Shadow War: Book 3 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy (WIP Rough Draft)

48: Shadows Rising

20th of Arrestre, Continued

That was a priceless moment, witnessing that collective flash of realization that a slave could speak and understand the great, exalted language of the Paradazh. Stunned surprise. Gaping mouths. A rising tide of outrage, with a smattering of disbelief splashed across a few faces.

I sneered and looked at the High General again. "I don't know what he's planning, but if he's here, it means you're a failure."

"Quiet that nonsense, Brannen," the High Counselor said, tone brusque.

The High General took a breath, a muscle fluttering in his jaw, and... was that almost an eye-roll? Then he lifted a hand and beckoned to one of the soldiers standing guard in the nearest hatchway.

"Afraid of what your precious babies will hear me say?" I asked, settling back into my chair. "It's so adorable how they think you know what you're doing, Brannen."

"Tie it up and gag it with something," the General growled as the guard approached. Then he turned and glared at his aides and operators, who were still gawking at the spectacle of a slave back-sassing the High General. "Well? Get on with it!"

As if they had been slapped, all six of them instantly lowered their heads and went back to work.

They were all so young, barely into adulthood. Not one of them had ever experienced anything beyond the walls of the Paradazh. Suddenly I wanted to slap them all, to shake them hard and make them take a good look at the men they followed so willingly, but that would only make the General look sane. Instead, I waited quietly as the young guard pulled a set of narrow silver wires from his belt pack and began tying me up.

"You do know who the Icewolf is, don't you?" I asked, regarding him as he finished wiring my wrists to the chair. "He was one of you. You call him the Icewolf because the General doesn't want you to know his real name is Captain Arramy..." That made the guard stiffen just a little, his mouth thinning as he glanced at me. Recognition flaring in his eyes. Interesting... "He knows all about you. Knows all your weak spots... He even helped design these airships. The High General told everyone he was dead, didn't he? But he's not. Ask yourself why the High General would lie? What is he hiding?" I got out, just before the guard pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and crammed it in my mouth, wrapping his last wire around my head from lips to nape, wrenching it tight to keep me from spitting the kerchief out.

Then he got up and returned to his post, not looking at me again, his face a study in dutiful stone.

I grinned around the handkerchief. Two of the under officers who had come in were giving each other sideways looks. After that little exhibition, any other slave would be dead, executed on the spot for insubordination. The tall, slender colonel seemed ready to dispatch me himself, his face a mottled pink. But I was not dead... which meant General Erkhaldt was more worried than he let on.

None of which mattered, really, because we were still headed south, toward the Headquarters, two more airships trailing along behind us.

My heartbeat was thrumming wildly in my chest, no matter how deep and slow I breathed. The operators were busy taking communications from the ground as well as the sky, their quick, efficient give and take of information easy enough to listen in on. Still, it made my heart sink like lead as their words painted a bleak picture.

The Illyrians were being driven back to the south wall, which meant the rebels in the Headquarters building were fighting the Coventry machines alone. I watched as three of the metal men swooped across one of the portholes, great silver wings spreading from their shoulders, their arms blazing with bright orbs of light, about to descend on the Headquarters from the sky.