Aven entered the infirmary to find the medics in a panic.

  “No, I don’t know where she went,” Janaya was shouting to a frantic attendant. “I was sleeping.”

  Even before Aven could ask for explanation, his eyes found the notable difference: a conspicuously empty bed where Rani should have been resting. Damn. He’d assumed everything would be quiet. Just a routine check. More something to occupy his mind than an actual task. Not walking into a missing-persons crisis.

  Tanya emerged from the room where Logash still rested, concern etched on her features. “What’s the matter?” She caught Aven’s gaze, eyes following to Rani’s empty bed. “Where did Rani go?”

  “That’s the question,” Aven said, glancing to Janaya. “I’ll look for her.”

  Janaya tried to rise from the bed, hissing in pain and clutching the bandages that covered her abdomen.

  “You shouldn’t be walking!” the healer reached out to touch her, jerking back when tongues of hellfire rose from Janaya’s skin in warning.

  “Neither should Rani,” Janaya jerked up, stretching. Less than a day after being run through. Already walking. For a given definition of walking. More shambling, perhaps. “But these wounds can’t kill me. In her mental state, she’s in real danger.”

  So, when not focused on burning the wicked, Janaya could actually muster up concern for others.

  “Right,” Aven headed for the door. “You lot check the keep.”

  From the attendants’ description, it had been a few minutes since anyone had seen Rani. Checking with the guards at the gate confirmed they hadn’t seen her. Which left the keep itself.

  Or the side gate leading out to the quarries. Unguarded at the moment. And unlocked.

  Night fell early in Hellfrost during the winter, and what should have been evening twilight instead was full dark. Snow drifted down in thick, silent clumps, covering the path in a pristine white carpet that led away from the side gate and towards the quarry. Pristine except for the trail of shuffling footprints leading through it.

  Aven caught up to the shuffling, cloaked figure just past the bend hiding the mountain path from Hellfrost’s walls.

  “Rani!” Aven called out, approaching carefully. If this escapade was the result of an addled, wounded mind, he’d have to take great care not to frighten the woman further.

  She didn’t even seem to hear him at first, continuing on with a shambling pace that belied the bitter cold.

  Aven gently reached out to touch Rani’s shoulder. She whirled around with a snarl, raising an icepick like a knife to stab. Aven backed away, raising his hands to pacify her.

  “Rani! It’s me!”

  The old woman squinted in the dark. Thick clouds cut out all moonlight.

  “Erik? That you?” Rani’s voice was slurred and raspy, “Thought I was alone. Shouldn’t be out on the ice at night, Erik. Get back to the safehouse.”

  “It’s Aven,” he said gently. She’d never mentioned an Erik before. “Come on, we should get back to the infirmary.”

  “In...firmary?” she sounded uncertain. “What are you talking about? We’re going fishing. Lake’s solid enough in winter to get a good hole and c-catch...”

  Her voice cracked into a hacking cough that bent her double. Aven stepped in to support her. “Easy there. Come on. You’ve had a hard time. You need to recover. Let’s get out of the cold.”

  Rani let him help her. Barely resisted when he led her back towards Hellfrost. It was a few dozen paces before she actually spoke again.

  “Piss off,” her voice sounded more stable as she jerked away. “I’m not...” a pause. “Shit, Aven, what in hells am I doing out here? Wind’s...wind’s freezing my tits off.”

  “Aye,” Aven said, relaxing that at least her mind had returned to her. “That happens.”

  “Godsdamned stupid,” Rani muttered, bony hand latching onto his arm. “Help me walk.”

  The trek back was agonizingly slow, Rani swaying and shaking with every step. Aven had half a mind to just pick her up and carry her back to the keep, but Rani would probably stab him if he tried. She still held the icepick in a death grip.

  “I’m not broken,” Rani whispered over the wind.

  “I didn’t say you were,” Aven replied.

  “I know you think it. I know the healers think it. They think I’m cracked,” her voice faded to a mumble. “I’m not. I’m not broken. The Empire didn’t break me.”

  Aven led her in silence.

  “Why’re you here?” Rani asked as they carefully made their way back.

  “Heard you went missing.”

  “No, not that,” Rani elbowed him impatiently, bony arm like a blade against his ribs. “Soldiers went to kill Sergrud, yeah?. Why ain’t you out there with ‘em hunting the bastard?”

  “Frostclaw’s leading the troops. My job’s protecting Etrani.”

  “Ooh, the hero protecting our princess are we?” an even sharper elbow dug into his ribs at that.

  “I’m no hero,” Aven smiled ruefully.

  Rani grunted, “Probably good you’re not out there. Sergrud would kill you.”

  “You think so?”

  She let out a long, hacking cough before replying, “Yeah, he would. He’s strong. You only beat Erdrak with a trick, and Sergrud’s smarter than that thickskull. You’d die, sure as shit.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Aven tried not to be insulted. She wasn’t exactly wrong, if Aven’s Battle Mind was to be believed. Then again, she also had professed doubt at the revolt against Yvris until the end.

  “He’s got a weakness, though,” Rani said. “Everyone does.”

  “And do you happen to know what his weakness is?”

  “He’s a hunter.”

  Aven frowned, trying to puzzle that one out, “That’s...a weakness?”

  “Yeah. Jackass picks his prey, and throws everything else away to chase it,” She hissed in pain when her toe stubbed against a rock hidden under the snow. “As a guard, he picked on the weakest of the prisoners. As a prisoner, he decided escape was his prize, and he left behind a dozen other prisoners to get it. Led more’n two dozen others to their deaths to make sure he could escape. And if he loses...he takes that personally.” A hacking chuckle, “I beat him once. Asshole was swaggering around, showing off for that Vestra. Shoving around us prisoners. So I put my icepick between his ribs.” Her chuckle turned to a gleeful cackle as she waved her stumped arm, “He took my hand, but I took his pride. And two weeks later, he was on a chain crew with me. One of life’s wonderful little moments of irony.”

  Aven had no idea how to use that sort of thing as a weakness against Sergrud, but the memories seemed to bring Rani joy, so that was enough for the moment.

  “And what’s yours?”

  “Eh?” Rani looked at him quizzically.

  “What’s your weakness?”

  Rani leaned close enough that Aven could see her leer in the gloom when she bumped her hip against his, “Pretty boys. Never could get enough of ‘em.”

  “Pity there aren’t any in Hellfrost, then,” Aven said drily.

  Another of her signature cackles, “Oh, I could make do.”

  “When you’re better, we’ll have to find you some suitable replacements, then,” Aven said. “How do feel about ogres?”

  The cackle faded into a cough, but Aven managed to get Rani back to the side gate where the attendants took her back to the infirmary to sleep.

  * * *

  The first attack came just before midnight. Legionary practice had patrols in pairs, and one of the guards on the west edge of the ridge called out warning before she was killed.

  By the time Wulfred made it out to the edge, there was no sign of the Vulgares, except his soldier’s corpse.

  The second attack came fifteen minutes later, this time from the south, near where Arvanius’ soldiers camped. A sentry called out, and this time the nearby soldiers responded in time. One guard was dead with a spear through his chest, but they’d hit one of the Vulgares as well judging by the screams echoing through the trees. The third attack was at the southwest corner, and this time Wulfred was there for the attack.

  It was actually one of Arvanius’ soldiers who saved him from Sergrud’s spear, the boy Wally calling out the warning just before the spear exploded from the dark.

  “Archers! Loose arrows!” Wulfred called out.

  The wave of arrows raked the trees.

  “Casters! Fire!”

  Blasts of light, of flame, of pure power lit up the woods, revealing shadowed figures scurrying back into the trees. Wulfred’s vis eyes could take the sudden brightness, and his javelin found one of the Vulgares who was too slow in retreating into the trees. Not Sergrud; too squat for that. Instead of collapsing, the figure yanked the javelin out and disappeared back into the trees.

  “Hold positions!” Wulfred barked as some of the guards moved to follow.

  No use chasing after ghosts in the night. A small force of vis could move faster through thick forest like this. Even if they caught some of the stragglers, Sergrud would escape. No. Wulfred knew what the bastard was up to. Hit the imperial camp again and again. Lure them into a wild chase. Wulfred knew from experience just how easily that would lead to a massacre in the thick trees.

  “Sir, you’re wounded,” Wally was looking at his arm. Where the canin was pointing, Wulfred saw a shallow cut in the fabric. Enough to draw blood, but not enough for a proper wound.

  Wulfred clapped the younger canin on the back. Good lad. Of all Arvanius’ warriors, he was among the closest to a proper imperial soldier. Inexperienced, but followed orders well.

  “Just a scratch,” Wulfred said. “Good work, lad. Stay on watch. We’ll need your senses if they attack again.”

  Head raised in pride, the boy gave a salute and returned to the camp edge.

  Shouts from the other side of camp. Damn. Too fast for Sergrud to have reached that side. Another Vulgares group?

  Wulfred reached the center of the Arvanius group’s tents just in time to see the black-furred felin flee the edge of the camp, pursued by the maledictus voidhuntress.

  “Halt!” Wulfred called, and the maledictus woman paused, just long enough for the felin to vanish into the night. “Don’t pursue!”

  The woman clenched her fists, flickering nature spirits swirling around her arms. The shadow spirit that always accompanied her reappeared from the darkness, perched on her shoulder and whispering that strange language no one else could cipher.

  “Report,” Wulfred said.

  The maledictus woman stared off into the night, “She was in the tents. Killed a half dozen sleeping warriors.” The woman glanced back to the open tent. Another woman emerged, a Frelundic woman. Another of the voidhunters. “Gretchen! She didn’t-”

  “I’m not hurt,” the Frelundic woman said shortly, shaking slightly. “I just...I woke up, and she was there...” she closed her eyes and shuddered.

  Wulfred stepped around the woman and glanced inside the tent. Two soldiers dead in this one, both former guards of Hellfrost. The survivors looked horrified.

  “Spread word,” Wulfred said. “Double watch. Two awake in each tent at all times.”

  The camp descended into an anxious night. Watch changed twice. Five attacks. Only two more casualties, but enough that everyone was on edge. Minor attacks. Not enough to truly hurt the legions. But enough to disrupt their rest, keep them on guard. To keep their nerves frayed. It was a few hours before sunrise when Wulfred finally allowed his sergeants to talk him into getting rest.

  Tomorrow would bring the real battle. Tomorrow would finish this.

  * * *

  Two hours before dawn, Teja slipped into the one tent that didn’t have extra guards. Just a short nap in the imperial’s supply tent had her refreshed to finish the night’s work. An empty barrel was bed enough for her after some of the sleeping arrangements she stopped to following Sergrud in the wilderness.

  Six dead. Six more broken tools of the empire. Sergrud would have crowed, would have roared victory. Teja didn’t allow herself the intoxicating draught of satisfaction. Not yet. Patience.

  Teja was no stranger to delayed gratification. Five years waiting in the wilderness for the proper time to strike. Before that, five years as a slave before slipping her chains.

  Celebration would wait. She had more work to do. One more visit tonight. One more conversation.

  In the shadows, no one saw her. Teja became a ghost, silent and unseen in the camp of the Imperials. Even disciplined soldiers had their vulnerable moments. Their blind spots.

  The holding tent was quiet. The two guards who would have been guarding it were now part of the general patrols. Even with Teja’s earlier strikes, the Imperials’ eyes were all turned out, not in.

  The canin inside slept, head bowed and wrists tied behind his back to the central tent post. Credit to his senses, when Teja entered, he stirred.

  Teja released the shadows bound by her vis, letting them flow away to reveal her to the prisoner.

  Angry, vicious eyes met hers. Eyes that Teja had seen a hundred times before in prisoners, in Vulgares, in tribal warriors on the edge of civilization. Eyes that burned for the Empire’s destruction.

  That was the Empire’s arrogance. They thought conquered people would submit to their chains, would serve the empire with enough threats. Most times, they were right. Some still held the fire to fight back.

  “Who on hell-” the canin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re...with the Vulgares. You were at Notholm.”

  “My name is Teja,” she gave a friendly smile. “Yours is Iskir, yes? I’ve been listening. I hear that you’re no friend of the Empire. You were there when Sergrud took the dezar, weren’t you?”

  Wary eyes stared back. Wary but interested.

  Teja kept the friendly tone, “The fire vis fought until Sergrud pinned her to the wall. You didn’t seem interesting in fighting. Patz crowed that you were too cowardly and practically let them take the dezar. But you don’t strike me as a coward. If it wasn’t fear that stopped you from protecting the dezar...what was it?”

  “What do you want?” his voice was quiet, quiet enough that the guards couldn’t hear.

  “I want to make the empire bleed,” Teja said. “Do you?”

  Slowly, the canin bared his teeth.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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