Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) (31 page)

They had thirty seconds of tense waiting. It occurred to Victory that she should remind her partner to remove any pieces of wood impaling her torso should the trees protecting them shatter. Daliana would be fine with her bulletproof vest, but Victory didn’t want an inconvenient branch to incapacitate her for too long.

“Dal—”

Both women shielded their heads and faces from explosion number three. The trees didn’t shatter, but a wave of heated air blew past them. Victory tensed for a wall of flame, much more fatal to her than a measly sliver of wood, but only a heap of tent canvas crashed to her left.

The silence in the aftermath of the blast was almost deafening. Then the screams of men flowed toward them.

Victory recovered first, launching herself to her feet and reaching down to grab Daliana’s arm. Pulling the elven woman to her feet was like hauling a bag of air.

“Our work here is done,” Victory said. “The rest of the Guild should be on their way in. Time for you to get out of here.”

“Right, let’s head out,” Daliana said. She started forward, then paused when Victory didn’t follow. “Coming?”

“Can’t.” She shooed Daliana away. “Go on, I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Like what?” Frustration leaked into Daliana’s usually imperturbable voice. “The plan’s gone to hell. We should get out while we haven’t been spotted.”

Words Asaron spent years beating into her head spilled out by rote. “No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy. Yes, we’re done with Max’s plan. Now I’ve got—”

A shout halted her mid-sentence. They dove for the forest floor again, and a crossbow bolt struck the tree trunk they’d spent far too long arguing next to.

Orienting herself, Victory dropped her sword in favor of the gun strapped behind her back. That damn sentry had returned, waving his crossbow around and screaming for them not to move. She took aim, but a bloom of red appeared at the soldier’s throat before she could press the trigger.

Lying next to her, Daliana had beaten her to the punch, not having to waste time drawing a new weapon. She traded a look with Victory. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Now get out of here before any more come. I’ll make it back fine on my own. Go find Asaron.”

She squeezed Daliana’s shoulder, then bounded to her feet. Recovering her sword and sheathing it with a snap, Victory peered through the trees. With the soldier down, the area was again deserted.

Time to head for the screams. Asaron was sure to be there, exacting his own vengeance against his former captors.

With one last look toward Daliana, who pushed herself to her feet, Victory stalked out of the comforting darkness and into the camp. She still gripped the pistol in her hand. Every inch of her body tingled with battle-awareness and a rising bloodlust. Her eyes tinged her surroundings with crimson, and her fangs almost ached with the primal urge to sink them into a Roman neck.

Victory knew her sire well. He would go straight to the top.

She would make sure that Octavian’s neck was reserved for him.

Three more explosions followed Victory’s stealthy progress across the camp. A trail of bodies also traced her meandering search pattern.

She knocked out the soldiers she took by surprise with mental commands to sleep, along with the few who surrendered at the first sight of the blood-splattered ancient warrior.

But she felt no compunction against killing those who fought back. Despite her ability to survive most mortal wounds, they still hurt. The stab wound in her right thigh and the bullet that had passed through her left shoulder did nothing to improve her mood.

She balanced on one knee, hidden in the shadows between two pavilions. Across from her stood a single tent separated from the rest. A prisoner’s tent.

A short distance away sat the center of the camp, filled with higher-quality tents and larger pavilions. Officers’ quarters, and the command center. It was a blur of activity, with soldiers, officers, and aides running back and forth coordinating the defense against Limani’s forces.

She sensed mild panic in the air. Or perhaps it was the smoke drifting through the camp. Max was giving them more of a fight than they had expected.

No sign of Asaron so far, though she had come across an officer lying dead, his throat ripped open by the jagged edges of teeth rather than a simple knife slice. However, the wolf howls and feline screams now echoing through the camp proved the werecreatures were making their own fierce appearance.

No sightings of her daughter, either. But if Kane was free, Toria was sure to be close by after days of separation from her partner. Despite the urgings of her heart to find her children and defend them, she had to trust in their proven abilities to take care of themselves.

After a quick glance around to ensure her hiding place remained undetected, she returned her attention to the center of camp. Octavian would be there, coordinating the furious activity and directing the defense. But there were too many men, and too much light, for her to take him out like she had the others.

Victory had one other option, and evidence suggested Octavian wouldn’t botch her plan. She rose to her feet, squaring her shoulders and ignoring the itch of blood drying around the scrape on her cheek. With empty hands held outstretched from her sides, she walked toward the command center.

An aide spotted her first. He called a warning to a passing soldier, who drew the longbow from his back and nocked an arrow toward her.

Halting her forward progress, Victory called out, “I request a meeting with General Octavian. I invoke the rights of Roman Article Seventeen!”

The soldier never took his eyes off her, but the aide jerked in surprise at her words and whispered in his ear. After receiving a nod, the young man bolted through the tents.

This shouldn’t take long. Assuming the soldier didn’t have itchy fingers and shoot her by accident.

She imagined it wasn’t often that enemy soldiers declared themselves members of an ancient Roman house. No wonder the kid was surprised.

Tension permeated the small tent. Toria gripped Kane’s hands in her own, stroking his palm with her thumb. The fabric of his improvised bandages brushed her bare arms, pushing her anger ever closer to the surface. Had they infiltrated the Roman camp that much more quickly than it had seemed? Worry warred with her anger, but her mind retreated from the thought that perhaps now her mother was captured, too.

“Calm, love,” Kane said, his gentle voice dragging her back from the land of maybes. “I can feel your nerves vibrating from here.”

She rested her head on his warm shoulder. “I’m okay,” she said.

In unison, Asaron and Syri said, “No, you’re not.” The two older creatures shared a small laugh at Toria’s expense.

“Thanks for the votes of confidence,” Toria said. “I’ve got—”

A flash of light and rolling wave of sound announced the awaited explosion. Toria blinked away the negative images left by the sudden change, bolting to her feet and hauling Kane up beside her. Screams erupted around their tent, officers shouting conflicting orders and soldiers damning the Limani mercenaries.

“Toria, a shield?” Asaron crouched by the tent entrance, peering out at the camp. He jerked his head in her direction when she did not respond right away. “Damn, I forgot.”

She’d explained her situation to them when they’d settled to wait, with Syri filling in her grandfather Zerandan’s thoughts on the matter. Now helplessness struck her when she couldn’t fulfill Asaron’s request. A short-term external shield was a combat mage’s standard work, and Kane had no energy for anything unnecessary to his own immediate survival.

“I’ve got it.” Syri placed a light hand on Asaron’s back, and a shimmer covered his features, making it hard to look right at him. “Be careful.”

“Stay with them,” Asaron said. Syri nodded once.

Before Toria could defend her remaining capabilities, her grandfather disappeared. He stopped long enough to strip an unsuspecting soldier of his weapons, then began his strike from within the camp.

“Time to go,” Syri said. “Think you can find that bomb again, Kane?”

“I’ve got a decent idea,” he said. Kane took the knife Toria handed him and strapped it to his belt. “Toria, have you actually tried using your powers?”

Toria knew he’d been puzzling over her situation since he learned of it. Had even felt him probing at her mind, slipping past shields that could never keep him out. Since magic came to him as easily as swords did to her, maybe he would come up with a solution soon. “Yes, more than once,” she said. “And ended up with a splitting headache each time. Syri’s grandfather says I’ve been cursed, and he knew of no way to reverse it right away. We’ve been muddling through for now.”

“Need I remind you the quick and dirty way to remove a curse?” Kane said, replacing Syri at the front of the tent and taking his own look outside.

“I’d been trying not to think about that,” Toria said. War was one thing. Fighting for your life was one thing. What Kane meant belonged to another category entirely.

Hearing her own hesitancy, Kane’s voice softened. “This is war, love. The mage is an enemy soldier. It wouldn’t be murder.”

A week ago, those words would never have come from her partner’s mouth. Events had altered him as much as they’d forced their changes on her. But he spoke the truth. Coming up with no sufficient denial, Toria said, “Let’s get out of here. Syri, you’ve got point. I’ll take up the rear.”

She prodded Kane out of the tent behind Syri. The elven girl paused long enough for a quick look around, then dashed across the path. Toria and Kane followed on her heels. Toria gripped her pistol but kept it pointed to the ground while she ran, eyeing their surroundings and ready for any possible trouble. The soldiers had cleared the area, racing toward the more immediate attack.

As they ducked between two empty tents to take stock of their next direction, a second explosion ripped through the air on the other side of the camp. Now the Romans’ attentions would be divided.

Toria took a split second to pity Octavian. The general’s carefully ordered attack plans for the morning had been destroyed, and he would be facing her mother. Then the image of his face hanging inches above hers, hands roaming her body, surfaced in her mind and all traces of sympathy disappeared. Mama would vent her fury, and the man would be lucky to bargain for his life.

“That way,” Kane said, pointing toward another corner of the camp, away from the two previous explosions. “Octavian’s two pet mages had a temporary building made to hold the bomb, and they’re camped right outside of it.”

“You can sense it?” Toria said, hoping jealousy didn’t tinge her voice.

“I can sense the absence of it,” he said. “Mages have it shielded so tight that they made the earth itself invisible to me.”

She trusted her partner on that one. Earth sense was his elemental gift, just as she could trace weather patterns within a dozen miles. “Then come on.”

The trio ducked and wove through the Roman camp in the direction Kane indicated, staying between tents and vehicles, keeping out of sight of the scurrying troops. Two more explosions shattered the night, and they passed one pocket of fighting.

“We can’t, Syri.” Toria grabbed her arm before the elven girl could start toward the fight.

“But they’re my cousins!”

The two elves fought back to back, flying blades keeping the Roman soldiers at bay. They had managed to get themselves surrounded, probably the sole reason no one risked shooting them down.

Kane grabbed her other arm when she would have taken another step forward. “We have a job to do,” he said. “The clock is ticking.”

When one of the elves let out a jubilant battle cry upon taking out a soldier, Syri stopped pulling toward them. Visibly steeling herself, she said, “Right. The mission.”

The battle cries followed them away from the fight, to be joined by howls from the werewolves. An unfamiliar scream halted them again, feral and haunting, followed by yet another explosion.

“Tersiguel,” Toria said, “or one of her pack.”

“Must be. Whoa!” Kane snatched Syri back before she could take another step. “Shield. We’re there.”

They took position by an empty tent, half-collapsed from its inhabitant’s mad dash to join the fight, and poked their heads around the side. A wide clearing surrounded a neat wooden hut and two large pavilions. The pavilions looked nicer than most of the officers’ quarters they’d passed. They’d found the mages, then. Toria scoffed at them in her head, always disgusted by the airs foreign magic users seemed to deem necessary around “normal” humans. Victory taught her better than that a long time ago.

Lanterns lit one of the tents from within, the red one with obnoxious yellow and blue trim. The light remained steady though, with no indication of who or how many people were inside.

But she couldn’t sense this shield. A new bolt of frustration raged through her.

Kane jumped as if he’d been shocked, giving her a penetrating look. “Calm, love,” he said.

Well, their link still worked at least. If anything, it must be more open now that Toria had no way to control any emotions leaking through to her partner. “Sorry.”

She was grateful when he did not patronize her with a response. “The area in the shield is a dead zone to me,” Kane said instead. “I can’t tell what we’re up against in there. Syri?”

“One human mage,” she answered without hesitation. “Who obviously did not take nonhuman magic into account when he crafted this overpowered beast. But they think they’re setting a trap. He’s got two others—nonmagical—with him in the dark tent. The red one’s empty.”

Now they were back in Toria’s domain. “Probably ready to spring once anyone comes along. And I doubt our armor is good enough to take some concentrated blasts against whatever distance weapons they’ve got in there, not while we’re also fending off magical attacks.”

While the sounds of fighting in one half of the camp continued strong, the other half began to die down. They needed to make their move, and make it soon.

Kane wasn’t going to like this. “I’ve got an idea,” Toria said. She’d buckled on the belt holding her magical aids out of habit that morning. Now it looked like they might come in handy. She dug out her quartz crystal focus and held it out to Kane.