Will – Prepare the Siege #2
Malin’s face brightened with a look of such fierce determination that Will’s heart swelled, even as the dread in his stomach turned to cold lead. He hated the distance, hated the unknown, but he saw the spark in her eyes. It was the same fire that had seen them through every nightmare since Media.
“I’ll make the arrangements to head out,” she said, her voice steady and sure. “I’ll find you before the portal opens.”
She pulled him in for a quick, lingering kiss, and then she was gone, her cloak fluttering against the ice-covered ground.
A mix of relief and terror crossed his face as he watched her disappear among the rows of canvas tents. Then, with a heavy exhale that frosted in the air, he turned his back on the horizon and headed toward the Command tent.
The map of Fellspire was waiting, and the twins were ready. Stepping through the heavy canvas into the Command tent, Will felt the violet lightning of the Hold pulse in perfect rhythm with his heartbeat, a sharp reminder of what he stood to lose.
The air was thick with the scent of burning oil and aged parchment.
He leaned over the central table, casting a long shadow across the topography.
The sprawling ink lay bare the sheer, massive scale of Fellspire.
It completely dwarfed Media, standing as the dark sister city and ancient home of the Overlords, the very fortress the leaders had fallen back to when the slave rebellion in the now technological city finally forced them into exile.
Khelek leaned in, his brow furrowed as he traced the obsidian perimeter. “We have scouted the perimeter twice, Will. There is no visible entrance on the Eastern face. It is sheer rock and warded glass. How do you propose we penetrate the shell?”
He tapped a scarred finger against a jagged depression on the map. “There are drainage tunnels on the East side. They lead to the sub-levels, less than three hundred yards from the vault. I go in solo to the vault, while a small group – maybe the two of you – go on to the armory.”
Khelek frowned, his icy gaze tracking the lethal geometry of the map. “Alone? Will, the vault wards are absolute. If your blood signature is no longer recognized by their system, the snare will kill you instantly.”
“Which is exactly why I go alone. This is a two-part mission for me. The device is in the armory on the same floor as the vault. With the artifact from that vault, I can appease the Order of Tamris, so they drop the bounty on my head. Without that… it is only a matter of time before I’m dead anyway,” Will stated, his voice completely flat, devoid of any self-preservation.
“If I trip the snare, the lethal backlash is contained to the antechamber. You and Nar cut through the maintenance shafts to the armory and grab the EMP device while the fortress’s security is distracted by my misstep. ”
Silence fell over the tent, heavy and suffocating.
Ember-lit eyes narrowed in disbelief as Nar stared back at him. “That is not a tactical choice, Will. That is a suicide run. Whether we make it or not… Malin will likely kill you when we return; we do not need her hunting the rest of us down for letting you throw your life away as bait.”
Will offered a sharp, fleeting quirk on his lip.
“She’s going to head to Four Winds with your cousin.
By the time I have the device safely in hand...
well, she can’t complain too much about the results, can she?
The Order is going to keep coming after me and put my family in danger until they can be appeased.
I’ve thought it through. This is the only way. ”
“Are you sure you know your wife?” Khelek grunted, his voice gravelly with a mix of affection and exhaustion. He leaned back in, his calloused finger tracing the Eastern gash on the map with renewed, grim focus. “This is not the way.”
As if summoned by the mention of her, the tent flap pulled back, admitting a sudden, sharp gust of mountain air, and the woman they were just discussing entered.
Face flushed from the biting cold, Malin walked into the command tent.
Her eyes were bright with a determination that momentarily silenced the room.
Trailing behind her was the tall, wiry Elf, Jacien, who moved with a predatory, silent grace.
His silver eyes held the same flat, dangerous light as the obsidian spires of the Hold.
His cleanly shaved head emphasized the sharp, lethal angles of his face.
Though clearly Elven, the cousins showed no family resemblance.
A sharp, jagged spike of resentment grew in Will’s gut, knowing that this silver-eyed rogue was about to be the only thing standing between Malin and the unknown dangers of Four Winds.
It made him nearly sick, especially when he recalled all the stories the twins had learned about the man’s legendary escapades over the last month.
He hated the Elf for the distance he was about to put between Will and his wife, but he knew the alternative would also be hard to take.
He trusted Malin to take care of herself and be faithful.
Yet, as Malin left Jacien by the entrance and crossed the room to stand beside Will, the suffocating weight of his tactical gloom shattered. Despite the resentment twisting in his gut, having her physically near him sent a rush of profound relief through his blood.
She stepped directly into his space, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against the cold leather of his armor. Having her pull against him felt like a sanctuary in the middle of chaos.
For one terrifying, fractional second, the safety of her vanished, replaced by the copper tang of blood and the rotting air of the pirate encampment.
The sensation of arms around him became the memory of rough, calloused hands pinning him to the table, the bite of hemp rope, and the glint of a curved blade in a torch-lit tent.
Nemilios. The pirate. His captor.
His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird, and his muscles locked into a rigid, defensive strike.
Then, the heat of her skin pierced the vision.
The grounding shock of her warmth dragged him back to the present, reminding him of the living furnace he had soaked in just an hour ago.
He exhaled a shaky, ragged breath, instinctively gripping her shoulders.
He squeezed his eyes shut, counting his heartbeats until the suffocating phantom memory of his prison finally faded.
When he opened his eyes, cold sweat clung to his neck. He looked past her, catching Jacien’s stare.
Did the rogue see his composure crack?
Will let his glare scream the warning he could not say out loud: If she comes to harm, there will be nowhere in this world you can hide.
He forced his voice to remain steady, masking his heaving chest. “Look after her,” he ordered.
He locked his gaze onto the Elf’s silver eyes with a heavy, lethal promise.
Jacien gave a stiff nod. “The portaller is ready. I will get her back to you safely, but we need to leave soon.”
Will immediately pulled Malin against his chest, desperate for one last, anchoring hug before the freezing mountain could swallow him again.