BOOK 2

  CHAPTER 11

  Plans

  The morning air was crisp as Bash made his rounds along the wall.

  Two guards stood at the eastern gate, both Beastmasters with wolves curled at their feet. Bash had seen them before, spoken to them even, but their names escaped him.

  “Morning,” Bash said, stopping beside them.

  “Lord Bash.” The tall one dipped his head. “Quiet night after your raid.”

  “Good. That was the idea.” Bash studied his face, searching for something familiar. Brown beard. Gap between his front teeth. “You’re... Marcus, right?”

  The man blinked, then grinned. “That’s right, my Lord” he seemed genuinely pleased that Bash had remembered this time. “And, this is Oren.” He gestured to the short one.

  Oren gave a small wave. “We heard about the raid. Nearly 50 kills? Wish I could’ve been there.”

  “You’ll get your chance soon enough.” Bash moved on, stopping at two more posts, forcing himself to learn names. Tomas and Erik were at the northern gate, and Silas was at the watchtower. Small interactions, brief conversations, but each one mattered.

  By the time he reached the medical tent, the sun had fully risen. The tent was quieter than it had been the night before, with fewer beds occupied. Bash pushed through the entrance and let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light.

  Daniel was awake, propped up against a pile of blankets. The Beastmaster looked pale and diminished, but his eyes were clear. And a few beds down, the young werewolf from the night before lay face down in human form. The bandages that wrapped his torso and back were surprisingly white and clean.

  And in the far corner, bent over a table of supplies with her back to the room, was Nora.

  She didn’t turn when he entered. Didn’t acknowledge him at all. Even so, Bash could feel her awareness of him like heat from a fire. Something to deal with later.

  “Daniel.” Bash pulled a stool over to the Beastmaster’s bedside. “How are you feeling?”

  Daniel gave a hollow laugh, then a cough. “Like someone cut off my leg.” His expression softened. “But I’m still here.”

  “The healers mentioned physical therapy,” Bash said. “Getting you mobile again.”

  Daniel nodded towards the corner. “Yes, they have crutches for me.” It took him a few minutes to get upright. Bash helped him, one hand under his arm, steadying him as he found his balance on the crutches. The first few steps were brutal. Bash could see it in the white-knuckle grip on the wooden handles, the sweat beading on Daniel’s forehead.

  But he moved. One step, then another, then another.

  They made it across the tent and back. Once, Twice. Bash stayed at his side the whole time, ready to catch him if he fell, offering quiet encouragement when Daniel’s strength flagged.

  Nearly half an hour passed before Daniel finally collapsed back onto his bed, chest heaving. “Enough,” he gasped. “I’m done.”

  “You did good. Really good.”

  Daniel just closed his eyes and waved him off.

  Bash visited with the werewolf next, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Damon, sir.” The younger werewolf replied.

  “Cool name. And how are you healing?”

  “Fast. Should be back in the fight soon.” A hint of pride crossed his face.

  Bash studied the kid, trying to reconcile the image of this skinny teenager with the wolf who had torn out throats beside him in the darkness. Fourteen years old, maybe fifteen. In another world, this kid would be worrying about school and girls and whether his parents would let him stay out late.

  Here, he was a killer. Four confirmed kills in one night. And he’d nearly died for it.

  Bash wanted to apologize for bringing someone so young into that kind of danger. But the words wouldn’t come, because Damon wasn’t looking at him like a victim. He was looking at him like a soldier. Proud. Ready to do it again.

  This world didn’t care about age or innocence. It ground everyone down equally, and the only choice was to fight or die. Damon had chosen to fight. He deserved respect for that, even if the necessity of it sat like a stone in Bash’s gut.

  “You did well,” Bash finally said. “Really well.”

  The kid nearly glowed from the praise. “Thanks, Sir.”

  Bash left Damon and walked towards the supply table. Nora was still working, still not looking at him. As he took a step in her direction, she spoke without turning around. “Bed four needs new sheets.” It wasn’t a request.

  Bash changed the sheets. Or tried to. The fitted sheet kept popping off the corners, and he couldn’t figure out the proper way to fold the top sheet so it didn’t look like a crumpled mess.

  “Lord Bash.” Lucille appeared beside him, the young nurse from the night Patrick died. “I can help with that.”

  “Please.” Bash stepped back and spread the sheet out flat, grateful for the rescue.

  They worked together in silence, moving around opposite sides of the bed. Lucille’s hands moved with practiced efficiency while Bash fumbled through the motions. Every time he looked up, she was glancing at him, then quickly looking away.

  When they finished, Bash compared his side to hers. Her corners were crisp, tight, perfectly tucked. His looked like a drunk had attempted origami. “Thanks,” he said. “Clearly, I need more practice.”

  Lucille opened her mouth to respond, cheeks already flushing pink, when someone cleared their throat behind her.

  Nora stood there with her arms crossed, expression flat.

  Lucille’s mouth snapped shut. She turned and hurried away without another word.

  Bash watched her go, bemused.

  “Walk with me,” Nora commanded, before walking away, not waiting for a reply.

  Bash followed. They walked in silence past the training yard, past the half-constructed stone walls. Bash kept waiting for the accusation, the lecture, the slap.

  Four minutes passed. Five. Nora’s pace didn’t slow.

  Finally, near the edge of the village where the trees began to thicken, she stopped and turned to face him.

  Bash braced himself.

  Nora’s jaw worked. Her hands clenched at her sides. She looked like she was trying to chew broken glass. “I’m sorry.” The words came out like they hurt.

  Bash stared at her. “What?”

  “I hit you. For being who you are.” Her voice was strained, each word forced out individually. “And then demanded you change. That was wrong.”

  “Nora...” Bash started but was cut off.

  “I said what I came to say.” She crossed her arms tighter, like she was holding herself together. “That’s it.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Bash raised both hands slowly. “Can I respond?”

  She glared at him. But she didn’t say anything more. Bash stared, “Okay. First off, this is incredibly awkward.”

  The glare intensified.

  “Because you haven’t done anything wrong.” He added quickly. “The slap was deserved. I could have spent points on Constitution. Instead, I made a joke about it while you were covered in blood. That was an asshole move.”

  Something flickered across Nora’s face. Not quite agreement, but close.

  “And you are right, I am terrible at everything.” Bash continued staring at the ground. “Without Patrick, I’m just…. Lost, I guess. He was so much better at this stuff than me.”

  Nora was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly: “Yes. He was.”

  Bash looked up at her. Her expression hadn’t changed. Still grim. Still hard. But something in her eyes had shifted. “Wow.” Bash shook his head, forcing amusement into his voice. “You really suck at apologies.”

  Nora blinked. “What?”

  “You apologize, but immediately agree that I suck. That’s cold, Nora.”

  Her face did something complicated. Her mouth twitched, fighting against itself. Then, deadpan: “Well. I was only agreeing with you.”

  They stood there for a moment, some of the tension draining away. The trees rustled overhead.

  “So,” Bash said, trying to be haughty. “Luis?”

  Nora’s expression immediately went back to being guarded. “What about him?”

  “Just wondering. Is he, you know...” Bash kept his voice carefully casual. “Good at things. You know. Relationship things.” He paused. “Because I figured it was either a skill thing or a size thing.”

  Nora made a sound. Not quite a laugh. More like air escaping against her will, a disbelieving snort that seemed to surprise her as much as him.

  “If you must know,” she said, her voice deadpan despite the snort, “he’s terrible.”

  Bash laughed. A real laugh, bubbling up from somewhere he’d forgotten existed. “I knew it!”

  Nora’s expression remained grim, but something had loosened in her posture. She shook her head slowly, looking at him like she couldn’t quite believe he existed.

  “Thank you, Bash. For being you. Even when it’s annoying.” She paused. “We need that.”

  Bash didn’t know what to say. So, he just nodded.

  The moment died as running footsteps approached them. A young Beastmaster came sprinting toward them, yelling. “Lord Bash! The enemy is moving faster. They’ll be here in four hours.”

  Bash looked at Nora. She stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Brief, fierce. “Go,” she said, stepping back. Her expression had hardened back to stone. “And don’t die.” She was already moving toward the village before he could reply. No goodbye. No lingering look. Just Nora.

  “I’ll do my best,” Bash said under his breath.

  As Bash was halfway back to the village hall, he nearly collided with Luis.

  “Bash!” Luis skidded to a stop. “Where the hell have you been? Everyone’s gathered waiting for you!”

  They reached the square together. Chaos. Beastmasters checking weapons, strapping on armor, wolves pacing nervously between legs. Bash spotted a supply crate near the center and climbed onto it, Luis taking position next to him.

  “Listen up!” he shouted over the noise.

  The chaos subsided, as heads turned toward him.

  “I’m not giving some big speech. You’ve heard enough of those. ‘Hold the line, fight for your brothers, victory or death.’” He shrugged. “It’s all cliché.”

  A few nervous laughs.

  Bash continued, “But they are clichés because they’re true. Trust the plan. Trust each other.”

  He found Jason in the crowd, yellow eyes gleaming among his pack. “And make them bleed.”

  The werewolves howled, and then the Beastmasters followed, taking up the cry. The sound rolled across the village like thunder.

  Bash let it wash over him for a moment, then jumped down and gripped Luis by the shoulder. “You’re leading the vanguard, are you ready?”

  Luis’s face went pale. “Yes?” The reply more a question.

  Bash held his gaze. “You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

  Luis swallowed hard, then saluted. “Yes, sir!”

  A day ago, Bash would have thought the younger man joking, but now he wasn’t so sure. Bash clapped him on the back and headed for the hall.

  Jack was waiting inside with a handful of others. The older Beastmaster tried to stand when Bash entered. “Stay seated. Please.”

  Hesitating, Jack lowered himself back down. He looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes deeper than before. “Good timing.” He said, pointing at the map. “We’re starting the plan. Defensive line here, fallback here, reserves here.”

  “What about the rockslides?” Bash asked.

  Garrett spoke up then, “We positioned boulders along the ridge all night. A hundred tons of rock, balanced and waiting.” He traced a line on the map. “But we don’t have a trigger mechanism for the largest one. There wasn’t enough time to finish the rigging.”

  Bash studied the map. The ridge Garrett pointed to overlooked the narrow pass the enemy would have to march through. “Take me there, I can trigger it.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. Studied him for a long moment. Then nodded and gestured to Garrett. “Take him.”

  Bash and Garrett moved quickly through the village and out the gate, the sounds of preparation fading behind them. As they crossed open ground toward the base of the ridge, several of the werewolves ran with them, only turning back once the terrain grew rougher.

  They climbed, the scrub brush giving way to bare stone, and the path narrowing until it wasn’t really a path at all.

  Lilly intercepted them halfway up, swooping down to land on Bash’s shoulder. She was missing a few feathers on her left wing, and her whole body was trembling. “Lilly. What happened?”

  “Someone tried to trap me with those walls of air.” Her voice was shaky. “But I’m too fast.”

  Bash’s jaw tightened. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” She ruffled her feathers, trying to look brave.

  “Lilly, you did good work the last two days, really good work.”

  She puffed up slightly at the praise, some of the trembling subsiding.

  “Now go back to the village and stay there.” Bash’s voice has turned deadly serious. “It’s only going to get more dangerous.”

  “But I can fight! I have talons!” She flexed them. “I can peck eyes out!”

  Bash paused, thinking. Direct orders weren’t going to work on her. He needed a different approach.

  “Lilly.” He spoke slowly. “I need you to protect Jack.”

  She tilted her head. “What?”

  “Jack’s still injured. If something goes wrong at the village, he might get hurt even more.” Bash kept his voice serious. “You’re the only one I can count on to watch over him and keep him safe.”

  Lilly’s eyes narrowed. She stared at him for a long moment, and Bash could practically see the gears turning in her tiny bird skull. She knew exactly what he was doing. “Fine!” She launched off the boulder with an indignant flap.

  Bash watched her go. “Damn tweens.” He muttered.

  “She’s... spirited,” Garrett offered.

  “That’s one word for it.”

  Turning, the two men continued their climb.

  Reaching the top of the ridge, they found three Beastmasters crouched behind a rocky outcropping. Their faces were grim.

  “Lord Bash.” The oldest of them, a weathered man, stood to greet him. “We have a problem.”

  “We triggered the smaller ones.” The other gestured down at the pass below. “Didn’t do a damn thing.”

  Bash moved to the edge and looked down.

  The enemy army stretched through the pass like a river of steel and flesh. One thousand soldiers. Pikemen. Archers. Light infantry at the front, cavalry and supply wagons at the rear. Banners proclaiming ‘Maximus’ snapped in the wind.

  And further down the pass, he could see the debris. Piles of rock that should have blocked the pass for hours if not days, shoved to the sides like they were nothing.

  “They have magic,” Another one of the Beastmaster added. “They cleared the rockfall in minutes. Barely slowed them down.”

  Bash watched a robed figure near the front of the column gesture casually. A boulder the size of a cart rolled aside on its own, clearing the path.

  “At this rate,” Garrett said quietly, “they’ll reach the village even sooner than we thought.”

  “What about the big one?” Bash asked.

  Garrett shook his head. “Like I said, we can’t get rigged. The supports are too deep.”

  “Show me.”

  They led him along the ridge to a massive formation of boulders, some as large as houses, balanced precariously on the edge. Below it, the pass narrowed to its tightest point. If this came down at the right moment, it would bury half the army and block the pass completely.

  “The problem is here.” Garrett pointed to a cluster of support stones buried in the rock face. “We can’t get enough leverage and the equipment we have isn’t cutting it.”

  Bash activated Investigator. The world shifted. Colors drained, replaced by glowing lines. Stress fractures. Weight distributions. The support points lit up red.

  He slowly scanned the terrain. Nothing stood out, he slowly walked the area looking from different angles. There was something, maybe. A thin fault line, barely visible, was running through the bedrock, connecting all the supports.

  “Shai,” Bash whispered. “You there?”

  Nothing. “Shai?” He called louder.

  She materialized beside him, flickering slightly, her form less solid than usual. And close. Much closer than she normally appeared.

  “I’m here.” Her voice was strained. “But I can’t go far from you right now. One of their fire mages spotted me and launched a fireball. It actually hurt.” She grimaced. “I’ll recover eventually. Just don’t ask me to scout anytime soon.”

  Something cold twisted in Bash’s chest. Shai could get hurt. He’d known that, theoretically, but seeing her flickering like a bad signal, hearing the strain in her voice...

  He should stop. Ask her what she needed. Make sure she was really okay. But the army was marching. The slides had failed. Thousands of soldiers were hours away from slaughtering everyone he cared about.

  “Are you well enough to run some calculations?”

  The words came out before he could stop them. Tactical. Focused. Cold.

  Shai’s expression flickered along with her form. Something passed through her eyes, disappointment maybe, or resignation, before she smoothed it away.

  “Yes, Bash.” Her voice was flat. Professional. The warmth from earlier gone.

  Bash told himself he’d check on her properly later. When this was over. When there was time. He turned and pointed at the fault line. “See this here, Shai? It connects to all three support points. Do you think a strike would work?”

  A pause as her eyes scanned the area. “A strike would trigger simultaneous failure. Approximately 84% chance of success.”

  Bash grinned. “I’ll take those odds any day.” He then turned to Garrett and the others. “Get back to the village. I’m going to trigger this slide, then climb down to the back.” He studied the army below, mapping his route. “Once the rockfall splits them, I push forward through the trapped forces. Kill as many as I can.”

  “Alone?” The Beastmasters exchanged uneasy glances.

  “It’s all part of the plan.” Bash lied. “The werewolves will cover me.”

  Garrett didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “We’ll tell Jack the plan.” Putting an emphasis on the last word.

  “Do that.” Bash said, not caring that he was just called on his bullshit.

  The Beastmasters began the climb down. Garrett lingered, holding his gaze, before he too nodded and followed the others down.

  Bash settled into position, eyes fixed on the fault line below. The army continued its march, banners snapping, armor glinting in the afternoon sun.

  Bash glanced over at Shai. “Thanks for helping. Even though you’re hurt.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “That’s what family’s for.”

  “Was that sarcastic?”

  “I don’t know, Bash. Was it?” She blinked out before he could respond.

  Bash stared at the empty space where she’d been. He would make it up to her later. When there was time.

  There was never enough time.

  He turned back to the pass, watching the army inch closer to the kill zone, flexed his fingers, and waited.