“Who are you?” Fire crackled around the fists of the Black Legion soldier, but Vhalla remained focused on the man before her.

“Lord Erion.” She finally remembered the name of the other Golden Guard still at Soricium. The Western man’s eyes grew large with surprise. “Lord Erion Le’Dan of the Golden Guard. Take me to Head Major Jax. The Northerners are coming and we don’t have much time.”

“They won’t cross the patrol line,” he said, neither confirming nor denying his identity. “They know this is our territory now.”

He didn’t realize how sweet the words were to her, and Vhalla swallowed relieved laughter. She kept her face from crumbling into a mess of emotion. “I have a message I must deliver to Head Major Jax. Take me to him now.”

“Who do you think you are? This is Lord Le—”

Erion held up a hand, stopping the man’s defense of his nobility. “I’ll take you to the camp palace.”

“You will?” Vhalla and the Black Legion soldier asked in unison.

“You speak in Southern common with a Cyven accent, and I assume you are meant to deliver whatever is in that bag?” He pointed to the satchel Vhalla didn’t realize she held in a death grip. She was clearly not about to hand it over.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” The Firebearer asked as the Golden Guard mounted his steed.

“A ragged girl? I’ll kill her if she tries anything,” Erion arrogantly proclaimed while reaching out a hand to allow Vhalla to mount.

Vhalla swallowed her pride, and accepted his help into the saddle. He forced her to sit in front, his arms on either side, gripping the reins. Erion spurred his horse forward, and Vhalla gripped its mane.

“What’s your name?” he asked out of earshot of his comrade as they worked their way across the large burnt trek.

“Serien.” Vhalla didn’t know why she lied. “Serien ...” He sounded uncertain.

“Leral.”

Further conversation ceased as they reached the brim of the valley Soricium sat within. Vhalla stared in awe as she saw the full Imperial army for the first time. Hundreds, no thousands, of tents and hovels were constructed down a shallow basin. Vhalla’s heart raced as she saw the true force of the Empire, the greatest achievement of the Emperor Solaris.

At the center stood a giant walled forest, trees even higher than the behemoths Vhalla had witnessed in the jungle. It was the last stronghold of the North. The final remnants of the once legendary sky city and the place Vhalla had been brought to conquer: Soricium.

Soldiers stared in curiosity as they rode down through camp toward a roughly built T-shaped building. Clearly the term “camp palace” had been used in irony. She’d made it, she realized in shock. She’d actually made it to the North.

“Major Jax is inside.” Erion dismounted, offering a hand to help her down.

Vhalla ignored it, walking ahead of him past the two confused guards on either sides of the door to the building. The room within was nothing more than makeshift walls and packed dirt, long tables at varying heights flanked either side of the hall. Men and women moved between papers and diagrams, leisurely discussing things. All turned as she entered.

“Head Major Jax,” Vhalla demanded as Erion entered behind her.

“Erion, how many times must I tell you not to bring me wild women until after dark? It’s distracting.” A man grinned wickedly. He had long black hair that was tied up into a bun, black eyes, and olive skin: a textbook Westerner.

Vhalla crossed over quickly, pulling the satchel off her shoulder. She held it out to him with trembling hands, suddenly filled with nervous energy. The head major cocked his head to the side, assessing her before prying it from her white-knuckled grip.

He placed it on the table, pulling out the parchment that was stained red at the edges. Jax moved from one paper to the next with increasing speed, the arrogance and humor of earlier falling from his face in favor of emotions Vhalla would deem far more appropriate.

Two dark eyes snapped up to her. “You ...”

“You have to send help, now.” Vhalla took a step forward. Her whole body had begun shaking. “Send him help. You can, right?”

“Erion, Query, Bolo!” Jax slammed the papers down on the table. “Assemble seven hundred of your best.”

“What?” One of the other majors gasped in shock. “Seven hundred?”

Jax didn’t even indulge the question. “Xilia!” A woman crossed over. “I need these clerical items, in duplicate for good measure.”

“In duplicate?” the woman repeated. Vhalla saw the long list of Elecia’s scribbling.

“Everyone else, go find your fastest, most reckless riders. Bring me the men and women who will put themselves and their mount’s lives last and their mission first.” The room stared at the Western man, open-mouthed. “Now!” Jax shouted, slapping his palm upon the table. “Go now!”

That was the first time Vhalla saw the true diligence of the Imperial army. Despite the confusion, the question, and all the vast unknowns, the soldiers moved. They did as their superior told them, and it was a sight so sweet that it made her want to cry in relief.

“They-they’re going to go?” Vhalla whispered, staring at the doors the last soldier had disappeared from.

“Yes, within the hour.” The major rounded the table slowly.

Exhaustion rode the wave of relief as it crashed upon her and her knees hit the ground. Vhalla braced her fall with an arm, the other clenching her stomach. She couldn’t breathe, but she felt dizzy with air. She wanted to laugh and sob and scream at the same time. She’d made it to the North.

Jax crouched before her. Vhalla’s gaze rose from his boots to his face. The Western man squinted.

“Vhalla Yarl, the Windwalker.” Her name on the lips of a stranger made her uneasy, and Vhalla sat back onto her feet to assess him with equal interest. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t you.”

She laughed bitterly, remembering Elecia’s first unappreciative assessment of her months ago. “Sorry to disappoint.”

The man tilted his head. “You show up as if you materialize from the wind itself, to save the life of the crown prince whom you jumped off the side of the Pass in an attempt to save. You’re unassuming, you’re filthy, and you’re soaked in what I can only presume to be the blood of our enemies.” A grin slowly spread across Jax’s face, like that of a rabid beast. “Who said anything about being disappointed?”

THE WASHROOM IS back here.” Jax led her toward the upper part of the T Vhalla had seen from the outside.

She nodded and followed him mutely. In the wake of accepting her and Aldrik’s death, she was experiencing difficulty processing the concept of salvation. The hall perpendicular to the public area had one door at the end on the left side and two on either wall to Vhalla’s right with a fourth before her. The shoddy construction made it easy to tell that soldiers, not craftsman, had erected the building.

“Not really fitting for a lady, I know,” Jax chuckled. The bathroom was the bare essentials, and he quickly had a large wooden barrel filling with rainwater from a rooftop reservoir.

“I’m not a lady.” Vhalla shook her head. “This reminds me of home, actually.”