She couldn’t. Whatever had startled her awake had vanished from memory. Only the shadow of helpless terror remained. That, and limbs that quivered like jelly.

“You shouldn’t be moving about,” she said instead.

“Someone had to keep watch. You needed a bit of shut-eye.”

“Much good it did me.” She rubbed at her eyes and peered out through the brambles masking the cave mouth. Trampled crops were just about visible through windblown branches and seething rain. “How’s the world looking?”

“I think we won. Leastways, there’s more of our lot riding about than theirs. Hooray for us.”

Our lot. Strange how that now encompassed the very people she’d been fighting half her life. “Then it’s over.”

He snorted. “It’s never over. There’s always another battle. We can’t help ourselves. The shadowthorns aren’t fighting nobody, are they? Ain’t no lasting peace this side of Otherworld.”

“That why you became a soldier?”

He shrugged. “Better a wolf than a sheep. You?”

Revekah stared down at her palms and strove to recall a day before callouses and wrinkles. “These hands of mine have never been much good for anything else.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He sniffed. “Reckon my left leg’s hanging by a thread. I’ll be walking with a stoop for the rest of my life.”

“Keep talking, and that won’t be a problem for long.”

Kurkas grinned wearily. “Charmer.”

There was little force behind the jibe. Despite her best efforts, Kurkas was already halfway into the mists. He’d lost too much blood. He needed warmth, food and a better class of care than she could provide. But he couldn’t walk, and she couldn’t carry him. Getting him to the cover of the cavern had been touch and go. Yes, someone would happen by sooner or later, but that wouldn’t be soon enough for Kurkas.

“You planning on staying this side of the mists if I fetch help?” she asked.

He waved a lazy hand. “Can’t say the Raven holds any appeal, but . . .” He paused. His good eye narrowed as he stared through the trees. “On second thoughts, I’d rather you stuck around.”

In the distance, what had been an empty field was thick with marching soldiers. And at their head, scarlet robes on a white horse. “Makrov’s back?” said Revekah.

“Looks like. Holy fervour and a thousand halberds. Fun and games.”

She shook her head to dispel growing unease. “Why? What’s happening?”

“Both of them excellent questions, Captain Halvor. Alas, the eye with which I read minds was the one you plucked out.” He sighed. “But I’ll warrant you don’t want to be anywhere near that lot.”

“I thought Lord Akadra had the Council’s authority.”

“Sure. But only if he’s still living.”