I turn to the others, heart hammering against my ribs. “The Parvanovae is in one of those tanks.”
“We need to get to them,” Nyxia says.
“Without blowing them up,” Lorelei adds.
Flauvis paces anxiously at the edge of the cliff. “Well, isn’t that just great,” he growls. “They’re made of pure iron. I can smell it from here. No one is getting inside one of thoseunlesswe blow it up.”
“No one except me,” I say. “I’m the only one who can get close enough.”
Aspen clenches his jaw, and I can see the worry in his eyes. But he knows what must be done. “I’ll cover you.”
“As will I,” Lorelei says.
“Those tanks are armed with guns, and possibly other explosives,” I say, voice trembling. “I can’t use my fire on them.”
Aspen exchanges a glance with Lorelei. “We’ll use earthen elements,” Aspen says.
“Good idea,” I say. “Let’s get to our forces. Tell them the plan. Engage the soldiers but focus our efforts on keeping those tanks from breaking past us. Estel—”
“I’ll remain here,” she says. “So long as I have this vantage, I can watch for the Parvanovae. If I discover which tank is carrying it, I’ll come to you.”
“And I’ll await the signal to finish the wall,” adds Fehr.
Aspen and I lock eyes, and I feel an invisible embrace reach down the Bond. Then I meet the gaze of Franco, Nyxia, Lorelei, and Flauvis. Terror, hunger, and rage swim in their eyes, echoed in the pounding of my blood.
With a steadying breath, I curl my fingers around the hilts of my daggers as flames heat my core. “Time to fight.”
44
The fae stream down the abandoned streets of the port town, racing for the beach. Guttural cries fill the air, mingling with animal sounds and the roar of the approaching tanks. My blood throbs in my head as I run, Aspen and Lorelei on either side of me. Gunfire greets us as we arrive at the street outside the docks. My two companions extend their hands, reaching toward the earth. They draw out enormous roots that tear through cobblestones to block the bullets. The three of us huddle behind a wall of roots as we steal glances of what lies ahead, ducking behind the roots just in time to avoid another blast. Other fae rush past us, deftly dodging bullets. Human screams follow, then more gunfire.
I glance around the edge of the root wall, splotches of crimson catching my eye. I don’t let my gaze linger long enough to see whether it belongs to human or fae. Instead, I seek the first tank, eyes locking on it as it draws closer. Soldiers march on foot ahead of it, keeping anyone from getting too close. Just as I retreat back behind the roots, I catch sight of a brown, shaggy wolf taking down one of the soldiers.
“It’s coming,” I say. The roar of the tank draws closer. Closer. Footsteps pounding ahead of it.
Aspen looks around our barricade, then back at me. “Now!” He leaps from behind the roots and runs toward the tank, Lorelei and I following just behind. We split formation to avoid the eye of the tank’s enormous gun, Aspen running to one side, Lorelei and I to the other. Reaching for the ground, he sends several coils of roots springing up, lashing at the soldiers surrounding the vehicle. An enormous, gnarled limb sweeps their legs out from under them, sending gunshots wild. The tank’s gun swivels toward Aspen, but he closes in and under its reach, its fiery blast soaring overhead. Another tangle of roots erupts from the ground to pummel the bodies of the men still standing.
Lorelei and I race to the other side. With a roar, she pulls up a network of roots to wrap around the tracks of the tank. The tracks grind against their bonds, while another set of roots—either hers or Aspen’s—rise from the ground to wrap around the barrel of the gun, locking it in place.
More fae join the fight, tackling any soldier who moves in to defend the tank. The fae fighters carve a path straight to the side of the vehicle, which Lorelei and I rush to take advantage of.
“I need to get inside,” I say once we reach it, gasping for breath as I press in close to the side of the tank.
“How?” Lorelei grimaces, her skin ashen as she struggles to maintain such a close proximity to the iron beast.
Craning my neck, I eye the top and spot the rungs of a ladder set at the back of the vehicle. “There. We need to move around back.”
As if in answer, a wall of roots shoots up at the rear of the tank, and Aspen dives behind it. His tunic is already torn, bronze armor dented in places, forearms splattered with blood. At least the blood doesn’t appear to belong to him. “Go!” he shouts.
I race to the back of the tank and hoist myself up the rungs. Keeping my flames burning hot within my core, I utilize their power to fuel my strength, moving me up the ladder which was clearly designed for a much bigger person. At the top of the tank, I find a circular hatch with a handle shaped like a wheel. Grasping it with both hands, I turn it with all my might. It doesn’t budge. Does it lock from the inside? I pause my efforts to stare at the hatch, pondering how I can break through. I could try and melt it, but I’m hesitant to use fire around a vehicle that carries explosives. And possibly the Parvanovae itself. I’m about to shout down at Aspen for assistance from his powerful roots, when sound splits my right ear. A wall of roots shoots before me, just in time to block the bullet. Even so, I feel the sting of something sharp graze my shoulder. Ignoring the feel of hot blood raining down my arm, I ignite a layer of flames to heal my torn flesh and return my efforts on the handle. Then, to my surprise, I find it shifting easily in my grasp.
I leap back as the hatch pops open, and out from it emerges a soldier, rifle leveled at me. Fire leaping to my palms, I duck beneath the barrel of his gun and grasp the front of his uniform, fire lapping up his chest. I realize my mistake too late; if he falls back into the tank, the flames could ignite whatever is inside. My fear is short lived, however, as a sharp root climbs up the side of the tank and spears the man through the chest. Then it lifts him from the shaft, taking him and my flames from the tank and tossing the man through the air. From the ground, Lorelei meets my gaze with a nod.
I don’t hesitate a second more, leaping through the hatch and down the shaft. As my feet meet the floor inside, I reach for the hilt of one of my blades and send it soaring toward the figure who stands at the tank’s enormous scope. I connect to the element of air to control the trajectory of the blade. My dagger meets its mark, striking his gut, and the soldier collapses with a grunt. I see no one else in the main chamber, so I race toward the front. There I find the driver, trying desperately to move the vehicle past the tangle of roots. Before he can react, I unsheathe another dagger and bring it to his throat. His eyes meet mine, pupils dilating as his mind bends to my will.
So, not all the soldiers here are outfitted with rowan. Good to know.
“Where is the Parvanovae?” I ask.
