Red Hands (editing)

Chapter 7: Power to Fight

After days of constant traveling, we finally passed through the gate to the Third Circle. As the largest zone of Elysia's capital, The Third Circle was made up of acres of land owned by Celeste's richest families, who'd taken a liking to the fresh air and open range. The produce from the merchant's stall likely came from the peasant-owned farms in the Sixth Circle, which explained why the rebels were so easily able to disrupt the supply lines. The farther we traveled toward the outskirts of Celeste, the poorer the kingdom and its beings became, and the more likely we'd encounter gangs and the rebels that constantly fought with them.

The deeper we walked into the Third Circle, the more I felt we were headed right into the midst of trouble. It wasn't the gangs I was concerned about, but the looks on the faces of the First Circle officer as he'd pretended to help Lightlake locate the safehaven we sought. I'd warned him already about their lies, but Lightlake's trust in his fellow officers and his own ego made him too stubborn to listen to the intuition of a lowly ward. Suffering from my discomfort, Dolent pulled her shoulder blades tautly together and settled her hands on the hilts of her handaxes, but she didn't turn back to look at me from her place at the front of the company. I'd spent most of my time with Wylo lately, otherwise finding any spare moment I could to talk with Emb in quiet tones whenever no one was watching. Dol'd humbly kept her distance from me after our discussion in the barn.

Wolfe came sprinting down the hill. "We're close now! The spot they marked is an abandoned inn. It looks empty, but all the entrances are bolted."

Together, the unit gathered around Lightlake, waiting for his instructions. Mayflower was busy loosening the cloth belt around eir waist, while Oggs fiddled with a new bomb he'd been working on, and Natalex formed a water whip from her arm. Emb tightened the straps on his armor and shoelaces, and Aamon counted their arrows and cocked her crossbow. Pam came to my side, acting as a buffer between Dol and me, his wings wrapping reflexively over our shoulders as they always did. It occurred to me that Pam was a sort of glue that stuck Dolent and me together. He'd been there since the beginning, placating our arguments and making us laugh when all we could do was glare at one another.

"Still think this is a trap?" Pam muttered in my ear. His breath sending a cool shiver across my skin.

"Without a doubt."

"Our task as a unit is to secure the safehaven known as the abandoned inn. Expect resistance," Lightlake directed. "Rangers, you're at the back of the party, and Kier, this time that includes you, beastmaster. Oggs, you're at the front on infiltration duty with Wolfe and Wylo. Natalex, with me. The rest of you, you're in the main group. Got that?"

There was a chorus of "yes," "yeah," and a few grumbles. Pam patted me on the back with his wing before falling back to the rear of the unit with Mayflower, Aamon, Nika, and Aspen. Just as smoothly, Embrose inserted themself between me and Dolent, their strong grip secured around the hilt of their greatsword. Together, we launched forward up the hill in a steady march, quieter than before. We were all focused on the mission at hand. Kilwin's warning'd been clear. If we wanted to graduate, we needed to perform flawlessly. I walked alongside Emb, a sense of dread screwing my stomach into knots. We were walking into a trap, and despite the pressure for an easy win, no one seemed to care.

The inn was eerily quiet as we approached. It was a narrow but tall building made of cliffstone stacked up higher than fifteen stories. Dark wooden shutters fitted the windows engraved in the wall. Surrounding the inn were similar buildings that housed saloons, potion shops, and a smaller-sized cottage with a sign out front that read "BROWNIES FOR RENT! Cheaper Than House Gremlins, Golems, Automatons, & Jinn!" From the signs plastered on storefronts, canopies hanging over front entrances, and decorated doors, I knew we'd reached a vendors' street. Yet the entire lane was empty, cleared out of sellers and shoppers alike, every door and window locked and latched shut.