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Back The Endless Skies
Chapters (57)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. Map
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  55. Also by Shannon Price
  56. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  57. Newsletter Sign-up

“Stay on guard,” says Sethran. He adjusts the grip on his sword. Ox whispers something, but I can’t make it out. The last rider, the one that followed Rowan to the trees, comes around behind us. I swivel, trying to read his gaze, but his face is masked in pain and his hand bathed in blood. One of the humans moves his horse forward slowly, hands raised and away from his weapons.

“Peace,” the human says.

For a moment, I think Seth or Ox must have whispered it. But then the human says the word again, and I can feel the shock set in like a bitter frost. He’s speaking Leonodai.

“We would like to speak,” the human goes on. His pronunciation is childish, but I understand him. I understand a human.

“This doesn’t make sense.” The humans can’t possibly speak our language. I try to think of a logical answer and come up empty. It’s like a nightmare, only we’re not waking from it.

I take a slow breath. We need to live. But how do we get out of this? I don’t know. And when a warrior is in a situation where they do not know what to do, there is only one option.

“Commander?” I mutter so only he can hear. Sethran’s calm expression fails him. He’s as out of his element as any of us. Every muscle in my body is ready to follow whatever his next words are.

“Speak,” Sethran says.

“You are Leonodai,” the human replies. I hate the way our name sounds on his tongue. “Why are you here?”

The rest of the humans around us wear grim expressions. They’re wary of us. We’re their stories, and they’re ours. They’ve heard rumors of us, and now here we are.

“We are looking for medicine,” Sethran says. “We mean no harm. We are trying to help the sick.”

The first human translates for the others, and recognition seems to dawn on them. How? I want to scream. How do you know our language? “Why do you have swords?” asks the leader.

“We will still defend ourselves,” Sethran says plainly.

Without warning, the leader draws his weapon and fires a bullet at the ground in front of Sethran. It could have hit him. It should have hit him.

He makes a movement like drop. “No weapons.”

Seth’s shoulders slacken as he lowers his sword. “Stand down. We need to stay alive. For the prince.”

Ocean mist settles onto my skin, a cold veil that keeps my senses sharp.

Warriors aren’t meant to feel in battle. They are meant to obey. I drop my axe as the humans close in around us, their guns pointed at our hearts.

29

ROWAN