Magiere stopped struggling to hold down her rage and hunger. She let it rise up until the light from the campfires burned her eyes and her jaws would barely close against her elongated teeth. Pulling her falchion while she still had the wits to do so, she rushed into the open.
Someone else was waiting ... somewhere. She had to draw them ... to that one.
It was so hard to think, to remember, that Magiere fought to choke down the first shout until she could.
Wynn ... it was Wynn who was waiting ... ready.
Magiere let go with a snarling, enraged cry from the back of her throat.
All motion in the camp stopped, and all she heard was the distant crackle of the campfires. So many eyes—some sparking from the light of the flames—turned her way.
Leesil and the others skirted the peak’s base at the southern side.
In creeping wide to the desert fringe, they had often crouched low, dropping the chests and drawing weapons at any sudden sound. Only when nothing came at them out of the dark or when Ghassan assured them that he sensed nothing nearby had they moved on.
Now, a short way up the peak’s southern side, Leesil glanced over the edge of the deep stone gash in which they hid.
It appeared they had a fairly clear path upward. None of them knew what lay up there or where they might find an entrance ... if the Enemy was truly inside the mountain.
Leesil dropped back down into hiding. Ghassan knelt beside him with eyes closed in concentration. Chane and Ore-Locks watched the domin as well. Only Brot’an appeared unconcerned, though with his face darkened by soot, it was hard to tell.
“Well?” Leesil whispered to the domin.
He wasn’t certain in the crevice’s deeper darkness, but perhaps Ghassan frowned before opening his eyes.
“I do not sense any sentient presence nearby,” Ghassan answered.
The domin’s abilities had often troubled Leesil but not now, and he signaled the others by gestures to make ready. The bulk of the horde’s encampment below suggested any entrance into the mountain would be straight up from it, and by this time, somewhere near the horde, Magiere should be in place.
Though they hadn’t needed her help to get this far, the rest was something else. They would need as much distraction as possible once they spotted the entrance. There was also the possibility of guards above.
“Watch for movement,” Leesil whispered, “for the sound of anyone or anything above. That could lead us to an entrance, but we can’t get caught out in the open.”
Looking around, he saw no movement at all. Bent, low shrubs and rock outcrops helped to hide them but also obscured his view.
“All of you remain with the orbs while I scout,” Brot’an said, and then pointed at Ore-Locks. “If you hear three clicks in the dark, can you come through stone to the same spot where I am?”
Though Leesil always hesitated at taking Brot’an’s advice, considering the master assassin always had a hidden goal, he couldn’t think of a better option in the moment.
“Yes, I can find you,” Ore-Locks whispered, “so long as you remain where you are.”
“Good, but be quick,” Brot’an acknowledged. “We may need to clear the way.”
Only then did the old assassin look to Leesil, and Leesil nodded his agreement.
Brot’an spun and silently climbed out of the crevice’s upper end. More disturbing was not even hearing him after a single breath.
It wasn’t long before the waiting made Leesil begin to fidget and then to think too much. The latter was never good once a mission like this was in process.
“We take much on faith,” Chane suddenly whispered. “First, that the Enemy is above because the horde is below. Second, that it is inside the peak. Third, that there is an entrance ... within reach of the horde.”
Leesil bit down against snapping back. The last thing he needed was anyone else, especially Chane, echoing his own worries.
“The Enemy is inside,” Ghassan stated.
“And how do you know this?” Chane challenged.
Ghassan didn’t answer at first. “I know.”
That certainty didn’t relieve Leesil at all.
At a sudden roaring cry echoing up through the dark, Leesil clenched all over. He wanted to rise and peer out of the crevices, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to see anything, but he knew.
Down below, Magiere had shown herself.
Chap had watched in secret as Magiere worked from one hiding spot to the next.
He watched even as she had stepped into the open.
Magiere—by threat, challenge, or somehow calling the undead—had to lead them away into the reach of Wynn’s staff. Until then Chap could not even risk helping either of them.
His task was to deal with anything that might get away from Magiere or Wynn’s crystal and turn or flee toward the peak. He had to help protect Leesil’s group. He could only hope any living forces would follow once the undead ones took off after Magiere. But there were so many.
Magiere’s savage cry had nearly made Chap sicken with fear. Then the night grew too quiet as the sound faded, and Chap’s thoughts raced over the worst that might come.
If the Enemy could speak to Magiere in her sleep, it could call to its own followers for help if threatened. Or it might call to her.
There was nothing he could do but hope it did neither, at least until too late. Everyone had known though never spoken of this. And because of it, they knew that not all—if any—might live through this night.
Chap hated uncertainty and, as of yet, he had no idea what Leesil would face. They had only one chance to reach the Enemy.
Then he heard something behind him and spun about, silent but with his hackles stiffened.
Out of the dark came a tall, slender form in a long dark robe with a full hood pulled up and forward. Chap immediately snarled and made to lunge.
“Wait, please!”
At both the whisper and the figure’s raised hands, he hesitated. One hand quickly reached and pulled the hood partially back.
Chap froze at the sight of Chuillyon’s large amber eyes barely catching the moonlight. And then came the other cries, howls, and guttural shouts behind him. As he spun back, he knew the battle had begun.
When he glanced back the other way again, Chuillyon was gone.
Indecision froze Chap, for too much might have already gone wrong. He charged out and downward to the side of a rock outcrop and skidded to a stop in shock. Rage and hunger nearly tore a howl from him.
Magiere still stood in the open, but dozens of the horde had begun turning on one another. Through the darkness, he barely saw vampires and ghul assaulting goblin packs, who in turn became frenzied with rage. The undead members of the horde were attacking the living members.
And when Chap looked again, Magiere was gone.
He lunged and leaped to the outcrop’s top in searching for her, but if she had charged into the horde, the fighting was too wild and intense to spot her in the dark. His own rage and hunger grew stronger.
He dove off the outcrop to charge in to find Magiere.
Then ... a chorus of howls broke over the chaos and screams, and when he halted, he heard it—them—more clearly upslope behind him. He looked back.
Majay-hì of all tints and tones poured out of the dark. They charged straight at him with teeth bared—and rushed around and past him. He never had a chance to turn, for another pack raced out of the dark from upslope.
Two upright forms ran with several majay-hì coming much slower to stay around them. Wayfarer sprinted behind a huge mottled brown male. Beside the girl came a four-legged black shadow with eyes that sparked—Shade. On the second pack’s far side ran a wild-looking woman who had drawn a long, curved dagger that was almost a short sword.