Season of Glory (4 page)

My eyes returned to the misery before us. If Kapriel and Chaza'el and Tressa were
here, we'd have the collective power to level this camp, to take down the guards
one by one.

A young man about our age said something to the guard I was eyeing, appearing to
ask a question. The guard wheeled about and sneered at him. We all stilled as the
man's hand went to his whip and casually pulled it from the strap at his belt. He
ran his fingers over the coils as he circled the boy, whom another guard forced to
his knees.

Dimly, I heard Niero muttering prayers to the Maker to intervene, to stop the guard,
to still his hand and put the whip away. As he prayed, I felt my thumping heart slow
and a peace wash over me. Below us, the guard with the whip looked up, as if he'd
heard something on the breeze. He stiffened and then turned partway around, then
back, as if arguing with himself about what to do next.

Niero was still praying, hands cupped open, head bowed. The guard gestured with the
whip to the boy, and with eyes wide, the young man rose and walked away, looking
over his shoulder with fear. The two guards exchanged heated words,
nearly coming
to blows for a moment, but then the second one backed away, shaking his head. He
called out to the gathered kids, who were watching it all unfold, and gestured for
them to disperse. But instead they formed into lines and headed toward the long,
narrow buildings that I assumed were their barracks.

I turned to Niero and blinked several times, laughing under my breath. He had a slightly
smug, sly smile on his face. “I think they're calling it a day,” he said.

I laughed with him and shook my head. It was perfect. The only solution.
Thank you,
Maker, for guiding him,
I prayed silently.
For guiding us all. Show us how we help
free these children. Soon.
We wanted to get out of Pacifica alive, but I knew we
couldn't forget what we'd seen.

We wound our way out of the canyon, quiet and each lost in our own thoughts. Any
good humor we'd had over the guard's “intervention” was soon lost to the overwhelming
burden we'd just taken on. I thought about the young man, so narrowly saved from
what I assumed would have been a brutal whipping. If we hadn't been there . . .

But we had. At just the right moment. No matter how hard it was to observe, it was
what I had needed, and without further word, I knew it was what my fellow Ailith
had known I needed to see too.

Keallach may or may not have known that this sort of camp existed in his country.
But I knew why the others found it impossible to believe that he was innocent of
such knowledge. In the end, I too held him responsible.

As we hiked eastward, a rare desert goat startled from his hiding place. As he fled,
Bellona swiftly took him down with a single arrow. We all cheered, as the supplies
we'd taken from Galen's were long gone. That night, as we sat around a
small fire
cooking skewers of meat, Niero looked to each of us. “We're near the Wall. By sundown
tomorrow, we'll reach the tunnel we used to enter Pacifica.”

“And then what?” Vidar asked, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes and swallowing
his bite of food before continuing. “You weren't serious when you mentioned Zanzibar.”

I started in surprise. “Zanzibar?” Obviously they had discussed this when I wasn't
around.

“I was serious,” Niero returned.

“Oh, Killian is going to love that,” Vidar said. Killian, a Knight, and Tressa, his
Remnant, had grown up in the evil city. The rest of us had been called there earlier
to find them and had barely escaped with our lives.

Niero ignored him, poking a stick in the fire and turning the embers beneath another
skewer, dollops of sizzling fat dropping to the hot rocks below. Never had I tasted
anything as delicious as that desert goat. I tried to concentrate on it and the present
moment, even as the mention of Zanzibar in the future made my heart beat faster.

“We will face whatever comes, in whatever city we're sent to, together,” Niero said
with a firm nod, “trusting that the Maker is sending us there for a reason. But first,
we will join the other Ailith and get Dri's parents to the Valley. I think we would
benefit from the elders' counsel.”

“We're going
home
?” Vidar asked, his mouth dropping open, brown eyes rounding with
hope.

“To . . . the Valley?” I sputtered, glancing at Ronan. His eyes shifted to me too,
and I sensed a bit of a thaw in the look he gave me.

“For a time, yes,” Niero said, smiling slightly. “There we'll find strength in gathering
with them, in order to face what lies ahead.”

CHAPTER
4

ANDRIANA

I
t came as some surprise to me that a group of outlaw Pacificans were running a smuggling
operation
beneath
the Wall. Their clothing was unmistakable, even if it was tattered and dirty. I suppose
I'd thought of them all as mindless—willing to do whatever the emperor or Council
told them to do. Seeing some think for themselves and act on their own impulses,
even if it was to do something illegal, left me oddly spirited.

Sethos's reach was long, but it did not yet cover all.

There were only about ten of them at the Wall, with four guarding the tunnel that
went below it. Many men and women came and went along the rocky path, carrying sacks
or leading sturdy horses with barrels or boxes strapped across their backs. As we
got closer, we saw massive bags of flour and rice go by and smelled the yeasty odor
of beer from a passing barrel. Others carried boxes of fruits and vegetables. If
the Hoodite farmer,
Dagan, had been with us, we would've had to physically hold him
back. Even my mouth was watering. As good as the goat meat had been, it was all we'd
eaten in days.

“We will gain more by befriending them than trying to deceive them and failing,”
Niero said as we drew nearer. “The coin I carry will ensure their willingness to
aid us.”

“Or I can,” I said.

Niero eyed me a moment and then assented. “You're right. Come. You too, Ronan. The
rest of you wait here.”

We ignored the two men who closed in behind us as we climbed the rocky hill to the
others who stood, gazing down at us, clearly in charge. All of them carried guns
and swords at their hips. We'd seen enough open crates of bullets that we had no
doubt the swords were only worn as backup.

“Why not just give them a flash of your wings?” I said under my breath to Niero.
“Why bother negotiating at all? Why not just command them?”

He shifted his dark eyes to me. “Because that is not my purpose here.”

I stifled a sigh. As we got closer, the man in charge looked each of us up and down,
giving me an extra long look until Ronan cleared his throat. “Who are you?” grunted
a smaller, broad-shouldered man in back, edging between two bigger men in front.

“We are travelers, friend,” Niero said, “seeking passage beneath the Wall and across
the Great Expanse. We came through here a week ago.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“It appears you're loading a convoy. Perhaps we can be a part of your load.”

The small man's eyes narrowed, and he smirked toward his companions. “We are not
operating in human cargo.” His eyes
moved back to me, as if thinking about the trade
in women in Zanzibar, and in response, Ronan stood taller, his shoulder moving slightly
in front of me.

“I'm certain you are not averse to any sort of cargo, if the price is right,” Niero
returned.

The man edged between me and Niero to look at the others beyond us. “You are many.
You would displace much of my cargo.”

I took the opportunity to touch the man's arm, willing him to feel what I felt at
that moment—protection, care, generosity.

He flinched and shied away from me, back toward the other men, who had tensed at
his response. “What did you just do?” He rubbed his arm as if it ached or felt strange.

“What?” I asked innocently, shaking my head in confusion. But I'd seen the momentary
softening along the hard lines around his eyes and mouth. Felt a flash of warmth
and goodwill.

He scowled and shook his head. “What are your names? Why are you sneaking out of
Pacifica and across the Great Expanse?”

“All you need to know is that we are of the Valley and wish to return home,” Niero
said.

The man squinted his eyes up at Niero. “The Valley is far. My cargo train stops at
Castle Vega.”

“We merely ask for safe passage there,” Niero said. “And a fair price for that passage.”

The man crossed his arms and then cradled his chin, looking me over again. “I might
be able to help,” he said, and then swore, rubbing his forehead as if it ached. Even
now, the seeds of compassion I'd planted were growing within him. I fought to keep
a small smile of triumph from my face.

He scowled. “How did the lot of you—Valley dwellers—end up in Pacifica?”

“It's better for you not to know,” Niero said. “If we could, would we not simply
be riding a transport out, rather than seeking to travel with you?”

“You will tell me who you are,” he sneered, “and what you were up to in Pacifica,
or there will be no passage for you through the Wall.”

“I think the Maker has hinted who we are,” Niero said with a sigh. He jutted out
his chin. “Deep within you.”

The man's eyes narrowed.

“This woman is one of the prophesied Remnants,” Niero said, gesturing toward me.
“Andriana of the Valley. And this is her Knight of the Last Order, Ronan of the Valley.
Andriana was kidnapped by the emperor of Pacifica, but we retrieved her from the
palace.” Niero lifted his chin as Ronan crossed his arms. “You do not really wish
to come against us. Even now, you feel the call of the Way within, urging you to
aid us.”

The small man's eyes narrowed again, but I could feel the growing awe within him.
He believed us.
Knew
it was true. He swallowed hard and then gave us a dismissive
gesture. “Go. But I'll send you in a Jeep. I will not risk my entire cargo train
if the Pacificans are on the hunt for you.”

“But Boss—” complained one of the giant men beside him.

“Make it so!” yelled the leader, sticking out his chin. “Go and speak with Joauquin.
Inform him of the change.”

“Thank you,” Ronan said, ignoring the disgruntled man who left us and reaching an
arm toward the boss.

The smaller man pulled back, not accepting the gesture. “I don't want your friendship.
I don't want your money.” He leaned forward then. “But if you are who you say you
are, there will come a day when I ask you to return this favor.”

Ronan dropped his arm and smiled a little. “And when that day comes, I think you'll
find you won't need us to grant it. You'll be seeking something greater. The Way
is—”

“No, no!” said the short man, putting up his hands. “I already taunt the Pacifican
guards with my trade. I don't need Sheolites breathing down my neck. Be away from
here. Quickly.”

Ronan and I turned to go, with Niero following. I felt an urgency to depart before
the boss changed his mind. Before he thought of capturing us and trying to take us
to some other location to garner favor with the Pacificans. To do so would mean exposing
his whole black market trade, of course, so it wasn't likely to happen. But as we
passed underneath the weight of the giant wall, through a tunnel only wide and tall
enough for the horses, I knew that it was the Maker who had made this gate open to
us. I only needed to trust the One who had breathed life into us and placed this
call in our hearts to follow where he led.

Why was it that I so frequently gave in to doubt rather than trusting what I knew
to be true?

“Doubt your doubts,” Niero whispered to me as we emerged on the other side, “trust
what you believe.”

I blinked at him, surprised again at his seeming ability to read my mind. But now,
after what I knew about him, I understood. Perhaps he could.

KEALLACH

They kept it from me until I returned. But as soon as we pulled up in front of the
palace, I knew.

She was gone.

The realization stole the breath from my chest.

“Majesty?” Sethos said, leaning down to peer at me, still in the car.

“She's gone,” I whispered. “Andriana.” My strength returned to me in a rush, and
I scrambled from the car and turned in a circle, as if I could sense which direction
she'd gone. My hands went to my hair, and I turned in another slow circle. But it
was no use. She was too far.

“Andriana is gone,” I said, my voice high and fragile, even to my own ears.

“Come with me, Majesty,” Sethos said, taking my arm and urging me up the marble steps.

“How?” I muttered. “How could she have gotten away?” Even as I said it, I hated the
words. Who was I to keep a woman here against her will? Why was it that I so loved
her, needed her, wanted her, that I was willing to imprison her until she felt the
same for me?

“There was an attack on the palace,” Sethos said as we entered through the towering
doors, passing lines of bowing servants.

“Wait,” I said, pulling up short. “You knew? You
knew
?” I turned toward him and took
his red robe in my fists, studying his face.

He'd known.

“Leave us,” I growled, power and fury surging through me. I barely had the patience
to wait as the servants scrambled away and my guards closed the door before I narrowed
my eyes at my trainer and shouted, “How long? How long have you known? When did it
happen?”

“Three days ago.”

I let out a cry of rage and slammed Sethos into the wall. Though he was larger than
I, he allowed it. “Why? Why did you keep it from me?”