Page 122 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

It’s just a little power expended. I’ve been doing this much for days on end without getting all that addled.

And we can hardly stroll up to the Order of the Wild’s march fully visible and expect a warm welcome.

We emerge from the woods and venture across the field beyond. A carriage rattles by along the road to our left, but otherwise there’s no sign of human presence.

Which of course doesn’t mean anything as far as the scourge sorcerers are concerned.

Just as the town bell peals for the fifth hour of the afternoon, the first tingle of nearby magic grazes my skin. I halt, absorbing the sensation, and adjust my course.

The men follow close behind me. I veer a little more to the right and then to the left again, judging where the sensation intensifies and fades by tiny increments. After a minute or two, I’m sure we’re heading straight toward its source.

As we tramp across the yellowed winter grass and through another thicket of trees, the aura of magic thickens. A few paces beyond the thicket in a sprawling clearing, the tingle penetrates right into my bones.

I stop again and make a gesture to warn the others that we’re almost on them. Then I push forward, one careful step at a time.

It takes five more, and with the last of those, the camp materializes before my eyes.

An Order member is standing guard so close at my right that I could touch him if I leaned over. With a hitch of my pulse, I scoot in the other direction to give us some breathing room.

Throughout the rest of the camp, men and women are bustling around. It looks as if they’ve just arrived. No tents have gone up yet, and the horses are all still saddled, standing amid their potential riders. Only a couple of campfires are burning toward the middle of the area, near the three covered wagons that I suspect hold the sacrificial accomplices.

As I take in the activity, my heart sinks. Have even more scourge sorcerers and unwitting dupes joined the march since we last saw them several days ago? There must be over a thousand figures hurrying this way and that.

Maybe not much compared to the entire royal army, but most of that army isn’t here. And none of it is truly prepared to contend with the power of scourge sorcery.

Fuck.

Alek comes up beside me. He nudges my arm and points to a cluster around one of the carts.

The people there are all grabbing objects out of the cart… and suiting up in a mix of padded vests, chain mail, and wooden or metal helms.

My lungs constrict. When my gaze darts across the terrain more intently, I notice a woman pointing out features on a map to a small group of on-lookers.

“They’re already preparing for battle,” I murmur.

Stavros frowns. “It certainly appears that way.”

If we had any doubt left, Borys’s voice rings out through the camp from somewhere at the far end, beyond my view. “Let’s get on with it! The faster we can make the final march, the less prepared King Konram will be.”

Julita’s presence winces in the back of my head.

I stiffen with a lurch of my gut. “They’re going to attack tonight. There’s no way any reinforcements could have arrived already.”

Stavros’s face has grayed. “We need to sound a warning. There are troops in the area—local guards—it wouldn’t take long for them to ride here. Most of these people aren’t even armed yet. If we can strike them when they’re not prepared… We can at least stall them.”

“And it’ll be clear the threat is real,” Casimir adds. “But how are we going to bring anyone here to help us when they won’t even see an army gathered?”

My heart thuds even faster, a nauseating but firm sense of resolve rising in my chest. “Casimir, you brought your new horn, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it won’t do any good if anyone it summons can’t see the problem.”

“Let me worry about that.” I turn to Stavros. “Get one of the horses and ride to town or whatever the nearest fortress is. Alert whoever you can and send them this way. When they’re in sight, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Stavros gives me an anguished look. “Are you sure?”

Ignoring the dread pooling in my belly, I give him a shove. “Yes. Get going, before it’s too late to do anything at all.”

The former general raises his fist, and I tap it automatically alongside the other men. As he lopes back toward our camp, I extend my magic along his path.

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