He continued south. Kerrick counted soldiers, estimating their numbers. He also noted their weapons—swords, knives, clubs, pikes—all fashioned with, he guessed, bone handles and hilts. From this distance, he couldn’t be certain.

Looping around to the west, he realized the soldiers didn’t act like they’d just conquered a town. No celebrating, laughing, drinking, or debauchery. Unless there were more men inside the buildings? But besides the chanting and drumbeats, the rest of the town remained quiet. Still no Belen.

He stopped behind the jailhouse. It was the best place to keep the captured townspeople and, perhaps, Belen, as well. Leaning against a tree, Kerrick waited and watched. Near the building was a large fire pit. No flames crackled. Instead, bright red coals glowed, pumping out heat. Spits of meat sizzled over the coals. A man turned them, one at a time. Enough meat to feed a substantial army. From what he’d seen so far, he estimated the army to be about two thousand strong.

After a couple hours, the Skeleton King approached the jailhouse. No doubt the man was the infamous king. His armor covered him from head to toe and resembled a skeleton. His helmet had been constructed from a skull. And a crown carved from bone sat atop his head.

The Skeleton King pulled open the door and shouted. His words were garbled at this distance. Kerrick crept closer.

“...need our offering. The moon’s at its zenith,” the Skeleton King said, stepping back as guards wrestled with two screaming men, dragging them over to a broad wooden table near the cook fire.

Horror welled. Kerrick recognized the design. He started forward, grabbing his sword’s hilt, but stopped. What could he do? He’d use all his strength just to reach the man. After that, getting caught and killed along with them would be the only outcome.

The guards strapped the first prisoner to the table. The Skeleton King spread his arms wide, tipped his head back, and howled at the moon. When he finished, his soldiers howled an echo. Then the king brandished a knife and in one quick motion, sliced the prisoner’s throat. The man who had been turning the spits rushed to collect the gushing blood in a bowl.

Kerrick clamped down on a cry as anguish and impotent rage flowed through him. His grief intensified when the second prisoner joined the first. The howling repeated and another bowl was filled with blood.

The Skeleton King took both bowls and strode toward the large bonfire. After a few minutes the drumbeat changed its cadence. The rest of the soldiers followed the Skeleton King. But not the cook. He remained behind, tending the spits.

Before Kerrick could decide on his next move, the wind shifted. The strong stench of burned flesh sent him to his knees, gagging and retching.

They wouldn’t...

They couldn’t...

The cook grabbed a meat cleaver. Without the slightest hesitation, he butchered the victims on the table.

They did.

CHAPTER 16

I stared at Noak, trying to gather my wits. He’d just informed me that I was bonded to Tohon and in order to break the bond, Tohon must die. I’d love to oblige him, but Tohon was safely behind enemy lines.

“What will happen if he doesn’t die?” I asked.

“Without Magic Man here, the other’s bond grows stronger. He will destroy your link with Magic Man.”

Not good. Terrifying actually. But it would explain why I didn’t have the Tohon nightmares when I was with Kerrick.

“He must die before link with Magic Man gone,” Noak said.

“Even if I knew where he was—”

“You know.” Noak tapped me on the chest. “Answer is here.”

Lovely. “But I can’t reach him. He’s well protected.”

“Then you are lost.” Noak released my hand.

“What does that mean?”

“Once a bond is forged, it is unbreakable.”

Yikes. “What does this bond do?”

“You linked by magic. You can use his power and he can use yours if you equal. Unequal, the stronger one will take the weaker’s magic and use it all for himself.”

Noak studied my expression. “Yes. That one is stronger than you and Magic Man.” He nodded and walked away.

I expected to warm up once the tribesman left, but this time the cold persisted, soaking deep into my bones. Even knowing I’d get no sleep tonight, I lay down on my bedroll. I pulled the blanket up to my chin. Shivers raced along my skin as I imagined Tohon’s smug smile.

After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, I jerked the blanket off and checked on my patients. Only one required another dose of pain medicine. The rest slept. I organized supplies, rolled bandages, and kept busy until dawn.

Christina took one look at me and ordered me to bed.

“But I’m—” I tried.

“Exhausted and will be of no use to anybody until you get some sleep.” She crossed her arms. “Do I need to ask Sergeant Odd to escort you to your bedroll?”

About to give in, I paused. “Why Odd and not Loren or Quain?”

“You listen to him. Unlike the monkeys. Now go.” She pointed.

All out of arguments, I shuffled to my bedroll. Before going to sleep, I checked on the plague patients. A convulsion shook Private Jannes. He had reached stage three and only had two more days left to live. Two of the most hellish days in his life. I’d experienced what he now faced and knew dying would be a relief. I mixed a draught of pain and sleep powders for him, hoping to ease his final hours.

After Jannes gulped the medicine down, I eyed the sleep powder. If I drank a weak dose, would it keep Tohon away? Or would it prevent me from waking up and escaping Tohon?