Chapter 22 - Raegan #2
“Pack fighters on the perimeter. Let them handle initial contact while everyone else stays hidden.”
Captain Morwen activates her communication device. “All Llewelyn units, maintain concealment. Do not engage unless directly threatened.”
Elder Nettle speaks quietly to the witches around her. “Passive observation only. Record their capabilities without revealing our presence.”
The next twenty minutes become an exercise in controlled conflict. Our perimeter defenders engage Thornridge probe units with enough resistance to seem legitimate, but not enough to suggest they’re protecting something critical.
“Probe units withdrawing,” Theodore reports. “Minimal casualties on both sides.”
“Did we sell it?” Wyn asks.
“Time will tell,” Lydia responds. “But the real test comes when Mordaunt decides whether to commit his main force.”
One of the young witches approaches our position, her eyes unfocused in the way that suggests active scrying.
“Vision coming through,” she announces. “Thornridge commanders are discussing assault timing. They believe they’ve identified our main defensive positions.”
“What else?” I ask.
“Confidence levels are high. They’re planning to proceed with a full assault within the hour.”
“Any indication they suspect a trap?”
“Minimal. Their communications suggest they view the probe results as confirmation of intelligence expectations.”
Another hour passes before new intelligence arrives. Thornridge communications indicate they’re moving toward final assault positions, apparently satisfied that they’ve identified our defensive layout.
“They’re taking the bait,” I tell the assembled leaders.
“Or they want us to think they are,” Lydia warns.
“Either way, we proceed with the plan.”
The different allied groups begin final preparations, each following its own protocols. Pack fighters check weapons and review escape routes. Llewelyn units conduct equipment inspections and communication tests. Witches gather in small circles, sharing energy and preparing collective spells.
“The diversity is actually reassuring,” Wyn comments as we watch the preparations.
“How so?”
“If one approach fails, we have alternatives. Thornridge prepared for one type of enemy, not three.”
He’s right. Our forced alliance might be chaotic, but it’s also unpredictable in ways that could work to our advantage.
Sage Willow returns to check on my psychic enhancement. “How are you feeling?”
“Stable. The hollow sensation is still there, but manageable.”
“Good. The enhancement should hold through several hours of moderate use, or one major exertion.”
“Define major exertion.”
“Anything that would normally cause unconsciousness or permanent damage. The buffering will absorb most of the impact, but there are limits.”
As dawn approaches, the different allied groups settle into final positions. The coordination problems haven’t disappeared, but everyone understands their role well enough to function.
“Final equipment check,” I announce over the radio.
“Pack units ready.”
“Llewelyn forces in position.”
“Witch covens prepared for magical support.”
“Healing teams standing by.”
The responses come from different communication networks, reflecting how each group maintains its own command structure. Chaotic, but workable.
Wyn approaches my position, carrying additional ammunition and what looks like medical supplies.
“Last-minute preparations?” I ask.
“Making sure we’re ready for anything.”
He settles beside me on the small rise we’ve chosen as our bait position. The spot offers good visibility in multiple directions while providing clear escape routes if things go wrong.
“Any regrets about the plan?” he asks.
“About using myself as bait? No. About dragging you into danger with me? Maybe.”
“I chose this,” he reminds me. “Nobody forced me to be here.”
“Your protective instincts forced you. If I hadn’t been so stubborn about doing this alone—”
“Then you’d be facing this without backup, which would be worse.”
He’s probably right, but that doesn’t make me feel better about the risks we’re both taking.
“Do you think the marriage thing is working?” I ask, surprising myself with the question.
“What do you mean?”
“The forced partnership. Learning to trust each other. Becoming something more than political convenience.”
Wyn is quiet for several minutes, considering his answer carefully. “I think we’re figuring out how to be partners despite the circumstances, not because of them.”
“Is that enough?”
“For now? Yes. For the future? Ask me when we survive this.”
His honesty is both comforting and terrifying. We’re building something real, but it’s fragile and untested under normal circumstances.
“What happens after this?” I ask. “Assuming we survive.”
“We figure out how to be married for real instead of for politics.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then we figure out how to be divorced for real.”
The matter-of-fact way he discusses both possibilities reassures me. No false promises or unrealistic expectations. Just an honest acknowledgment that we’re both taking this seriously.
“Movement on the eastern approach,” Theodore radios. “The main Thornridge force is advancing.”
“How many?”
“Over one hundred fighters, plus magical weapon teams.”
“Time to go to work,” I tell Wyn.
Through binoculars, I watch Thornridge forces spread into attack formation. Their discipline is impressive, but they’re moving exactly as we hoped—concentrating their strength for what they believe will be a decisive capture operation.
“They’re committing everything,” Wyn observes.
“Good. That means when we spring the trap, we’ll hit their entire force instead of just advance elements.”
“Assuming the trap works.”
“It has to work. We don’t have backup plans that don’t end with everyone dead.”
Thornridge scouts appear at the base of our position, moving carefully but confidently. They’ve spotted us exactly as planned, and I can sense their excitement at the prospect of completing their mission.
“Target confirmed,” one scout radios to his commander. “The omega is in the exposed position with minimal security.”
“Begin capture,” comes the response.
The main assault force starts its advance, moving with the confidence of professionals who believe they’ve identified all threats. Behind them, magical weapons move into supporting positions, ready to provide overwhelming firepower if resistance proves stronger than expected.
“Here we go,” I murmur to Wyn.
“Try not to get us killed,” he replies with a grin that doesn’t hide his worry.
“I’ll do my best.”