Malik did not feel guilt about what happened to Ruan. He did not even feel guilty for not feeling guilty, as he usually might, his deepest spirit chastened by his father’s years of instruction. Not this time.

  His father had sacrificed his life to save Ruan. If he hadn’t performed that operation, the Atticans would not have cared about a disturbance at the Faltari temple.

  And Malik’s father might still be alive.

  In his deepest spirit, Malik wished his father had never operated and the boy had been left to die. For that wish, he did feel a small amount of guilt, but it was drowned out by all the other raging emotions that had overwhelmed him the minute they reached the safety of the herder’s hut.

  As they’d fled, Malik had suppressed the soul-crushing emptiness of his father’s soul untethering from his body. Even from a distance, it had been more painful than Petyr’s death. More painful than his brother’s.

  Malik felt more numb than he’d felt that freezing night in the Spires with Petyr and Ulgar.

  There was no sorrow, only anger and hatred.

  The hut had turned silent as they rested for the last time before the mission.

  Ava remained close to Ruan, though neither spoke more than a few words. Olma, blessedly, had remained close to Surel, comforting her until she drifted to sleep.

  Malik did feel guilty about that. He needed to be strong for his sister, but he just could not muster anything more. It was all he could do to keep himself from plunging into oblivion.

  Though this was their last chance at sleep for likely a day or more, Malik could not switch off his mind. Trapped in a spiral. His father was dead. Gone. Just like that, and Malik was not prepared to deal with that reality.

  Yuri and Ulgar had little trouble sleeping. They lay on the floor across the room, breathing heavily, chests rising and falling with an infuriating solemnity. Yuri most of all.

  That dumb bastard, Malik thought bitterly.

  Ava slept in fits. Ruan just sat there in silence. Eyes open, drifting but never settling.

  And Malik cursed him once more.

  To his credit, the Attican boy did not grumble or curse Joren, or even Rykus, whose creatures were responsible for the injuries that had led Urla Pelasius to seek shaman healing in the first place.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He’d thought Riese was sleeping beside Surel, but she plopped down beside him on the floor of the hut. Before he could answer, she pulled him into an embrace.

  Amidst all the chaos, Malik hadn’t realized just how relieved he was that Riese was here. That she truly was unharmed, and that Ava had not lied. A voice in his spirit reminded him there was hope in that. Hope to fulfill the mission his father had left to Malik before he sacrificed himself.

  Get the girl to the Gate, son.

  Malik pulled Riese tighter. “I’m just glad you’re here. Alive.”

  She held him for a moment, then pulled back and met his gaze. “No to the talking then? Because you have the look of someone trapped in their own head.”

  Malik shrugged. “I just want to move. The empire won’t be sitting around.”

  “You think imperial officers like Pelasius don’t pause to plot their next moves?”

  Olma and Rykus were whispering urgently back and forth, concocting some sort of plan of their own. Malik was frustrated about that too. Just left here awaiting instruction.

  “We don’t have time to waste. We—”

  Riese grasped his forearm. “We don’t? Or is this about you?”

  Malik did not speak for a moment. Riese always knew how to cut through his bullshit.

  “We can’t afford to fail. I can’t fail him.”

  “Your father?”

  Tears streaked down Malik’s cheeks. “There are so many things I wish I could take back since Derrin died. So many things I shouldn’t have said. And should have said. My father was truly a better shaman than our people deserved. Than I deserved—”

  All the sorrow Malik had been suppressing burst forth, and he wept.

  Riese sat there, a hand at his back.

  “Your father knew you loved him,” she whispered. “The same way I knew, even when you withdrew from me and Yuri after Derrin died. And you’re right, Joren was a better man than any of us deserved. Do you know what I remember most about your father?”

  Malik shook his head.

  “After your brother died, Joren never faltered in his duty. Derrin was only one of four who died that year, and even though he was grieving, he tended to those other families and their burial rites the same way he did every year. A week after the festival, when my uncle nearly died in that tree-felling accident, your father was there within half a day. He stayed three days to make sure my uncle survived.”

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  “I remember. Surel and I were both angry with him for being gone so long.”

  “My uncle would’ve died if he hadn’t come. No other healer could’ve saved him.”

  Malik nodded, chastened by every part of the conversation.

  “Your father knew his life was about more than himself, Malik. More than his own family.”

  “Yes,” said Olma softly, drawing near. She and Rykus had finished their deliberations. “Joren always kept going. To perform the duty the gods gave him, he always said.”

  Malik turned to her and nodded. It hurt to think of him, but the numbness and anger were not as fierce.

  “Your father never wanted to be shaman, did you know that?” Olma asked, taking a seat on the floor beside them.

  Malik nodded. “Not until yesterday.”

  Olma chuckled. “We grew up together, and gods, did Joren grumble about it when we were kids. He never asked for it. The way we Faltari choose our shamans is outdated, he said.”

  “He wasn’t wrong about that.”

  Olma smiled. “No, perhaps not. But something changed while he was on his Wandering, as it did for me. As I expect it’s done for you all now. Make no mistake about it. This is your uhmskara thrust upon you. As you grow older, you begin to understand how little sway you have over life. Sure, you choose small things, day to day. To eat fish or venison. To hunt this valley or another. But the big things, they are rarely within your control. Life and death. Ancestry. Wars. And you can either go your whole life raging against your lot, or you can rise to meet it. That is what your father learned during his Wandering. Joren accepted his duty—his path, as the Fjuriin would say. And he threw every part of his mind, body, and spirit into his path until the bloody end. Your father was the best man I ever knew, son.”

  Malik smiled, wiping away the tears.

  Riese shoved Malik playfully. “See? Your father got out of his head. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

  Olma patted him on the cheek, and rose to her feet. “Your father was damn proud of you, boy. Now, it’s time to do his memory justice.”

  “You have a plan?” Malik asked.

  Olma nodded over at Rykus, who was waking the others. “We’ve got a plan. After that, it’s in the hands of the gods.”

  ***

  “I’ve only one firebomb,” said Rykus, holding up his rucksack.

  “And blessedly, there’s only one road from Yerida,” said Olma. She had sketched out a rough map for the outsiders on a scrap of parchment, and everyone gathered around. “There is a path here that goes straight through a mountain.” She pointed to a spot roughly halfway between Yerida and Kalengal Valley. “Seal off that pass, and we may buy ourselves a fighting chance.”

  “Except for the Dragonmounts,” said Malik solemnly. “This entire plan hinges on the assumption that Athanasius doesn’t send his entire winged force to the Spires. What then?”

  “We will have to be impeccably swift,” said Olma. “There is no denying that. But the bulk of the task force will come by foot.”

  “How can we be certain?” asked Riese.

  “Athanasius is spread on multiple fronts at the moment,” said Rykus. “The emperor marches on Chardonia as we speak. He’s sending an emissary to Valucia with a peace offering in the wake of the destruction of our island home.”

  “Peace offering?” asked Malik.

  “My house was intended to receive a dragon egg. Athanasius has extended that offer to another Valucian lord.”

  “Peace offering,” said Ava bitterly. “Threaten them with a rain of fire, and then returning with a gift as though nothing was awry.”

  “At any rate,” Olma continued, “all these fronts will almost certainly be missions that require Mounts. Not to mention, the message it would send if word got out about the entire dragon fleet flying North of all places. The emperor sent a little known company led by a woman to carryout this mission on the ground. This is a covert operation.”

  “How can you be sure?” Malik asked.

  Rykus smiled. “We have soldiers on the inside, son.”

  “Morphs,” said Riese.

  “So we need to beat them to the pass,” said Ulgar.

  “I didn’t choose this herder’s hut for nothing,” said Olma. “There are corrals on the other side of this ridge.”

  Ava’s eyes widened. “What do you corral up on a damn mountainside?”

  “Stags,” said Malik.

  “They move quick in the foothills,” said Olma. “We’ll have a chance at getting ahead. Pelasius and her Bloody Company will take alkine from Yerida. Better pack animals. Better stamina. But slow and steady. And we only need to be faster for half the journey. We will split up. Riese, we’ll need you to lead the others to the Point of the Fjord.”

  Riese nodded. “I know a hunter’s path.”

  “Good,” Olma said. “Ulgar and Malik will join you. ” Olma turned to Surel. “There are provisions here, and I think you’ll find decent foraging yet, maybe even—”

  “No way I’m staying behind!” Surel crossed her arms over her chest, fuming.

  “You’re a child, dear, I don’t think—”

  “Surel’s right,” said Malik. “My father’s mission is hers too, if she wants it.”

  “Very well. And you, Alwensein,” Olma said.

  Yuri had kept largely to himself since their initial arrival. His spirit was a storm of emotions, but in truth, Malik had hardly paid him any mind. He stood when Olma addressed him.

  “I think it best you stay behind, Yuri.”

  “Madam Elder, if I may… I don’t want to remain behind either.”

  Malik tensed.

  Olma glanced Malik’s direction, but she did not need to say anything to understand Malik’s thoughts on the matter.

  “After all that’s happened, I don’t know that’s such a good idea.”

  “I can’t just sit around here.”

  “No, indeed. In that, I believe you’re right. I’m not sure what will come of the ship Joren meant to sail to Valgland. But I suggest you find it.”

  Yuri looked dismayed, but Malik could not bring himself to feel sympathy, even when his old friend turned to him, pain and remorse etched across a tremulous face.

  “Malik, please, I know I bloodied this up. Let me make it right.”

  “It’s your call, shaman,” Olma said, raising her palms dismissively.

  Malik turned to the others. Ulgar shrugged. Riese masked her true feelings, but there was no doubt about Surel. Her spirit raged.

  Malik shook his head.

  “Olma is right, Yuri. You should stay behind.”

  I don’t trust you. That was the unspoken truth they all understood.

  Yuri hung his head, and sat back down on one of the beds in the corner of the room.

  “Now, Captain,” said Olma, “we must consider your daughter.”

  “She’ll be with me and the others, of course,” said Rykus.

  Olma pressed tentatively. “Do you truly think that’s wise? For this mission?”

  “Ava can ride. She is going to be a bloody Dragonmount for god’s sake.”

  Ava stepped forward. “I will not be going to the Spires. I think I have an idea for another delay.”

  Ava glanced back at the door to the next room, where Ruan awaited their deliberations.

  “Ruan?” Rykus demanded.

  “I will take him down the mountain,” Ava said, “try to stall Pelasius while you prepare the explosion at the pass.”

  “Right into the hands of the enemy? I can’t allow it!” Rykus fumed. “No, if you’re not with me, you’ll remain right here in this hut until all this is over.”

  “I know my path,” Ava insisted.

  Olma nodded, chuckling to herself. “By the gods, I think you got more of your mother’s wits than I thought. You’re sure you’ll be alright with the prisoner?”

  “Believe me, I can handle Ruan Pelasius.”