Page 42 of Fated to the Damned
For a moment I see only red, fiery rage flooding every sense. How can they bar me from trying to save Jessa's life? She'll be slaughtered!
I rein myself in sharply, though my entire body trembles with the effort. I cannot argue without making things immeasurably worse for her.
Jaw clenched near breaking point, I give Brinda the barest inclination of my head in forced acceptance. Then I turn on my heel and stalk from the Council's presence before my tenuous restraint shatters completely.
Their foolish decree may have just condemned Jessa to a horrific death at the hands of the dark elves. And the blinding fear of never seeing her defiant smile or hearing her teasing laugh again threatens to engulf what little hope remains in my heart.
Especially because I have finally come to terms with something I should have recognized instantly…
And now I might not get the chance to tell her.
23
JESSA
“That’s it.” The scout stops suddenly, pointing through the thick trees blocking out the moonlight.
Squinting, I follow his finger and barely make out the glimmering firelight in the distance. “So what do I…” I turn to see the scout already walking away, not listening to me. “Do now?”
I huff, pushing a stray hair out of my face as I assess the situation. I have two knives on me that I pestered out of the silent scout. I think if he didn’t hand them over, he might have considered slitting my throat with one of them.
“Are you going to help me?” I ask to the air and the wind breezes through my hair. Vines lift to brush my face, and I blow out a breath. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I slip through the dark trees toward the flickering firelight, letting the stealth skills learned in my youth rise to the surface. Always avoid being seen and heard. Move silently, blend with shadows. Wait and watch.
Pausing at the edge of the clearing, I peer between the bushes at the sprawling encampment before me. Dark elf sentries with spears and swords pace the perimeter, while shadowed forms move about scores of tents and wagons.
I study their patterns, watching for any gap in attention. There – a sentry passes and I melt from the brush, quiet as the wind. I skirt along the backside of a large tent, senses hyperaware.
Rough, guttural voices drift from within, speaking but too muffled for me to understand. Coarse laughter follows and I quicken my pace.
Sliding behind a supply wagon, I spot a slit in the back of the next tent – my way inside. I wait for a breath, muscles coiled, then dart through.
Inside I find stacks of wooden crates and barrels. Voices approach from the front and I wedge myself behind the cargo, barely breathing.
Two elves enter, griping in their harsh tongue. One gestures angrily as the other snaps back. I pick out the words "patrol...waste...rather drink and fuck whores..."
They take no notice of me as I slip out the back once more. I'm so close to the intelligence I need. I won't fail now.
Keeping to the shadows, I creep on silent feet towards the center of the sprawling camp. Snatches of guttural conversation reach me as I pass, none proving useful – until a rumbling voice makes me freeze in my tracks.
"...those vrakken fools won't know what hit them."
Pulse racing, I slide up to the thick canvas wall of a large command tent, peering through a slit between the flaps. Inside, a hulking dark elf officer stands over a table strewn with maps, barking orders at subordinates.
"We strike swift and hard, moving under cover of night just before dawn."
I listen intently over the hammering of my heart as he points out locations on the map with a gnarled finger, detailing numbers and strategies for a surprise attack.
“When should I ready the men?” another dark elf asks.
“We’ll strike in four days’ time, just after sunrise. These bastards hate the bright light.”
As the officer rolls up the maps, I slink back into the shadows, mind racing wildly. There’s an attack coming. Which means I have to get back and now.
But as I start my way back through the camp, I keep having to duck into the shadows. More dark elves are moving about now, forcing me to sit still as they all walk past, and fear starts to pour into my veins as I try to figure out how I’m going to get out of here. Can I sneak out the way I entered? Or will I be unable to find a hole in their patrol again?
Either way, I cannot allow the vrakken to be caught blindsided by slaughter. Too many lives now depend on the precious information I possess. And the idea of something happening to Nikolai makes my chest squeeze so tight that I feel like I can’t breathe.