Chapter 14 #2
Behind them, Leywani, silent until now, startled. “Alena! Where are you going?”
“To the soldiers’ quarters,” she said without hesitation. “I’m bringing Kaixo back.”
Leywani’s eyes widened. “What? That’s madness! I’ll come with you.”
“No. I need you to stay with San.” She cast a final glance at her unconscious friend. “If things go south, no one will know you were involved.”
“But how will the two of you get the boy? The camp counts at least fifty guards and soldiers!” Leywani’s voice rose, her features pinched with worry. “It doesn’t make sense. And where’s Kat? Isn’t she with you?”
The question hit like a punch to the gut. Memories of the Green Mountains’ hillfort crashed into her—memories that made her heart ache.
Alena forced a smile. “Kat isn’t here.”
To Leywani, Katell had always been the warrior—the protector. The one people looked to in moments like this. But many things had changed since Alena had left the Freefolk Lands. And it was time the Rasennans learned just what that meant.
“But don’t worry,” she added, voice steady. “I have an army of wolves with me.”
“There’s only a handful keeping watch,” Phoebe whispered, crouched behind a tent. Her breath curled in the frigid air. “It’s like they don’t even consider the possibility of an attack from the outside. Clearly, we’re in luck.”
Alena nodded. The cold had seeped through her boots, numbing her toes, stiffening her legs. But it wasn’t only the chill anchoring her in place—it was the tension coiling in her chest.
The soldiers’ quarters loomed ahead, wedged between the two watchtowers at the main gate.
Everything about them was meant to intimidate: squat stone halls that dominated the centre, a ring of timber barracks, cleaner, sturdier than the crumbling slave quarters, and stables brimming with horses and livestock.
Towering canvas tents flanked the gate, their hulking forms casting long, ominous shadows across the trampled earth.
Alena closed her eyes and reached out with her Gift. The tether to Apollo pulsed with quiet strength. The wolf was still on the move, weaving unseen through the night. He swept the camp: two men in each tower, one at the gate, a dozen clustered in a hall, eating and talking. The rest… asleep.
Then—a spark of recognition.
Kaixo.
Apollo had found his scent inside the stone hall, buried among the soldiers.
Alena’s pulse quickened. She relayed the count in a low whisper. “Most of the guards must be down in the quarry. With the wolves, we outnumber the ones left.”
Phoebe tilted her head, her silver eye flashing. “Maybe. But they have weapons.”
“Not for long.” Alena pointed to the tent beside the gate, moonlight catching on the glint of metal within. “That’s the armoury. If I set it on fire and post wolves at the flames, the soldiers will be unarmed and too afraid to get close.”
Phoebe’s eyebrows rose, a smirk tugging at her lips. “The Rebel Queen’s daughter, indeed. And the distraction?”
Alena gestured to the stables tucked behind the stone hall. “The horses. Wolves only need to snap at a few heels to spook them. If we can get the gate open, the stampede will handle the rest. The soldiers won’t notice us. They’ll be too busy chasing horses.”
Phoebe’s mouth curved into a feral grin. “It’ll be chaos.” She slipped her arm through the leather straps of her shield, testing the weight. “Good plan. I’ll handle the gate and towers. You light the fire.”
Alena hesitated. “Are you sure? That’s a dozen men.”
The shot her a dry look. “Are you underestimating me?”
Trust Phoebe to turn concern into a challenge. “No, but I’ll spare a couple of wolves to go with you.”
She drew her cloak tighter as the wind clawed at her skin. Woodsmoke lingered on the air. “I’ll call the wolves, torch the armoury, then go for Kaixo.”
“Use this.” Phoebe pulled a strip of oil-soaked cloth from her pouch and handed it over. “Fight to kill. And don’t take unnecessary risks.”
The gave her a pointed look, and Alena’s hand tightened around the cloth. Her unnecessary risks had saved lives before.
“How long can you hold the wolves?” Phoebe asked.
“I don’t know.” This would be the truest measure of her power yet. “If the magic frays, I’ll release them before they turn on us.”
Phoebe nodded. “I’ll get that gate open. Once the horses bolt, we won’t have much time. The noise will draw attention.”
Alena scanned the camp again, thoughts racing. “With so few guards, the slaves will riot. We’ll head back for Leywani and San in the chaos.”
Phoebe stilled, her mouth tightening. “Listen, Alena—”
“No.” The word rang like steel. “I know what you’re going to say, but we’re not leaving them. Kaixo needs his mother. And if that wretched healer still refuses to help…” Her voice dropped, dangerous. “I’ll drag him back myself. Or take his Gift.”
The thought tempted her. If she had a healing Gift, no one she loved would suffer again.
Phoebe shook her head. “Don’t risk it. Depending on the deity, you could waste all your magic breaking their pact. They won’t all be as forthcoming as the Huntress. Rasennan gods will resist you.”
Alena huffed a breath, grounding herself in the sting of cold. “Fine. Then let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
Phoebe raised an eyebrow at her tone, then unsheathed her sword with a soft metallic hiss.
Apollo emerged from the darkness and joined Alena’s side, his presence steadying her.
She closed her eyes, reaching outwards. At her summons, the wolves answered—shapes slinking through the night, slipping past the stakewall like water through a sieve.
On her command, they split: two to the watchtower, two to the quarry entrance, half a dozen to circling the armoury. The rest she sent for the stables, a swarm of shadows converging on prey.
When Alena opened her eyes, Phoebe was gone.
Typical. The never waited for permission.
Alena slipped from hiding, keeping low. The camp was still, silence pressing hard against her ears. No guards in sight.
Alena darted towards the armoury tent, her boots muffled against the packed earth. She crouched, pressing the oil-soaked cloth against the corner of the goat-skin wall.
Straightening, she stole across the open yard to the nearest torch, its flame flickering at the entrance of the stone barracks.
Her hand closed around the haft. Behind her, wolves slipped into the stables like shadows.
A jolt ran through the tether in her chest. Hooves pounded.
Wood splintered. The horses had begun to panic.
Alena sprinted back to the armoury, heart hammering. She touched the flame to the cloth.
It caught instantly.
Heat licked her face as she backed away.
From the dark, half a dozen wolves slunk beside her, circling the flames with bared fangs, eyes gleaming in the firelight.
Alena allowed herself a grim smile. Anyone who tried to put out the fire would lose a hand. Or worse.
She turned and sprinted into the darkness, Apollo streaking beside her, paws silent on the frozen earth.
The stone house loomed ahead, ivy curling over its weather-worn walls, half-concealing the open wooden doors.
She pressed herself to the cold stone, heart hammering against her ribs, and edged towards the nearest window.
Inside, torchlight flickered across two long wooden tables. A dozen soldiers sat laughing and eating, knives in hand, steam rising from their plates. Two slaves moved among them, heads bowed, pouring wine from clay jars, their movements rigid with fear.
Alena pressed closer to the wall, breath shallow. Through her bond, she urged the wolves waiting in the stables to growl.
Moments later, sharp whinnies and shrieks tore through the night.
The soldiers froze mid-bite, heads snapping towards the noise.
One man pushed back from the table, reaching for his sword. “What was that?”
“The horses!” another shouted. Chaos erupted as chairs scraped and men leapt to their feet. Shouts and hurried footsteps thundered towards the door.
Alena held still, cloaked in shadow. She counted as they left—nine, ten, eleven. Only the slaves remained, along with two soldiers focused on something in the far corner of the room, just out of sight.
Apollo growled low, the sound vibrating through her bones.
Her grip tightened around the hilt of her sword. A beat passed. “Let’s go.”
On the far end of camp, firelight flickered against the canvas tents, painting the world molten orange. Screams and sharp orders rang out. The soldiers would be busy for a while.
Alena crossed the threshold with Apollo in tow, his sleek form a shadow of menace.
The two remaining soldiers hadn’t noticed them yet—one leaned against the table, back turned, shoulders shaking with laughter, while the other lounged in a chair, balancing on its rear legs as he said something crude.
The two slave girls spotted Alena first. Their eyes widened.
She raised a finger to her lips, signalling for silence. They froze, then nodded, moving barefoot across the packed earth.
As one passed, Alena caught her arm and whispered in the Freefolk tongue, “Go back to your barracks. Tell the others to stay inside.”
The girl gave a shaky nod and fled into the dark, her companion close behind.
Apollo prowled ahead, muscles taut beneath his fur, body low and silent. Alena mirrored him, sword in hand. Still, the soldiers didn’t notice, too busy jeering at something in the corner, their cruel laughter echoing off the walls.
Alena crept closer, blade raised—and froze.
A chained figure slumped against the far wall, his face barely recognisable beneath bruises and blood.
Her heart lurched.
Kaixo.