“Don’t,” he interjects, standing. “Don’t tell me to rest, Seph. Not while everyone else is helping. I’m planning to round up as many irate townspeople as I can. Mostly at the taverns and redcloud dens. They’ll be worked up into a drunken storm when they learn where their families have been taken. And by whom.”
I clench my jaw. “You think drunk and high commoners can help us, Garro?”
“We need bodies to intimidate. We don’t need them on the front lines. They’ll be useful.” He rushes past me toward theopen archway of his room, throwing his bulging bag over his shoulder.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
“Some of Vall’s explosives we recovered from the safehouses in Olhav.”
My eyes widen. “. . . Are you planning on, uh,blowing upthe Faith Ward?”
“If I have to.” He shrugs, shooting me a tiny smirk. “It worked the first time.”
Then he turns to leave.
“Garroway,” I call out, and he freezes, because even if he’s no longer my thrall, he’ll always be my loyal myrmidon. “Meet at the base of the Peaks. East. Don’t get yourself killed . . . or anyone else, preferably.”
He nods curtly. “Is that all, love?”
I choke back a sigh. “No.” I run to him, lean forward, and plant a dry kiss on his lips. Then I run a hand over his smooth pate. “Good luck, cub.”
I’m quite impressed how quickly we’re able to muster a workable fighting force. It bodes well for the future, when we might need a bigger army.
For now, we simply need to strike while the iron is hot, and when the vampires least expect it. Even if we don’t kill her tonight, we need to put a stop to whatever exchange she’s making with the Truehearts.
Valenthia Yurlyth needs to learn not to step on Nuhavian toes, unless she wants a sword shoved up her ass, right into her black, gooey heart.
I have a feeling we will need to strike and withdraw quickly, so we don’t draw Aramastun’s army to us. That’s why I’m hopingsurrounding the Faith Ward is our best bet. That way, we’ll be able to carve an exit in any direction if things get dire, through our battle lines.
I plan on asking Skartovius if the plan is sound, next I see him. I’m not sure where or when that will be, so for now, I have to trust my gut. He would understand. The bizarre nobleblood might even be proud I’m taking the reins and showing gall. Or he might scold me for being reckless. Can never be too sure with that one.
In a span of two hours, we manage to hobble together a band of humans ready to charge on Olhav. Granted, they aren’t in tiptop shape, and some of their weapons and farming tools are rusty and crude. Theydoall have weapons, though, or at least the framework of weapons. So that’s important.
Garro has a rabble of pissed-off townsfolk carrying torches, spears, hoes, shovels, and batons. There’s not a lick of armor between the drunkards, but there’s fire in their wet eyes. I have a feeling if push comes to shove, these three dozen Nuhavians will be our most passionate infantry.
I recognize Physalia’s father, the butcher, wielding two cleavers, a grungy white apron over him that’s spattered with hog’s blood. It gives off the right effect. There’s Banooth, the unscrupulous gang leader, who I never suspected to show up to something like this. I guess he cares more about Nuhav’s citizens than I thought. Nym the flower girl’s parents are here. Tannan’s father, who is a big burly man with a giant shovel, and it’s clear now where Tannan’s stature comes from. Other family members—fathers, mothers, brothers—of missing Nuhavians.
As we march north, unimpeded by any soldiers, commoners actually cheer us on from their windows.
Then a handful of Bronzemen join us, creeping out of an alley with their halberds held idly. Then another handful, until our ranks have swelled from just over fifty to just over eighty.
Nearing the edge of Nuhav, Rirth appears at the head of a knot of Silverknights, at least our number.Thesesoldiers look orderly, uniform, and prepared. Their armor is spotless, radiant as their blades and silver cloaks. Their helmets are closed, showing no fear and no faces.
Rirth sidles up beside me at the head of the regiment, taking a joint leadership role, for which I’m thankful. “This is all I could round up on such short notice,” he tells me. “We’ll need knights in Nuhav, too, in case there’s a counterattack.”
“What you brought will certainly suffice,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to admire the clanking armor and rigid postures of the soldiers alongside mine and Garroway’s ragtag militia. “Thank you. You’ve trained them well, I can see.”
He lets out a huff of annoyance and lowers his voice, leaning over. “Aramastun’s army is dwindling.” His visor is up, his eyes certain and with that dangerous glint to them I recognize so well. “Now is the time to do this.”
“Then I’m glad we are,” I say, “but our goal tonight is not to eradicate Aramastun’s army, Rirth. We need to take our humans back and put Overlady Valenthia in her place. Our target is the Faith Ward, not the Judgment Ward. We can’t spread ourselves thin.”
He grumbles to himself. He knows I’m right, because he’s a tactically-minded man like Skartovius.
“Besides,” I continue, “we need to see what we’re working against. This will be a good test of that. A small force that can get in and out swiftly if things go sideways and we’re overwhelmed.”
“Aramastun might be stalking the peripheries to swallow us up if we try running. Or he might charge right in and slay us. We need to be organized, surefooted, and moving in one direction. Straightthroughthe Faith Ward and out the other side.”
I grind my teeth. “I can lead these people, Rirth.”