Claude blinked the sweat from his eyes, heaved in a breath that made his chest burn, and adjusted Amadeus on his shoulders. He had walked with the bastard draped over his back for gods knew how long but had covered little distance. His steps were as short and wobbly, and his path unsure.

Amadeus didn't look like much, slim, wiry, a little tall, but Claude felt as though he was carrying a mountain on his back. It didn't help that every few minutes his hand would cramp so badly that his fingers curled up of their own volition.

"Undine!" In his head, he shouted her name, but from his mouth came a strained whisper. She should still hear it with her necromancer ears. Unless something happened to her too. He shook the thought from his head. If he couldn't find her, he'd head for Viperstone. It couldn't be far.

Claude set Amadeus down next to a tree and squeezed his eyes shut as another cramp burned through his hand. His fingers curved in towards his palm, much like a decaying hand would, the pain akin to someone striking his bones with a white-hot mallet.

Zhen had complained about pain in her arm after Octavia cured her of the blight. But she hadn't batted an eye through any of it, which made her tougher than him.

The pain faded, the rush of blood in his ears ebbed, and something else moved in to fill the void. Crunching, grinding, like someone or something was eating. He stumbled towards the noise and caught a patch of dark brown fur peeking through the trees.

A bison. It chewed away at the patches of grass that had overtaken a clearing. Claude glanced back at Amadeus, passed out under the tree. The bison could carry him, if Claude could get him on its back. And coax it away from its meal.

He picked Amadeus up and dragged him through the underbrush to the clearing. The bison didn't seem to notice or care they were there. If the gods favoured him, he'd get Amadeus onto it without issue. It seemed like a miniscule task, but with his luck, the bison would take off or knock him over. And trample him. So he prayed to whatever gods listened to poor, broken men like him and sidled up to the beast.

It kept nibbling away at the grass, even as he flopped Amadeus' head and arms onto its back. He pushed one leg over the other side and balanced Amadeus over the bison like a sack of grain. Claude pulled his hands under the harness, wrapped the severed rope around his torso and tied it to one of the leather straps. That would have to do.

Heck, if Amadeus wasn't taking up so much space, he'd ride the Bison too. But he'd better serve them out front, in case they ran into a netherborne. Claude pulled a few handfuls of grass from the ground, stuffed some in his pockets. "Come on." He waved it under the bison's nose. "Let's go." The bison snuffled the grass, and he coaxed it away from the clearing. "That's it. Good boy."

Instead of going back to the wagon, he headed south towards Viperstone. The sun sat low in the west, and he didn't want to get lost in the forest at night, when the netherborne were their most active. "Undine!" His voice was a little stronger now, with the little hope he'd gained from the bison.

It snuffled at the grass he'd stuffed in his pockets. He gave it a few blades and plucked some from patches he found along his walk.

"Undine!" Claude grimaced as his voice echoed through the trees. If she didn't find them, with all his screaming, a netherborne would. He should chant instead of scream in case there were stragglers around.

"Claude? Amadeus?"

Claude almost wept at the sound of Undine's voice. "Over here!"

She materialised from the trees, a roll of rope over her shoulders, and his sword at her hip. Unlike them, she wasn't scratched up, unconscious or both. Her eyes moved from him to Amadeus and back. "Dear gods, what happened?"

"The netherborne were trying to destroy the wagon. I had to head them off. They blighted me. Amadeus passed out but he's breathing." He leaned against the bison so he wouldn't fall over when another cramp hit his hand. "My hand won't stop hurting."

Undine took it and forced his fingers flat. Four pinkish spots speckled his palm where the netherborne's claws had pierced his skin. "It looks like it's healed up fine. You can soak it in hot water once we get to Viperstone."

Claude grimaced. He could hold out, he had to, with the cramps and the fatigue and the thorns in his back. "The other bison?"

She shook her head. "One is enough to pull the wagon. Come. We need to get to the city before nightfall."

***

Viperstone sounded like a neat place in Claude's head. He'd imagined it as a city built on a hilltop or at the edge of a cliff. But what he found at the edge of the forest were flowers, piles of them high as the foothills in the mountain region. The peaks and valleys of soft white petals surrounded the stone fortress in the distance like a cloud. The perfect backdrop to this nightmarish fairytale they lived in.

He and Undine stood at the edge, where the hills tapered off into the forest and petals mixed with fallen leaves. A sweet, floral scent sat in the air, its pungency doubled every time a breeze blew.

Claude pressed a hand to his neck to make sure his heart still functioned. The thump thump thump was faster than was probably healthy, but at least he lived. He swallowed to alleviate the dryness in his throat. "Were those all... netherborne?"

Undine stayed silent, face passive enough to be mistaken for stone. She picked up a rock and chucked it in the hills, and a plume of petals rose up and danced on the wind before settling down with its brethren again. "Let's see if we can find an opening." And so their trek continued, around the clouds to the east side of the stone fortress.

He stayed at the back of the wagon to keep an eye on Amadeus. Undine said he'd be fine, that he was in purgatory. Whatever that meant. Claude would never admit it out loud, but he was worried. Perhaps because in some way he felt he owed Amadeus for saving his skin back there. And he took repaying his debts seriously.

Amadeus' chest rose and fell with steady breaths, but his skin had a sickly pale colour overlaid with a sheen of sweat. The supplies didn't leave enough room to lay him comfortably in the wagon, so Claude and Undine had propped him against the side, using their bags for support. His head lulled this way and that as they bumped along the forest's edge.

At the eastern side of Viperstone, a beaten path of petals mashed into the dirt cut through the clouds, like a pass between two mountains. Undine guided the bison through the meandering valley. Petals latched on to the wheels like barnacles to a ship, and when they hit the occasional bump, Claude held Amadeus' shoulder to stop him from falling out.

As they neared the city's outer wall, people appeared atop the rampart, tossing buckets, barrels and crates of flower petals over the parapet. Bells sat in wooden frames at equal intervals, interspersed with ballistas and canons.

A real fortress, just like in the stories he read as a teenager. All it lacked was a troop of archers, arrows nocked, ready to rain fury over anyone who threatened the city. Those stories ended on a high note, with the soldiers triumphing over their enemies, but he'd learned quickly that real life was. He dreaded what lurked beyond the arched wooden gate.

"It's Undine," a woman yelled from atop the wall. Gears turned, wood creaked, and the gate rose like the morning sun. But glorious dawn didn't await them on the other side. No, the first thing to meet Claude's eye was a bleeding stump wrapped up by bandages. And he'd bet all the coins in his bag that the linens weren't red when they were applied.

Claude almost forgot his manners and lifted his eyes from the man's stump to his face. The soldier sat under a small pavilion with his back to the rampart, a sword leaned against his shoulder. Their eyes met, and he lifted one bushy, dark brow.

"Here, let me help you." Claude dug into his bag for a fresh ream of linens and whatever healing balms and elixirs he'd remembered to throw in during his haphazard packing.

"Thank you," the soldier rasped. "Are you from Avaly?"

"No, I'm just passing through with Amadeus and Undine." He cut away the bandages and winced at the angry wound underneath. It glared a bright red at him and the heat it exuded still warmed the bandages. Burnt flesh surrounded the exposed bone at the end of the stump, and the scent of cooked meat mixed with the sickly sweet of death.

The man released a wheezing gasp that sounded like a pathetic mockery of a chuckle. "It doesn't look good, huh?"

"It looks better than me right now." Claude swallowed the bile pooling in his mouth and poured an entire bottle of elixir over the wound. Green mixed with red and swirled into dull brown that soaked into the wood. "Is there anywhere here you can get proper help? An infirmary?" Claude blotted away the excess elixir.

"Yes, but there are others in much worse shape than me. We've been running low on medical supplies for weeks now. Everyone's stretched thin."

The only worse shape Claude could imagine was dead.

"Claude!" Undine called. "Hurry it up. We need to get to the stronghold."

He held back a swear and wrapped the stump tight with all the bandages he had left. A messy dressing, but at least it was clean. He pressed the second bottle of elixir into the man's hand. "Hang in there."

The soldier saluted him.

***

The stronghold took up a few grassy acres at the centre of Viperstone. At two stories high, and hewn from plain grey stone, it wasn't as impressive as the castle in Avaly, but like the outer wall, it was built for function and not style.

Claude spied two more bells atop the roof and a ballista on a rotating platform flanked the building on each side. Brute force alongside necromancy? He'd have to ask about how well that worked when he was cleaner and more coherent.

"Undine?" A little boy came from around the wagon, a tiny silver bell on his wrist jingling with every step. He wore his hair shaved at the sides, from his ears to the crown of his head, with the remaining strands fashioned into dreads. By Claude's estimate, he couldn't be much older than Tallis.

Two other people, who he presumed to be medics, took Amadeus from the back of the wagon and rushed him into the building. Then three more came out to unload the supplies. A few crates near the front had holes busted in the sides, but their contents seemed fine.

"Eli. Thank goodness." Undine knelt in front of the boy and fussed his clothes and hair like a doting mother. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He swatted at her hands. "What happened to Amadeus? And who's this?" He jerked a thumb at Claude.

Undine gave him a look that could slice a weaker man in two. "Mind your manners, boy. That's Claude, a friend of Octavia and Quintus. He's travelling with us."

Claude managed a half-hearted wave at the boy and considered butting into their conversation to ask for the nearest bed. Manners tend to fly out the window after days of walking and a dance with death.

"Amadeus is... taking a nap, but he'll be fine. Where's your father?"

"He's inside with Teah." He flicked his head towards the door. "This way."

When they stepped into the foyer, Claude expected plush cosy seats, a hearth, big windows with curtains thrown open to the sun—usual foyer things. Not a makeshift infirmary.

Mats lined the walls, their ailing occupants stretched out, unmoving and covered to their waists in white sheets. Claude would've thought them all dead if not for the moans and groans filling the room. It smelled like the infirmary back in Hedalda, like weeds and incense and sickness. He stepped out of the way of the medics rushing to and fro, and followed Eli and Undine to the upper level of the stronghold.

There he was, immersed in silence again, but the comfortable sort, like the moments before dawn where everything was still in anticipation of the sun. He cast his gaze out the windows lining the corridor where the people lit standing torches to stave off the darkness.

His steps slowed as a weight settled on him. It was a familiar, yet almost forgotten feeling, like a repressed memory. He'd felt this way after the attacks in Hedalda, too. It turned his mind to darker places. Places where humanity was overrun, cowering in a little corner of the world, hoping and praying the hands of mercy would shroud them from the scourge.

Claude tore his eyes from the window and picked up his feet to catch up with Undine and Eli. At the end of the hall, a wooden door stood ajar and wisps of conversation drifted through. Eli knocked before waltzing into the bedroom like it belonged to him. "Undine is here."

A woman sat up in the bed, her bandaged arm in a sling, and her black hair spilled over her shoulders. Dark bruising encircled her eyes, stark against her pale skin. Beside her, a man sat on a stool, presumably Eli's father. They weren't identical, but there were echoes of his features in Eli's face—the slightly fuller bottom lip, the lopsided smile.

Claude stayed by the door of the bedroom, just beyond the thick blue rug. Mess that he was, he didn't want to drip his blood and stink all over the room. So he'd wait against the door post until someone pointed him to a hot bath and a warm bed.

"What in damnation is going on?" Undine said.

Eli's father arched a brow. "Manners? At least introduce us to your friend."

"This is Claude. Claude, this is my brother Enzo. And this..." She waved a hand at the woman on the bed. "... is Teah. She's in charge of the necromancers here. Now, can someone tell me what happened?"

Claude didn't interject. He didn't care about introductions, given he wouldn't be here long enough to develop any kind of friendship with anyone. He was a feather drifting on the wind. He'd settled here until another brisk breeze came to carry him south.

Teah pat the bed beside her. "Sit." While Undine settled on the bed, she turned her attention to the canopy. "We were under siege for a week. They came in the night, as they usually do. We thought it was just a small scuffle, like we're used to. By the time we realised what was happening, they were breaking down the west wall." She shook her head. "Thousands, Undine. They came by the thousands. Through the day through the night we fought. The bells did nothing."

Undine swore. "Casualties?"

"Right now, the toll is at seventy-three, but..." Teah swallowed and worried the edge of her blanket. "As I'm sure you saw, it will rise."

"This is... We need to contact Quintus. Are there any carriers?"

Her brother shook his head. "We had to let them all go when the netherborne advanced on the aerie. We were hoping they'd come back, but so far, nothing."

"I'll think of something in the meantime." She crossed her arms, her eyes drifting to the window. "How are the others?"

"Zemora is in purgatory. She fought hard. Everyone else is at the west side, or what's left of it. They should be back here soon." Teah exhaled a long breath. "There's nothing we can do except lick our wounds and hope this is the end of it."

That word again. Purgatory. The way they spoke about it, it sounded like a place, but Amadeus was somewhere in the stronghold. Perhaps it was code for something—a coma or deep sleep.

"I'm sure you must be..." Enzo cast a lance at Claude. "... weary from your travels. Get some rest. There will be time to fret and wring our hands tomorrow."

At last. The magic words Claude wanted to hear since he walked into the city. If he had to stand a moment longer, he'd fall over.

"Alright. I'll get us settled in, and I should check on Amadeus." Undine led Claude away from Teah's room, into another hall, this one with no windows for him to gaze out of. "I need a favour of you, Claude. If you don't mind."

He arched a brow at her.

"I need you to look after Amadeus for me. I'm going to be running around, gathering reports to send to Quintus and making arrangements for our trip to the coast." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I know you two didn't get on well, but..."

"What do you need?" Under any other circumstances, his answer would've been an emphatic no. But Amadeus was unconscious, which meant the bastard couldn't annoy him with his questions and jeers. And Claude did owe him.

"He's going to be out for a few days. Just make sure the medics come up twice a day to give him fluids. And I think talking to him might help. I just don't want him to drift off."

Claude's brows almost disappeared into his hairline. "Drift off? As in... die?"

"No, not exactly. Purgatory is a complicated and touchy subject for us. Amadeus is a good necromancer. He just has a short limit. I wouldn't have asked you if I could get someone else."

He conceded with a nod. "Alright, I'll look after him." And then they'd be even.