69. A SHOW OF FORCE
A few house-fae were injured from the attack, and Maeson’s fox, Wrynn, suffered a hurt paw, but all injuries were minor, and no deaths occurred.
While the main areas within the mountain didn’t sustain too much damage, there was still enough to warrant an entire structural assessment, since the mountain had been thoroughly rattled.
The rest of Calledan had not been directly affected, but the warning was felt in nearly every fae territory.
From what we’d learned, the shadows had also found their way into the northernmost borders of Drastia, Vahrenhall, and Elandrew.
The attacks had barely made it into their borders, but the High Lords felt the sinister presence, and the intrusion left its mark like a stain of darkness, turning fields and foliage into withered husks.
The brunt of it had been aimed right at us, right where Folquin had ported back to. Right where Lyceius and Skadi now knew their prizes were being kept.
The spy had apologized repeatedly all evening, cursing himself for not having gathered his wits enough to think to port to an outpost first, just in case someone or something had followed him.
Niall assured him that he wasn’t angry with him, and that he needed to stop beating himself up for it, but Folquin was persistent, and practically begged, at one point, for us to let him make it right.
Maeson spent the majority of the night mending his wound.
She insisted that he continue to rest, but he was intent on porting to the queen the moment his skin had closed up.
Not only did we want confirmation of whether or not the human realm had also been hit, but Niall had wanted the queen at the war meeting that would be taking place between all the High Lords tomorrow.
So Folquin went to fetch Corinne, while official missives were sent to each court, summoning the armies to move at once.
We assumed that, though Skadi had sent her shadows as a warning, she could not use them to the extent she wanted.
If her journey to this world was anything like Torin’s, it would have required much of her power reserve.
Perhaps that was why she was using the blood oath to Lyceius—to gain back power she had lost. She would be a fool to use a significant amount of power before the war.
What transpired was an outburst, not the full force.
She and Lyceius were saving what they had for battle.
And so were we.
Overnight, the armies of Calledan and Vahrenhall readied and moved.
The lower elevations of Calledan’s dark mountains were strewn with gray tents as far as the eye could see.
Each connecting valley held hundreds more, winding deep into the court’s territory.
Dreki flew overhead, their riders shouting commands as they moved the horde closer to the front lines in anticipation of the days to come.
The other territories’ battalions would set up on the east and western stretches of the main valley as they arrived.
The command tent was situated midway through the camp, easily accessible, so that the chain of command could be quickly summoned for consults and strategy meetings.
A Calledanian guard held back the flap as we approached.
He saluted Niall by rapping a closed fist against his own black leather chestplate. Niall gave a curt nod in response.
We entered the tent and were instantly met with intense conversation.
The room was large enough to host at least two dozen high-ranking officials around the long, wooden table in the center, and still had enough space for bystanders to listen at the edges of the enclosure.
Fires were lit in several metal basins, casting plenty of light to combat the approaching nightfall.
At the opposite end of the table, Roirdan was standing, arms crossed, wearing a frown and a tight-fitted leather vest atop his bare chest. The two males with whom he conversed were the same fae who had been with us in The Keep during the attack.
In addition to their black armor, they each donned a black, one-shouldered cloak over their left shoulder, with gold markings at the top—something I hadn’t seen on many other soldiers.
Their black leathers beneath were also slightly different, with the necklines rising higher up their throat, like Remic’s did.
Captains, I assumed.
Nivelle stood at Roirdan’s side, listening intently.
To their left, Aremis, Remic, and Maeson conversed with a female I didn’t know.
Probably another skilled healer, judging by the prominent satchel slung across her shoulders and the pouches that hung from her belt.
Silas and Laurent stood with the human queen and Folquin, opposite the table from Morah, Fallon, Breck, and Vanir—all of them engaging with other officials and a few members of Niall’s council.
Everyone noticed our presence, and the room quieted. Roirdan snagged a long roll of parchment from a trunk next to one of the tent’s centermost poles, and stepped up to the table. Aremis took one end of the parchment, and he and the commander spread open the oversized map for all to see.
“First things first,” Roirdan began. “We’re here.
” He stabbed a finger to the area of small circles that had been drawn with charcoal at the base of the mountain .
. . pointing out the obvious. Morah snorted, and I couldn’t hide my laugh either.
Across the table, Laurent chuckled, while Remic shook his head, hiding his grin like he always did.
Roirdan’s humor was appreciated in times like these, when we all felt a little closer to tipping over the edge and tumbling headfirst into a sea of our worries and responsibilities.
“Now, there’s been movement here . . .” Roirdan moved his finger back to the north-central area of Salterra, then to the east, toward Elandrew. “And here.”
Vanir stepped forward. “I have more ground units moving out of Vahrenhall as we speak; they’ll be here by midday tomorrow. A few of my generals are on their way to Elandrew to help Breck secure Killian’s army.”
Killian. The bastard—leaving his entire territory with no direction or orders to secure their borders. Thankfully, the Woodland Court had Breck to turn to.
“Good.” Niall turned to face Breck. “Make sure there are plenty left to protect the citizens from any of Lyceius’s creatures that might get past our lines and spread out. I doubt they will, but I want every territory well-defended and prepared for anything.”
Breck nodded. “I’ve been fortifying what I can. We will be on the move in a few hours.”
He was now Elandrew’s acting High Lord, and the territory and the realm were better for it. With him in charge, whether or not he remained in that position after the war, the Woodland Court would be taken care of.
Remic leaned in, gently resting his hands on the table.
“Our scouts say Lyceius’s forces are poised to attack here, at Gabbath.
It is where they have shown the most interest, and judging by their recent movement, I would say every legion of his has their sights set on this stretch of land.
” He traced a line over the space where the northernmost entry point to Calledan sat—a mile from where we were currently standing.
“We want to keep the fighting here. Keep it contained.”
Aremis stepped closer. “With such a large concentration of our infantry stationed along this section, we risk enemy forces breaking off and infiltrating further inland to both the east and west.”
“I can spare some units to help cover the eastern flank,” Fallon said. “We are fully capable of fighting alongside the Dreki and their fierce riders.”
Vanir grinned and clapped a hand on Fallon’s shoulder. “Happy to have the power of the desert at our side.”
“When will Drastia arrive?” Niall asked.
“Senna will be here with our troops by nightfall,” Laurent answered.
Niall’s eyes roved over the map, contemplating every move and strategic placement of the armies. “And what of Benmoor?”
“Several factions are being restructured as we speak,” Fallon explained. “Recent events temporarily complicated the structure of our ranks, but you can expect every Benmoori warrior to be on Calledan soil tomorrow.”
Niall nodded. Then, he turned toward the queen.
She stood with her shoulders back, holding her composure, just as I had done in the early days of being in this realm. Her witch blood made it possible to cross The Veil to be here, and, as Niall had briefed me a few nights prior, it was in our best interest if she was an informed ally.
It seemed that, now, her stance of “informed ally” had been upgraded to “military asset.”
“We’re assuming your realm was affected by the attack as well?” Niall asked her.
“Yes. It was contained to our northernmost outpost—near The Veil. A few soldiers stationed there reported a dark wall of shadows that penetrated the barrier and destroyed anything in its path.” She paused, and the silence stretched on for a long moment.
Niall opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off. “There’s more . . .”
That was when I noticed the lines of worry that bracketed her features. Despite the strength that she emanated with her posture, she was . . . hurting . . . emotionally.
“Broderick was taken,” she finally said.
Niall straightened. “Taken?”
“We don’t know how, but the shadows seemed to be some sort of diversion. He was last seen in his study. Both of his guards were found slain outside his doors.”
I glanced around the room, marking everyone’s grim expressions.
Folquin stepped up to her side and spoke. “I did not detect any sort of shadows or creatures in the castle. Whoever or whatever did this, they had access to the grounds and were already familiar with them.”
“Folquin,” Niall said, “you mentioned overhearing Lyceius saying he wanted the king dead.”
“That is correct, My Lord. He said the king knew something and was planning to expose it.”