Page 75 of Shadow Master
I followed, my mind reeling with the possibility. Death and war went hand in hand. But killing in defense and murder were two different things.
We rounded the forge and entered camp to a buzz of nervous excitement. I caught sight of Aidan.
He raised a hand to hail us. “Indigo, over here.” He ran toward the ruins and the rise of rubble.
I followed with Hyde close behind. We clambered up to the top, and a poignant feeling of déjà vu washed over me. A sea of darkness approached us.
“They’re here,” Hyde said softly. “The fomorian army is here.”
Twenty-Four
Tents spanned the length of sector two as far as the eye could see. The fomorians had refused housing in the barracks, preferring to camp outside alongside us. It was strange how easily they’d made themselves at home, slotting alongside us and swallowing our small numbers with their larger ones in an act that could have been construed as aggressive but felt … safe.
I’d expected some friction, some butting of heads, maybe fear from my people. But there’d been no resistance. The cadets knew what had to be done. We knew these were allies, and the fact that our lead troop, headed by Lloyd, was so quick to shake hands and pat backs with the fomorians made it easier on everyone else.
They’d been with us less than two hours, and it felt like they’d been here forever.
Firelight lit the night as the army feasted. More cooking pits were set up, and the clink and clank of weapons being sharpened was a symphony to the night air. Yeah, this was a proper army base.
I caught sight of Orion to my far left, talking to a hulking, bearded fomorian wearing burgundy leather armor. A militia leader. I’d figured out the color of the different ranks in the militia. Burgundy were the leaders, then there was black, which were second-in-command, and the rest wore a dull gray color.
Balan approached in his burgundy leather armor with Harmon a step behind. My friend was garbed in black leather, his hair pulled back off his face. My stomach fluttered as I raked him over. The armor fit like a second skin, accentuating his muscular frame and turning him into a force to be reckoned with. Turning him into a warrior.
Balan noted my attention. “My second was killed when the fir bolg attacked our camp a while back. I recruited Harmon to take his place.”
Harmon bared his teeth. “And I gladly accepted.”
A pang of anxiety shot through me. It was the instinct to protect what I considered my own, but Harmon was kickass, and he was his own man.
“You made a good choice, Balan.” I grinned up at Harmon. “And you look fucking awesome.”
He canted his head. “Is that it? Is that all I’m going to get.”
My stomach did a slow-burn flip. I stepped up to him and wrapped my arms around his torso, inhaling the scent of leather and the unmistakable aroma that was all Harmon.
I closed my eyes. “I missed you.”
He stroked the back of my head, his hand so large he was able to skim my cheek with his thumb, sending a delicious shiver through me. My core tightened with desire, and I sucked in a breath before pulling away.
Harmon’s nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened in response.
I cleared my throat and turned to Balan. “How long till Laramir attacks?”
“Two, maybe three days,” Balan said. “We should discuss strategy.”
I nodded. “First thing tomorrow, we hold a meeting with the militia leaders.”
“Agreed. I’ll pass on the message.”
“We’ll meet at the ruins at dawn.”
He nodded and headed off toward the fomorian camps.
Harmon watched him leave and then turned his attention to me. “Brady?”
“He’s back, but only at night.” I filled him in on what had happened with the weavers.
He snorted. “I say when this is over, we hunt down Gusta and make him reverse his mojo.”
