Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 48: Calm Before the Storm

Music is Rise Above by Two Steps From Hell. Play it!

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Three days after the supplies had been found to last us for at least five years. One week after all citizens had been evacuated. One and a half weeks after Allura had said goodbye to us. Two weeks after our last encounter with Diomedes.

The day of the siege.

Or rather, the night of the siege.

Captain Eldric had predicted that Diomedes would attack us at the peak of the night, in the presence of the shadows. After all, it is his domain, and it would be logical of him to launch an attack on us then. So here we are on high alert, ready to fight at the slightest hint of a threat.

We're supposed to take shifts. Half of the soldiers are awake now, keeping watch. The other half are still in the barracks, sleeping and conserving whatever energy they can. Hopefully, when it comes down to it, we won't have to deploy all of our troops.

We have three gates. Three openings. Three places we need to guard. Of course, we'd already taken all the painful precautions. The problem? We're not facing a normal army. We're facing a ghost army.

And we don't know what to expect.

I'm standing atop the fortress of the inner ring, the last barrier into the stronghold of Perinus. No one makes a sound; the atmosphere seem so much tenser than usual. The wind whips my hair about, making me shiver involuntarily. No matter what they say, a Champion of Pst. Bronicus still fears war.

Especially if it's her first time going into battle.

I pace the area like a caged tiger, peering downwards, at the troops I'm supposed to lead. They're the group of soldiers I've trained since the very first day. However, in retrospect to the concept of strengthening ties with your brothers as you train, the ties between me and those soldiers have only worsened. Grimly, I press my lips together, wondering why Captain Eldric had entrusted me to command them. If anything, this group is the worst possible last hope standing between Diomedes and the king.

The silence roars in my ears. I close my eyes, pulling the shadows, extending my awareness of my surroundings. Nothing, save for the stiff, rigid postures of the whole army, keeping a wary watch on the horizon.

Slowly, I begin to jab my way about with the shadows, searching for a few particular people: Sir Kendrick, the leader of the troops near the main gate, the one facing north; The Scion—the Bane's third-in-command—Sir Kempe, heading the troops to the east gate; Sir Edson—a field marshal standing in place of the second general, who'd been deployed to Rutherland instead—posted to the west gate. If I focus, I can almost hear the erratic beating of their hearts, the steadying breaths they struggle to take, the jumps they make at every small shadow.

I release my hold on the shadows. It feels strange, that my ability over the lesser known branch of necromancy comes so naturally to me, as though I was born to do this all the while. If Diomedes does attack during the night, I'd have the advantage of the dark too. But then again, I'd have to somehow use my abilities without revealing it to everyone. And it's highly doubtful that my shadows will be of any use if Diomedes doesn't hold back. Still, better an illusion of a chance than nothing at all.

"It's too quiet," I mutter, startling Captain Eldric beside me.

"I'm sorry?" He's maintaining a stoic façade. Only the little twitch in his jaw betrays the fear he's holding back. Pietists Above, if even the captain is afraid of the wraiths, then what about the rest of the army?

"Nothing," I reply, a gloved hand fitted with knuckle dusters gripping the hilt of my longsword.

I shuffle on my feet, testing the new lightness of my armour. The blacksmiths had been notified in secret to melt some of the old armour and forge new ones. Evidently someone had come to the conclusion that no amount of steel could protect our men against Diomedes' army. So the thick plate that would normally defend soldiers from the usual sword thrusts and cuts had been discarded; we only wear mail now. Our arms and legs are fitted with thinner braces; our boots are the standard leather we wear for everyday use. No helmets—we need all-round visibility to see and dodge incoming attacks from ghosts.