I keep reaching up to touch the opal in the wolf crown for reassurance. The amplified power it provides is writhing and alive in my veins. I’m glad for its strength, though I don’t love that I’m relying on it so heavily.
Our route takes us past some of the fields and farms we’re fighting to protect. It’s beautiful in the dim light: softly rolling hills, mist hanging over them in the chill morning air. Rows of pine and oak separating property lines.
Even the ramshackle farmhouses look romantic at this time of day, patterned with shadow.
Then the wind changes, blowing the smoke from the battlefields back toward us and shattering my illusions of an idyllic Nocturnan countryside.
“We are going to stink like charred firewood,” Anassa complains. I grin into her neck, hanging on tightly as we speed toward the front line.
“Sounds like an improvement from dirty dog,” I retort.
Anassa huffs, offended.“As a being with a far superior sense of smell, I can assure you that you are lucky my scent masks your own.”
The lighthearted back-and-forth tapers off as we slow down and move more quietly and cautiously. The risk that we’ll tip our plans to any Siphon scouts increases as we approach.
We ride past mazes of ditches and lines of spikes, in place to help slow further Siphon advancement.
My heart breaks to see just how thin our defenses are. There are nowhere near as many fighters here as there should be, Bonded and foot soldier alike.
A sparse group of Daemos riders and wolves is on patrol, and they each salute respectfully as they see their Alpha and their queen pass. Here and there, groups of foot soldiers take shelter, weapons close at hand in case of another attack.
We take our time traveling down the line, silently letting soldiers and Bonded see us, recognize us.
Even if it takes us a little longer, being visible is part of the point, whether or not Stark and I are successful today.
Whatever happens, we need to show our forces that their queen and her leaders were willing to put their lives on the line for them. They never got that from their previous rulers.
Morale is too low to miss this chance. I can only hope it makes a difference.
And that we live long enough to see if it helped, either way.
As we finally turn to cross our defensive lines and head into Siphon territory, I call up the rifting I’ve been practicing, channeling it through the crown.
I can hide our presence in this dim twilight. Stark and I blend in and out of the shadows, moving closer and closer to the Siphon ranks.
“I better be able to call my power when the time comes,” I say worriedly to Anassa.
If I can’t get the shadebending to activate today, this is basically a suicide mission.
“You will,” she replies calmly.
We’re crossing the no-man’s-land between our lines now. The earth here is scorched, dry. Trees are burned or broken, and there’s nowhere to hide.
I put all my focus into rifting, wrestling with light and shadow to keep us as near to invisible as I can. Meanwhile, Stark creeps up on the first Siphon sentry we encounter, circling around silently. Death incarnate.
In a single smooth strike, he removes the Siphon’s head.
The dim light brightens a bit more as we move, and I nudge Anassa faster. Her nose alerts us of another Siphon close ahead of us. I skirt around a copse of burnt-out trees, coming up on the Siphon from behind.
Something alerts her to our presence, and she whirls around, drawing her sword.
A sharp sweetness hits the air as she tries to call her Siphon magic.
But I’m faster. A throwing knife to the throat silences her, protecting our secrecy. Then Anassa and I dart forward to remove her head.
We continue onward that way, picking off anyone who could give warning.
Energy zips through my veins. Anassa and I hum with grim satisfaction. Riding alongside Stark and Cratos, delivering death to our foes?
