Page 129 of An Archer's Reckoning

“Contact!”

I turned to a Ranger who rode nearby. “Go.”

No further instruction was needed. If we faced assault from our flank, he would bring word, and we would . . . I was unsurewhatwe would do. Fifty men and hundreds of thousands of women and old men could not advance across the land, much less fight an intent invader.

The man returned within moments, his chest heaving and his horse's nose flaring. “Thousands of troops, tens of thousands. It could be all of them, sir. They’re on our tail, maybe a mile out and moving fast.”

Damnation.

“What do we do, sir?” the man asked. He looked little more than a child in that moment, eyes wide and features smooth. He should have been tending a farm or playing with other boys, not facing certain death at the tip of a sword.

“We turn and face them, Ranger, just like you trained. Send word. Every Green Cloak to the rear, and get these people moving faster!”

He slapped his fist to his heart and wheeled his horse about.

I ignored the terrified faces of those who’d overheard our exchange and called out, “People, we need to pick up speed. Walk quickly. If you can part with them, toss your belongings aside. Let’s move!”

Confusion turned to fear, then swelled into panic.

People at the front of the mass, those young enough to sprint, began running forward. I doubted they knew where they might head, but my voice willed them to go there with all haste. Even the old and infirmed tried to hurry, their shuffled gates scraping a bit faster in the grass and dirt.

Satisfied the word was spreading, I turned my mount, intent on racing down the line to lead my men in defense of the fleeing heart of Saltstone, but a flash of brilliance amid the clouds drew me up short. I covered my eyes with a hand and squinted heavenward.

“What the hell now?” I muttered.

The people who’d been running a moment earlier had stilled and now mirrored my upward gaze.

Tens of thousands—no, hundreds of thousands froze and gaped as a cerulean angel soared from the mountains north of the city toward the southern end of our line.

Clouds parted.

A woman screamed, “It’s the Phoenix!”

Others took up the cry, and shouts of “Phoenix” traveled up and down the line faster than any courier with a Gift. As one, we watched as the majestic, mythical bird I doubted one in a thousand still believed to be real dripped blue-white flames from wing and tail.

And then she dove.

Though we knew her to fall well to our south, the entirety of our band ducked or fell to their knees, shielded their eyes or wrapped their bodies protectively over young ones. When the Phoenix struck, the ground shook, knocking many off theirfeet. A wave of concussive sound and powerwhooshedover us, battering those who still stood and sending terror into my mount. Only when the blast had passed would the beast allow me to calm her.

Slowly, tenderly, a few at first, then more, the people rose.

We stared as one into the distance, as the flames of a million Mages rose high into the air, and the distant cries of thousands of men rang out and quickly died on winter’s breeze.

Chapter 53

Keelan

It took longer than Atikus had anticipated to find a captain willing to ferry us across the bay. With a war raging and talk of a blockade by the island nations, no one wanted to go anywhere near the Melucian coast.

Weeks after leaving the cave, we finally met a crusty old captain with a rickety-looking ferry who was willing to venture near Fleet Town, the primary trading port between the Kingdom and their neighbor. The man haggled, claiming wartime conditions warranted triple his normal fee. In the end, he agreed to ferry two men and two horses for the price of the third horse. I knew the beast was worth far more than triple a ferry trip, but the captain grumbled as though he’d been taken by bandits.

Utter darkness shrouded us as we approached the Melucian shoreline hours later.

Thick clouds hid the moon and stars.

Atikus shivered at the freezing air that blew across the open water, despite being bundled in every coat and cloak heowned. As promised, the captain delivered us deftly onto shore, four miles south of Fleet Town. I thanked the Spirits for the uneventful ride and quiet reentry into our homeland.

There wasn’t a soldier—friend or foe—anywhere to be seen.

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