Page 124 of The Cruel Dawn
He figured that out more quickly than Elyn, Jadon, and I did when we fought at Fihel.
Now, heads roll across the ground. It will never be clean, no matter how many rains sweep through the land.
Elyn reaches back for me, to make sure that I’m still fighting beside her.
I squeeze her hand.I’m right here.“Do you see Jadon?” I shout over the sounds of battle.
“Yes! Look!” She points south, to the perimeter of the city.
Jadon, wearing the sandy-brown leather armor of the Gasho, swings one of their curved blades. He moves slowly. He doesn’t know how to wield this type of sword.
Elyn says, “We can’t risk him—”
“Go!” I shout. “Get him out of here!”
Without another word, she launches herself into the sky, those faint wings catching the light.
My view of her is soon blocked by a living-dead warrior as tall as a date palm and as wide as a king’s bed. I stagger backward.
He points at me. “You are to return the Weapon at once or—”
I plunge Tempest into the soft spot nearest to me: his groin. He shrieks and falls to his knees.
I step back.
Shari bounds from behind me, sinks her teeth into his sword hand, and forces him to drop his weapon.
Zephar’s twin blades lop off the Devourer’s head, and it rolls to a stop before me. Without a word to me, he plunges back into the fray with Shari at his side.
I scan Gasho. More lightless bodies: sisters, women, children, priests… My people. Tears spring to my eyes as the innocent fall all around me, by blade and by the horns of the howlthanes.
“Kai!” Elyn shouts.
I look back at her. “Where’s Jadon? Go back and get him!” I say, dashing south before she can respond.
The thick smoke hides that this city is lost to chaos, but I don’t stop fighting. I slide my dagger into the throats of three soldiers who block my path, and they fall without a sound. I keep moving toward the taverns, the palm grove, the aqueduct.
In the taverns, drunk men fight each other, while others rally against the soldiers. Other frightened Gashoans huddle in corners or hide beneath tables. There’s no sign of Jadon.
I keep searching, forcing myself to push past the fear.
Jadon is still here. I feel him somewhere in this heavy storm.
Over in the palm grove, fronds rustle in the wind, but Jadon does not hide in their shadows. There are just more soldiers, more bodies, and the haunting sound of distant screams.
Down at the aqueduct, the sound of rushing water offers no comfort. Jadon is nowhere to be found.
I rush back into the city, stomach tight in frustration. As I near a coal bin behind a crumbling wall, a whimper catches my attention. I move quickly toward a clump of glowing amber forms.
A small group of women and children huddles together, their faces pale, their bodies trembling. In front of them, a soldier swings a flail; the chain whistles before the metal ball lands with a crack against the bin. The group screams.
I can’t hear their prayers over the noise, but I know what they ask. I thrust my dagger into the soldier’s cheek.
The Devourer clutches his face and staggers past a Mera warrior, who chops off his head.
Soon, the number of surviving Mera warriors and Eserime healers outnumbers the otherworldly. Soon, no otherworldly—including the howlthanes—have their heads.
Elyn returns to the town square, her golden armor now streaked with the black-green blood of these new Devourers. Jadon isn’t beside her.
