A Building of Empires (Realm Breaker Book 3) by Jasmine Young

Author:Jasmine Young [Young, Jasmine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Over the next ten days, the wreathed shieldmaiden guided them across the glaciers. Her fenwulves sniffed the outskirts for danger, and Livana scouted from the skies. Lady Sibbe took charge of feeding and recuperating the wounded Weremen. If he did not have these women, Soren knew the Wereguild would have been finished.

At the end of the tenth day, the fog lifted, rewarding him with a view of the dark mass ahead. The refugees raised their exhausted heads in hope. Sten Redhand was the first to burst into cheers.

“Welcome to the Northreach,” Yvallka told Soren. “We’re not ten span from Sundringstraal’s walls now.” They rode together on Amarrok’s back. She had insisted.

“Almost there, Majesty. Almost out of the savage wilderness and to a nice, warm bed…”

From behind, she reached under his mantle and explored. Soren shifted in discomfort but did not pull away. In that moment, he hungered to lie with her mindlessly again. It was better than screaming into pillows.

“Ten span,” Sten said, overhearing. Like the others, he was entirely oblivious to Yvallka’s overreaching. “Smell that, brothers? Smoke from a mead hall!”

Sundringstraal’s towers would not reveal themselves above the fogged woodlands ahead. What disappointed him above all, however, was that even in this feral wilderness, no dragons circled the skies. It was a foolish sentiment, that he knew. The Order had purged the wildlings a long time ago.

Yet something else about the land disturbed him. Perhaps it was the unusual darkness cloaking the early hour. But the dragon magic powering his own soul sensed another magic source. Ancient, fell magic poisoned the air, the naked trees, the earth he stood on…

Suddenly, a Werehorn sounded in the distance. Everyone silenced. His Vigardians turned in its direction, but nothing appeared out of the glacial drifts.

“One of our scouts,” Soren murmured.

Sten forced a laugh. “More flaming Reapers?”

The ground did not shake, nor did otherworldly sound waves penetrate the wastes. That meant only one thing, and he did not have the strength or heart to speak it aloud.

“The Blacksword,” Asveig said.

Several Weremen sucked in their breaths. “Impossible,” Arvida whispered to Sten. “We would have seen them.”

“The elf kept his distance because he knows where we are going.” Soren studied the unknown wilderness on the horizon. These were more feral than anything that had existed in the Vigardian southlands. Ten span was an entire day’s trek with his remaining seventy thousand refugees. “Velandrion has no intention of letting us make it behind those walls.”

Yvallka leaned into his ear suggestively. “It’s not too late for the Draughammr to abandon the thralls,” she whispered. “On Amarrok’s back, ye and I could—”

“No.” He dismounted, silencing her and levelling himself with his people. His charge. Soren sensed the answer to his questions, the name he was meant to take next, and forever forth, hinged on surviving this final stretch.

“Tell me about this terrain.” He turned back to Yvallka. “What lies directly east and west of us?”

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