Then she waited. And waited.
“They’re taking a long time,” Reece murmured next to her.
Shea agreed.
“Stay here,” Shea said, already pulling the pack off her shoulders.
Fallon did the same, as did Reece. Shea was first to the stairs, gaining the top with little effort. The two manning the gate stared out over the wall with fixed expressions.
“What’s the delay?” Shea asked in a brusque voice.
Fallon came up behind her, his face already had a hint of impatience on it as his gaze went directly to the gatekeepers. He didn’t express his displeasure, letting Shea handle it.
The Trateri looked back. “That.”
Shea looked where he indicated and blinked. The mist swirled with a massive disturbance, almost seeming alive with the way it frothed and boiled.
Together, Fallon and Shea edged closer to the wall, their gazes fixed on the oddity. As they watched, the mist began receding, thinning out as if burned off by the morning sun, though it was well past midafternoon.
What it revealed was something out of a nightmare. Dark forms too numerous to count covered the ground past the bridge. The valley outside the Keep writhed and surged as beasts crawled over every inch of it.
“This is what Eamon was trying to warn us of,” Shea said in a voice filled with dismay. Not the attack last night.
That had been a preliminary ambush, meant to lure them off-balance and to provide a distraction so Griffin could sneak inside the Keep and steal the Lux. What was before them now was meant to wipe them from the map. It was meant to exterminate all humans in this Keep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Shea watched the tableau in stunned horror. Fallon wasn’t so hindered. He turned, roaring, “Sound the horn of war. We fight.”
Behind her the horn let out its distinctive blare, summoning those inside the Keep to their stations.
Fallon’s grim eyes met hers. “You’re not going anywhere until this is over.”
His words echoed what Shea already knew. She looked back down at the scene of a beast army the likes she didn’t think this land had seen since the cataclysm, if even then.
“I don’t think there will be anyone left after this,” she said in a soft voice.
The skin around his eyes tightened, letting her know how close to the mark her words were. He cupped her head, bringing her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
It was all the confirmation she needed about their chances of surviving. It didn’t take someone well-versed in battle to know it would take a miracle for them to win.
“Battles are won or lost in the mind. We still have a chance,” he said.
A small one, she thought, but he was right. As long as they were breathing, anything could happen.
“Fight until the last possible moment. Trateri die with a blade in their hand,” he said, she wasn’t sure if those words were meant for her or the others standing on the wall with them.
Either way, it was a good reminder. She was Trateri now, and she’d do her teachers proud. She’d make sure if she fell today they would tell stories of her courage for generations to come—if anyone was alive to tell them.
She gave him a smile through numb lips. “We’ll make them regret tangling with us. Can’t be worse than some of the other things we’ve faced.”
His nod was gruff. They both knew her words were a lie. Shea couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt death so close, its breath down her neck.
He turned to the two on the wall next to them. “Make sure you have the pitch and tar ready.”
They nodded—the difference in experience obvious. The Trateri’s nod was sharp, professional while the pathfinder’s was a little frantic, his eyes wide as they turned back to the scene as if it was a magnet that he couldn’t resist.
Fallon saw that and gave a few words of encouragement. “Remember your training. Take it one thing at a time. Every moment you’re alive is a victory. Make it count.”
