Daughter of the Sword

14 || The Front Lines

I'M NOT READY. I'M not ready.

Am I going to die?

One step at a time.

It takes less than a day to ride through the mountain pass, blown through by Lyria years ago in their expansion. My body aches from the ride on horseback, clad in armour with my hair up and hidden in my helmet, my body masked beneath armour. It easily weighs half of my body; why had they never trained me in it?

I sit in the corner of the command tent, head down, doing my best to become invisible. Not far away, Luke perches over the command table, barking orders at the other lords gathered. He had said I wasn't ready to train further, that my arrogance was getting the best of me. And yet they're preparing to throw me into combat?

Nausea roils in my stomach, and I focus on deep breaths through my nose, holding it in my chest before letting it out slowly. If I lose my cool, my powers could lash out. I could hurt someone. I could expose myself. But I don't know how much longer I can keep so tight a leash on them, either. Through the roaring in my ears, the voices of the lords prick and prod at me.

"Where is Cassian now?" one of them asks. "He's not leading the charge."

"He didn't need to. Their army cleaved a hole in our left flank and plunged right in. That was Lord Ornell's company. Where is he now, to explain himself?"

"Dead," Luke says. "He was slain in minutes."

"Incompetent bastard," another mutters. "We cannot trust an army without centralized training."

"So you would have us relinquish control of our own men?" another asks.

"Enough," Luke says, his voice towering over the others. He sounds so regal, almost like a prince, able to command a room in one word. The General trained him well. "Our lines are haemorrhaging. If we cannot stop the bleeding, they will breach the mountain. We could lose everything gained in the past decade."

"You were still a boy a decade ago," one of them barks. "Do not speak to me like an inferior."

"As hand to the Master of War, I do outrank you," Luke says. "Now. Do we know how they have their Champion with them?"

"There is no way they could have attacked us along those hills without him. That's why we camped there, with our backs to them. They are unpenetrable. Unless one is assisted by magic."

I feel them glance my way, and sink deeper into my seat.

"Has he used his powers on our army?"

"Not yet. We suspect he is waiting."

"On what?"

"Our own Champion. He will not expose himself first."

"How long will that last?"

"As long as their army keeps making headway like this, I suspect. He is biding his time because he can. But he could just as easily wipe out hundreds with the flick of a wrist, if the spies have reported accurately."

Luke swears under his breath. "That kind of power... He's playing a long game. I want to know what it is."

"And the girl?" the lord who snapped at Luke asks.

"If their Champion decides to strike with magic, she will draw him away. If not, we'll keep her back, out of the fighting."

"We risk the powers like that? On a battle like this?"

"If we cannot salvage this battle, there will not be another to save them for. Lord Haron, are the explosives in place?"

"My men set them in this morning. Tomorrow afternoon, once our forces are back through, we will blow the north face clean off. Good luck using magic to get through that."