My Beautiful Mind

22.

Cordelia straps gauntlets to my forearms–thick, reinforced metal pieces of armor yet still slim-feeling on my arms. "These might feel heavy for some time, but you will get accustomed to them," she says, strapping on her own pair. Wraethe is perched on top of a lone tree jutting out of an outcropping, surveying the chaos with a grim, calculating expression. The Hunter, the Dragon Rider, and I have managed to break away from the others under the guise of 'scouting around the area.' As the girls, the shifters, Jamie, and Will casually let us go unaware of the extremely risky mission we're about to embark on, my heart sank lower in my chest at the thought of not seeing any of them again. Cordelia had noticed my silent composure and threw an arm around my shoulders, "We will see them again, and even endure ten minutes of Emy's furious lecture about how irresponsible and reckless we were."

Cordelia and I ditched our cloaks at the tent for they would only slow our movements. I now stand shivering in just my tunic and leather pants, watching as Wraethe gracefully jumps down from the tree to give Cordelia and I a full report. "Even if we put up our invisible shields, it is best we still remain on the outermost border of the battlefield. From what I see, Illenesta hides in a tent at the heart of Risonene's camp–guarded by at least ten soldiers and a dragon." I squint at the mass of bodies on the battlefield, not being able to see any detail even with my eye contacts in, "How....?" Wraethe gives me a small smile, the first I've seen him do that. "I'm not as human as you think I am," he murmurs. He looks up at the sun almost halfway across the sky. "Let us make haste to ensure the war ends before nightfall."

Wraethe reaches behind him to unsheathe one of the two swords strapped to his back. Cordelia tightens her grip on her khukuri, all the mirth and lightheartedness gone from her face. I grab a dagger from my belt and follow the two down the elevated position we're in to the battlefield. The thin film of Cordelia's and Wraethe's shields envelop us in a shroud of invisibility. When we finally cross over to Rumina's and Risonene's half of the field, I shift subconsciously closer to Cordelia at the sight of the menacing beasts the two fae kingdoms have forced to fight for them. Ogres trudge towards Cymriath's armies, pulled forward by iron chains handled by Risonene soldiers. Winged birdlike reptiles fly swoop down into Elryian's lines to pick off soldiers–but they too are on leashes. Wraethe shakes his head in controlled rage at the dragons, majestic, beautiful creatures, reduced to nothing but pets to do the fae kingdom's dirty work. How they managed to capture them is puzzling.

It takes another two hours of slipping and sliding through the bloody muck to see the burgundy main tent of Risonene's camp where Illenesta drains Cymriath's magic and wields her own. Sure enough, a dragon with shimmering violet and navy scales paces restlessly back and forth in front of the tent, its wings bound to its sides in a netting and its neck encased in a collar attached to a chain nailed to the ground. Eight soldiers steer clear of the creature, preferring to spread themselves out on the tent's two sides. Cordelia, Wraethe, and I duck behind a healer's tent to discuss our next steps. I've just barely bent my knees into a crouch when a war horn, Cymriath's war horn, sounds from across the entire plain. All around us, enemy soldiers shout and yell, scrambling to grab weapons and bolting towards the front lines where Elyrian and Meilyr have begun to launch their massive assault. With the camp nearly empty save for the dragon and eight soldiers, it'll make our own attack less difficult.

"So where are the Kings of Rumina and Risonene?" I ask quietly. Cordelia snorts, "From the looks of it, the two bastards are comfortably observing the war from the thrones in their territories." Wraethe savagely stabs his sword into the mud. "They have no honor, not like King Meilyr and Commander Elryian," he spits out. We remain silent and observe the guard patterns of the sentries. "I will free the dragon. She has been trapped too long," Wraethe murmurs, not taking his eyes off the distressed creature. "When Wreathe releases her, the guards will be distracted, easy to kill," Cordelia tells me. I gulp, the reality that I'm about to commit murder finally sinking in.