Wings of Fate

21. A Flood of Pain

Kalian stuck close to Commander Lev as they worked their way towards a Witch camp, several miles north of Selcouth. Scouts had reported the camp's position and claimed that the Witches in it were young and inexperienced, making it easy to raid. Kalian had done his best to persuade Moira to leave it alone, but with Lir and Malachi looming behind him, he hadn't been able to say much.

Not that it would've made a difference anyway. Commander Lev only spared children, and these Witches were young women. Kalian curled his nails into his palms and tucked his wings closer to his back. He had tried to find that young Witch from Selcouth again, hoping she could deliver a warning to her sisters.

All Witches possessed the ability to communicate telepathically with one another. They claimed it was something about the wind, carrying their voices to any corner of the world, or where they willed it. Kalian didn't truly understand it, but he never questioned it either. And sadly, he was unable to find the Witch, or another of their kind before Moira gave the order to set out.

Kalian glanced at Moira from the corner of his eye. Her mouth was set in a thin line and there was a steely gleam in her burning gaze. There was no trace of the woman he'd danced with yesterday. No sign of the sorrow and affection with which she'd spoken of her sisters, her parents, and her fiancé. No sign of the sad, lonely female who was locked away beneath the fiery, bitter mask of Commander Moira Lev.

"Stop looking at me," Moira murmured, keeping her gaze fixed on the camp up ahead.

Kalian averted his eyes and slowed his pace until he was in line with Bellamy. "I'd much rather be in town again tonight," Bellamy whispered. "It'd be more fun than butchering a group of Witches."

"Agreed."

"You were barely at the tavern. Where did you go?"

"I..." Kalian quickly wove a response. "I was out dancing." It wasn't a lie, even if it wasn't the whole truth.

"Oh?" Bellamy elbowed him with a wink. "Was your partner pretty?"

"Beautiful." No other word could describe Moira Lev, and if she possessed the unnatural beauty of his kind, she would be devastating.

"So how did it go? Are you going to see her again? Did she invite you home? Did you tell her you were sorry to disappoint, but your heart was already stolen by the devilish Bellamy Rame?"

"Will you shut up?" Malachi grunted from behind them. "They'll hear us coming."

"You didn't even hear what I said," Bellamy retorted.

"I heard enough."

Kalian narrowed his eyes, shooting Malachi a warning look. The man ignored him, and Bellamy fell silent with a disgruntled huff. Moira raised a closed fist and the group halted. She pointed in two opposite directions next, before spreading her palm wide and clenching her fist again. Kalian recognized the signals by now. She wanted the group to split up and surround the camp on opposite sides, then attack simultaneously.

Moira glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye. She jerked her chin and Kalian crept over to her. "You're with me," she said quietly. "Lir and Malachi will take the other group." Lir was already moving into position, beckoning for Malachi to follow him.

The members of the unit divided themselves evenly and set off. Kalian slid down a grassy slope without even a whisper of sound. Moira followed him and crouched low once she reached the bottom. They inched their way towards the Witch camp, keeping their heads below the heather that was in full bloom. Kalian peered over it just long enough to gauge the position of the other group.