He sensed a creature of magic in the dark waters of the pond. He could sense it approaching, could feel its thoughts reaching out to his mind hungrily. It was aware of him. It was lurking beneath the waters, all tentacles and sludge and iron sinews. Its thoughts were enormous, like some giant toad the size of a boulder. He could feel it creeping toward the group.

Hettie grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. He could not hear her words. The look in her eyes was desperate. She was trying to say something, pleading with him. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Why was she crying?

Annon turned and saw the others. They were illuminated by the fire raging in his hands, most gathered around Tyrus, each one clutching his outstretched arm. In Tyrus’s fist was the Tay al-Ard. Paedrin stared at Annon in shock, his eyes wide with desperation. He was nearby but he had not grabbed Tyrus’s arm yet. There was Prince Aran and Khiara looking at Annon with concern as well. Kiranrao’s expression was one of deep respect, but he also gripped Tyrus’s arm. So did Baylen. Why were they gathered around Tyrus?

He saw Phae. She pushed away from Shion and her father and approached him, shaking her head no.

Then he understood.

Tyrus had uttered the command to gather, that he was going to use the Tay al-Ard to flee that place and the approaching danger. Annon had not heard it. The others had gathered but Annon had not, lost in his revenge and his inability to hear through the water in his ears.

Annon let the fireblood go, taming its magic instantly, and he grabbed Hettie around the waist and pulled her with him toward Tyrus. Phae reached for Annon’s hand and all three rushed to join the others. Annon saw a spark of hope in Tyrus’s eyes. Together, they gathered around Tyrus, each one clinging to another. With Hettie included, Paedrin joined his hand too.

One last time, Annon turned and stared at Nizeera’s crumpled form, his soul grieving with the loss. Tears burned his eyes, blurring the image. He felt someone’s hand grip his cloak. Someone patted his arm. Annon hung his head, knowing he was bereft of protection now.

With a whirl, the magic of the Tay al-Ard wrenched them away from the danger approaching in the waters.

“We are thunderstruck by the size of the Boeotian army. They have claimed the quays on the northwest edge of the lake and have begun to set up a siege of some kind. What they hope to accomplish is entirely uncertain. Strange tents made of animal hides surround the shores. The Bhikhu from Silvandom began to arrive immediately, but it will take some time to gather them in from the vast woodland realm they have protected. The citizenry are fearful but brave. We have faced these threats many times in the past.”

- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos

XVIII

It took several moments for Phae to gather her senses after the Tay al-Ard spilled them back to the earth. The night was deep and foreboding, thick with clinging shadows. The hulking massive trees formed wedges to box them in, offering only a little bit of light, faint silver threads from a waning moon.

“Where are we?” Kiranrao demanded.

“Be silent!” Tyrus snarled at the Romani. He shook off their grasping hands and strode a few paces away, before whirling and facing them again. His face was nearly lost in shadows, but Phae could sense the tumultuous anger seething from his cowl. His hands glowed faintly, and she could tell it was taking great effort to rein in his fury.

The trauma from the Weir attack still raged in her heart. Despite all her imaginings, they were more terrifying than she had supposed. Thickset yet fast as quicksilver, cunningly intelligent and near invisible until they launched to tear your throat out. She shuddered at the memory, feeling her hands tingle with the fireblood she had summoned to defend herself. As she gazed around at the others, she saw that all were wounded in some manner—except Shion.

“Our attempt at unity is a complete and total failure,” Tyrus said in a low growl, his voice betraying thick impatience and smoldering venom. “Annon, I nearly left you behind to face that demon in the pond all on your own. The torc drew it right to us and if we had not fled, probably half of us would have died back there.”

Annon looked ashamed. “I could not hear, Tyrus. I was half-drowned—”

“I knew it was risky bringing you with us,” he interrupted savagely. “If Nizeera hadn’t died for you, you would have fallen for certain. You must fight, Annon! You must use your wits and your will. These are not human creations, with feelings and hesitancy. They are beasts born of ancient magic, and they are hunters. They are hunting us even now. You should have come when I called you!”

Phae quailed at the tone of her father’s voice and she saw Annon’s shoulder slump with dejection. She had never seen Tyrus this angry, this uncontrolled. Fear flooded inside her, witnessing this darker side of her father.