Page 149 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

The Order of the Wild members won’t be able to see them either. The skeleton designs won’t have any effect on their resolve if they launch their attack without catching so much of a glimpse.

Shit.

“We need light over there,” I spit out. “By the Darium soldiers—quickly.”

I glance around, groping for an answer that doesn’t require my unpredictable magic, and my gaze lands on Rheave’s bow. “Rheave, do you think you can propel an arrow far enough with your power to set one of those pine trees on fire?”

Without hesitation, Rheave snatches an arrow from the quiver he set at his feet. “I’ll try my best.”

He braces himself, his beautiful face set with concentration, the bow stretched as far as it’ll go. With a twang and a crackle, he launches the arrow into the air.

It gleams as it arcs against the night sky. Anyone below might mistake it for a shooting star.

Then it plummets amid the branches in the cluster of three pines just beyond the Darium formation, and the needles flare with flames.

A few of the Darium soldiers I can now see more clearly whirl around at the apparent attack. Most of them are so disciplined they barely flinch.

The fire darts along the branches until all three trees blaze with flickering light.

At first the uniforms on the distant figures look like little more than white stripes on black. But then the troops stride forward to meet the source of the attack, and the soldiers drop the visors on their helms to cover their faces.

A chill ripples through my veins even though I was expecting the sight.

They have images like skulls painted onto their black helmets—gaping mouths and eye sockets so vacant they’re obvious even across all the terrain between us.

I don’t know how much it’s because of the newly visible soldiers and how much because they need to focus their energy on attacking now, but the concealment spell hiding the Order members wavers. The horde of them, still several hundred strong, charges toward the Darium troops as if emerging from a haze.

The roar of their furious cries reverberates across the landscape loudly enough that it reaches my ears. I shiver, clutching the railing again, watching the collision in the eerie illumination.

More light flashes—magic, I think, bursting here and smashing into a cluster of soldiers there.

Stavros tenses, tapping his forehead, heart, gut, and sternum in the gesture of the divinities.

The Darium soldiers won’t have any idea what’s going on. They thought they were coming to ally with the traitors against Silana’s rulers.

Maybe they figure their attackers are the king’s people who got here first. Maybe they’ll assume the traitors turned on them too.

It doesn’t really matter. They’re already pressing back with flashes of blades, hails of arrows, and a few flares of their own, regular magic.

I spot bodies crumpling on both sides—some among the Order cracking into chunks of clay when they hit the ground.

As the two groups crash into each other, the flares of magic falter. The tingling that touched my skin fades away.

It’s working. The scourge sorcerers’ will must be shaken, their concentration broken by their rattled nerves.

It unnerves even me seeing the Darium force from this distance. I can’t imagine what the visual is like up close.

But the Order’s greater numbers ensure they’re not at a complete disadvantage. I see black-uniformed figures toppling throughout the fray.

The Darium troops will have no choice but to retreat even if they win the battle. They aren’t going to try to take on the rest of the king’s army on their own.

And the Order of the Wild’s march will be cut down before they can do any more damage to our country.

As I watch, my spirits lifting, the Darium soldiers press their opponents farther back. More and more of the Order members bolt away from their comrades into the night—first a few, then several, then dozens abandoning their cause.

Rheave readies his bow with another arrow, guarding our little group from any deserters who head this way. I retrieve my favorite knife from my boot.

Victory won’t feel worth it if any of my men gets hurt in the process.

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