Chapter 71
LUTHER
“First wave . . . engage.”
The front lines of Diem’s soldiers launched forward, surging past Alixe onto the crowded battlefield. Thunderous clatter rang out as two armies smashed together in a violent crash.
The question of what happened in Umbros and Arboros had revealed its gruesome answer.
Within minutes, the dark line on the horizon had grown into a massive legion of glassy-eyed soldier-slaves.
No mortal, Descended, or half-mortal had been spared.
The rest of Vance’s men—minds erased, just like the others—were scattered among them.
The Descended who’d stayed behind in Ignios and Faunos had met a similar doom.
“Mortal healers to the back, archers to our left,” Alixe shouted. She rode up and down the lines, looking focused but composed. “Remember your training. And don’t forget to guard each other’s backs. You’re one army now. Fight about your differences after we kick their ass.”
Scattered laughter rippled through the ranks. Her confidence was contagious, and many tightened shoulders eased. Even Diem’s spirit felt markedly less burdened, though dried tear streaks marred the godstone smeared across her face.
“He’s here,” she murmured, eyes narrowed on a glowing silhouette at the back of the enemy horde.
“It could be an illusion to hide his true location,” I warned.
“It’s him. He hid before because he was scared to face me.” Something dark flickered over her face. “He isn’t scared anymore.”
After much debate, we’d settled on a complex strategy to defeat him.
As the Ignios warrior-soldiers took on his troops directly, the Descended nobles would use their magic to weaken his shield, paired with an armed mortal to guard them from physical attacks.
Obaneryn would use wind magic to guide the archers’ arrows, and the Faunos Descended kept the horses calm as Enness and Runa’s group rode toward the eastern flank.
Trusting the mortals and Descended to protect each other was a gamble.
It would have been easier, and perhaps safer, to follow the Emarion Army’s historic approach, keeping bloodlines segregated and sending each faction to fight their own.
Had I still been Diem’s High General, that might have been my choice.
But Alixe believed we were stronger together than we were apart. She’d studied the full array of skills each group had to offer, then wove them together in a way that bolstered our weaknesses and utilized our strengths. If her plan worked, we’d be unstoppable.
If it didn’t, Emarion would fall.
“I should have killed him in Sophos,” Diem murmured, staring out at the fighting. “If I had . . . all these people . . .”
“I will not let you blame yourself for this,” I said sternly. “And think of what the past week together gave us—seeing Taran and Zalaric mated, learning we are mates . . . that was a gift.”
Her eyes suddenly snapped to me. “A gift?” Her brow furrowed. She drew Sorrow’s Edge and held it lengthwise in front of her, eyes darting back and forth across the blade.
“A gift from the Kindred,” I said. “They believed mating bonds were sacred. And I have been faithful to Lumnos. I’m certain she wanted us to have that time.”
Diem’s eyes slowly rose. “Faithful,” she repeated.
In the muddy glow of the blood sun, it was hard to tell whether it was a trick of the light, the way her face seemed to drain of its color.
“No,” she whispered. “No . . .”
I frowned at her reaction. “And think of our vision—your armor. Whatever the gods intend to happen, it wasn’t meant to be in Sophos.”
Her eyes fell closed. “You’re right. It wasn’t. It couldn’t. I didn’t know how . . .” She trailed off, and her distraught expression hardened as she slipped her sword back into its sheath. “And now I do.”
“Archers, launch the first volley,” Alixe shouted. A wave of dark blurs shot from the trees and sailed across the field. Seconds later, they bounced uselessly away as a ceiling of glittering grey shimmered over the fighting.
“That’s strange,” Nidara said. “He’s not shielding his soldiers, but he’s shielding the air above them?”
“He doesn’t care if his people live or die,” Auralie muttered. “He’s conserving his energy to shield himself.”
I wasn’t so convinced. Unlike Auralie, I could feel the staggering depth of power in his aura. He had more than enough magic to shield his army and himself. I chewed on a disquieting alternative as I scanned the sky.
Nidara followed my gaze. “You think he’s hiding something up there?” She pointed to Xipherus, who was circling above him. “He’s not concealing his gryvern.”
But there were five other gryverns unaccounted for. Diem’s liberation had left them vulnerable to his control, and we’d seen no sign of them since.
“The gryverns aren’t here,” Diem said flatly, sensing where my thoughts had gone. “He’s not conserving power, either. He’s using his shield to force us into a ground attack.”
“If so, it’s to our benefit,” Nidara said. “Look at his troops. They’re not guarding each other. They’re barely guarding themselves. His advantage on numbers won’t last long, if this keeps up. It’s a bloodbath.”
Muscles strained on Diem’s throat, and I wondered if she was holding back the same unsettling thought hanging over me now.
If Ophiucae wanted our army dead, I doubted all our shields combined could stop him. He could have killed the people in Umbros and Arboros, too. He kept them alive to use them. The question was why.
And I suspected the answer was her.
The only thing that would hurt Diem more than watching her people slaughtered was to force her to do it herself.
Making her use her own army to massacre innocent lives, lives she had sworn to protect, was the cruelest possible blow.
I didn’t know whether he was doing it to punish her or to break her to his will.
What I did know was that I was gods-damned sick of watching him hurt her.
And I was going to make him pay for it with his life.
Whatever it took.