Our march is starting to kick up dust, and we have a full entourage of supporters on either roadside, watching their loved ones go off to battle. It’s heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. I know people will die tonight, and it will be on my command.Can’t let the doubt trickle in,I tell myself, swallowing hard,or it’ll drown and paralyze me.
“I know you can lead these people, Seph.” He gives me a sharp smile. “You’ve been a leader since your first stint in the Firehold. I’m just encouraging myself, acting like I know what the fuck I’m talking about.”
I match his smile. “How’s Palacia?”
He closes his visor. “Never better.” His voice comes out muffled now, and I wish I could see his face. “She’s made a plan to leave Liolen for good.”
“Excellent,” I say, with my smile growing into a devious grin. “We break the morale of the Faith Minister, break the heart of the Commerce Minister, and get our people back in the process. Not a bad night if all goes well, eh, Captain?”
“Yes, Commandress.”
“Oh, I like that.” My hands curl on the worn hilts of my swords, tapping, tapping, eager to draw them. “But I think it’s high time I accept what I’m known as, my friend. You can call me Bitch-Queen.”
“I like Hellwhore more.”
“Even better,” I mutter. “Becausehellis exactly what I plan to bring these bloated, stinking bags of filth.”
Chapter 46
Skartovius
Sephania seems to have things well-organized, but you can never be too sure. I’m filled with a foreign sense of anxiety as I leave the Firehold. Our battle schemes seem half-baked. I don’t have the heart to tell my little temptress that we need more organizing.
Sometimes, you just have toact.I’m proud of her for taking initiative. Her strategy is sound, even if her tactics are a bit haphazard.
On the other hand, a sneak attack with a large force is not the worst idea. I have notions of grandeur, certainly—visions of a pitched battle, our rebellious ramshackle army facing off valiantly in the countryside against Aramastun’s chiseled war machine. Death and blood and screams filling the air as we outmaneuver the Night Judge and win the night.
The truth is much more nuanced. After over a hundred years as a vampire and countless battles, wars, and conflicts, I know war is gritty, dirty, and underhanded. The valiant few do not simply rise up against the wicked masses and prevail. Not unless measures are made to put luck on your side.
Taking out the fringes and supply lines is key. The Faith Ward tonight, and perhaps the Commerce Ward tomorrow. Cut off the many-headed hydra of the Three Ministries, starting on the outside, and Aramastun will start to feel the squeeze of pressure to act. Then, when he is weakened by a loss of allies, he will make mistakes. They always do.
It helps that Aramastun Wyvox is as arrogant as I am. Confidence is key; arrogance leads to even more foolhardy errors in war. Underestimating your enemy—us—is one such mistake I could seem him falling prey to.
This whole demon-vampire connection Sephania spoke of, concerning her missing friend Imis . . . I’m not sure what to make of it. We haven’t had enough time to mull the theories over, and we certainly haven’t learned enough. If there’s some validity to Imis’ ravings, that could prove to be a thorn in our asses.
Time will tell.
Once Sephania leaves with the bulk of the Firehold fighters, I’m left with the scraps. Garroway will be convening with her en route to the Nuhav gate with feckless humans, and Lukain will be beside her the entire time, leading the Grimsons. That at least is a small relief. I trust my graybird inimitably, even though we no longer have a master-thrall bond, and I’ve even begrudgingly started to trust my dhampir half-brother. For all the shit I give him, Lukain is a formidable fighter, and he cares for Sephania as much as the rest of us, so he will gladly sacrifice himself to protect her.
My first order of business is throwing a shadow for the younglings Talma and her younger brother Besho to walk through. It’s a feat of concentration and skill that is nearly thwarted by the younger man’s incessant squawking, but it gets done.
I tell the tall sister, “Head straight into the eastern woods. You will find Manor Sirenchis here”—I point on a map I’ve drawn across a table—“hidden among the vines and foliage. Speak with Lady Helget and Demilord Godial. Do not be alarmed by Helget’s newer mates, Eldis and Darrien. They aren’t as important. Stay there until I come retrieve you, and tell themof our need for assistance in the eastern quadrant of the Faith Ward. Understood?” I shove the map into her hands.
She firmly knocks her chest with her first, saluting, taking the map. “We won’t fail, Lord Ashfen.”
I quirk a smile at the young human. She can’t be more than eighteen. She reminds me of Sephania’s grittiness. Or perhaps it’s the way she refers to me, “Lord Ashfen,” that has me smiling. I haven’t heard that in a while, and it feelsright. “Then be on your way. Protect your brother.” I nod down to the sword at her hip. “You know how to use that thing?”
“Best swordswoman in the hold, sir.”
Not counting my little temptress, perhaps.“I’m sure you are. Go now.”
I focus on the duo’s shadows, drawing them within my power, twisting the fabric of dark space, and splay them against the wall opposite us. The inky patch shifts and undulates, surprising the humans.
Besho is filled with trepidation. His sister holds his hand tight. She gives me a final nod over her shoulder and walks into the wall, and the two vanish from sight.
My portal closes on this end, at the same time as my eyes close. I open the portal in my mind first, recalling a place in the woods from when we fled through them, near Helget’s estate. Somewhere in the distance, the fabric of black space opens and the duo are spit out.
I’m sweating when Vallan strides into my dwelling. “Silverblood wants you to catapult me to Zefyra.”