Sworn To Transfer (36 page)

“Stop,” commanded Ciardis. “You’re injured.” Turning quickly to the Weather Mage, she shouted, “Go get help.”

“Help me sit up,” said Maree Amber after another wheezing breath.

Ciardis shook her head. “You look pretty bad.” She was eyeing Maree Amber’s leg that was distinctly facing the wrong direction; it looked as if it had been twisted inward, and now her kneecap and left foot were facing her other leg. Not to mention the large slab of rock across her chest. Gripping it, Ciardis pushed it off. She couldn’t see any ribs sticking out, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any internal damage.

Madame Amber coughed again, this time blood trickling out of the side of her mouth. Ciardis pursed her lips and fought not to cry. If help didn’t get here soon, the woman was going to die. She might die even if they did get here soon.

Seeing her watery eyes, Madame Amber gave a sharp laugh that ended in a groan of pain.

“Silly girl,” she said while gasping for breath, “I told you, you can’t cry over every little thing. You have...to...toughen up.”

The last words came with distinct pauses, not meant to emphasize but rather because Maree Amber was fighting for every last breath.

Ciardis smiled. Even in severe pain the woman was still chiding her.

Reaching out an unsteady hand, Maree gripped Ciardis’s hand in her own. “I was wrong. You
are
insubordinate, headstrong, and silly. And perhaps just the thing the courts need. You must continue to change, girl. Grow strong.”

Ciardis nodded, eyes wide.

Another blood-filled cough erupted. “Don’t trust the dragon, no matter what she says. And Stephanie and Christian—they can help you. They and all the others on the Shadow Council will help you. You just have to find them.”

Ciardis sucked in a surprised breath. “The Shadow Council?”

“You know about them?”

“I
am
them. Or at least I am in Sandrin. There are more—many more. Scattered across the empire.”

Before Ciardis could ask anything more, Maree Amber arched her back in an attempt at one final breath and died before Ciardis’s eyes.

Silently, Ciardis pushed Maree Amber’s eyelids closed as a sign of respect and stood up and looked around. Most people were wandering around and checking on compatriots. Several of the Prince Heir’s guard were still alive and had reunited with their charge. He now stood in a sort of moving box of the soldiers, each bristling with weapons.

The threat was over, but they still prepared themselves. She couldn’t blame them; that Shadowwalker had a nasty way of turning up in unexpected places. Walking over to the remains of the man who had enslaved her brother and countless others in addition to killing innocent victims, she felt no pity. As she prepared to walk away, she saw something gleaming as it stood upright in dirt. It was a long silver bar with curious inscriptions on it. She pulled it out of the ground. Ciardis barely heard Meres Kinsight shouting at her to put it down before she vanished in the blink of the eye.

Where she had stood, the metal bar clanged to the ground, its sound resonating in the empty field as those left behind looked on in disbelief.

For long moments Ciardis was falling in a void of silence and darkness. And then she felt herself land. The darkness cleared and light and sound filled the void.

Shifting voices echoed in and out of her ears as her eyes tried to adjust to the blinding landscape she’d transported to. As bright sunlight caught her eyes, she threw up her hands in protection and squinted in the harsh sun. The voices grew louder and odd smells penetrated her confused senses. Woodfire and smoke, unwashed bodies and blood.

What was going on?

Her dress was torn to shreds, her hair tangled with roots, her hands were black with dirt, and scratches ran all along her arms. She took tentative steps forward trying to figure out where she was. She was shocked when her bare feet stumbled onto the cold ground hardened by frost, and her breath froze in the air.

Her hair whipped loose around her as she looked around with unease.

Surrounding her in a semi-circle were armed men. They stared at her with shock etched on their faces. Their hands stayed ready at their waists, gripping the pommels of swords. The six men were silently eyeing her up and down, the disheveled girl who had somehow appeared in their midst.

Ciardis tried to speak but her voice broke.

Speaking in a hoarse croak she said, “Where? Where am I?”

The men surrounding her suddenly parted ranks and out of their midst General Banaren appeared. By his side strode Leonidas, General of the Imperial Army.

“Well, by the gods,” General Banaren said, astonished. “Ciardis Weathervane, what are you doing here?”

Staring at him with bleary eyes, she asked, “Where is here?”

Grimacing, he whipped off his heavy overcloak and loudly called for fresh water to be brought.

“The frontlines of the war in the North.”

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