“What news, Ortuze?” he asked, his tone clipped and to the point.
The commander said, “No sightings of her, sir. And Odilar sent out troops to stop the soldiers you sent to search the city. The king has refused them entry and threatened combat if they don’t leave.”
Cassius cursed and fisted his hands at his sides. “And in the wilds?”
“I’m afraid the losses are quite high. Two companies were wiped out completely, two are missing, and another three suffered devastating losses. And there have been confirmed reported sightings of him, sir. The second company sent word four days ago about rumors among the villages of his presence. The entire company was lost to storms the next day.”
“If they were lost, how do you know his presence is confirmed?”
“Another company found the bodies, sir. It took several days for their messenger to reach us. The bodies were laid out to form a message, Your Highness.”
Cassius hesitated. “Well? What was the message?”
“Soon, sir.”
Cassius pulled at his hair, pacing and biting down the need to scream.
“How many companies are still out searching?”
“Three companies remain, but with the Rage season in full swing, their odds are not good. Their numbers have already dwindled. May I suggest, sir, that we bring our men home, and prepare for his arrival? Even you cannot face him alone.”
Cassius’s fury boiled past his control. He picked up something from the table beside him, some trinket of sorts, and sent it sailing toward the wall. It smashed with an utterly unsatisfying crash, glass scattering over the floor.
“Those soldiers do not come home until they find her, do you hear me?” Cassius growled. “I don’t care what you have to do. Raise the reward. Force conscription into the military to boost our ranks. Whatever it takes, you do it. None of this will end well unless she’s found.”
It might not end well regardless. But he had to bring Aurora back to Pavan. He would search her out himself if he had to, and kill anyone who obstructed his path.
“What shall I tell the king, Your Highness?”
Cassius scowled. “Nothing. I will deal with him. Go,” he growled. “And bring me the girl again. The witness.”
Cassius had been back several times since that first encounter, but Novaya had stuck to her story, repeating it by rote. She knew more than she was letting on, he was certain. This time, he had left her in for nearly a week and ordered the guards to cut back her meals to one a day. He would have his answers one way or another.
He was well past patience now.
*
Locke fought a smile as Roar’s head dipped and jerked as she tried desperately not to fall asleep while in the saddle. He had thought he’d pushed her as far as she could handle before, but she had somehow dug even deeper, dredged up even more strength. He’d been left scrambling to find new ways to challenge her.
He had given up trying not to watch her. It seemed the more willpower she showed, the less he did. And when he wasn’t consumed with thoughts of her, he was battered by an anxiety that had never plagued him before. For a long time, he had lived for the hunt, for the moments of uncertainty when death came close enough to brush up against him. Now he spent most days rigid in his saddle, dreading their next encounter with a storm.
After three more days of traveling south, they were between Sangsorra desert to the east and craggy mountains and cliffs of the Sahrain range to the south. The earth had grown dusty and dry, dotted with scrubby trees and patches of long brown grass. He was on edge. They had not seen a storm in several days, which had been the goal of their new route. But he did not like when the wilds were quiet. At times it felt almost as if they were being stalked, the prey of a predator lurking just out of sight.
“What’s your plan?” Ransom asked from atop his mount. “Make her so exhausted that she can’t ride her own horse and will be forced to share one with you?”
Locke whipped his head around to face his friend. “What are you on about?”
“It’s not a bad plan. If you have to spend days on horseback, doing it with a pretty girl pressed against you is definitely the way to go.”
“You’re mad. I’m trying to make sure she stays alive.”
“Right. Then why don’t you train her to pitch her own tent instead of doing it for her like you have the last few nights? Tell me, friend, just how many times have you pitched a tent for the wild one?” Locke plucked an apple from his saddlebag and flung it at Ransom. The bald man caught it and bit into the fruit with a cheeky wink. He added, his mouth full of fruit, “Your shoulder is never going to finish healing if you keep trying to woo her via tent.”
“Enough of your theories. There’s nothing—” Before he could finish his denial, a terrible wail filled the air, followed by an ominous crack. He swung his head back toward the Rock, where the sound had originated, but before he could discover the cause, a scream rent the air.
Roar’s scream.
He forgot about the first sound in favor of the second, and turned to see her horse reared on its hind legs. The noise must have scared it, and now the mare was bucking hard. Roar slid backward, out of the dip of the saddle, but she held tight to the pommel.
The horse’s hooves crashed back to the ground, and Roar was flung forward. She winced in pain, but managed to secure her place once more. Then a strong wind gusted behind him, followed by vicious pops and crackling and the acrid scent of smoke.
Once more, Roar’s horse reared in fright, and when Locke finally looked back toward the Rock he knew why. There was fire everywhere—the patchy brown-green grass went up like tinder, the scrubby trees that lined the road exhaled flame up into the sky, the sky … well that appeared to be burning too. Overhead, too low to be a naturally occurring firestorm, the sky rotated with heavy winds and spit burning embers onto the earth below.
Another scream sounded, and he whipped his head back just in time to see Roar fly from the back of her horse. She landed in a roll, coming up on her feet only a few steps away from the rapidly expanding blaze.