The Autumn Republic

The creature turned toward Adamat, giving him his first clear look at it. Once, years ago, Adamat had seen a hairless bear in a traveling circus. This beast more closely resembled that bear than it did a human. It had short black hair and a nasty cut on its cheek, lifting one corner of its mouth into a sneer. It pounded its gnarled fists on the ground like a gorilla and advanced on Adamat.

Adamat grasped desperately for his cane sword or for anything he could use as a weapon.

Not that it would help.

It moved forward slowly, as if suddenly hesitant, squinting at Adamat with brutish suspicion, thick brow furrowed. What the pit was taking so long? Adamat couldn’t find a weapon. His hands were shaking so hard he likely couldn’t have held one.

End it already, you foul creature.

The beast reached for Adamat’s throat and Adamat’s eyes fell on its thick, twisted hand. Its right ring finger was missing. A strange detail for Adamat to focus on. But then, men did strange things when they looked death in the eye. Adamat felt his hand touch something-the handle of his cane sword. It had fallen on the wagon. He grasped it and prepared to ram the thing as hard as he could into the Warden’s face. It was his only chance.

He tensed, ready to swing.

And felt his heart drop into his stomach. Those dull eyes and the sorcery-twisted skin suddenly looked all too familiar.

“Josep?” Adamat heard himself croak.

The creature leapt back as if it had been burned. It slammed at the ground with both hands, baring its teeth at Adamat.

“Josep, is that you?”

Adamat didn’t have a chance to hear if the creature answered. Three Adran soldiers appeared around the edge of the wagon, their bayonets leveled, and charged at the Warden with screams of defiance. It whirled on them, then looked at Adamat, the confusion plain on its face. It took two great bounds toward the soldiers and leapt, clearing all three of them and landing on the other side to break into a sprint toward the Kez lines.

The soldiers hollered their challenges after the Warden, but Adamat could see the relief in their eyes. That was not a fight they would have won.

Adamat heard a thump, then a decidedly unfeminine curse from beneath the wagon. He tore his gaze away from the fleeing Warden and bent over the wagon. “Nila? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She lay on her back, rubbing her forehead. “Where am I?”

“I hid you while you were out.”

“Oh. Sorry, I fainted. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You may have saved the entire bloody battle,” Adamat said.

There was a pause for a few moments. “Did I kill people?”

“You saved a lot of lives,” Adamat said. There was no good response to this. The girl had saved a lot of lives. But violence like that always took its toll, both physically and emotionally. It was likely a blessing that she had passed out before the screaming started.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “And now?”

Adamat stood up, surveying the scene. The camp was in shambles. The Warden was nowhere to be seen. Yet the fighting had died down and the only men he saw standing wore Adran blues. “Looks like we’ve driven them off.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Yes,” Adamat said, sinking against the edge of the wagon. “Yes, it is.”

What had he just witnessed? That creature might have-should have-killed him without hesitation. And it hadn’t. Could it be mere coincidence? The missing finger, the familiar lines of the face, the shape of the jaw that came from Faye’s father. Adamat closed his eyes and saw the beast’s face in his perfect memory.

Josep.

CHAPTER 16

Nila’s entire body tingled.

It felt like stepping out of a springless carriage after going down a particularly long and bumpy road. Her legs were weak and her abdomen warm, and everything she touched seemed to crackle slightly. Her mind was muddled, as if her head were jammed full of wool.

Adamat helped her out from beneath the wagon and she shook her arms, trying to get rid of the tingle.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Adamat asked.

“My body feels like it’s been stuffed with bees. Is that normal?”

“No… no, I think not.” Adamat’s reply was wooden. He watched the retreating Kez auxiliaries, his face slack.

“We won?”

Adamat nodded, but then stopped, as if thinking better of it. “We won that engagement. Barely.” He pointed to the south, where dark clouds of powder smoke hung over the battlefield and the thunder of artillery fire continued almost without interruption. “If not for your sorcery, we would have lost the camp. I imagine Bo will be proud.”

Distantly, Nila could sense something wrong with Adamat. But she felt a thrill go through her at that, and a cold knot settled in her stomach. Would Bo be proud? She could have killed herself. She should have killed herself, pulling that kind of stunt. Bo would be furious. Live to fight another day, he would have said. Don’t take such risks.