For Shea, she’d just be one more body. More likely to hinder than help.
It left her with the unenviable task of observation. She disliked being on the sidelines, even when she knew in her head it was for the best.
She sighed and leaned over the edge, trying to spot Fallon’s distinctive figure.
There he was. He’d joined one of the ground crews, helping to demolish the beasts as they were let into the courtyard.
For hours they fought, until they were weary and their orderly lines were fragmented and barely recognizable. Still, they kept at it, knowing the only other option was death. Any rancor or enmity for others was forgotten in the very real challenge of surviving the day.
Braden continued to pass messages, shoring up their defenses where he spotted cracks.
“Shit, we need to get someone on that wall or we’ll lose it,” Braden ground out, looking down on the west wall as if it personally offended him.
Shea saw the problem as well. Until now, the west wall hadn’t seen a lot of action. It was far from the bridge and the gorge meant it was mostly protected. It had led to some of the warriors migrating to the areas with heavier action.
The beasts had taken advantage of this momentary weakness and scaled the walls. Now, the west wall was in very real danger of being overrun. Worse, all the messengers had already been tasked out and none had returned so far.
“I’ve got it,” Shea said, already turning to the stairs.
“Shea,” Braden shouted, his voice aggravated.
She turned and gave him an expectant look.
He sighed, knowing he didn’t really have a choice. Not if they wanted to keep the wall. He rubbed his head and then held out a small token. “You’ll need this to get them to listen. Get a small group from Lion or Ember to help you. Don’t try to do it alone.”
“Got it,” she said, grabbing the token and jogging away.
For once she wished Trenton was here to help, but she’d sent him to assist with the fighting, knowing that they needed him more than her. Now, she kind of regretted it.
Her stomach was tight as she sprinted through the corridors. There wasn’t much time to get reinforcements for the wall. Every second counted.
She burst into the courtyard and looked around. It had turned into a melee since she’d left the battlements, and Shea doubted she’d be able to get anyone’s attention long enough to state what she needed.
The beasts had timed their twin assaults well, waiting until those in the Keep were occupied with the threat in the courtyard to stage their attempt on the wall.
Shea glanced around frantically, urgency beating away at her. She didn’t see any of the clan leaders. Everyone was occupied. They were locked in a fight for their lives—a single distraction could cost them everything.
A pathfinder sailed off the wall near her, landing on the ground with a thump. She rushed over to the woman, already knowing there was nothing to do to help. The woman was dead—the boomer she’d fought with clasped in her hands in a death grip.
Shea crouched next to her, turning her so she was face up. It was Lilah, the pathfinder who had led Fallon and her through the mist. Regret and sorrow pushed through Shea. The woman had been young, too young to die. She wasn’t a warrior and probably hadn’t received any but the most cursory of training with the boomer.
Everyone who could hold a weapon had been tapped for this fight. There had been no other option. Still, Shea couldn’t help the pull of regret at a life cut way too short.
She reached up and closed the woman’s open, staring eyes, “I hope the next world brings you more peace than this one did.”
She let the woman slip from her arms, grabbing the boomer as she did so. It was clear she wasn’t going to get the help she needed. The people here couldn’t spare it. That left things in her hands.
She turned back the way she’d come, hoping that one former pathfinder with a boomer could help in some way.
On her way through, she passed Dane and Peyton. Witt fought next to them. “Come with me,” she shouted. “They’re coming through on the west wall.”
Dane didn’t stop to question, firing one last round into a beast before racing after Shea. Witt and Peyton brought up the rear.
At least Shea wasn’t going alone. That had to count for something.
The sprint through the Keep seemed to take an eternity and passed all too quickly. They picked up two others, a Trateri Shea recognized vaguely and Allyn, the pathfinder from the nursery. It wasn’t the fiercest of squads, or the most trained, but she figured it was better than nothing.
The screams and sounds of fighting reached them before they entered the west courtyard. The sounds of beasts and humans dying was an assault on the ears.
