The elf followed at a slower pace, aware he'd soon run out of energy and be reduced to stumbling along in a daze.
When she did catch up to him, he was holding his side and staring mournfully through the depressing line of twisted trees fossilized by magefire.
"More of these stupid trees," he murmured. He kicked at the ground. "I fucking hate this place. How much further?"
"Ain't far."
He dragged his feet, stumbling regularly, looking to be drunk on exhaustion.
"Why'd you marry him?" he asked suddenly.
"Huh?"
"Your husband. What's his name? Tarek?"
"Talek."
"Yeah, him. Why'd you marry? No offence, Nysta. Really. I'm trying to picture you being all cute and loving, but you don't seem the type to feel anything except hate."
"I feel a lot of things, 'lock." She felt her throat tighten as she spoke. Her jaw ached. "But there's a time for them. And a place."
"You think you'll marry again?"
She shook her head. "Talek was special, Chukshene. He found me at a time when I needed him. But that little girl ain't around no more." She tightened her fist around Kindness. "I won't let anyone guide my life again. No one uses me from now on. No one."
He looked at her strangely. "But, you're a weapon, Nysta."
"A what?"
"A weapon. Don't be so mad. So am I," he said, holding up his grimoire. "With this, I can do things some men only dream of. Even some other mages. While you weren't much impressed, you've got to remember we're in the Deadlands. This thing wasn't made to deal with the undead, or with creatures given power direct from the gods. But what it can do to men is unimaginable. I'm all kinds of dangerous, Long-ear. But I'll tell you what I'm not."
"What's that?"
"A thinker. I don't know where to go to do the most damage. See, I'm a blunt weapon. I do what I'm told. I get used. By the Mage Council. By the emperor himself. Fuck. By anyone who pays me. Should I be ashamed of that? Of doing my job? Doing my best? Some of us, Nysta, were made to be used."
"Not me," she growled. But she thought of how Talek had guided her to her Jadean.
How he'd let them fashion her into the kind of soldier who only felt alive when they were killing.
"You think it's not honorable? To be a weapon? If that's true, then why do you give your knives names? You do it because they have a purpose. And you respect them. And sometimes, the difference between being happy and being fucking miserable is just being able to choose who uses you. And what for. There are worse things, Nysta, than being paid to do what you do well."
His words ignited resentment as she thought about being used. But she was mature enough to know what he meant. That he understood she was a knife. A knife which worked best when wrapped by a fist.
But she didn't want anyone's fist around her. The last one had been her king. A man she'd served without question. A man who'd betrayed her trust for something so fickle as his own insecurity and guilt.
And he wasn't the only one who'd betrayed her trust. Before that, countless figures of power who'd ruled the streets. And before that? Her father.
Men who had their fists around her. Men who'd demanded trust and loyalty but were ultimately unable to return it. Incapable of wielding her as she was meant to be.
How could she trust again?
She could only trust herself.
Still struggling with her words and her beliefs, she said nothing, and the next few hours were spent in silence.
Both of them left the other to be carried away by their own thoughts.
Their own secrets.
So caught up was she in her troubled mind, the elf didn't notice for a moment as they stepped between a line of twisted trees and caught their first glimpse of the town of Grimwood Creek.
The gates were wide open and a small group of men were gathered at the front, painting the gates grey. Flags flew high at each corner.
Grey flags.
Each stitched with a familiar earless face which proudly announced the army's origin.
The men, too, were dressed in grey.
All human.
Caspiellans, she snarled inwardly.
Quickly overcoming her awe, the elf's brain filled with images of the last time she'd seen the Grey Jackets and she could almost smell Talek's burnt flesh. The scar on her cheek burned horribly.
The warlock's mouth dropped open in horror and she slapped one hand over it before he could make a noise.
Dragged him down behind the trees.
Held one finger to her mouth and waited until he nodded. Took her hand off his mouth, then slowly looked around the trunk at the town.
"We're not getting breakfast, are we?" His voice was morose.
"Looks like it ain't a bordertown no more," she confirmed. "Grey Jackets have taken it over. They're everywhere. Looks like they're building a pyre, too. Reckon anyone who ain't human is dead. Anyone else who didn't see things their way is dead, too."
He put his head into his hands and rubbed his temples.
"Finally. They're actually doing it. They're moving into the Deadlands. Heading north again."
"Looks it."
"Shit. How long before they've dug themselves in? We've got to tell somebody, Nysta. We need to warn the emperor. Got to get to a ship. Get back to-"
"I ain't going nowhere," the elf hissed. Her eyes burned so fiercely that he nearly swallowed his own tongue. "Not yet. Until I've ripped Raste's guts out through his fucking throat, I ain't going nowhere."
"But-"
"You can go if you want!" She almost frothed at the mouth with rage as the situation teetered towards hopelessness. "But wait until I'm inside. Then you can leave, Chukshene. I won't hold you back. Leave and warn who you like. But you ain't moving from here until I'm inside! You hear? I don't want you to be seen. I don't want them to know I'm here until I'm ready. You understand?"
"Nysta, I think-"
"Do you understand?"
The steel in her voice made him gulp. "Sure. Sure, I understand."
"Good."
She squinted at the town as he twisted around to follow her gaze.
His shoulders slumped as he was overwhelmed by the hopelessness she was working hard to push down.
"There's more inside. How many more? Dozens? Hundreds? They'd have to have more to take a fucking town like this. How are you gonna fight them all? Is one man really worth it, Nysta? You really, in your heart, believe Talek would want you to get killed for him?"
"No," she rubbed angrily at the scar. "He wouldn't. But he'd know me well enough to know I'd try before I gave up. I'm going in there, Chukshene. With or without your help. I'll kill Raste. And his men. And any other fellers who get in my way."
"How can you take on a fucking army? What if they've got clerics? Or more mages? Or even their god? What about that, Nysta? What if Rule is there?"
She felt her jaw clench as she caught sight of one of Raste's companions.
The big one.
His axe slung over his shoulder as he stood between the open gates, looking out. She could feel his eyes skip over their position and she bit hard on her teeth to stop from running from cover. She had to do it right. Couldn't fail now.
Not now she'd come this far.
"I'll kill them all," she said through her teeth as Tubal moved back down off the wall. "Even Rule himself."
"Mad," he said. But there was awe in his voice as he realised he had no doubt she'd try it. He could almost see her, spitting rage as she flung herself at the God of Light. "You're fucking mad. Which means I'm insaner, of course. Well, you long-eared fruitcake. Tell me, then. How are we getting in there? You got a great idea in that ugly head of yours? I hope so. Because I'm all out."
Her mind flashed over the memories of what she'd allowed herself to do to get out of those frozen Lostlight alleys, even for just a few minutes. Memories which haunted her dreams.
Made her sick to the stomach.
But suddenly those memories gave her strength. She'd survived where others had died.
She'd done what she had to. No restraints.
And no matter how hard she struggled to deny her past, it was a part of her. The men she'd let sleep with her for coin were a foundation on which every ounce of strength she now possessed was built.
How could there be shame in surviving?
Suddenly feeling light, her violet eyes flashed dangerously as her lips curled into a wicked grin. "Oh, I reckon I still know a few tricks."