The Healing Wars: Book III: Darkfall (21 page)

“What’s the plan?”

“Take back the League. We can do it if we act tonight.” Ipstan stood at the head of the table. His officers took places around him, eyes shining, excited. “There’s a big storm coming in, and we can use it as cover. Get right up against the League before they even know we’re there.”

“What about the bridge guards?” his commander asked. I hadn’t caught his name, but I was pretty sure he’d worked on one of Ipstan’s fishing boats. “They have both Upper and Lower Grand Isles protected, and we can’t reach the League without taking one or both of those.”

“Nya can deal with them.”

“They’ll be expecting that,” I said, trying not to imagine the new scars or the pain. Did I really need to go in first? Where was Danello? He understood military strategy better than I did, and this plan didn’t sound all that safe. “They won’t let me get that close again.”

Ipstan shook his head. “No one survived yesterday’s attack. They don’t know what you did. If we’re
really
lucky, with all the rain and confusion, they won’t even see you.”

That seemed like a lot of luck to rely on. But hadn’t I relied on less?

“What did we find out about their pynvium weapons?” a woman with spiky blond hair asked.

“I don’t think they have any left. Nya’s the only one who’s flashed any pain in weeks.”

I frowned. “What about those orbs the blue-boys had?”

“They’re out by now.”

I wasn’t so sure, but Ipstan’s officers didn’t seem to care.

“Numbers?”

“Minimal on the bridge, under a dozen. A few hundred on the isle itself, the rest in and around the League. Best estimates on the remaining garrison say five hundred total.”

“That’s all?” I said. “The Gov-Gen’s garrison had been ten times that before. What happened to the rest of his—”

Danello and the others walked into the room. Ipstan rubbed his hands together. “Wonderful, everyone’s here. Now, this is what we’re going to do…”

Rain splattered against the windows, tap-tap-tapping like tiny feet scurrying across the glass. I adjusted my armor—leather like most folks in the resistance wore. Ipstan had offered me one of the few sets of chain mail, but it was hard to walk in it. I couldn’t fight if I couldn’t stand. I asked him to give it to Danello instead.

Ipstan had organized his squad leaders and grouped everyone up hours ago. He’d handed out weapons and armor at sunset, created a chain of command. Not everyone knew every detail of his plan, but his officers and squad leaders knew where to be and when.

The storm hit just as he’d hoped, heavy wind and rain but no lightning to pick us out in its sudden brightness. Gray light reflected off gray rain, everything washed out in the twilight.

I turned to Soek, back in the pynvium armor. The second set didn’t fit him nearly as well, but he’d added extra padding to fill in the gaps. “We’re crazy for trying this, right?” I asked.

He nodded. “Nuttier than pecan pudding.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Danello squeezed my hand, but he looked worried. The storm would hide us like Ipstan said, but the rain also made it hard for
us
to see. What if he was wrong about the numbers? What if the defense was tighter? What if what if what if … It rattled through my mind like the rain on the glass.

We waited in the staging area, a wide strip of warehouses behind a row of workshops. Ipstan had decided to attack Lower Grand Isle, claiming the upper isle would be more heavily guarded since that’s where yesterday’s attack on us had come from. He’d posted extra guards and soldiers there to distract the blue-boys and make them think we were planning to defend that area. After all the noise this afternoon, they had to suspect something was up.

The door opened and Kione walked in. Water gusted in behind him.

“Slight change of plans,” he said, expression grim. “We got a better look at the area beyond the barricades. It looks like there’s a command tent a few blocks past the bridge, in the square that intersects the main roads. If you can reach that, you might be able to take out their command staff.”

I knew the square he meant. Day vendors set up carts there in the summer, and street performers danced and sang for coins.

“The general wants to clear the way through for you and Soek.”

“Ipstan’s leading the attack?”

“He insisted.” Kione glanced around and leaned close. “Said he wanted to fight alongside you. That it would be good for morale for the troops to see you two together.”

And good for his reputation.

Danello raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s excited about it.”

We had hope and faith in buckets. Steel now, too. Ipstan was confident, but I wasn’t so sure. You didn’t just hand someone a sword and expect them to know how to use it.

“Soon as you break through,” Kione continued, “the rest of us will cross the bridge, secure the area, and wait for you to clear out the square before moving in. We’ll work outward from there, secure the bridge to League Circle, and prepare for the final assault on the League.”

“Okay.”

“When you hear the quarter-bell chime, head out to the rally point.” Kione wished us luck and headed back out.

“You can do this,” Danello said softly. He and his da were in one of the rear squads. Danello had wanted to join Ipstan’s squad, but I’d made Ipstan promise to keep Danello back. He had the right to fight same as the rest of us, I just didn’t want him on the front lines doing it. Not unless I could be there to watch his back. And his front. Saints, all sides of him.

“I’m scared,” I said. So much pain waited for us—for me.

“You have six hundred people standing right behind you. Including me.”

All stuffed into buildings and hidden in alleys between here and the Lower Grand Isle bridge. They wanted what we wanted and were willing to die to get it. If they could risk their lives, I could risk some scars.

The tower chimed and we headed toward the street perpendicular to the bridge. People stepped aside and let us pass, their faces frightened, hopeful, far too eager.

Ipstan stood in the rain with his command staff; all of them wore a white violet patch on their armor that hadn’t been there earlier. He nodded a greeting.

“The weather is helping us out. Our people are prepared and ready,” he said, then turned to me and Soek. “Now it’s up to you two.” He pulled out a silk cord.

Soek held out his hand and I took it, lacing my fingers through his. Ipstan tied the cord around our wrists, tight enough to keep us from yanking free, but not so tight it hurt.

“Three blocks,” Ipstan said. His face was stone-still, but his eyes held fear despite his confident speeches. “Do whatever you have to do to make it to that command post. We’ll be right behind you.”

Three blocks. Through soldiers and barricades and an awful lot of pain.

Danello took my hand, ran his thumb across my knuckles. “Don’t die,” he said, regret in his eyes.

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“Deal.”

Ipstan and the white violet squad moved out toward the bridge. Soek walked beside me, his pynvium armor gray in the downpour, like everything else. We moved across the bridge, the rain masking our footsteps and any clinks of our armor.

Though we couldn’t see them yet, scouts had sketched out where the blue-boys were hunkered down behind barricades on the other side. Twelve of them.

Ipstan gave the order and his squad charged, a wall of steel and anger rolling across the bridge. Soek and I followed, waiting for a break in the fighting to slip through. We crested the bridge as Ipstan and the others hit the barricades.

Whoomp! Whoomp! Whoomp!

Flashes washed over me, prickling my skin one right after the other. Ipstan was wrong! The blue-boys
did
still have pynvium weapons! Soek staggered and fell against me, but caught himself and stayed upright. Ipstan and the others cried out and dropped, slamming against the stone bridge. I tugged Soek faster. We had to get in range before the soldiers reached our people lying helpless on the bridge. It wasn’t the command tent, but maybe they had more pynvium and the flash would trigger all the way there anyway.

We reached Ipstan and the others. I turned and slapped my hand against Soek’s chest plate. Pictured dandelions blowing in the wind.

WHOOMP! Whoomp! WHOOMP! Whoomp! WHOOMP!

The bridge soldiers screamed and dropped, but no echoing pynvium thumped in the distance.

I
drew
Soek’s pain away and his eyes snapped open. He scrambled to his feet without a word. We knelt as one, and each grabbed one of the unconscious officers. We
drew
and they jerked awake.

A horn sounded and another answered it.

“Was that ours?” Soek asked.

“No.” My stomach churned. “Heal faster.”

Boot stomps shook the bridge behind us, our people moving forward, expecting us to have secured the bridge and cleared the square, unable to see in the rain that we hadn’t. Shadows moved in front of us, becoming soldiers as they closed in.

So many soldiers.

Ipstan hollered orders and his squad attacked. “Nya, flash it!”

I had nothing left to flash. Nothing to use but my hands and whatever pain the blue-boys gave me. I pulled Soek into the approaching army, dread coursing through me. “Get ready to heal.”

Two soldiers charged. I braced myself and stepped into them, catching their blades in my shoulder and side. Pain cut as skin cut. My hand tingled and it was gone.

I feigned a stumble and the soldiers came at me again. Stings from their swords, and Soek pulled it away. I spun, put a hand on the pynvium.

Whoomp!

No chain of flashes, but enough to make five or six soldiers scream and fall. Our people took advantage of the distraction.

More, I need more.

Bodies slammed against me, blades pierced my skin. Soek filled his chest piece with their pain and I flashed it, taking out as many as we could before they got to our people.

“Ipstan’s in trouble!” Soek cried, pointing.

Ipstan fought twenty feet away, fending off men who seemed to be taunting him, pricking him with the tips of their rapiers like cats with claws. The thin blades slid between the links of his chain mail. I headed for them, weaving as if injured, luring in attacks.

I was almost to Ipstan. Soek’s armor was full of fresh pain. Ipstan darted for a small opening in the circle. A soldier moved faster, stabbing him once—twice—three times before he even had a chance to fall.

Soek leaped forward into the circle, dragging me along with him. My hand hit his armor before my feet hit the street.

whoomp

A small sting, less than it should have been. Grit poured through my fingers as the pynvium chest piece crumbled to fine sand.

Saea, no, I flashed it too much.

“Nya?” Soek gaped at me, terrified.

“Run!”

The soldiers closed on us, thrusting their rapiers. I tried to take what I could but there were too many. Soek dodged and screamed. He stumbled sideways, blood speckling his lips.

“Soek!”

The soldier yanked the rapier out of Soek’s chest and he collapsed, dragging me down with him. I struggled, flat on my stomach, my arm pinned beneath his body. I pressed my fingers against his head and felt my way in.
Please, Saint Saea, let him still be alive.

Nothing. He was gone.

His heart. It pierced his heart.

Tears blinded me. I blinked hard, wiped my eyes with my free hand.
Cry later, but now you’d better move!
I rolled right, sliding my arm out from under him. I rose and was jerked back to my knees. Our hands were still tied together. My knife, I needed my knife.

A shadow fell over me. The soldier who’d killed Soek sneered, his friends circling in behind him. I scanned his body for bare skin, but he wore armor on everything but his face.

Something moved beside me, lunging past me. Armor clinked, steel met steel, and the soldier staggered back.

Danello!

More of our people appeared, leaping over me and skirting around those who had fallen. They crashed against the wave of blue-boys, swords flying, people dying.

Danello grabbed my shoulders. “Nya, come on,” he cried over the shouts and screams of the fight.

“Soek!”

“Is he alive?”

I shook my head, trying to saw through the silken cord, but it wouldn’t cut.

Danello took the knife and sliced the cord in one quick jerk. He hauled me to my feet, pulled me away from Soek, so still and pale on the bridge. Dragged me toward the safety of our people on the other side.

I stumbled, thumping off bodies as we passed, Danello’s arm tight around my waist. I clung to him, shaking, hurting, my heart sputtering like a bird in my chest. Cold hands, hot face.

Another friend dead. Too many sacrifices.

My head spun, the street closing in around me. I couldn’t get enough air. I tipped sideways against Danello, gasping.

“Breathe,” he said, hand on my back. “Take a breath, that’s it—no, slow down, breathe deep.”

Soek was dead. Quenji was dead. Mama, Papa, Grannyma—all of them—dead.

More horns blew—two short blasts. Our order to retreat.

The rain continued to fall, turning dirt to mud and streets to rivers. I sat on the floor of a boardinghouse room not far from Aylin’s old building. Danello and Aylin sat with me, though no one else had joined us. One lamp sat in the corner, the flame turned low. Danello held me while I cried.

“You need to get out of that armor,” Aylin said gently when I was too spent to cry anymore.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to see what was underneath it.

“Nya?”

I kept staring at nothing. When I closed my eyes, I saw Soek; when I looked at the others, I saw the fear. I couldn’t bear to look at either.

“Danello, help me with this, would you?” Aylin tugged and lifted and together they pulled the armor over my head and set it on the floor.

Aylin gasped and pressed her fingers against her lips. “Oh, Nya.”

I didn’t look down. No point.

“Are those hives?” She reached toward my arm, then stopped. “You have bumps all over.”