Page 119 of A War Apart

“Back to the field,” Lada ordered the uninjured soldiers. “Mila, clean off his wound—gently, mind—then pour a bit more of the numbing potion on top. Yakov can show you how to bind it when you’re done.” Leaving the two of us alone with the patient, she rushed off to treat the new arrivals.

***

Han

Unnatural shadows surrounded us, leaving us nearly invisible as we crept toward the shore. The sound of crashing waves and the smell of fish and saltwater filled the air. In the distance, the first cannon blasts rang out.

Beneath a low cliff up ahead were two long, narrow boats, left there by one of our contacts inside the capital.

We stopped. A shadow peeled off from the group—one of the Drakra—and approached the boats, circling them to check for traps. The rest of us remained in formation around the tsar.

After a moment, the shadow in front of us disappeared, and the Drakra beneath it, a woman with skin the color of snow, nodded once before wrapping herself in shadow again.

We climbed into the boats and pushed off the shore, into the waves. Mist sprayed into my face as we began rowing, keeping close to the jagged rocks that jutted out over the water. The Drakras’ shadows swirled around the boats, hiding us from view.

We stopped at a small wooden dock at the base of a cliff. A steep set of stairs, carved into the cliff-side, led upward from the dock; we tied off the boats and began our ascent, single file, into Idesk.

The steps led us to the road that ringed the city. It was empty as ancient ruins, though I could hear in the distance the sounds of battle as our army laid siege to the walls of the city. Somewhere high above us, a loon let out a keening wail. I shivered and reached over to tighten the fingers of my iron hand where it held my sword.

We fell into position around the tsar again. Turning away from the battle, we began our journey to the palace.

Two city guards were still patrolling the road. Miroslav’s attempt to prevent his own people from looting the city, I assumed. They stopped as they caught sight of the unnatural cloud of darkness, exchanged frowns, and approached, drawing their swords.

Without a sound, two of the Drakra leapt toward them, shadows swirling. A moment later, the guards were dead, blood pooling on the packed snow beneath them.

I swallowed my rising bile as the Drakra fell back into formation.

At last we reached the hidden path Mila had told us about. We turned off the main road and followed the overgrown cobblestone alley, two by two, with the tsar in the center and me next to him.

The path ended with a small, ancient wooden door. The Drakra in the front of the line shoved it open, and a loud crunching sound marked our arrival.

We flooded through the door and found ourselves, as expected, behind the palace stables. I took the lead, and we formed ranks around the tsar once again. We made our way around the stables and into a courtyard in front of the main palace. A fountain flowed with something thick and red—blood? I shuddered.

Just beyond the fountain stood several men wearing the black armor of palace guards. The Drakra dropped the shadows around us, but the guards saw us a moment too late. They met their fates at the edge of my men’s swords.

Inside, the halls were empty of any other guards. Eerie silence filled the palace, broken only by the sound of our footsteps.

We didn’t have to go far before we reached the throne room, where Tsar Borislav expected his brother to be holed up, surrounded by his guards and whatever nobles hadn’t managed to flee. Judging by the low murmur of frightened voices on the other side of the door, he was right.

Two of my men tried the doors. Bolted shut from the inside. We’d anticipated this, though. The same men placed two black bottles on the floor against the doors. I pulled the tsar back down the hall, and the rest of the group followed.

My men removed the corks from the bottles and ran for cover. I blocked my ears and turned away.

A second passed. Two. With a sound that shook the whole palace, the bottles exploded.

Exploding potions. Lada was either a miracle worker or a witch. Either way, it was a blessing from Otets that she wasn’t working against us.

I waited for the smoke to clear before stepping toward the doors that were surely demolished in the blast.

But the smoke and dust from the explosion faded, and the doors still stood. In front of them, two craters remained where the potions had been, but the doors were untouched. Someone had protected them by magical means.

“Step back.” Before I could move, the tsar strode forward and touched his staff to the doors.

There was no blast this time, no explosion, but they crumbled at the touch. In a moment, they were nothing more than a pile of ash on the ground.

On the other side, facing us, stood approximately a hundred palace guards. Behind them, nobles and their attendants filled the room, and Miroslav sat on a dais at the end of the hall, atop a giant golden throne. A woman and two young girls stood on his left, and another, older woman, stood on his right. His wife, daughters, and mother, I assumed.

Borislav surveyed the room coolly as he stepped over the rubble. I muttered to two of the Drakra to keep watch, then scrambled after him.

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