Asher glanced up from packing a box full of medicines—bottles, vials and pouches—to see Lilia and Dain enter the annex at the back of the House of Healing. Half the space was a store area, where he kept the bulk of his medicines, bandages and instruments, the other half—curtained off—was the mortuary. Just beyond that heavy curtain lay the bodies of Gunner, Lars and Rina. He’d just finished preparing them for cremation. Thrindul had enchanters out readying a funeral pyre beyond the city walls at this moment—the ceremony would take place this afternoon.
Preparing Rina’s body for the rite had saddened him. He wasn’t blind; he’d known how she felt about him, although he hadn’t returned her feelings.
Asher watched Lilia and Dain step inside the cramped space before closing the door firmly behind them. He frowned. “You two shouldn’t be in here. Thrindul has—”
“Don’t worry, we know he’s enjoying his noon meal in the feasting hall with the others,” Dain replied with a smile. “Why aren’t you?”
Asher snorted. “Some of us are too busy to eat.”
“Asher.” Lilia stepped forward. “We need to speak to you—we need your help.”
Asher met her gaze and noted the direct way she regarded him. There was something different about her this afternoon. Just hours before she’d been pale and on-edge as she recovered from the sleep charm; her gaze downcast as if she’d wanted to disappear. Yet now she stood tall, shoulders thrown back, a slight flush on her cheeks. Her eyes were bright as she watched him.
Asher shook his head. “You know I can’t help you.”
“We want to get Ryana out of the Vault,” Lilia continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “But we can’t do it without you.”
“We also intend to stow away with the army tomorrow,” Dain added from behind her. “So we’ll need your help with that too.”
Asher stared at them, stunned, for a few moments before he laughed. “The pair of you are idiots. I could go straight to Thrindul and tell him what you’re up to.”
Dain folded his arms across his chest. “But you won’t—because you can’t stand Thrindul. Plus, Ryana’s your friend and you want to help her.”
Asher straightened up, irritation flaring. “Is that so? How did you suddenly become an expert on me?”
Dain and Lilia merely watched him, waiting.
Asher slammed the lid of the box he’d been filling closed, the sound echoing in the annex. “Shadows, you don’t know what you’re asking. I could be cast out of the Order for helping you, or thrown down in the Vault myself.”
“Only if you’re caught,” Dain pointed out.
“We don’t want to put you at risk,” Lilia added quickly, “if there was any other way, we never would have come to you.”
“Everything’s about to change for this Order,” Dain added. “You must realize that. You don’t know how many of you are going to come back, and if you do—Thrindul’s no longer going to lead you. The king made that clear.”
“That doesn’t mean I should start taking matters into my own hands.”
“You can’t leave Ryana to rot,” Lilia added. “She’s a talented enchanter—we need her.”
Asher stared at her, incredulous. “What exactly are you planning to do?”
She met his gaze once more, her own fearless and hard with resolve. “With your, Dain and Ryana’s help, I’m going to try and retrieve The King Breaker once we reach the Shadefells.”
He might have laughed in her face, if she hadn’t looked so fierce, so resolute.
Seeing his skepticism, she frowned. “I bonded with that stone, I promised to protect it with my life. I failed once, but I won’t do it again. With or without your help I’m going north.”
Asher stepped back from her and ran a tired hand over his face. This was the last thing he needed right now. Yet there was something about the way Lilia spoke to him that made it difficult to refuse her. After so many years in this Order, led by a man who never did anything without considering how he stood to lose or gain, Asher was not used to such unselfish behavior.
“This won’t be like the journey you made here,” he said eventually. “That was dangerous, but this one is likely to be far worse. You might fail. You might never come back.”
She held his gaze and nodded. “I know.”
Asher sighed and walked away, turning his back so neither of them could see his face. Dain was right—he hated Thrindul. Was it that obvious? He’d been right about Ryana too. He didn’t want his friend to remain in the Vault. She needed to be given the chance to put things right.
Still, the thought of going against the High Enchanter’s wishes made his stomach twist. If Thrindul ever found out …
Asher turned round to face Dain and Lilia. “Alright, I’ll help you.”
They both beamed at him, and Lilia opened her mouth to say something. However, he raised a hand to forestall her. “But before we get started, the pair of you need to pull your heads in. No more wandering about the House. Thrindul’s in a black mood. You don’t want to cross his path.”
He fixed his attention on Lilia first. “Go up to your chamber and stay there until dark. It won’t be safe to go down to the Vault until then. We’ll need to wait till the kitchen servants bring Ryana her supper. After that, she’s alone down there till just after dawn.”
He swiveled his attention to Dain. “I’ll have trouble finding a place for Lilia and Ryana to hide in one of the supply wagons in the rearguard—there’ll be no place for you.”
Dain nodded. “Then it’s just as well I’ve already come up with a plan for myself.”
Lilia swiveled. “What? I thought you were joining us?”
Dain turned to her. “It makes sense the three of us don’t travel together. It’s safer if I’m somewhere else, keeping an eye on things.” His mouth curved into a smile. “Don’t worry—I’ll be close by. I’m going to join the King’s Guard.”
Captain Garick of the King’s Guard raised an eyebrow and regarded Dain wearily. “I don’t have time for this.”
Dain met his eye. He knew how it looked. They must think him some deranged yokel—marching in here carrying a wood-axe and demanding to join the men heading north tomorrow morning. Still, he’d managed to find a way into the barracks and tracked down the Captain of the King’s Guard. He couldn’t let Garick turn him down.
“I know how to fight.”
The captain eyed him, skeptical. “You can wield a sword?”
Dain hesitated a moment before replying. “Aye.”
“Send him on his way, Captain.” One of the guards spoke up. Heavy-set with unruly dark hair, the soldier was sharpening his sword with a whetstone a few feet away. “I’ll do it, if you like.”
The captain scratched at the short blond beard that covered his jaw. “We need all the men at arms we can get,” he mused, his gaze flicking to the guard who’d spoken. “Balt—bring two practice swords from the armory and let’s see what he can do.”
The soldier stopped sharpening his blade and glanced up, his heavy features creasing into a scowl. “What?”
“You heard me—hurry up.”
Dain watched the man go off grumbling. Meanwhile, the captain grinned at him. Garick was in his early thirties, big and blond with an affable smile. “Balt will sort you out.”
Dain gave him a tight smile. That brute he’d just sent off to the armory was three times Dain’s size—but then he’d fought bigger men back at The Barnacle and won. Only that had been with his fists. He was grateful now of the afternoons he’d spent sparring at sword-play with Ardan back in Port Needle.
Balt returned with two wooden swords. Around them, men cast curious looks as they moved about the barracks, readying themselves for tomorrow’s early start.
“Make this quick,” Captain Garick ordered, passing Dain his weapon. “First man to yield loses.”
They cleared a space for them in the center of the yard. Balt began to circle Dain, still scowling. Dain copied the soldier’s stance—feet apart at shoulder width, posture straight, and body relaxed. He held the sword with both hands—elbows bent and arms close to the body—in front of him and toward his opponent’s throat.
The soldier came at him suddenly, swooping in with a quick, vicious cut. He moved fast for such a big man. However, Dain was quicker. He blocked the wooden blade and deftly side-stepped away as Balt attacked again.
The clack of blades meeting echoed across the yard, and the sound of industry around them ceased. Dain sensed his opponent’s impatience, his anger that Dain was proving harder to beat than expected; an annoying mosquito that darted just out of reach.
Dain kept a strong defense, managing to get in a few strikes of his own as he got used to Balt’s fighting style. Soon, they were both sweating and Balt was glaring at him. Dain grinned back.
“Annoying little shit,” he growled. “Grin at me like that again, and I’ll smash your teeth down your throat.”
Dain’s grin widened. Suddenly, he was back in The Barnacle, facing down a huge sailor who’d just realized he’d met his match. Wildness flared within him. It was as if he stepped out of his own body. He felt a complete absence of fear—the sensation was exhilarating, and dangerous. Still, he knew that Balt was the better swordsman. Dain could play with him a while longer, but in the end Balt would win.
“What’s wrong?” he taunted. “Am I embarrassing you?”
Balt snarled at him and swung at his head with the sword. That was his mistake. Dain ducked and brought his own sword round low. The wooden blade slammed into the backs of the soldier’s ankles.
The big man howled, staggered and lunged toward him, but Dain was ready. He ducked under Balt’s guard and brought up his fist in an uppercut, punching him hard in the jaw.
The soldier reeled back, lost his footing and sprawled. Taking his chance, Dain kicked away the sword and pointed his at Balt’s throat. “Do you yield?”
Balt glowered up at him, his eyes tearing with pain as he clutched his jaw.
“Do you yield?”
The soldier nodded.
Dain stepped back and glanced at Captain Garick. The blond man was watching him intently, his gaze narrowed. “That was a dirty move.”
Dain shrugged. “You didn’t say it had to be a fair fight.”
The captain raised an eyebrow and sauntered over to him.
“Where did you learn to use your fists?”
Dain held his gaze. “Does it matter?”
The captain’s mouth quirked. “I suppose not. You can handle yourself—that’s all that counts.”
Dain smiled back at him. “So I can join you?”
The captain watched him for a moment longer before nodding. “My men will kit you out and give you a sword.” Garick shifted his attention to Balt who had struggled to his feet, still clutching his jaw. “Go to the infirmary and get that seen to.”