Page 39 of Savage Devotion
Before I give a response that doesn't expose too much vulnerability, the sharp blast of a war horn cuts through the night air. Three long notes, followed by two short. The Ironspine signal for urgent summons.
Clan business. Always clan business.
Duty before desire.
Responsibility before personal complications.
Ressa's expression shifts instantly, the teasing challenge replaced by professional alertness. She recognizes the sound of military communication even if she doesn't understand the specific meaning.
"You need to go."
Statement, not a question.
Understanding without explanation.
Professional courtesy between warriors.
I nod, already mentally cataloging equipment I'll need for whatever crisis demands my immediate return. "Stoneborn stronghold. Something's wrong."
The horn pattern shows emergency assembly.
Not drill. Not routine.
Real threat requiring immediate response.
The war horn sounds again, closer this time. Hoofbeats approach through the darkness with a rider pushing hard over rough terrain. I notice the rhythm before the horse and rider emerge from the shadows: Garok's mare, distinctive gait born of old injuries that never healed properly.
Garok himself looks worse than his horse. Blood streaks his left arm, his breathing labored from a hard ride that's pushed both mount and rider to their limits.
"Kaelgor. Drokhan sends immediate summons."
Bloodied messenger. Emergency summons.
Combat situation.
Lives at stake.
"Report."
"Bloodfang war band. Five hundred strong, massed at Skullcrack Pass." He catches his breath, one hand pressed to his wounded arm. "They've got siege equipment. Catapults. Battering rams."
Five hundred. Significant force.
Siege equipment indicates serious intent.
This isn't a raid. This is war.
My mind shifts to tactical analysis, personal considerations temporarily set aside. Skullcrack Pass controls the main approach to Stoneborn territory. If the Bloodfang take it, they gain access to our supply routes, our secondary settlements, our civilians.
Strategic chokepoint. Vital defensive position.
Loss means exposure. Vulnerability.
Potential slaughter.
"How long have they been there?"
"Since yesterday dawn. They're building camps. Permanent positions." Garok's expression darkens. "This isn't hit-and-run. They mean to hold the pass."
