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Inside, fires burned flags and tapestries. What was once intricate, beautiful pieces of furniture were scattered pieces of splintered wood across the halls. Even under pure destruction, this place was a work of art.
Growls reverberated around the stones, and I had to pause to figure out where the sounds were coming from. I was ashamed to say that one of the children yanked on my pant leg.
“That way!” She shouted, then took off.
“Shit!” I started running after her, hoping the LL was on my heels. I couldn’t keep all the children safe on my own, and most certainly not if she was rushing headfirst in front of the adults.
Our clambering footsteps echoed over the growls as our group followed the little girl. She disappeared into a room with wide double arched doors. I slid in behind. How the hell my boots were able to slide over stone floors, I had no idea. But they did.
The crowd behind me must not have realized I was stopping, because Sage and Rand knocked me over—right into the arms of a snarling shirtless man.
He steadied me, then set me aside as he continued circling a Manno in that gray black uniform. His light brown hair was streaked with old blood, as fresh blood trickled from a gash across his back.
Snarls ripped from the man’s throat as a few men who were standing along the wall started stripping out of their clothes. Like most all the other Fennin I’d met so far, these men were no exception to the stark beauty.
Each man growled low in his throat, flexing their arms and pecs, joining the main man in circling the Manno. They were a pack, well-coordinated and in perfect sync as if they’d done this a million times.
The children with animal companions started doing their own growls and pacing back and forth along the wall. They were trained to stay out of the fight, but the adrenaline from the battle and pheromones permeating the air were too much for them to sit still. It was like they were acting on their base instincts.
The Manno sneered but it wasn’t nearly as impressive as the Caen members.
“Give it up, Rultshart,” the main man growled. “You’re out numbered and out matched.”
“I may be out numbered, but Mannos are never out matched.”
Yeah, that man hadn’t seen us arrive. Otherwise, he might think differently. If he happened to look my way, the mark on my face would hopefully incite a little fear without prompting me to make an idiot of myself.
The leader, who I had suspicions was Toste, canted his head and listened to something I couldn’t hear. “You’ve lost the fight. Your friends on the field have been defeated. Are you still willing to die on this hill?”
“Lies,” the Manno spat, but he was struggling with holding his composure. He tilted his head to the side, then screamed his rage. Was he listening to something too?
Toste, pretty sure he was Toste, glanced at us, his gaze catching on my mark, and he grinned, all sharp canines. “It seems we have friends who have come to join our fight. Would you like to meet one of them?”
The Caen warrior beside Toste stepped forward, spun the Manno around with harsh movements and pushed him toward us. Light flared in his palms as he faced us.
In two steps, Rand stood in front of me and used his own power to bind the man. The stone floor cracked and grated as it formed around his feet. He lost his balance, falling to his palms, which were suddenly encased in stone as well.
The man screamed and yelled as he tried to free himself, but ended up looking like a cat trying to wretch up a hairball. That, or maybe a man trying out horse play without a safe word. Not a very fierce picture.
“That was anti-climatic,” one of the Caen men said on a frown. “And very unsatisfying. I’ve waited to tear his heart out. Now, his death wouldn’t carry the same victory.”
Each of the Caen men were haggard with dark circles under their eyes and bruises and cuts peppering their skin. With the threat currently a non-issue, they seemed to deflate, losing some of their ferocious presence.
“You won’t keep me for long! The Fiasla Realm will be your new leaders! You wait and see—”
Toste’s foot shot out and hit the Manno right on the temple, and he slumped down in an awkward downward dog. Ouch, he’d hurt like a mother fucker once he was able to get up.
“I couldn’t listen to that a second longer,” Toste sighed, then grinned at his companions. “And I disagree, it was very satisfying.”
They laughed like they’d had the time of their lives the last few days. Then they sobered as they turned back to us.
Toste’s expression went from masculine exuberance over a bloody win, to the grim frown of someone before they delivered terrible news.
It suddenly dawned on me, he had no idea who we were. With the dragon’s aid, we would have beat Wade here. That couldn’t be good. That couldn’t be good at all.
Especially when Yunez was who knew where.
What I did know, was that Toste wasn’t looking at us as if we were friends. He was staring at us like we were an inconvenience that had conveniently saved their asses.
