, their bayonets leveled, and charged at the Warden with screams of defiance. It whirled on them, then looked at Adamat, the confusion plain on its face. It took two great bounds toward the soldiers and leapt, clearing all three of them and landing on the other side to break into a sprint toward the Kez lines.
The soldiers hollered their challenges after the Warden, but Adamat could see the relief in their eyes. That was not a fight they would have won.
Adamat heard a thump, then a decidedly unfeminine curse from beneath the wagon. He tore his gaze away from the fleeing Warden and bent over the wagon. “Nila? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She lay on her back, rubbing her forehead. “Where am I?”
“I hid you while you were out.”
“Oh. Sorry, I fainted. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You may have saved the entire bloody battle,” Adamat said.
There was a pause for a few moments. “Did I kill people?”
“You saved a lot of lives,” Adamat said. There was no good response to this. The girl had saved a lot of lives. But violence like that always took its toll, both physically and emotionally. It was likely a blessing that she had passed out before the screaming started.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “And now?”
Adamat stood up, surveying the scene. The camp was in shambles. The Warden was nowhere to be seen. Yet the fighting had died down and the only men he saw standing wore Adran blues. “Looks like we’ve driven them off.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Yes,” Adamat said, sinking against the edge of the wagon. “Yes, it is.”
What had he just witnessed? That creature might have – should have – killed him without hesitation. And it hadn’t. Could it be mere coincidence? The missing finger, the familiar lines of the face, the shape of the jaw that came from Faye’s father. Adamat closed his eyes and saw the beast’s face in his perfect memory.
Josep.
Chapter 16
Nila’s entire body tingled.
It felt like stepping out of a springless carriage after going down a particularly long and bumpy road. Her legs were weak and her abdomen warm, and everything she touched seemed to crackle slightly. Her mind was muddled, as if her head were jammed full of wool.
Adamat helped her out from beneath the wagon and she shook her arms, trying to get rid of the tingle.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Adamat asked.
“My body feels like it’s been stuffed with bees. Is that normal?”
“No… no, I think not.” Adamat’s reply was wooden. He watched the retreating Kez auxiliaries, his face slack.
“We won?”
Adamat nodded, but then stopped, as if thinking better of it. “We won that engagement. Barely.” He pointed to the south, where dark clouds of powder smoke hung over the battlefield and the thunder of artillery fire continued almost without interruption. “If not for your sorcery, we would have lost the camp. I imagine Bo will be proud.”
Distantly, Nila could sense something wrong with Adamat. But she felt a thrill go through her at that, and a cold knot settled in her stomach. Would Bo be proud? She could have killed herself. She should have killed herself, pulling that kind of stunt. Bo would be furious. Live to fight another day, he would have said. Don’t take such risks.
But did it really matter what he thought? Did she fear some kind of punishment? Or did she fear his disapproval?
None of that mattered now. She could already hear the eerie moans of the wounded as the adrenaline of the battle wore off and men risked calling for aid. “Adamat, we should help.”
“Hmm?”
Nila took a hard look at the old investigator. He’d saved her life, carrying her off the battlefield, but he hadn’t asked for thanks. He seemed far away, stunned even.
“Were you hit on the head?” she asked.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You’re sure? We could get a surgeon to look at you.”
Adamat patted his chest and arms. “I’m fine. I don’t think I was wounded at all, actually.”
“Just rest here,” Nila said. “I’m going to try to help.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Adamat shook himself and seemed to come out of his daze.
“There are wounded everywhere,” Nila said. “They’ll need as much help as can be had.” She looked around the camp. Several tents had been set alight to the west and Adran soldiers were doing their best to put out the fires before they spread. Wagoners tried to wrangle their horses and oxen, while surgeons rounded up everyone without a weapon to begin moving bodies.
Nila headed toward where the Wings’ Fifth Brigade had met the Kez auxiliaries for the battle. The chaos and clamor only increased as she neared the battle site. When she passed the tents and approached the earthen fortifications, the bodies of wounded and dead of both sides covered the ground like a carpet. The sight of it all nearly made her sick, but the smell was the worst of it. Blood, sulfur, shit, and gore. She’d visited a slaughterhouse once when a cook at the Eldaminse house had been ill. At the time, she’d thought it the most horrific stench she would ever encounter.
This was worse.
The terrible medley of smells was punctuated by the distinct odor of charred flesh. It clung to her nostrils, permeating the silk handkerchief she pressed to her face.
Adamat joined her. He’d lost some of that dazed look in his eyes, and gave her a worried glance.
“It’s hard to comprehend, isn’t it?” he said.
“Where are all the survivors? Where is the rest of the Wings’ Fifth?” Nila hurried over to a man calling out for help, but by the time she reached him, his last breath had rattled from his throat. She backed away from the body.
“Over there,” Adamat said, pointing to a small knot of soldiers, many of whom were leaning on their comrades for support. Officers circled the men, separating out the wounded, trying to get the healthy back into columns. Adamat pointed to another group, this one looking even more ragged and disorganized. “And over there. The Kez overwhelmed the entire Fifth before Adran reinforcements arrived. They’ll be lucky if more than a thousand are able to still fight.”