“Mazkull,” Sigrid said, her voice thick and scratchy. She held her arms tightly around her body. “If you... if you see Bruna or Tarza or Zekrill or... any of the others, you can’t say anything to them. Don’t give yourself away.”
Maz hesitated, then nodded.
Sigrid rarely let her emotions out, so she must care deeply about the captured Dags she’d mentioned. I wondered if any of them were still alive.
Like two shadows, Aiden and Maz melted into the night. Ruru stood shoulder to shoulder with me. Jek grabbed Nikella’s hand, and I was surprised when she didn’t remove it.
“We worked so hard to get those boys out of that gods-damned cave,” Jek muttered.
“We’ll get them back again,” Nikella said. “But we need to do our part.”
An hour later, I caught my first glimpse of Calimber. The encampment gleamed like an ember in the plain. Hundreds of tents in neat rows formed a barrier on every side.
Of course, I couldn’t see the mine from here. It’d be underground. A network of tunnels in the cliffs facing the Niviath Sea.
Ozlow shifted under me as if he could feel my trepidation. There were so many soldiers. Eight of us against an army. And deep beneath a canopy of sunstone, dozens, maybe hundreds, of prisoners.
My jaw tightened.
“Fucking Four, this helmet stinks.”
“Quiet,” Jek growled at Yarina.
I couldn’t blame her. I wanted to claw this dead soldier’s clothes from my body. They reeked of blood and body odor. I supposed the scent would help sell the disguise.
“Make it fast. Make it loud,” Jek said.
Yarina nudged me with her armored elbow. “Just the way I like it.”
A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it.
Jek glared at both of us. Clearly, this wasn’t the time for lewd jokes. But the humor calmed me the tiniest bit.
We watched the perimeter guards circle east, away from the large horse pen we’d marked as our target.
“Let’s go,” Nikella barked.
We rode toward the pen. A few guards leaned against the fence, smoking pipes. They straightened when we approached, their hands going to their sword hilts.
The first test.
The Dags had shoved their braided hair up into their helmets, and we women had smeared dirt on our faces. The bulky uniforms would hopefully give the impression of broad shoulders and no breasts.
Ruru, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet since we’d finalized our plan, had also smudged mud on his chin to look older.
“A little early for patrol change, aren’t you?” asked one guard, squinting at us in the torchlight.
“Two of our men got drunk and wandered off a cliff last night,” Jek said with a shrug. “Figured I’d report it now and wait for replacements where there’s better food. Any meat tonight?”
The guards relaxed a bit, not seeming to care that two soldiers were dead.
“Rabbit again,” spat the second guard. “Get it from the cook near the High General’s tent. He burns it the least.”
Jek dipped his head. “Much obliged.”
He dismounted, and we imitated him.
“You two,” he barked at me and Ruru, “go find us some meat while we take care of the horses.”
