Far worse, though it did not surprise him knowing how desperate the preservation spell was, he watched the gaunt warriors race across the hardened stone, finding dead or dying soldiers that had been trapped. They did not try to rescue their comrades, did not look for survivors. Rather, they seized any hand or leg or face protruding from the rock and tore away strips of flesh, ripping the meat clean as they ate whatever remained of the bodies. They cracked the bones and sucked the marrow, lapped at the blood and gnawed any scrap of skin, muscle, or tendon, and moved on in search of more.
Ava shimmered before them and watched. “They need the nourishment. They will sustain themselves in any way they can. And they will continue to be your fighters.”
Ruva explained that the preservation spell could hold the army for only so long. “Any food they find—” She paused and said in a harder voice to emphasize her point, “Any food will provide energy to keep them going.”
Thinking of his legend, his honor, Utros felt sick. “What is becoming of my army? What is becoming of me?” He summoned his resolve, focused on the end goal, his reason for existence after so many centuries. “We will pay any price. We made that decision long ago, and it is too late to change now.” He strode past the mangled remnants of his lost soldiers to look up at the sheer cliff that was now an impenetrable barrier. The Cliffwall archive was completely gone.
“They destroyed all that lore.” He looked to the spirit of Ava. “Can you salvage anything? Pass through the rock in your spectral form and find a single scroll, a lone volume? Anything at all?”
Her intangible spirit flickered. “It is not possible. The books themselves are encased in stone. The scrolls are petrified.” As she folded herself on top of Ruva, both twins said, “They eradicated the knowledge rather than let us have it.”
Enoch said, “Such desperation shows how much they must fear us.”
Utros nodded. “It was a wise tactical move. I would have liked for Ruva to have that magic as a powerful weapon for my cause, but we do not need it.” He raised his voice so the other soldiers could hear him. “Don’t ever believe we need a crutch like that! My army is sufficient.”
A few vengeful soldiers picked their way to the far end of the canyon in hopes of catching the defenders who had fled into the highland wilderness, but Utros knew that Nathan and the others would be long gone.
“Tonight we feast on what we have,” he said, “but we dare not rest for long. We must keep the army moving. Our goal is to reach the western sea and conquer any cities in between. The Norukai will already be ransacking the coast. King Grieve is engaged in the war.” He turned so that the sunlight flashed on his golden half mask. “My war.”
CHAPTER 56
The following day, the Bastion rang with excitement, and the Norukai rushed down to the sheltered harbor. “The war fleet has returned!” a guard shouted through the halls, causing the raiders to celebrate. The slaves received the news without enthusiasm.
From the upper tower, Bannon and Lila looked through an open window to see dozens of serpent ships sailing in. Bannon lost count after fifty.
Lila realized what they were. “They are the rest of the damaged raiding vessels from the river below Ildakar. The construction crews finished repairing them.”
Bannon had not forgotten the battered vessels. The Norukai shipwrights would have worked the slaves day and night, until they were ready to set sail. Now in addition to Lars’s raiding fleet and the hundred new serpent ships that had been constructed in King Grieve’s absence, these vessels swelled the Norukai navy to an unstoppable force. They would ravage the entire coast.
“Sweet Sea Mother! We have to get away! It’s more important than ever,” Bannon said. “We’ve got to warn people that these attacks are coming. How will they be able to defend themselves?”
“It’s now more important than ever, but our chances of escape are even worse,” Lila said. “There will be twice as many Norukai in the Bastion, watching us every moment.”
Bannon saw the newly repaired ships approach like a pack of wolves closing in on a wounded stag. Some vessels anchored at the outlying islands in the archipelago, while others docked directly below the Bastion. Those crews would be ready for wild revels and war preparations.
As he thought about it, he smiled slowly. “I disagree, Lila. Our chances just got better! Think of the drunken celebrations. The Bastion will be in complete chaos, and the slaves will be ordered about on countless tasks. Who will keep track of it all? Who will be watching us, in particular? Would even Atta bother harassing you?”
Frowning, Lila winced from her swollen bruises, the healing burn on her shoulder. “We might have our opportunity, but we don’t have the resources. Where would we go?”
“If we could slip out of the Bastion, we will hide somewhere.”
Lila was not convinced. “Then what? We would still be trapped on the island and surrounded by serpent ships.”
“Emmett has to help us.” Bannon knew it was the only answer.
As new arrivals piled into the Bastion, the old kitchen servant was paralyzed with the responsibility and fear of reprisal if the banquet wasn’t perfect. The returning captains barged into the great fortress, filling the reception hall and throne chamber where Grieve received their reports.
The king remained sullen after the loss of Chalk, but his rage had galvanized him. When the repaired ships returned from Ildakar, he was convinced that the only way to purge his sorrow was to devastate the Old World.
In the midst of the clamor in the kitchen, all ovens were stoked to bake bread, loaf after loaf that filled wooden handcarts. The larders were nearly emptied, but fortunately Lars had brought back supplies from his raids.
Emmett and his staff still had to prepare the food. Slaves hurried about, and the limping old veteran did his best to manage them. The well-trained slaves did their duties, but the newer recruits often dropped platters or spilled tureens.
With Lila beside him, Bannon cornered Emmett just outside the kitchen. “This is our chance. The Norukai will be drunk, loud, and unruly. You can help us escape.”
The old man’s bl
ank stare melted into surprise, then horror. “You can’t escape. They’ll kill you!” He stuttered, “I-I can’t lose two slaves. The Norukai need to be served. King Grieve has commanded it.”
“King Grieve should not be your master,” Lila said. “You saw the warships that just arrived, and you know the fleet he is building. We must get away to sound the alarm up and down the coast, and this may be our last chance.”
“It isn’t only so we can save ourselves,” Bannon said. “Just get us a boat, even a small one, and we will sail away. We’ll find the mainland, get the cities and villages to prepare their defenses. The people have to know that a war is coming their way. Think of how many innocents will be slaughtered.”
Emmett looked distraught. “I know what King Grieve intends to do. I’ve been here for a decade. Alas, I may be the only person from my village who remains alive.”
“There will be countless villages like yours once those raids launch,” Bannon said. “We can save some of them, but only if you help us get away.”
“I?.?.?.?I don’t know how. If I knew, I would have left here long ago.” His thin voice cracked.
“Are you sure about that?” Lila said in a low voice. “Would you have been brave enough to escape on your own?”
Emmett fumbled with his ponytail, wrapping his fingers around the gray hair. “No, I-I don’t think so.”
“But you can help us!” Bannon insisted, then dropped his voice to a hush again. “It will be days before they realize we’re gone, if they notice at all. King Grieve could never connect you to our escape. Sweet Sea Mother, please!”
Emmett struggled with his conscience, flexing and unflexing his fingers. His wrinkled face was seamed with sorrow, and as Bannon silently pleaded, he saw something break inside the old man. “I-I do know of a way down to the waterline. It’s steep and rarely used, a small rock jetty, but I think you’ll find a boat there. Some of the Norukai spearfish in the narrow coves.”
“That’s a start,” Bannon said without thinking.
