Page 160 of Commanding Flame and Shield
“I know, Ar. I—”
“Will always do what needs to be done.” His arms released me as I swallowed and gave him a curt nod.
Aren knelt, and with a clatter of metal and leather, the legion followed suit. He bowed his head and led the prayer—the only battle ritual any of us knew.
We all moved in sync with our Commander as he rose, gave the Grayshell salute, and said, “Free our family. Then, let’s get this son of a bitch.”
Something was off. The instant the energy began to pull, the moment the window to Grayshell opened for us to move through, we all felt it. That dark shift, like shadows brought to life, and a slow, chiming music box seemed to sing against the walls. But the momentum of the jump was already in motion. My eyes snapped up to Aren’s, fighting the pull of the jump, as the whipping shadow fire of Adrastos appeared between us.
The last thing I saw was that sneer across his cruelly beautiful face, and then screaming split the air, as Grayshell vanished.
The moment our feet touched the earth, the connection to Middle Realm shattered like a vase off a countertop. Our connection mind to mind, vaporized. The fire in my veins was suddenly trapped within them, unable to so much as flicker. A chill snaked through me as Aren roared, the sound unlike any I’d ever heard as agony and rage overtook him. He tried again, and again, to jump back. To go home. To take us with him. To go alone. None of it worked.
I didn’t bother looking to the stunned, horrified faces surrounding me as my knees buckled, leaving me crouched with my face buried against my hands. My heart hammered a violent drum against my ears. We had them all—every available able-bodied, trained warrior of Grayshell, save a handful left behind to update the souls on the battle below. They were good warriors—good students—but none had the strength to battle Adrastos and live to tell the tale. Babies. We had left them with babies. I had failed.
I had failed to protect Grayshell. Our home. Had never seen it coming.
I'd never thought in a million years that itcouldbe breached. That that was going to be Adrastos’ angle. But we had been warned. Been warned it was posed to fall.
And still…I had failed them.
SIXTY-FIVE
PROOF OF LIFE
AUGUST
Slowly, much too slowly, we walked through the damned forest to the coordinates. In a few long months, I’d grown so dependent on my magic that approaching this field without it was agonizing. Empty. Like someone had hollowed out my gut. There was no going back now. No jumping to safety. With that psychopath, potentially no safety to go home to. Horror had settled over us at that fact. At our helplessness for our family back home.
There was only battle to be had.
Alvara kept her hand in mine, grasping to me like a life raft after her ship sunk at sea. Like we could avoid what we were fated for. I focused on the warmth of her battle-worn palm against my clammy skin. The wind chilled across the sweat on my brow, and the scent of burning timber, and stench of demons made my eyes burn. Close. She didn't have to say anything for my instincts to know that we were finally close, as we marched forward along the edge of an immense ravine. A gaping mouth of a canyon, like it had devoured the mountain and trees along with it. Of course—of course Adrastos would pick this ominous place to battle, where the earth could gobble us up as easily as our enemies. Creatures in the distance bayed and howled.
Only Aren, Alvara and I stood in front of the brigade. Leading them into the violence. Into bloodshed, and death, and damnation. For me. For my weakness. As though she could still read my mind, Alvara squeezed my hand reassuringly, and shook her head gently.
Not your fault, she seemed to say.Don’t let go.
My mind still reeled from the precise brutality of her power before Agamemnon drained it. Despite Alvara thoroughly unleashing theAngel of Deathupon the enemy’s host, shavingthousandsoff their numbers in a matter of minutes, my family was still captive…
Free only if we fought. Truly freed, only if we won. And in their place, how many souls would fall?
Rage brewed in my chest, a wild animal roaring to escape the cage of bone and muscle. The hours between had done nothing to wet my anger.
The hair on my arms began to stand, goosebumps raising down the length of my flesh. That rancid, icy chill wrapped creeping tendrils around my legs.
Death. Heavy, dark and unavoidable, scented the air. I shook the nerves from my bones, and demanded my body make its stand. There were other endings. There were threads to pull, even if we couldn’t untangle them. Even if they were far and few between.
Still, knowing my soul as well as their own, Ally nodded, and Aren’s anticipatory grin stretched across his face in my periphery.
“You will die a different day, Commander. That’s an order,” he growled. Even with magic gone, my body straightened. Die. A. Different. Goddamned day. I nodded. The grin was more of a flashing of teeth, and somehow it rallied my own courage.
There, in the stormy shadows, stirred the icy crawlers. Along the base of every tree at the edge of the clearing. Why was it always a clearing in the damn woods…
We marched past them, snarling as they hissed at us.Come and get us, motherfuckers.But my own snarling reminded me that crawlers clung to darker beasts. Served them.
“Twenty bucks says they brought tormentors,” Alec growled behind me, his leather armor crackling as he shifted.
“Make it fifty,” I spat back. He made a manic noise as close to laughter as he could. Aren knelt, running a bare hand over the ground as he whispered one last prayer. Together, Alvara and I released our hands, and drew our weapons. The rustle of wood and leather told me the archers did the same behind us.
