Page 10 of Sword & Sacrifice

The echo of Penn’s earlier thoughts sent a shiver down his spine. How much can someone stand before death is the better option? Hopefully, these people wouldn’t have to find out.

“There!” Niall exclaimed, brushing off his hands as if he’d done all the work himself. When he saw Penn and Valistair standing so close to each other, his jaw clenched in irritation. “Are you ready to leave, Alistair?”

Penn approached the carriage, sparing a glance for the people he passed who continued to beam at him. Inside the carriage was everything Niall had ordered them to gather. There was only room for one person, which meant two would have to sit on the driver’s seat. “Since I know where we’re going, I assume you want me to drive?”

Niall narrowed his eyes at Penn. “Yes, and I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. Don’t think you’ll get away with any tricks under my watch.”

“Understood,” Penn said, keeping his voice chipper as he climbed up onto the seat. Two horses were hitched up to the carriage, neither of which he recognized. They’d brought a horse and cart with them to Causley Estate, and Penn briefly wondered what had happened to them. Hex is probably better off here anyway.

Niall took the spot next to Penn, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs to indicate that he was there to supervise only, he had no intention of doing any work.

Valistair’s unsettling, mismatched eyes lingered on Penn for a long moment before he finally climbed into the carriage.

Once everyone was settled, Penn guided the horses onto the road. The people of Causley Estate formed two lines on either side, wearing matching eerie smiles as they waved goodbye. Their hands moved in unison, like a metronome ticking back and forth.

Leaving was the best way to help them. The more distance Penn put between these people and the mages, the safer they would be. He urged the horses into a fast clip and focused on the long journey ahead.

Chapter Six

The noises and smells within the medic’s tents overwhelmed the senses. Subdued cries of pain as wounds were tended to. Clean soaps and harsh medicines. Angry soldiers arguing over their own health. Too much blood spilled.

Archer would have rather been anywhere else—interrogating the remaining Bellacostan soldiers, cleaning up the burned palace, at Silas’ side doing anything at all—but the people he most needed to speak to were all here.

He’d barely stepped into the tent when Medic Hess spotted him and made a noise of strangled rage. “You, check-up, now!” she declared, jabbing a finger at him.

Archer tried to wave her off. “I need to speak with Griselda.”

“You can multitask,” she declared, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the rows of cots. “What were you thinking? Fighting so soon after I’d patched you up? Do you and the general both have a death wish?”

A cluster of people gathered around one of the cots, blocking Archer’s view of the patient. Somewhere within the crowd, Griselda’s voice rose above the noise as she regaled them with the tale of Alistair’s defeat. “An icy tundra, no visibility, no allies in sight. Just me and my axe against a mad mage who can manipulate the world around him.”

Medic Hess rolled her eyes. “She’s told this story six times already.” Then she raised her voice and shooed away the off-duty soldiers. “Unless you want me to start stitching you up, wounds or not, get out!”

As the soldiers cleared out, they revealed Griselda reclining on her cot, her upper torso bare except for the bandages wrapped around her stomach and a modesty cloth binding her breasts. When she spotted Archer, her eyes lit up and she tried to raise herself into a sitting position.

“Stay down,” Hess growled, laying a hand on Griselda’s shoulder and gently guiding her back to the cot.

“I’m fine, stop coddling me,” Griselda groused.

“You were impaled by an icicle!”

“A very small icicle.”

Hess gave up arguing with her and chose to prop her up with a pillow instead. “If you’d let one of the Bellacostan healers examine you—”

“Fuck no. You think I’m letting any of those shit-stained magicians near me? You’re good enough for me, Hess. Always have been.”

“Then listen to my instructions,” Hess said through gritted teeth.

Griselda ignored her, focusing on Archer. “Well? How’d it go?”

“Smoothly,” Archer replied.

“Dammit, man, for once in your life can’t you give me some details? Unnaturally colored flames? A hoard of spiders suddenly descending on the funeral? A disembodied voice vowing vengeance as he burned?”

Before Archer could answer, Hess turned her fussing attention to him, demanding he strip, sit, and stay still while she examined the wounds he’d sustained from the prison break. Once she’d settled into cleaning his back again, he gave Gris the only details he had. “Everything was normal. He burned like any other body.”

Griselda snorted. “I expected some final trick from him, but I guess even magicians are mortal. One less bastard in the world, at least. Now if only we could find Varro …”