Page 98 of Path of the Dark
33
It Has Begun
“DRAG HIM IN here,” Mysandra hissed, beckoning Ryana toward the alley.
Ryana shot the High Enchanter an irritated look. “Aren’t you going to help me? I can’t do this on my own.”
Huffing with frustration, Mysandra emerged from the shadowy lane. Grabbing an arm each, the women dragged the soldier into the alleyway. They moved fast, stumbling in their haste. Any moment now a patrol would come stomping down the street and catch them.
Once they were hidden in the shadows, Ryana let out the breath she’d been holding.
On the street beyond, heavy booted feet thundered past. Both women froze, waiting until the soldiers had moved on before either spoke.
“This one’s perfect.” Mysandra’s gaze fixed upon the helmed figure who lay sprawled before them.
“I needed a man of around my height, wearing armor,” Ryana agreed. She knelt down and pulled off the man’s helm. “If I’m not well disguised, I’ll never get close enough to Gael to strike.” She glanced up at her companion. “I’ll need your help with this too.”
Mysandra gave a heavy sigh. As Head of the Order, she was a woman who preferred to give instructions and then watch from a distance while others worked, it seemed. However, she did as requested. Sweeping up her long skirts and crouching beside Ryana, she then began to unbuckle the soldier’s armor.
The man Ryana had just killed was young, barely into his twenties. His time in the army had not been kind to him; his skin clung to his bones and he had a cruel mouth—or at least Ryana told herself it looked cruel. It made it easier on her conscience. She didn’t like killing, but left alive this soldier would put both her and Mysandra at risk.
Ryana was dressed in her black Anthor-style attire from the previous day. Rather than remove her own clothing, she struggled to fit the gleaming obsidian armor over the top. Tugging hard, she finally managed to pull it over her ample chest. She turned to Mysandra “Quick, tie the straps while I hold the breastplate in place.”
“One moment … there … I’ve managed to get it on the loosest hole,” the High Enchanter announced finally.
Ryana released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “It’s difficult to breathe with this thing on.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
The rest of the armor went on easier. Ryana had braided her hair and tucked the plait down the back of her shirt. The helm went on top, concealing her identity. She then helped herself to the soldier’s long-sword, buckling it around her hips.
She turned to the High Enchanter. “How do I look?”
Mysandra stood back and cast a critical eye over her. “To me, you look like a woman wearing armor,” she said with a grimace.
“I don’t think Anthor has any female soldiers.”
“Well then, let’s just hope they don’t look at you too closely.”
Mysandra adjusted her own kerchief. The High Enchanter was also in disguise this afternoon. She’d changed out of her snow-white robes into a hard-wearing woolen dress. It was dyed blue, a popular color among the ladies of Veldoras this year. Under the matching blue kerchief, Mysandra had also braided her long white hair. Her face was free of make-up.
She was almost unrecognizable.
Ryana was just about to comment on that fact when a horn’s wail reverberated across the city.
Both women fell silent, listening. The wail drew out before the horn blew once more. And then it blasted a third time.
Mysandra let out a slow exhale. “Three blows of the horn … last time we heard it the Anthor army stood before our gates.”
Ryana met her eye. “It has begun then.”
Elias stood high atop the walls and looked down upon the army that had amassed before the gates. The Rithmar numbers appeared huge: line after line of foot soldiers and cavalry. The men were garbed in gleaming silver helms and chainmail. Silver and green Rithmar banners fluttered from standards, and a sea of iron-tipped spears and the outlines of siege towers bristled against a monochrome sky. It was a grey, sultry afternoon, and in the distance thunder rumbled.
Spots of water splashed onto Elias’s face, and he glanced round at the dark clouds that were rolling in behind him.
“Great,” one of the men nearby grumbled. “We’llbe fighting in the rain.”
Elias frowned. Rain was the least of his problems. He’d lost his rank, his family, his woman—and now he was about to become battle fodder for the Rithmar front lines.
