The Last Mortal Bond

54

Gwenna could still remember the day she’d fallen in love with Valyn. Or maybe love wasn’t the right word-she was only twelve at the time-but whatever it was had hit her like a sack of bricks to the gut.

Every year there was a smallboat race around Qarsh. Vets went up against vets, and the cadets had their own division. Gwenna had never been much for sailing; the wind always seemed to be blowing the wrong way, and she’d been hit in the head by a swinging boom one too many times. Still, a race was a race, and she’d be shipped to ’Shael if she sat it out on the beach while the other cadets got all wet and beat up. There was a young soldier named Gelly. The girl wasn’t much with a blade or a bow-she washed out long before the Trial-but she could handle a boat, and so Gwenna went looking for her a month before the race.

“We’re a team,” she said.

Gelly had looked at her, uncertainty painted across her face. “We…”

“The boat race,” Gwenna snapped. “You want in?”

The girl nodded hesitantly.

“Good,” Gwenna said gruffly. “And just so we’re on the same page, I don’t give a pickled shit if we win. I just want to beat Sami Yurl and that Malkeenian.”

Gwenna had lumped them together, back then. Yurl and Valyn were both rich, both nobility, and even the unending rigors of Kettral training hadn’t yet managed to wash the stink of privilege off either of them. Everything about Valyn irritated Gwenna-the way he spoke, the way he addressed himself to the other cadets, even the way he sat in the mess hall, that royal spine of his just a little too straight. Unfortunately, he was a good sailor, better than Gwenna. Hence the need for Gelly.

The race was chaos before it even began. A summer storm had blown up out of the south, and the swells were fifteen feet high even when they were trying to coax the boats to the starting line. By the time they rounded the West Bluffs the warm rain came down like a wall, so heavy Gwenna couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her. Gelly had managed the boat brilliantly in the first stages of the storm, but as thunder smashed overhead, Gwenna could see the girl starting to fray.

“We should go in!” Gelly shouted over the gale, pointing vaguely south, toward where Qarsh was supposed to be.

“To Hull with that,” Gwenna bellowed, hauling on the line, trying to keep the sail from ripping free of her hands.

“We can’t manage the boat,” Gelly insisted. “Not in this.”

“You just keep steering,” Gwenna shouted. “I’ll take care of the sail.”

In truth, however, Gelly was right. Two people could handle the boat, even in brisk weather, but the storm had moved well beyond brisk. They’d already buried the gunwale in the side of a swell three times. If they didn’t furl the sail, the boat was going over, and they were headed into the drink. It was simple as that.

“Valyn and Yurl can’t sail in this either,” Gelly shouted.

Gwenna gritted her teeth, cursed the storm and her own weakness, and prepared to pull the sail. Then, between one swell and the next, another boat loomed up out of the rain. It was canted over hard, the sail drum-taut, and on them before Gelly could even swing the rudder. Ha Lin was hiked out over the rail, hair plastered to her face, both hands wrapped around the line as she tried to manage the sail. She noticed Gwenna half a heartbeat later, tried to ease off the line, grimaced as she shouted something to Valyn. The prince ran his eyes over Gwenna’s boat. He looked as beaten up as Gwenna felt, but there was no quitting in those dark eyes. He shouted something back to Ha Lin. Gwenna couldn’t make out the exchange, but the other girl shook her head. Valyn nodded fiercely and kicked the rudder over.

Gwenna’s first thought was that the Malkeenian bastard was trying to ram them. His boat slid down the south side of the swell, straight at her beam. Gwenna shifted, trying to get clear of the collision, but then, at the last minute, Valyn swung the rudder around again, running his boat tight in parallel with Gwenna’s.

“Go,” he shouted, handling the rudder with one hand while he stabbed his finger at Gwenna’s boat with the other.

He wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to Ha Lin.

The girl hesitated, glanced from Valyn to Gwenna, then back.

“Go,” he shouted again. “I’ll be fine.”

Ha Lin gritted her teeth and jumped, caught the gunwale of Gwenna’s boat and hauled herself in.

“Stubborn fucking bastard,” she was muttering.

Without Ha Lin managing the sail, everything had gone straight to shit over on Valyn’s boat. The boom swung crazily in the wind, and he looked likely to capsize as the vessel went dead in the water. Valyn, however, was grinning, waving them on even as he fought to keep the boat upright.

“Go win,” he shouted as he faded back into the rain. “Go win!”

They did.

Valyn, on the other hand, didn’t manage to coax his boat back into the harbor until late that night, when the worst of the storm had passed. When he finally climbed up onto the dock, Gwenna started to go to him, to throw her arms around him in a great celebratory hug. Ha Lin was there first. Gwenna, with nowhere to go, nothing to do with her arms, settled for a weak wave. “Thanks,” she shouted. It wasn’t clear if he heard her or not, but the damage was already done. She always remembered that smile, the way he’d waved them on even as his own boat foundered.

And now that boy is dead, Gwenna thought, staring at the grim specter of a man who sat across from her.

It had been a baffling shock to find Valyn at all. The last she’d seen of him had been in Long Fist’s camp out on the Blood Steppe. Given what Talal had told her later, and what Kaden had said about Adare, she’d felt certain that one way or another Valyn had died up on that tower in Andt-Kyl. She’d carried the loss around inside her like an ache, and though it had faded over the intervening months, she’d expected that a part of her would mourn her whole life for Valyn and Laith both, good men who had died fighting, trying to do the right thing.

Except Valyn was alive. He had been alive all along, although what had happened to him, Gwenna had no idea. His eyes were ruined, destroyed by the same gash that someone had carved straight across his face. He was thinner than she remembered, strong but awfully gaunt, a spiderweb of scar cut into his skin. He was a long cry from the earnest, determined cadet Gwenna remembered, a long cry, even, from what he’d become as a Wing leader. It felt as though some creature had crawled into the body of the boy she’d loved all those years ago, crawled in and taken it over. A creature of hunger and darkness.

The rest of the Kettral were even more beaten up, just as surprising a discovery, but at least they were still recognizable. Something fucking awful had happened to the Flea’s arm, which seemed to be flayed from the elbow to the wrist. Newt’s lower leg was crushed all to Hull; he wouldn’t be flying any more missions, that was clear enough, although the realization didn’t seem to have dulled his strange spirit any. As Talal worked on his leg, the ugly demolitions master met Gwenna’s eyes.

“The timely arrival of a friend is worth more than all the spice in the western islands,” he said.

“Yeah,” Gwenna replied. “I wouldn’t rely on timely arrivals any more than you have to. We stumbled across you mostly by accident. We were scouting the Urghul army for the Emperor. Didn’t expect to find a handful of busted-up Kettral trying to keep the fight all to themselves.”

Quick Jak had put Allar’ra down on a gentle stretch of beach just northwest of the Neck, and the other Kettral, Gwenna’s Kettral, had landed along with them. As the huge birds furled their wings, the newly blooded soldiers, abuzz with the recent action, checked their weapons and gear, talking excitedly the whole time. Gwenna didn’t feel excited. She felt tired. Adare’s orders had been to scout the Urghul and find il Tornja, which meant they’d managed one out of two. Maybe the Emperor wanted her to stay out in the field, but with the Urghul army hammering down on Annur, hunting around for a lone general didn’t seem to make much sense. They needed to get back to the city, to help see to the coming defense. It had been tempting to fly directly there, but the Flea and his Wing needed medical care, and more than that, there were some questions that needed answers before Gwenna faced Adare again.

“So,” she said, glancing over the small group. “Who wants to start?”

Valyn’s scarred eyes were fixed on her. There was no way he could see through those, but he didn’t move like a blind man. Gwenna studied him for a moment, then looked away.

“Where’s Shaleel?” the Flea asked. “Who’s in charge on the Islands?”

“Yeah,” Gwenna said slowly. “Funny you should ask that.”

It didn’t take long to tell the story of the Eyrie’s self-immolation, Jakob Rallen and his tyranny, the ultimate victory of the resistance. When she was done, everyone was silent for a long time, listening to waves lisp up onto the sand. Finally the Flea looked over at the cluster of birds and the soldiers who were tending to them.

“They did well,” he said simply. “You did well.”

Gwenna felt herself coloring. “Well, if this was it, we could all sit back and drink ourselves warm, but there’s a lot more doing to do.”

“The Urghul…,” the Flea began.

“More than the Urghul,” Gwenna said, realizing only once she’d done it that she had cut the older man off. “Sorry, sir.”

The Flea waved aside her apology. “I’ll shut up. You talk. We don’t know a thing about the strategic picture. You do.”

Gwenna took a deep breath. Valyn still hadn’t spoken. He was stone-still, watching her with those awful blind eyes of his.

“The picture,” she said, turning to face the Flea again, “is about as clear as a bucket of shit mixed with a liberal helping of mud.

“As I’m sure you’ve deduced from the Urghul fucking horde hammering down along the Haag, il Tornja left the northern front weeks back. The Emperor wants to know-”

Valyn spoke for the first time since landing, cutting her off. “The Emperor?”

His voice made Gwenna shiver. “Your sister. The one with the burning eyes-”

“Where is Kaden?”

“I don’t know. We saw him before we went to the Islands-Talal, Annick, and I-he’s the one who sent us to the Islands. He knew what had happened at the Eyrie and he needed birds. When we got back with the birds, though…” She shrugged. “Adare was here. Annur’s an empire again. Sort of. She and the council patched up their rift somehow.”

Valyn leaned forward, eager, hungry. “And just where,” he asked, voice quiet as falling ash, “did my sister say that Kaden had gone?”

“Elsewhere.”

The Flea frowned. “Not much of an explanation.”

“You didn’t press her?” Valyn demanded.

Gwenna stared at him. “Last time I checked, we’re soldiers. When the Emperor says, ‘Go find the Urghul,’ we go find the ’Kent-kissing Urghul.”

“She is not the Emperor,” he growled.

“Well, she’s sitting on the throne,” Gwenna snapped, “which is inside the Dawn Palace. She has burning eyes and everyone keeps calling her Your Radiance, so you could maybe forgive me for missing that particular point. In fact,” she cocked her head to the side, “what is it you’ve been up to all these months, that you know so much about the internal workings of the empire?”

Valyn exhaled between gritted teeth. Gwenna tensed. She could smell his fury on the sea’s salt wind. At her side, Talal leaned back, settling a casual hand on his belt knife, as though he, too, felt the danger. Then it passed.

“I’ve been recovering,” Valyn said quietly, “from the time Adare planted a dagger between my ribs.”

Waves rolled up the beach, crested, crashed, then fell away, dragged back into the great churning belly of the sea. For what seemed like a long time, no one spoke. Gwenna could think of nothing to say. She’d suspected something underhanded from Adare-Kaden had implied as much, and the Emperor herself had been evasive on the topic. Underhanded, however, was a long cry from murderous.

Finally, she shook her head. “Why?”

“She wanted to protect her general,” Valyn said. “I tried to kill Ran il Tornja. She stopped me.”

Gwenna whistled softly. “And now il Tornja’s turned on her.”

“Turned on her?” Valyn asked, head whipping around. “How?”

“Disappeared. Abandoned the front. Threatened to kill her son. Sounds like she should have let you kill him.”

“Oh, I will,” Valyn said. For the first time since landing, he smiled.

“That’s gonna be tough,” Gwenna pointed out, “given that he’s disappeared.”

“No, it won’t. He’ll come back to Annur sooner or later. In the meantime, I can pay back my beloved sister.”

Gwenna frowned. “You mean stab her. To death.”

Valyn nodded silently. She could smell the hunger on him again, as though he were some sort of starving beast.

“I’m sure you noticed,” Gwenna began carefully, “that there’s an Urghul army riding down on the heart of the empire even as we sit here. I’ve been to the capital. The place is a goat fuck. Adare’s about the only one holding anything together down there. I’m not sure this is the perfect time to kill her.”

Valyn coughed up a laugh. “And when,” he demanded, “is the perfect time to murder one’s sister?”

“After the war, for starters. I mean, the odds are decent the Urghul’ll do your work for you. I had a good look at that army from up on the bird and it seemed to stretch north just about all the way to the mountains. Odds are, all our heads will be on pointy sticks by the end of the month anyway, but if we survive this, somehow, if we beat back those ’Kent-kissing bastards, then shit, by all means, stab your evil sister. For that matter, I’ll help you take her down.”

When she fell silent, Valyn didn’t speak. He just stared at her with those ravaged eyes, stared through her, as though he wasn’t seeing her face at all, but the wide gray sea stretching out behind.

The Flea shifted. “Gwenna is right. Whatever Adare’s crimes, she is needed in Annur.”

“We all need something,” Valyn whispered.

“Yes,” Gwenna said. “Well. Several million people need Adare’s bony ass on that throne.”

He shook his head. “I’ve heard this argument before. It’s what Adare told me before Andt-Kyl. ‘We need him, Valyn. We need il Tornja.’”

“And you went after him anyway. And that worked out about as well as having a sick goat shit in your soup.”

To her shock, Valyn chuckled. For just a moment, a quarter heartbeat, he might have been the young man she remembered. Then it was gone. Gwenna blew out a weary breath.

“Just wait,” she said quietly. “Wait until the war is over, and then, I swear, I’ll help you do whatever needs to be done.”

He watched her with those ruined eyes, then inclined his head.

“I’ll wait.”