After being part of the Dominion for so long, stained by their spoils of war, I owed something more to my country than simply abandoning it. Repairing some of the damage could become my redemption. And maybe proof of the goodness of at least one Endrean.

Not far ahead of us, Tenger steered us off the road toward the Hiplands. He looked back long enough to assure himself we were still following, and politely nodded at me before turning around again.

What if I accepted Tenger's invitation to join the Coracks? Despite her bloodlines, Trina had joined. Would it be any worse for me?

I laughed to myself. That'd be like asking if a blizzard was worse than a single snowflake. I was Endrean. I was the enemy.

"The Halderians will offer a feast in gratitude for bringing the Olden Blade," Tenger said. "But I'll insist we go directly to the ceremony."

"The Blade can't be claimed until the ceremony?" Simon asked.

Tenger shrugged. "According to Halderian beliefs, that's when the Infidante becomes official. And after it's over, then we'll tell them what we're offering."

"Do you really think they'll unite with the Coracks?" I asked.

"They will, if they believe it's a chance to return to power. The Olden Blade will be claimed tonight." Tenger grinned over at me. "Maybe by a Halderian from their clan, or maybe the Coracks have a Halderian among us."

I changed my mind. Again. I could never take orders from Tenger.

Simon continued, "Whoever it is, we must agree to support them, because without that dagger, we will all fail."

"We need an Infidante to win," I said, "but it's no guarantee either. There are still a thousand ways we can lose."

Tenger patted the wrapped Olden Blade at his side. "Whatever happens, tonight we will change the course of Antora's future. After tonight, the real rebellion will begin."

Yes, that was exactly my worry.

The Dominion knew the Halderians had begun to gather in the southern Hiplands, but Endrick still believed this was a broken clan, never to rise again. Life in the Hiplands was considered unsustainable due to the acidic soils, salty waters, and inedible vegetation. From what I'd overheard of Sir Henry's conversations on the matter, they figured the Halderians had either all died out by now, or soon would.

How wrong they were.

Earlier on the trail, Tenger had told us the Halderians called their village Nessel, and had warned us not to expect much. He was wrong too. The instant we passed through the town gates, a blossom unfolded before us. This was no mere village. The Halderians were doing more than gathering. They were resurrecting themselves.

"I heard they were trying to set up trade agreements with Reddengrad," Tenger mused. "They must have succeeded."

"I'll say." Simon poked my arm. "Maybe you should've married Sir Basil. He's probably very wealthy."

"As he told me, several times," I replied.

Though Basil must have been sincere, because if Reddengrad had this much to offer Nessel, I could imagine what the country itself was like. In a brief survey of the town, we saw finely woven curtains hanging in every window. Shops full of goods lined the small market square, and at the sides of the road, wagons were ready to be loaded, I assumed for more trading in the coming days.

"Was this where they brought you when you were kidnapped?" Simon quietly asked me.

"I never made it this far south. The place they took me was a temporary camp. A lot of tents." Still, I raised the hood on my cloak, and for the first time became grateful for the shabby dress from the wagon. No one would look twice at me.

"Why is it so quiet?" Tenger sat at full attention in his saddle. "Where is everyone?"

"Listen." Simon stopped our horse. Off in the distance, a voice could be heard, though we were too far to hear any words.

"A meeting?" That's what it sounded like. A swell of worry rose in my chest, remembering every minute of my time with the Halderians before. Why had I thought it was safe to come here? As if they'd forget what they'd done to me, how they'd failed? Simon sensed my fear, and wrapped an arm tighter around my waist, a reassurance I very much needed.

"They must have known we were coming." Tenger untied the satchel holding the Olden Blade and we all dismounted. "They're expecting us."

The meeting was being held at the edge of town, in a field surrounded by a waist-high stone wall, and dug down at a gentle angle to create an amphitheater. The townspeople sat hip-to-hip on the hillside grass, facing the staging area at the bottom. I recognized the voice of the speaker. It was Thorne, the man who had been involved in my kidnapping, and the attack at the inn.

Darrow trusted him, I reminded myself, and hoped Darrow had not been hallucinating with pain at the time he told me so.

"My friends," Thorne was saying, "we have gathered you from throughout Antora because there is strength in numbers. There is no better time to act, to claim the heritage of power. The Halderians have never been cowards, never ones to hide and accept our fate. Our time to rule Antora has come again!"

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen The Traitor's Game Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net