Luís’s Reviews > The Sacred Band > Status Update

Delivegu saw them then. On the far side of the large enclosure, sparring, just as the king said. Just seven of them. Seven Numrek children of various ages. They are the only ones still alive after Corinn's massacre of their parents at the Thumb.

He was still at this at sunrise when the three dragons left the Eilavan Woodlands and rose over the Methalian Rim. The zigzag path up its heights thronged with his army climbing. Aliver flew up to the Mein Plateau, skimming low over the great mass of troops already gathered there. He let the army see him and the dragons and rejoiced to hear the shouts that rose to greet them. (...)

Mena shook her head. Regretted it. Flexed her jaw instead. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and then realized too late that she had smeared her face with blood. "Perrin, we've overrun. We must organize a retreat. We'll have to get everyone to head for the stashes we left for the return. Everybody who can make it and all the wounded who ..."

Looking at Rialus, Mena edged her tone and asked, "This is what you thought would buy your pardon? A few hundred cook slaves and bed servants. I thought you understood that I expected more from you, Rialus."

Geena strolled over, squeezed the man's bulging, gray-hued bicep, and hung from it. Melio felt a twinge of jealousy. "Don't think of it that way. One night and you're willing to help us finish our business with the league, that's how I see it. A good deal for us. This is a muscle. Do you all see this thing?"

She pressed Aliver's hand in hers and asked him to speak the truth of her to Mena when he reached her. Let her know that in the end, at least, she tried to be somebody Maeben on earth would be proud of. And then, before emotion could get the better of her, she mounted Po, and they leaped into the air. She did not look back until she was some distance away.

Pressed into the creature's citrus-smelling plumage, arms aching and feet running in the air, two armies clashing, Mena laughed like a madwoman—battle joy. It was a short-lived euphoria, but at the moment, there was nothing else like it in the world. The princess laughed so hard it became crying. The two blended so that she could not separate one from the other or tell apart the emotions that wracked her.

Out there, past the breakers, which curled in long, massive waves, stretched a rough sea dotted with vessels. League brigs, fast clippers, several of the sleek soul vessels. There were his enemies. Against them, his war was about to resume.

He called his secretary back and retracted the message to the palace. Fortunately, it had not yet been sent. "Bring me parchment and a pen. Oh, and the fading ink. I'll write a note. It's a much better idea. And then alert all the staff—everyone essential—that we are leaving."

The words finally fell from Corinn's lips - and the song dissolved in her mouth - as figures strode through the tunnel and into the stadium. "Take the prince away," she said. "Rhrenna, do it now."
"Not just knocking," Hanish whispered, suddenly at her ear again. "They're let themselves in."