Wolf pack, p.14
Wolf Pack, page 14
“If you don’t want to come, fine with me. I will happily find another flyer for the mission.”
He was one of nine warriors striking Mitera. Three groups of three, each with a flyer able to take to the air, a striker for fighting and sneaking about, and a carrier to haul equipment. He didn’t know if he wanted to be grouped with Jade or not. He’d enjoy holding her as he flew, if she would shut her dumb mouth.
Thirro scowled.
“Pretty.” She whirled and sauntered to the command tent.
He might accidentally drop her in the river.
He and Commander Jade were not grouped together.
Jade was the striker paired with a raven flyer and an ape carrier. As the strongest flyer, Thirro was assigned Mordick as his carrier. Thirro scowled at the heavyset ram he’d have to heft over rivers and gorges. He resented being used as a pack animal. He almost protested, but managed to bite his tongue, lest he appear weak.
“We will assume the traitor will be in Mitera.” Laconius clenched his fist over the map spread on the table. “Skotar’s Arrow is the commander of this mission.”
Thirro kept his face serious, but inside, he exploded with pride. They didn’t use that name nearly enough. And finally, finally he was the leader, and he’d prove that flyers were anything but soft. Even his unit commander, the upstart, had to bow to him on this mission. Jade did not look happy about it. Her hand went to her waist where he’d sliced her. He winked.
“Lead well, Commander Thirro,” Laconius said.
Those words on the chief’s lips were sweet music to his soul. “Yes, chief.”
“The Lammas holiday is in nine days.” Laconius had taken to wearing only a baldric with knives over his leathery chest, showing the puckered red scar where he’d been struck by a fallen Draco Sang abomination. The bullish chief displayed the wound like a badge and a promise of retribution. “You will strike at the royal ball. The traitor will likely be there, the king most certainly, and several rajas, at least. The king is your top target, then the traitor, then the rajas, then as many others as you can take out. When those humans come out to celebrate, I want them to find blood flowing instead of wine.”
Thirro’s pulse accelerated with the bull’s words. He salivated. “It shall be my pleasure, chief.”
“You will bring great honor to our Queen Mavras.”
Thirro wondered if he imagined the mocking emphasis the chief put on the words our queen. Mavras was the only one in the world with more power than Laconius. How much longer would the bull be content as second?
“You will fly at dusk.” Laconius brought his fist to his head, circling his crown. Then with a wave of his hand, he spread the blessing out over the travelers. Thirro and the others responded in kind.
After a nap and a meal, Thirro gathered with his crew in the darkness outside of camp. Five additional flyers joined them to assist in the flight over the Rugit. They walked southeast in silence. Near the river, but still in the cover of trees, Thirro made the motion to fly. Jade rose with her assigned raven flyer, Gavriel. The other flyers set to work hefting the strikers and carriers. No sense for Thirro and his pelican companion to wear themselves out when they had fresh wings to do the dirty work.
With a terse nod to the others, Thirro gracefully flapped into the sky. Up and up he soared until the river was a thin line. The heavy-laden flyers slackened behind as Thirro led them into Elysium.
A mile south, Thirro dropped down, landing where previous flyers had deposited their gear. At intervals, the other flyers landed around him.
Jade and Gavriel landed first. Gavriel had carried her easily in his arms, and he set the petite fighter down gently. Thirro balked at the raven treating the dangerous jackal with anything resembling tenderness. Fool.
“Thank you, Gavriel. I love doing that.” Jade said it as if she’d had plenty of experience.
“My pleasure.” Gavriel said it with a hint of seduction.
Thirro scowled at them.
After a bone-crushing thud, Mordick scrambled away from the panting osprey Draco who’d carried him over the river. “Bleeding skies!” Mordick said. “Do you mean to kill me?”
“I told you to hold still,” the flyer said. “You nearly killed yourself. And you’ve strained my wing with all your thrashing.”
“Good.” Mordick’s ram horns trembled, and his round face scrunched up like a petulant child.
“Good luck with that one, Commander Thirro. And good riddance.” The Draco didn’t wait for the others before he took off to the north, back to Skotar.
This was going to be a long journey.
Twenty-five - Solitude
SUZA
Suza’s legs dangled off the edge of the wooden platform. From the height of the watchtower, she could see the smoke from the Draco Sang camp across the river rise into the cerulean sky. Xandra scouted from the trees west of the Draco Camp. The hawk sent Suza chilling reports of rapid battle preparations.
All the storm clouds had fled, and the Rugit River lost strength every hour as the rain swells diminished. The sun was well in the sky. Uriah had completely missed the sunrise. Apparently, he was not coming.
She got to her feet and dusted off her leggings as if she could brush away her mounting irritation. She hadn’t put on a dress since that first day in her fighting pants. She might never again. When she made for the ladder, a watchman stepped up and held out a hand. She ignored it as her foot found the first rung. She went down the ladder and marched along the neat rows until she came to Uriah’s tent. And Imanna’s—the mysterious girl who’d wormed her way not just into his tent, but into his heart.
Suza pulled back the door. She paused as her eyes adjusted to the shade. Uriah and Imanna didn’t so much as shift their focus off each other. Uriah shuffled forward, shirtless—that seemed unnecessary. His broad shoulders and thick muscles glistened with sweat. He held his practice sword poised for a strike. Imanna brought her wooden short swords forward defensively. Although she carried two blades, they were only a third of the length and width of Uriah’s massive weapon. Suza wished she had known Uriah’s hewan, Poe. At the moment, he greatly resembled a bear compared to the petite woman.
Imanna looked even smaller without her usual vests and cloak. She wore only tight-fitting leggings and a cotton blouse that looked like they might have fit Suza when she was eleven. As always, Imanna wore a scarf over her head. It was an odd fashion.
Suza opened her mouth to interrupt, but held her breath when Imanna darted forward. Uriah’s sword greeted her first, but with all her momentum, she knocked it aside, whirling closer. His hand came up as if to punch her in the side of the face, but he stopped his strike, letting her break his defense.
He huffed as her blunt blade slapped his side. A large palm wrapped her ribs. He pushed her back outside of her sword range, and then withdrew his hand from her belly. Panting and shuffling feet echoed.
As far as Suza could tell, Uriah let the woman have her way. However, Imanna still struck with surprising speed and skill. She held the blades with confidence.
Suza frowned. Since abandoning her Draco Sang training and becoming a slave over three years ago, she’d only had access to knives and daggers. She envied Imanna’s prowess with the battle weapons. Suza scowled. She was going to have to ask Imanna to teach her.
Uriah’s sword struck Imanna’s arm, but it had little power behind it.
She snarled and darted forward. “You’re going too easy!”
Her wooden blade hit his hand, and he dropped his sword. “Ouch.”
Before she could strike again, his hands flew forward. He gripped her wrists, and her swords clattered to the ground. She twisted her arms. When Uriah let go, red and white blotches covered her tan hands. The sprinkling of freckles stood out. Imanna struck, punching Uriah in the chest with considerable force. He grunted and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. In an embrace he would have never used against a foe, he lifted her completely off the ground.
Chests pressed together, their eyes locked. Uriah’s gaze drifted to Imanna’s pouting red lips with an emotion decidedly not for an enemy.
“Hello,” Suza said, her voice too high.
Two heads jerked toward the sound. Imanna’s mouth carved into a cocky smile.
Uriah set the woman down and strode forward. His eyes burned with a living fire Suza had never seen in her brother. The spark illuminated his whole face and shined out as if he could light the world. He’d never looked so handsome.
Suza’s anger dissolved. She was happy for him, even if she didn’t see what was so great about the tiny stranger, and even if the man she dreamed about was probably to Mitera by now. She would be happy for her brother. She would.
“Hello, little sister.” His goofy grin fell. “Oh. I’m sorry. The sunrise.”
“It’s fine.” She waved a hand. “You were busy.”
“It’s my fault,” Imanna said.
Yes, it was.
“I’ve never trained with anyone so skilled. I have much to learn from him.” She flicked her long lashes up at him.
Ugh.
Suza couldn’t deny the woman’s beauty. For one fickle heartbeat, she was glad Ferth wasn’t here, and that Imanna had trained those impossibly pale eyes on Uriah and not Ferth. How could a man resist?
She’d be even more beautiful if she got rid of that head rag.
Uriah picked up his tunic and started to put it on. “I lost track of time.”
“I see,” Suza said.
A touch of pink dusted his cheeks. “Come with us to breakfast?”
Us? No thanks. She was in no mood to play third fiddle to their love-addled conversation. “I have a meeting with Captain Titus and Commander Oscar. Xandra completed the morning scouting.” She wasn’t looking forward to telling them the bad news.
“Dinner then?”
She paused, and as if Uriah could sense her thoughts, he said, “Imanna is working with the healers this evening. Tomark will be with her. I can bring food to you?”
Yes, she desperately wanted to spend time with him. “Fine.”
His mouth carved up in a crescent, and some of her childish resentments melted away.
Suza excused herself and darted to the dining hall. She shoveled down breakfast as quickly as she could and sprinted out before Uriah and Imanna appeared. In her rush, she bumped into a broad soldier outside the door.
“Excuse me.” She rebounded off his solid chest.
A strong hand snaked around her waist, steadying her. “My fault, my lady.” Warmth penetrated her side as he let his fingers linger on her abdomen. “Have you got your feet?”
She stepped back, ruffled by the contact, and looked the man in the face.
He was handsome, with russet eyes and a wide mouth. “Guap, is it?” she asked, recognizing one of the highly celebrated swordsmen in camp.
He smiled, clearly pleased. “At your service …” He held out the ending, waiting for her name.
“Excuse me again. I was rushing to my meeting. I must go.”
He opened his mouth, but she didn’t wait to hear what he had to say.
She wasn’t sure what it was, maybe the trousers, maybe the influx of thousands of soldiers increasing the ratio of men to women, maybe it was the look she got on her face when she thought of Ferth—which was often—but suddenly men charmed her at every corner. It was a strange experience after being a slave. Here she could hold her head high, but the old fear of being taken by force still lay dormant in her belly. Surprisingly, the thought of Ferth, her old master, was her biggest comfort. Ferth, a powerful and cunning Draco Sang, had been her savior, her escape, her protection. His goodness, despite growing up surrounded by greed and lust, gave her hope.
He’d only been gone four days. She chided herself as images of Ferth crept into her thoughts—again. She knew the war effort needed her here, but her heart gave her grief about it at nearly every moment. Her fingers touched the soft smile on her lips, remembering the feel of his hungry kiss. She pictured his return. He would run to her, his beautiful wolves following close behind. He would gather her in his arms and kiss her. He wouldn’t be afraid to love her anymore. He would never let her go.
Suza stopped at the front of the command tent. Xandra landed on the thick leather band Titus had given her to protect her forearm. She ran a hand over her hewan’s downy head. She thrust thoughts of Ferth from her mind as she prepared to tell Captain Titus that Skotar had begun preparations for their next attack.
Twenty-six - Walking
THIRRO
Irritation and pain rippled across Thirro’s wing as it caught on a branch he hadn’t seen in the darkness. He hated walking. He tucked his wings in tighter on his back as he plowed through the trees. Progress was slow marching on the ground. After three days of travel, they were not halfway to Mitera. Keeping this group secret was only going to become harder and slower. He could be sending an arrow through the king’s neck tomorrow night if he took to the skies. He pushed the thought away before it took root. He wanted a hot meal and a bed. Dara, the only one in the group he cared to talk to, walked silently in his wake.
“I’m going to scout,” he said over his shoulder. Finding a break in the trees, he shot into the sky.
They traveled south on a westernly route, hugging the sparsely populated foothills of the Seraf Mountains. With an hour until first light, he glided lazily over the terrain. A raccoon caught his eye, but he let it go. He had bigger game to hunt tonight.
He widened his range, flying east over the flatlands. A farmhouse came into view, a black silhouette against the gray. Lovely. He flew closer. The lonely home stood at least a half-mile from the nearest neighbor. Two-story, but not so large as to be difficult to overtake. Perfect. He calculated two or three humans to deal with. He glanced at the large fields and added a few slaves to the count. Not much of a fight. He imagined it took at least two strong women to run the estate. He licked his chapped lips. He wasn’t quite so tired as he flew back to his soldiers. He dropped out of the sky, landing a foot in front of Dara. She reeled back at his sudden appearance. Amusement pulsed in his belly.
“You forgot to look up,” he said.
The darkness blurred the edges of her scowl. “Where will we make camp?”
“I’ve got the perfect place.”
“I hope it’s close.”
They reached the edge of the fields minutes before the sun.
Jade slipped up next to Thirro as they surveyed the scene. “The humans are up. Look at the smoke.”
“I know that.”
“I can slip in and get food without them seeing me.”
“Good for you.”
He glanced down at her when she didn’t respond. Her purple eyes iced over.
Thirro faced the group. “Mordick, you and Gavriel go around back. Jade, you can scout the fields and make sure we don’t miss anyone.”
Jade darted away before he finished his orders.
“The rest of us will knock at the front door. Kill the men. Bind the women.”
“Yes, sir.”
No gate or wall barred their way to the house as he led them forward. With a whine, weapons slipped free of their restraints.
Sword in hand, Thirro pounded on the wooden door. Feet shuffled inside and then a low voice said, “Who’s there?”
“Travelers, sir. We’re headed north to join the armies.” He tried to adopt the sharp accent of the humans. “We’ve got an injured lad and would beg some broth.”
The door swung open. Light flooded out, illuminating six bloodthirsty Dracos. Thirro smiled.
The man’s jaw dropped, and his face blanched.
“Hello, papi,” Dara said.
His eyes bulged. Her dagger flashed, and he dropped to the ground with a stunned thud. He hadn’t even moved.
Too easy.
Thirro stepped over the body and into the room. A woman stood frozen at the hearth. Alluring scents of cinnamon porridge wafted from the kettle near her fingers.
Thirro jerked toward a flash of movement and brought his sword up just in time to block an axe aimed at his head. His next move ended the young man’s life.
Jade appeared in the open door. She held a bloody dagger lightly between her fingers. “There were two in the field and one in the barn.”
And she was already back here? “Well done,” Thirro forced himself to say.
“It was menial, trivial, and pathetic. They didn’t even see me before I took their lives.” She spoke with callous pride, but Thirro detected a hint of disgust—weakness.
The woman’s eyes rolled back as she fainted. She hit the floor. Thirro strode over. He grabbed a handful of fabric and heaved her up. Dara approached and slapped the woman across the cheek with the back of her paw.
She gained consciousness with a jerk and a grimace. “What do you want?”
“That porridge is a good place to start.” He set her on her feet.
“Three empty bedrooms upstairs,” Gasson, an ape Draco, said as he came down the stairs.
Six mismatched chairs surrounded a worn table. Jade sat first, her gaze unfocused. She twirled her stained Dracosteel blade in her hand. Flip. Catch. Flip. Catch. Flip. Thirro’s hand came down, slamming her wrist to the table. The knife clattered against a glass, breaking it. Jade jerked to her feet, drawing another blade with her free hand. She pressed it against Thirro’s groin.
Gavriel, a foot behind Jade, drew his sword, but did nothing else with it. Unclear whose aid he would come to. Unhelpful. The others watched as statues.
Thirro’s insides had turned to brittle ice at the threat of Dracosteel to his tender parts, but he forced a nonchalant tsk. “So touchy.” He lifted his hand off her wrist and stepped back. “No bloody blades at breakfast. Clean your steel and put it away.”
Spit flecked Jade’s lips as she snarled at him, but she obeyed.
Pulse pounding, he inhaled a steadying breath as he padded to the head of the table and perched on a stool. He motioned the human forward. Silent tears streamed down the woman’s ashen face as she served the nine Dracos crowded into her home. Thirro felt a handful of soft flesh when she poured his drink. He pulled her into his lap, checking the size of her hips after she refilled his bowl. With his hunger satisfied, other needs pressed.
