"Ready. Heave!"
A body flew through the air to land on top of the mound. Miro saw two robed figures on the edge of the gully, dusting their hands on their garments.
"Come on, let's get the next."
"Why do we have to do this?"
"Renrik's orders. These draugar have decayed too much in this heat. Now we're moving faster we're not going to process any more bodies until we reach Emirald. There'll be plenty of fresh bodies after we take the city."
"Yes, but why do we have to throw them in the gully?"
"Where else would you put them?"
"Just leave them where they are."
The other man snorted. "That's disgusting."
"After everything I've seen you do, you're calling me disgusting?"
The voices trailed off.
Miro quickly took Amber's hand and led her in the direction of the mound. He tried not to look at the bodies as they passed but as they skirted to the side he couldn't help it.
These were the revenants too decayed to fight on. In the pile were Gokani and Nareans, barbarians and Veldrins. Miro knew the sight would haunt him to the end of his days.
"Who's that down there?" a voice called from above.
"One of them's still alive!"
"You fool! We checked them all. None of them could still be alive. It must be someone else. Raise the alarm!"
Miro knew the time for caution was gone. He grabbed Amber's hand and started to run.
Behind them, Miro heard a commotion as warriors were called forward to the chase. He put on a burst of extra speed and felt Amber stumble behind him.
Miro now had to put his faith in the terrain. The steep drop from above provided protection, but his greatest concern was that the enemy were pacing them. He would soon find out when the ravine ended.
He ran until his legs felt like they were on fire and Amber begged him to stop. Their breathing was laboured and their foreheads dripped with sweat, but still they ran on.
Miro and Amber followed the riverbed as the canyon veered right, and then back left again. Suddenly the walls dropped away as the gully became shallower. They were reaching the end.
Miro pulled up short, his hand on his sword. Panting, he scanned the trees at the gully's end, where the stream continued to wander with gentle banks to both sides. For now, they were alone.
"Look," Amber panted, her chest heaving as she pointed.
The sun was rising. The sun rose in the east, which meant they were facing south.
"We made it. We're ahead of the army."
"Now we just need to find the road," Miro said. "Come on, there's a hill up there. We'll keep our heads down, but we'll find the road. It's time for speed above all else now."
By midday they'd joined the road, and by afternoon they could see hills and spires ahead. Miro recognised the rising tiers of Emirald, with the domes and towers of the Emir's palace a rose and turquoise crown above it all.
The road was deserted; all of the refugees had long departed this area.
The Lord of the Night's great army was behind them, and Emirald lay ahead.
43
ROGAN Jarvish stood high on the balcony, overlooking Imperial Square, and wondered where it had all gone wrong.
Days ago the crowd below had started as a mob, but now it was a seething mass of people, an ocean of figures as far as the eye could see in all directions. They were pressed up against the gates of the Imperial Palace and filled the Grand Boulevard from one side to the other. Most of all, they thronged Imperial Square, where from this very balcony the Emperors of the past had given speeches both grand and sinister.
Now, Rogan could only look on as the packed citizens of Seranthia heaved and cried out, rolling and pushing as they gathered together in united frustration.
Rogan still didn't know if he'd done the right thing when he'd told the people the truth about the Evermen. He'd always believed in truth; that open eyes see the clearest, and that once caught in a lie, never again could you earn the people's trust.
But try as he might, Rogan had never managed to earn the people of Seranthia's trust. The Tingaran soldiers followed him, and Rogan knew he had their respect, if not their love, but to the common people he was an Alturan oppressor. His words of honesty and empathy spoke to their minds, but not their hearts. Words couldn't fill stomachs, nor could they restore a great nation's pride.
Down below, Rogan saw the troublemaking mason, Bastian, standing on top of a wagon and exhorting the crowd to greater frenzy. His words were lost, but he pointed frequently at the balcony where Rogan stood, and shook his fist as the crowd roared in anger.
"Are you going to speak to them?" Amelia asked behind him.
"What can I say?"
"Take back what you said about the Evermen."
"How can I do that? It would be a lie, and they wouldn't believe anything I said again."
"They don't have anything else," Amelia said. "They need something to believe in."
"And food in their stomachs," Rogan said. "The Empire's coffers are empty, and the harvest came up short. What can I do?"