Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Lord Telor shakes his head as if not sure of what he’s just witnessed. “It will get you past the wall and perhaps buy us a few crucial moments. Beyond that, the fates only know if you can make it to the tower, and that is where you must be stationed if this has any hope of working.” He still sounds doubtful.
I hope the fates don’t know anything about what we have planned.
“You have your reservations about this scheme, Ailis. I understand. But a frontal assault will tie us up for days, and we’ll likely have little success.” Zander’s brow furrows, and I know what he’s worried about. In the back of his mind, Sofie’s vague warning plays in a loop. What else is Malachi up to? “It will deplete our soldiers, and it will still likely cost every innocent their lives. But a stealthy approach while they do not expect it is to our advantage. We are in the late hours of the night, and they think our focus is on the rift.” The dragons made a point of flying north shortly after we arrived from Ulysede to help sell that idea. Meanwhile, they swung around to wait within range for the signal to attack. “But we must move soon.”
“Going in with just a handful of casters and legionaries?”
“Not merely casters, Lord Telor. Shadows,” Solange responds crisply. I was so relieved to discover her here when we returned, delivered by Valk who we sent to Argon to fetch her while we were in Cirilea.
“But how will you reach the entrance without being seen?” he pushes. “They wait on the ramparts, watching.”
“We will get there. Of that, I have faith.” Zander smiles at me. “Romeria has a few more tricks up her sleeve.”
That I’ve never tested to this extent, but I keep my nervous thoughts to myself.
“Have I ever told you about the night she escaped a ring of legionaries to visit the Greasy Yak in Norcaster?” Jarek deadpans, sparing me a headshake.
My body trembles from adrenaline as our line of fifteen presses our backs against Lyndel’s south outer wall.
Zander squeezes my shoulder. A silent command, or wordless praise. Maybe both, because seven Shadows, five legionaries, Zander, Elisaf, and I just crossed the expanse of open ground without a single shout of alarm or arrow launched our way, thanks to my ability to cloak us—a discovery Gesine made that I am especially thankful for on this night.
I spot the trigger to open the passage immediately. It’s a smaller, square block, much like the stone casters used to mark the secret way into Bellcross, but someone—or something—has smeared it with blood.
“You remember the plan?” Zander whispers.
“Of course I do. It’s my plan.” This part, anyway.
He leans in for one last, quick kiss and then I slide on my silver mask, and everyone readies their weapons, stepping back.
Zander presses the square block and a passage opens up through the wall.
I take a deep breath and amble through, my form’s broad shoulders so wide, the metal armor scrapes across the stone. This beast body feels so real.
I stifle my gasp as a Saur’goth warrior steps out, his sword drawn. He’s the only guard at this entrance from what I can see, though, which is a bonus.
“You’re late!” he barks.
“I got lost.” It’s a vague enough response.
By his grunt, it seems like an acceptable one. “Report to command for your position.”
“Where?”
“The tower above the square.”
I stifle a curse. Exactly where I need to go, and where I saw the bulk of those hostages.
“What are you waiting for!” He’s already turning away.
“For him.” I step aside and Zander’s blade swings out, cleaving through the beast’s throat with a precise swing. The Saur’goth falls to the ground with a clatter.
A curt whistle sounds and our line moves stealthily inside, splitting in two rows and spreading out, looking for the next threat.
“Their general leads from the tower above the square. He will raise the alarm if he sees us,” Zander whispers.
“Oseph will take care of him.” Solange nods to one of her Shadows, who, she explained earlier is like Fatima, with an affinity to fire and a talent for manipulating the oxygen needed in that split second before the burn to freeze an individual.
“We move for the tunnels now. You know the plan.” Zander nods. “Good luck.”
She dips her head. “May the fates be merciful.” They vanish down the path.
Zander gestures in the opposite direction, settling his hand on my shoulder. The others follow suit until we’ve formed a train. “Lead the way, beautiful.”
The closest underground tunnel entrance Lord Telor mapped out is inside a bakery, only fifty feet away, but the alley to get there feels like five hundred as we step around debris and slain Islorians and over the sprawled legs of enemy warriors, asleep propped against walls. We may be concealed, but we’re not invincible—a fact I’m reminded of when I accidentally kick a Saur’goth’s boot, stirring them awake with a confused snarl.