Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Neve
Neve cut down his opponent, barely sparing the human another glance before he moved on to the next, swords clanging together.
Lunge.
Perry.
Slice.
Block.
Repeat.
Over and over, he dispatched the Asterans, their strength in no way a match for his own. The problem was the sea of human soldiers never seemed to stop. It felt like trying to dispatch a swarm of locusts. A lesson in futility.
An incoming spear scraped against his left pauldron, and Neve narrowed his eyes at the young wide-eyed saloes who gaped at him as he charged. The boy dropped his too-big shield and spun on his heel, sprinting in the other direction, disappearing in the sea of his brethren.
Neve spat on the ground.
A coward. Just like all humans.
He scanned the battlefield, catching a glimpse of Olwen slashing at every human within his reach, a bloodthirsty grin plastered across his square face. The vallos came from a berserker line and relished the fight.
Flyka struck down a human to his right and then straightened, her upper lip curling in disgust at the blood on her blade. As if she could feel his attention, her gaze latched onto Neve’s.
“Are you injured?” she asked roughly. Her breath sawed in and out of her chest in large gulps.
He shook out his left shoulder. While it twinged, there was no blood that he could see. “I will be fine,” he growled.
A horn cut through the air, and the human soldiers all at once retreated.
Neve took one step forward as if to hunt them down, when Flyka’s hand clamped down on his right vambrace, halting his movement. While three inches shorter than he was, she still managed to stare him down. His Haunt shook her head once.
“As much as I want to run them down into the ground, it has been a long day, and your men are tired,” she said in a low voice. “There will be no victory even if we press onward.”
He took a hard look around. While his warriors were ready to fight, their bodies held fatigue. Everyone had their limits. He signaled to the trumpeter to sound the retreat. The bright sound of the horn was at odds with the bodies strewn across the blood-soaked snow.
There were too many frost giant bodies, their skin a bright contrast to the snow.
His warriors retreated while some accompanied healers through the battlefield, helping giants that could still be saved. For a long time, Neve stood there staring at where the humans had disappeared, the smoke from their campfires dancing in the distance.
What he would not give to eradicate them. To give his people the justice they deserved.
But he could give his fallen warriors The Great Sleep, at least.
Neve began picking his way through the bodies, closing the eyes of his fallen comrades, and saying little goodbyes to all of them. Flyka followed beside him, his silent protector. The sky turned pink, then purple, and then black. By the time he had finished, he felt nothing.
He was completely numb. Not by the cold, but from the loss.
Too many deaths. This was not how it should have been.
This was her fault.
The ember of rage that lived inside him since he had woken up thawed some of the numbness.
He had done everything he could for peace—even marry one of the treacherous valles, knowing that their heirs would be halflings.
Weaklings who would have to fight for the throne.
Now, he would do everything within his power to stamp out the saloes.
The time for peace and compromise was over.
You can’t stamp her out of your soul.
Deny. Deny. Deny.
It’s what he’d been doing for months.
He glanced up at the sky, noting the dark clouds. No stars tonight.
Perhaps a storm.
He grinned sinisterly at the thought. Humans were not equipped for such things. They would struggle in the snow, becoming slower. Perhaps it would impede their ability to attack at all, which would give the giants the advantage.
Neve slipped through the tents surrounding the town of Mizar.
A wall of protection for its inhabitants.
The pristine snow had been trampled down, dirty and bloodied in the last day.
He glanced to the north of Mizar. It had survived most of the damage from the Asterans’ trebuchets, despite their best efforts.
He sighed when his large round-domed tent came into view. There were too many lanterns lit inside. The war council awaited him.
Olwen paced outside, opening and closing his fists. Neve paused to watch his friend try to calm down from the adrenaline that made him fight like a demon.
“Is it bad?” Neve asked gently.
His best friend snorted and pounded on his wide bare chest with a blue fist. “My hearts are racing.” His eyes held the white gleaming around the edges still.
Translation—the berserker had not released him yet.
“Come inside when you are ready.”
Flyka swept open the tent flap and held it for Neve.
He spared Olwen one last look before stepping inside.
Warmth greeted him immediately. A thick fur rug cushioned his feet as he met the eyes of the advisers standing around the rectangular table near the center of the tent.
Lanterns hung from the support beams, bathing the room in warm light.
He kicked the snow from his boots before striding to the table.
All he wanted to do was rinse the stench of death from his skin, eat a warm meal, and then crawl into his bed that rested in a nook in the corner and sleep without nightmares.
The fatigue of the last few months was catching up to him.
War was exhausting.
So is losing your mate.
He clamped down on that thought and willed it away. Neve would not think of her. She was a traitor. Nothing more.
Flyka slipped in behind him and closed the flap, cutting off the cold air.
He laced his fingers behind his back so he was not tempted to sag against the table like a weakling. “What news do you have for me?”
Olwen’s second-in-command, Vidielle—a short curvy giantess—crossed her arms. “The good news is that our scouts have reported that after today, we have managed to push the Asterans well past their border, Reillov.”
And the bad.
Her face soured, and Vidielle stabbed a finger at the map near the Sapphire Mines. “Some of their soldiers have set up camp around the Sapphire Mines. They are proving difficult to root out because they keep hiding in the mines.”
“Like rats,” Olwen spat as he stepped inside. He shook out his hands and moved before the woodstove at the front of the canvas tent.
Neve glared at the yellow crystals that sat on the map representing Astera.
He had given the human kingdom the mines in the first place but not the surrounding land.
They had broken his treaty, and thus the mines reverted to Loriia.
In the long run, the mines were not worth much.
All the giants’ true wealth was in the northern part of the country, hidden away from greedy human hands and ambition.
That being said, he did not want Astera to gain one drop of wealth from any Loriian mine. Even if it was only from gems that broke too easily. Like the sapphires in the mines near the border.
“The mines are ours,” he nearly growled, releasing his hands and gripping the edge of the table.
“Agreed, Reillov,” their calculating strategist Abeo said, stroking his green-and-silver beard. His eyes narrowed on the map. “We can’t fight a horde of rats. We must smoke them out.”
Neve blinked slowly, an idea forming in his mind. “We let them keep the mines.”
Olwen paced by the stove, his steps gradually slowing. “What kind of idea is that?!”
He ignored his commander. The vallos was still worked up.
“They cannot have our land,” Bacti challenged with a toss of his hair. “You would let them steal from us? Maybe you have become a little human yourself after spending so much time with one.”
The air seemed to be sucked out of the tent.
It would have been easy to rip out the vallos’ throat.
Bacti was getting too bold in his position.
He needed to humble the male, but Neve would need to do it carefully.
He released the table and slowly straightened to his full height, a little smug that the vallos was shorter than he was.
He arched a haughty brow at Bacti. “I let them have nothing.”
Bacti leaned back against the massive middle support beam for the tent as if it was his tent. “And yet they prance around our mines like they own them. I have spies that say they are still mining them even now.”
All eyes turned to Neve.
Do not lose control.
While the vallos was a troublemaker, he held much support in the capital and from the Northerners. The giant had been pushing him for months. He wasn’t quite sure what Bacti was up to. Soon enough, he would reveal his true intentions.
“They feel safe,” Neve continued. “They think they have won.”
“Haven’t they?” Bacti retorted.
He felt Flyka move to his side, always his silent support.
“No.” Neve ran his finger along the border. “Our kingdom relies on many imports for food. We cannot get distracted.”
Abeo cocked his head, studying the map. “Lae reillov is correct. Their attacks aren’t random. They are moving toward our orchards.”
“We cannot allow them to reach any of our orchards. They are too precious.” Neve pointed to the mountain range separating them from the orchards. “We let them move no farther. Even if we have to press deeper into Astera.”
Vidielle huffed. “Understood . . . but the mines. They are still in Loriia. We have farmland past Eira. If they are not stopped now, they could push past Blanche like a horde of locusts consuming everything in their paths.”
“So, we set a trap.”
“And we kill them,” Olwen snarled, stalking to the table, his skin slick with sweat. Neve eyed his friend and the glimmer of white in his eyes. Vidielle didn’t move away, but much to Neve’s satisfaction, Bacti did.
Coward.
He hid his smile and glanced around the group. “We make them think they won.”
Abeo’s light green lips pursed as he stared at Neve. His expression turned calculating, and then a cold smile lifted his lips. “I think I can see your strategy, my lord.”
“And that would be?” Bacti demanded.
“I believe lae reillov is proposing we retreat so they venture farther in and then we surround them from both sides,” Abeo answered.
“Then we kill them,” Olwen said again.
Vidielle’s eyes widened. “And when it seems like there is no escape, they will retreat to the mines.”
“And we will bring the mountain down on top of them.”
A heavy silence filled the tent.
“That’s not honorable!” Bacti argued, his cheeks darkening with rage.
“There’s no honor in death either. I won’t send my people into war when there is a way I could save their lives.”
Abeo rubbed his hands together. “It’s smart.”
“We will exterminate them like the rats they are,” Neve replied with an answering grin.
“How do you suggest we surround them?” Bacti asked, his tone a touch snide.
“We win here and now. Then we take Astera.”
Bacti snapped his mouth shut and fumed in silence.
“Thank you,” Neve said to the group. A polite dismissal.
Now, he just had to figure out how to defeat the horde of humans just outside their border.