Page 91 of The Gilded Ones

“Conquer the deathshrieks or bury yourself there,” she commands.

Belcalis, Britta and I bow. “We who are dead salute you.”

It’s strangely cold and quiet as we ride into the mist. The occasional boulder still flies over us, but the rain of spears, thankfully, has ceased. Britta, Belcalis, Gazal and I concentrate on the hills rising in the distance. The deathshrieks have massed there, and we can dimly see their shapes moving in the eerie darkness.

“Keep your eyes sharp,” Gazal commands as we ride onward. “We have to deliver Deka close enough to command them, then we can call to the rest of the army.”

“Yes, Bloodsister,” Britta, Belcalis and I reply as one.

As we ride, Britta turns to me. “Don’t worry, Deka,” she says. “I’m here. If ye fall, I will protect ye.”

“Same to you,” I reply, but Britta only nods. We both know my life is the more precious one now. I’m the one who has to get to the deathshrieks for the sake of the army. It’s a disconcerting thought. I can’t imagine a life without Britta, can’t imagine what I would do if she had to lay down hers for mine.

We continue deeper into the mists, where the hills are looming closer, as is something else – a formless, shifting mass accompanied by a low whistling sound.

Belcalis’s horse falters. “Is that—”

“SHIELDS UP!” Gazal roars as spears explode out of the mist.

I jerk up my shield. Down, Ixa! I command.

He hunkers into the sand just as the spears impact, one of them ramming Belcalis’s horse backwards, killing it instantly.

“Belcalis!” I shout, horrified.

“I’m all right!” her muffled voice replies. “My horse fell over me!”

“Hold tight, I’m coming for you!” I shout.

As I ride towards her, however, a puddle of dark blue catches my eye. I turn to it and the ground tilts sideways. It’s Britta, impaled on a spear. My entire world narrows to the dark blue blood spilling from her gut, staining the sand with horrific colour. It’s as if I’m moving through sludge, as if it’s streaming into my nose and stopping my breath. I don’t even feel my feet as I stagger off Ixa.

Deka? Ixa asks, trailing after me. He wants to know if I’m all right, but I can’t reply, can’t even think.

All I see is Britta lying there, that horrible blue blood pouring from her side. When I near, she looks up at me, her face pale with sweat, and bravely struggles to smile.

“Turns out…it was always me belly,” she wheezes.

I can barely stand now. “Britta…” I whisper. “Don’t speak. You don’t have to—” I suddenly can’t breathe any more, my helmet’s strap is choking me.

I throw it aside, gasping.

“Deka!” Gazal’s voice seems so far away. “What are you doing? We have a duty to fulfil!”

When I don’t answer, she clasps my shoulders and forces me to look at her. “Deka!”

“I can’t leave her!” I gasp, tears flooding my eyes. “I can’t leave Britta.”

Something almost like pity flickers over Gazal’s eyes, but she ruthlessly suppresses it. “This happened in the pursuit of her duty. It should be her honour to die for Otera.”

Die. The word explodes through me with the force of a thousand suns. Britta is dying. She’s dying here, where the buzzards will make a feast of her, and the army will trample over her remains. She’s dying here, where no one she loves will be able to find her, to mourn her.

I can’t let that happen. I can’t let Britta die. There’s no one I love more than her, no one who loves me as deeply as she does. I wrench myself from Gazal and turn back to her. “You have to live,” I gasp, power surging inside me. It’s like a wave, washing over my body, vibrating from my skin.

“Deka…” Britta says weakly, her eyes wide. “Yer face.” She reaches up to my now-uncovered face, but I catch her hands in mine, deliberately pull off her helmet, so she can’t ignore my voice.

I don’t know if this is going to work or not, but I tamp down my doubts, forcing myself to believe. Forcing myself to put every bit of power into this. Britta has to survive. Without her, I am nothing. When I speak, my voice doesn’t even sound human any more. All my pain and fury have combined into what seems like a thousand resonant voices.

“You will not die, Britta,” I command, forcing my will into her, threading my energy around her like a living web. She’s fading away, the light in her dimming, so I use even more energy, shooting it out of me and into her.

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