Gilded Serpent Danielle Jensen (i can read with my eyes shut .TXT) 📖

built his own fire, but instead of standing next to it, he was currently perched on a rock, staring at the sky.

“What exactly do you intend to do?” Killian asked.

“Can’t very well paddle a boat down a frozen river, now can we,” the giant answered. “And we are sure as shit not using it as a giant sled.”

Killian knew as much as anyone about summoners, but no one really knew the extent of their power. The summoner his mother had brought to aid with evacuation had raised wind to help the speed of the ships, but that had wreaked havoc on the weather. He couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of fallout so much warmth would have. But he supposed he was about to find out. “May I watch?”

“If you want.” Baird ceased his assessment of the sky. “But keep your tongue still. It takes some concentration to pull a wind from as far as Anukastre.”

Killian took a seat on the rock the giant had abandoned, wrapping his cloak more tightly around his body against the chill. In the distance, he caught sight of Agrippa speaking to Lydia. But she had her arms crossed and was looking through her spectacles at the young man as other women might a dead rat left on the doorstep, so he decided she had it in hand.

Then the sound of a deep humming drew his attention back to Baird. The giant was circling the fire, his arms held up to the sky, feet moving to the same rhythm as his humming. As Killian watched, Baird’s steps turned to great leaps, the enormous man displaying a speed and agility that would have shocked Killian if he hadn’t seen firsthand what the giant was capable of.

Then Baird began to chant, speaking in the language of Eoten Isle, which Killian only knew a few words of. Bercola had been reticent to teach him, and Killian was not the best with languages as it was. But from what he gathered, Baird was asking Gespurn’s permission to do whatever it was he was doing, and Killian idly wondered, given Baird fought on the side of the Corrupter, if Gespurn might say no.

He got his answer a few minutes later as the pressure in the air shifted, causing Killian’s ears to pop. Glancing up, he saw the few clouds in the sky were swirling above, and then a hot wind smelling of sand struck him, growing in intensity and heat with each gust. His head throbbed as it increased in force, the chill long gone from the air, the snow around him melting.

Removing his cloak, Killian turned his head, listening to the glacier groan and crack, meltwater running off its edges. And slowly, the stream running away from it grew wider. Deeper.

Faster.

“Let that blow for a time and then we’ll get underway,” Baird announced, kicking slush over his fire. “Dancing always gives me a hunger.”

Somehow, Agrippa had gotten the information out of Lydia that Killian knew how to cook, and he was tasked with roasting the chickens. When it came time to eat, he motioned for Lydia to join him on the rock where he’d watched Baird.

“How is your head feeling?”

Her voice was tart enough that he determined she’d not forgiven him for getting blindingly drunk the prior night. Which he really didn’t think was fair given it had yielded impressive dividends. “It’s fine. And on a more important note, Agrippa likes to talk. He told me he came through a xenthier stem that put him in Arinoquia.”

Lydia’s eyes widened.

“It gets more interesting, and not in a good way. He’s Rufina’s general.” Swallowing a mouthful of chicken, he added, “He was the one in command of the Derin armies. And he will be again.”

Her face went still. “Then why is he still breathing?”

“Given Baird can call lightning with enough accuracy to hit a xenthier stem, picking a fight with his business partner could be risky.”

“Then don’t pick a fight with him. Slit his gods-damned throat and the giant’s, too.”

The tone of her voice as much as the words made Killian’s hackles rise. Or rather, the lack of it. Entirely emotionless, as though she were asking him to pass the salt, not to murder a man. “That’s not really my style.”

“Your style?” Lydia stared at him, green eyes bright. “How many of our people died because of him? How many more will die because of him? Killing him will protect Mudamora, and isn’t that supposed to be what you do?”

Unease filled his chest, because none of this sounded like Lydia. “According to you, Malahi’s our path to saving the kingdom, and to reach her, we need to get through these mountains. We need Baird for that, which means we can’t do anything to Agrippa. Once we’re on the other side, my feelings on the matter might change.”

“Might?” Her hands balled into fists where they rested on her lap, her eyes fixed on Agrippa, who was regaling the two children with some sort of story, their faces rapt.

“He’s not her commander by choice,” Killian said, hoping to temper her rage before she did something both of them would regret. “She threatened to kill him if he didn’t comply.”

“Better to die than to do what he has done.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and she scrubbed it away furiously. “You didn’t see what it was like in Mudaire. You didn’t have to watch Mudamorians hunting Mudamorians in the streets. Didn’t watch the dead rise up, the Seventh in control of their bodies. That’s the army he’ll lead next, and with his training, it’s going to be close to unstoppable.”

“That’s the blight, not Agrippa.”

“The Empire is a blight! Why can’t you see that?” she snarled, then gave her head a sharp shake, rubbing at her temples.

It occurred to him that she wasn’t seeing Agrippa as just Rufina’s minion, but also as the enemy that had tried to have her murdered. That had her best friend kidnapped. That was invading just as surely as