Page 165 of The Cruel Dawn
“Did they find Syrus Wake’s head yet?”
Elyn says, “The otherworldly took it into the sea.”
“Shit,” I say. “What about Jadon’s hand?”
Elyn sighs. “I don’t know.”
“His body?”
Elyn blinks at me and averts her gaze, staring intently at Shari trotting in front of us.
We stop where Jadon had collapsed after he cut off his hand. Then we follow a trail of vibrant red blood that leads to the canyons. We don’t speak as we pass cratered ground, hydrasalts tails, date palm trunks, and broken blades. My mind spins. I thought Jadon was dead. That’s why I’d delayed coming to claim his body but now…
The trail of blood ends right as the land rises to become canyon walls.
“Shari,” I say, “find Jadon.”
The wolf sniffs the air and bounds into the canyon.
Elyn and I run after the black wolf and into a sea of mist drifting through the passageways. My head hurts so much that my vision blurs. At any moment, my victory could slip into another defeat, because who will we find at the end of this path?
The buzzing of corpse flies grows louder than my pounding heart. Gore from the battles—soldiers, horses, otherworldly—is scattered throughout the landscape as far as my eyes can see, prizes hoarded by the windwolves and other scavengers of Doom Desert. There is no single trail of blood to guide us now, and every path has been spoiled with darkened and congealed blood. There are so many dead here, and Jadon could be in any of these piles.
A few soldiers who’d been taken for dead but lived now stagger through the canyons, hugging the walls for support. Not one of them wears a complete suit of armor. Not one of them moves faster than a tortoise.
I approach the most clear-eyed man, the one with the lightest amber glow, and grab his jerkin.
He wears Veril’s fox amulet around his neck.
I snatch the pendant from him and shout, “Jadon Wake: have you seen him?”
“Lady!” His heart thuds once under my hand and then beats no more. His eyes glaze and his head lolls. He’s dead.
“Shit, Kai,” Elyn mutters.
I stow the fox pendant beneath my breastplate and then lay the now-dead man atop the closest pile of fallen soldiers.
If he had Veril’s amulet, that soldier must’ve seen Jadon…
We move through the ravine, Shari in the lead, sniffing the air. She finds another survivor.
This soldier wears one of Wake’s tunics and creeps along the wall as though lava has replaced sand.
This time, I keep my hands to myself and call out, “Hey…”What’s his name?“Arnold!”
Arnold gapes at me and whispers, “Oh, Guardian, gentle Lady of the Verdant Realm, hear the humble plea…”
I don’t want to interrupt his prayer, but windwolves lurk on the ledge above us, ready to eat the fallen.
This time, I gently tap the soldier’s head, and his aura brightens to blue. “Have you seen Prince Wake?” I whisper.
Arnold, now bright-eyed and sweet-breathed, shakes his head. “No, Lady.”
I tell him, “Go,” and send a worried glance at the cliffs above us. “You will leave that man or else,” I tell the wolves.
Shari sniffs the air, then releases a mournful howl that echoes through the chasm.
Elyn and I race behind Shari as she leads us through walls of broken rocks and broken soldiers. Bones lie scattered across the ground, crunching under our feet like dry twigs. Pieces of broken armor and torn clothes belonging to those who fought and died lie discarded and trampled in the sand. The smell of decay blends with the scents of earth.
