Page 78 of A ?Sky Beyond the Storm

Despite my gloves, my hands are numb. In the snow-choked dell behind me, five hundred of my men hunch in their cloaks, their breath rising in white puffs.

“Sword-breaking weather, Teluman,” I say. “I don’t like it.”

“The scims are Serric steel.” Teluman’s tattoos are hidden by the dark, form-fitting armor he forged. In the gloom he is nearly impossible to see. “They won’t break. How’s the armor?”

“Strange.” It fits like a glove, makes me difficult to see, and is so lightthat I might as well be wearing fatigues. But it’s strong—Harper and I tested it for hours before donning it.

Still, other than Mettias, the Martials refused to wear it.Witchery, they said. Teluman argued over it. But I wasn’t willing to issue a command that wouldn’t be followed.

“Shrike.” Harper appears on my right. My heart thuds a bit faster, traitor that it is. This is the first time he has spoken directly to me in days. “Something is off,” he says. “There aren’t enough guards on the walls. The streets are empty—the squares are empty. This doesn’t feel right.”

It is the last thing I want to hear. The people of Antium await aid. They await the weapons and soldiers that will allow them to cast out the Karkauns.

“Where the bleeding hells is Musa?”

“Here.” The tall Scholar, also clad in Teluman’s armor, materializes from the darkness like a wraith. “The wights say the Karkauns have gathered near a big, bloody rock close to the main palace. They’ve turned it into an altar. They’re shouting, screaming, murdering people—that sort of thing. And they’re leading prisoners there. Mostly Martials. Some Scholars too.”

He must speak of Cardium Rock. “Women?” My fist clenches on the scim at my waist. “Children?”

Musa shakes his head. “Men. Boys. Captured soldiers. Those who didn’t fight or couldn’t. There are thousands of them.”

“Our spies said the men were killed—”

“Does Antium have an extensive system of dungeons?” Musa says, and at my silence, he nods. “They weren’t killed, then,” he says. “They were hidden. Saved for... whatever the hells this is.”

“The Soul Catcher holds the ghosts,” Teluman says. “The Karkauns cannot summon them again to strengthen their army.”

“The Soul Catcher is hundreds of miles from the Waiting Place right now,” Musa says.

“What the ten hells is he doing so far—”

“Skies know, Shrike,” Musa says. “A wight brought me the information yesterday. I haven’t had a chance to send her back for details.” He levels a reproachful look at me. “Been a bit busy.”

“We can still pull back,” Harper says. “Get a message to Quin and Dex. Wait for a more opportune time to strike.”

“Gather the men,” I tell him, for there is no better time. I lost Antium. I let the Karkauns win. And Keris used my failure to steal the Empire from my nephew. I have to get it back for him. And I have to get it back for the people still suffering behind its walls.

When the men have gathered, I raise my hand for silence. They watch me with a flat sort of curiosity, even the Ankanese sappers, silent on the edges of the crowd.

“Tonight,” I say, “the Karkauns believe they will defeat us.”

The men hiss and spit, their rage as sharp as my own.

“They think they can turn our city into a butchering ground. They think their violence will frighten us. But we are Martials. And we fear nothing.

“Nearly every last one of you was in Antium. You saw what they did. You know what they’ve been doing since then. So I tell you now, no matter what happens behind those walls, no matter what horrors they have in store, there is no going back today. We will win, or we will die. We will take back our city for our people, or we will watch the Empire fall. Now. Tonight.” I put my fist to my heart. “Loyal to the end.”

They do not roar their support, for secrecy is our advantage this night. Instead, they thump their fists to their hearts once.

Then we are moving through the hills and down into the flats of the city, away from our mounts and the dozen men left to guard them. The cold drags at me, and my eyelashes frost over. But after a few minutes of running, I don’t notice it anymore. By the time we take out the Karkaun sentries, my cheeks are flushed, my fingers tingling.

We make for the northern wall, shrouded by thick, old-growth forest. Within is a door, boarded over, collapsed and forgotten behind a ton of rubble.

There, an Ankanese sapper named G’rus begins rigging the door with charges. His four comrades disappear, each escorted by a Mask. Four more of the Ankanese travel with Quin Veturius. We will see if they prove their worth this night.

Harper appears out of the darkness, a grappling hook in hand. “Soldiers,” he whispers. “Atop the wall, and headed this way.”

Moments later, voices carry down. There weren’t supposed to be soldiers near this side of the wall. According to my spies, it’s thinly patrolled.

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