Page 88 of Claws of Death

The fallen tree the males heaved onto the road nicely blocks the path north in a way that makes it look in thedarkness from a distance like a carriage could pass, so the caravan won’t turn around right away. Everything is in place.

Clack-clack-clack.

The wheels are close enough for me to feel them turning inside my body.

Clack-clack.

From the nearby trees, a caw sounds.

I hold my breath.

The outline of riders appears first, then the bulky corpus of a horse-drawn wagon. I don’t see any foot soldiers.

Within a minute, they’ll be here.

Sweat slips down my neck into my collar where the steel vines have reassembled like they haven’t ever made way for Myron’s hands. I grasp my daggers harder.

At the side of the rocks across, I spot Clio’s copper braid as she scrambles an inch to the side to stay hidden when the caravan reaches the bend in the road. As they do, I see the foot soldiers.

Pouly had estimated forty-five, but I count fewer. Thirty or less.

With a breath of relief easing my chest, I coil to spring. The first rider reaches our ambush, raising his arm to stop the wagons behind. “We’ve got an obstacle here.”

A second rider gallops up to him from behind the wagons. Both are wearing black and blue from toe to leather head piece. Humans then, from Erina’s military.

“Looks like we can squeeze through.” The man who rode up assesses the tree from above, waving forward one of the wagons. The foot soldiers have taken formation around thetwo others, spears at the ready. All of them wear the same uniform. It’s not blue and black, though, but a dark gray that is neither Tavras, nor the brown of Flame leathers.

From the side, two birds rise, launching from the branches, diving for the canvas covering the first wagon. They shift as they plummet from the air, swords drawn and slicing into the dusty fabric.

The turmoil of Eroth’s Veil breaks loose when the soldiers realize they are being attacked.

That’s our signal, and I will my magic to comply when I send a streak of silver right for the wheels of the second wagon. Whatever soldiers are guarding this cage, it won’t leave this place.

From the other side, flashes of silver hit the third wagon while Myron’s power cracked the hind wheels of the first one. Horses rear up in panic, screaming and bolting. The axis of the first wagon breaks, and the horses tear free from their reins. One of the riders shouts commands, but half of the foot soldiers are already clashing with Silas and Clio, who leaped out of their hideout the moment the soldiers realized where the attack was coming from. Tori’s sword is a slash of silver in the sparse light, and so is Tata’s as she joins the melee. The soldiers fight like humans, their strength no match for ours. Kaira’s arrows zoom past the rock from where she’s still kneeling, taking down soldiers who attempt to flee.

But my eyes are on the first wagon.

From my hideout behind the bushes, I’m waiting for Royad and Herinor to emerge from beneath the canvas ofthe first wagon. Myron’s taking down a rider coming in our direction to check where the silver light breaking his wagon came from.

“Where are they?” I’m ready to leap to my feet and bolt for the first wagon. Myron’s hand clasps around my elbow.

“Not yet. Give them time to do their work.” Because he trusts them while I… I don’t trust Erina not to sit in the wagon himself with a pool of the magic-nullifying serum to drown the two Crows in.

My stomach clenches, but I sit tight.

Around my daggers, my hands are itching to slit throats. I’m not used to the bloodthirst, but I welcome it. If we fail at this, we’ll fail at the war. These are mere human soldiers protecting the weapon. We can take them down. If Myron and I join the slaughter, it will be even faster.

I’m about to tell him that when something hits us in the back. Myron’s shield wobbles but holds. Fast as lightning, we swirl around.

The sight of the soldiers in front of us makes my hands shake.

Rows of men in undefined gray armor, seven each, stand no less than thirty feet from us. In their hands, long, bone-white bows are pulled taut, silver-tipped arrows aiming directly at us.

“Tori!”I shout in my mind and can instantly feel his attention swing to me. “We’ve got a problem here.”

I send him an image of what we’re facing and hiss a curse when I recognize the face at the head of the group.Arebar.A scar from the last fight is running down his cheek, but it’s unmistakably him.

“Flames,” I say to Myron, repeating the same word in my mind for Tori and Kaira.

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