Page 248 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT
Once we had finalized all of the arrangements, we slipped away under the cover of moonlight. Five distinct shadows cutting through the countryside to rally our secret army. After years of avoiding theBesklanovvy, or forcing them into this fate, I was now trusting them, not only with my life, but my lemmikki’s, as well.
Andrei came with us, of course, stepping into the role of Rowan’s second-in-command, along with two others—Artem and Dima—neither of whom I had been responsible for personally branding, at least.
We left behind anything that might betray our identities. Instead of carrying my sabers, I opted for my dirk; instead of a uniform, a nondescript set of trousers and a worn tunic. We even chose to travel with pack mules instead of the warhorses my stables were known for—something I deeply regretted when it slowed us down so much.
Nothing could link us back to the estate, though, not if we wanted to go unnoticed—either by Iiro, or any spies he might have left behind.
For weeks, we traveled through the hills and valleys of the countryside, following the rivers and unseen trails rather than the known roads.
It was an interesting look into how the Unclanned traveled, how they moved without really being seen, as well as how their communities actually worked.
When they thought we belonged to them, they easily made themselves known, falling short only if one of them recognized me or fell prey to the superstitions Socairans held against my wife’s scarlet hair.
Whenever that happened, Andrei would easily step in, quickly explaining our purpose before letting Rowan take over.
Every day nearly mirrored the one before when we found a new camp, sometimes two or three, and my wife convinced them not only to join our cause, but to swear fealty to her.
Her words were like seeds, and I watched as each one took root. Again and again, she offered them the same promise, her voice like a beacon of hope for them as she spoke of a life of acceptance and community, a future they thought they’d lost.
She did so not as a Clan Wife, but as a Princess of Lochlann.
It was both impressive to watch, as well as infuriating—if for no other reason than because of the way she so thoroughly separated herself from me. Though, I couldn’t deny that it was an effective strategy.
Between her speeches, Andrei’s stoic presence, Dima and Artem’s testimonies, and apparently, even my silent show of support, nearly all of theBesklanovvyfell to their knees and vowed to stand by her side in the coming battle.
When we weren’t rallying new soldiers or eking out a few hours of sleep, we were testing the limits of my lemmikki’s fae magic.
Entranced, I watched as she showed me what she had learned to do.
The black gemstones embedded into her armor glowed faintly as she focused her energy on the cloud above us. The longer she concentrated, the darker the cloud became, shifting from a transparent haze that blocked the stars to a small, dense storm.
Sweat beaded on her forehead just before the first drops of rain fell.
As soon as she released it, I crossed the distance between us, wrapping a hand around her back to pull her close before pressing my lips to hers.
Once again, I was reminded of the last battle and the lightning she called from the sky, and once again I was in awe of everything she was.
Then, my more practical side took over, and I fired questions at her like a volley of arrows:Which muscles were affected by the strain? Where did you focus before the rain came? How much farther do you think you can push yourself? And how long does it take to build the energy back up?
Every night, we trained with the same relentless precision I demanded of my soldiers. Whatever it was that gave her this ability was like any other muscle. With the proper exercises, it could be strengthened and honed until this was yet another weapon in her arsenal.
The magnitude of what we were accomplishing wasn’t lost on me. The way we were quietly gathering an army of forgotten soldiers forged by a princess who could wield storms like swords.
But I was still plagued by the reality that it might not be enough.
Our efforts with theBesklanovvydidn’t end when we returned to the estate. Word of what we were doing had spread among the bands, and more were hoping to join my wife’s growing army.
If not as soldiers, then to lend their skills wherever they could—as farmers, weapons makers, craftsmen—all of them eager to rejoin a community and use their trades to support the Scarlet Princess.
Between delegating workloads and sending out the promised food and supplies to the Unclanned, we also had war council meetings and rebuilding efforts to attend to.
Many of the local villages that we’d razed to the ground before the battle were still too afraid to return, but those who did were offered temporary lodgings and work within or around the estate.
Each night was spent pouring over logs and missives and maps, as well as coming up with strategies for the next day, and the one after, for the war in general.
My study was becoming more cluttered by the day, somewhat by necessity, but also somewhat because of its co-occupant.