Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
The guard with the plume gives an order and soldiers step forward, yelling at us in their native tongue.
“We don’t understand you!” Tyree snaps, using his arm to herd me behind him. But a sword point in my hip has me yelping and jumping back in place. Three more at Tyree’s neck freeze him from whatever next move he wishes to take.
A soldier grabs hold of my jaw, squeezing until my mouth is forced open with my cry of pain. He shoves his thumb under my upper lip, pulling it up.
I realize what they’re doing—checking for fangs. If I still had them, there would be no way to keep them in after that bloody display, repulsed as I am.
Tyree gets the same treatment.
The captain, seemingly satisfied, barks another order and the soldiers step away, dropping their swords.
The next seconds are a blur.
Tyree spins on his heels, throwing elbows and fists that crack jaws and noses before he strips the closest soldier of his sword. In a blink, he cuts through three with deft swings of the blade and impales a fourth, finishing with his sword’s edge pressed against the captain’s throat. “Release us, or I will kill him and every one of you!” Tyree yells, fury flashing in his blue eyes.
I believe him. Witnessing what he just did, he could kill every last one of these guards and escape. I’ve never seen anyone fight with such skill, and I’ve watched my brothers spar. How our legionaries ever captured him in the first place is beyond me.
I hiss at the sharp prick against my neck, cutting into my flesh. A soldier stands behind me, growling something in their language that is likely similar to Tyree’s ultimatum.
Tyree curses as he sees my predicament. His wild eyes dart around us, assessing, until they settle on a nearby horse. He could make it to that. It’s close enough that he could run, mount it, and gallop away, leaving me to my fate.
He grits his teeth.
Fates, he’s considering it. The bastard is going to leave me here to—
He tosses his sword to the ground and raises his hands in the air.
The captain answers with a hard punch to his cheek that snaps Tyree’s head to the side. He winds back for a second.
A sharp cry from inside the gates stalls his swing.
Suddenly, the soldiers are retreating, the one holding me hostage moving swiftly away. They part into two lines on either side of the gate, forming a corridor to pass, and bow their heads. Their entire demeanor has changed, from combative to obedient.
The captain gestures wordlessly toward the opening, the order clear. If it’s even an order. Where does this lead? Are we better off trying to run?
I meet Tyree’s gaze, only to see my confusion reflected in his eyes.
He sidles up next to me, his head on a swivel.
“Did you honestly think you could kill all twenty of them?” I whisper. His cheek is split, the blood running in a rivulet down his face.
“It was worth a shot.” He sizes up the line of soldiers behind us, waiting to usher us in. “Okay, on the count of three, you are going to run for that horse as fast as—”
“Kal’ana.” A man in luxurious red robes appears at the gate’s entrance. He bows and then hobbles forward, his skeletal hand gripping a knotty-wood cane for support. “It is a great honor. Please, come forward. You will be safe within these gates.”
Tyree and I exchange looks.
“Thank fates, someone we can understand,” he speaks softly.
“But can we trust him?”
“We don’t have to trust him to get information from him. Would you rather fight through their armies?” The brutes who dragged us here hover in the background, waiting.
I sigh. “I suppose we do not have much other choice.”
Slowly, we move past the guard, side by side.
The man who waits is ancient. I cannot guess how old—his hollowed cheeks, sparse white hair, and age-spotted scalp suggest he lives far beyond his mortal kind. But it’s his eyes that are the most unsettling, his irises reminding me of a murky swamp. At first, I wonder if he can even see, but the way his pupils bore into me, I’m sure he can.
He bows again. “We have prayed for the kal’ana to arrive, and here you are.” His accent is thick and harsh, but Tyree is right. It is a relief to have someone who speaks our language.
That’s the second time he’s used that term. I open my mouth to ask what this kal’ana is.
“Where are we?” Tyree cuts in, skipping pleasantries.
The man smiles, showing off gray, decayed teeth. He seems unfazed by Tyree’s brusque manner. “You are inside the gates of the Temple of Light, and you are safe here.”
“Yes, but which realm?” Tyree pushes.
“You are in Udrel.”
30
Atticus
The metal cuffs dig into my ankles and wrists as the guards usher me along the corridor, the chains scraping stone. They rushed into my cage this morning as I was drifting off after a night of mentally playing through escape scenarios. With seven swords pressed against my body, I had little choice but to lie still while they affixed them.