He scans the fae quickly. “You’ve strong men and women here; they can help carry the injured down,” he says before sweeping off with Mal to deposit the injured woman somewhere in the complex of cellars.
My soldiers look to me. I nod, and they spring into action, forming a line to pass the bodies along. It’s a parade of horror:a man with his shirt scorched clean off, his chest a patchwork of red-raw skin and exposed flesh. Another with a wound to his stomach, so deep and wide it’s formed a gleaming well of blood. One woman looks like she’s almost been scalped.
Ana’s growing increasingly gray at the sight of them. She’s seen fights before, but not this—this is war. These injuries are the result of one side trying to utterly annihilate another.
As the wounded rebels reach the end of the line, my soldiers peel off, following the woman with the head injury to the med room Harman and Mal have already disappeared into.
“Can you do anything?” I murmur to Ana. “I mean, without them realizing what you are.”
She raises her eyebrows at me, clearly surprised to see me showing any sympathy toward this group. But circumstances have changed. I’m not saying I believe Harman’s claim the rebels are innocent of my parents’ murder, but until I know for certain, we might as well do what we can to keep these people alive.
“I can’t bring them back from wounds like this,” she whispers to me. “Not when their injuries haven’t been caused by celestial power. I could maybe do what I did for that woman and buy them some time.”
“Do it,” I say. “But be subtle about it.”
She nods, slipping away after the soldiers.
Deedus is back with a thin, serious-looking woman behind him. She’s wearing an apron and carrying a basket of bottles and sealed jars. Harman comes through just in time to meet them.
“Ah, Heda, you know the way, don’t you? Prepare yourself. It’s not pretty.”
Heda looks like she’s up for a challenge, pushing her sleeves back and disappearing deeper into the cellar. Once she’s gone, Deedus starts to speak rapidly to Harman.
“We got to the warehouse and—” But Harman holds up his hand, hushing him. The rebel leader glances in my direction, and I feel a flare of irritation. He’s okay with expecting us to trust every word he says, but that same trust doesn’t go both ways?
A fizzing noise tickles my ear, then Hyllus’s voice comes to me as if he’s just a few inches away.
“Captain, it’s Alastor, he’s awake.”
“Excuse me,” I say to the two men, ducking out of the cellar and climbing the stairs.
Out in the tent, I dodge the trails of blood left by the injured rebels, moving to the pile of furs in the corner. Hyllus has propped Alastor up with some cushions. His eyes are still closed, but his eyelids flutter as I approach.
“He’s still struggling to stay conscious, but he definitely spoke a moment ago,” Hyllus says.
“Were you listening to all that?” I ask as I drop down to examine Alastor.
“Yes. Very interesting,” Hyllus says, understated as ever.
“Indeed. Do me a favor and listen in on what that man is talking to his leader about,” I say, touching my hand to Alastor’s forehead. He’s still warm, but not burning up. As I remove my fingers, he opens his eyes.
“Cap’n…” he slurs. “Why…are we in a tent?”
“He asked me that too,” Hyllus says, not looking down, instead keeping his eyes focused on something far away.
“We thought some fresh air would be good for you,” I say to Alastor. “How are you feeling?”
“Like one of Mariste’s giant sharks chewed me up and spat me back out,” he says before closing his eyes again.
At least he sounds like himself. I look up at Hyllus expectantly, but he’s still listening to whatever discussion is going on below. Five minutes later, the tent flap opens, and Esther leads a blindfolded dryad through. She gives us a suspicious look before helping him down the stairs.
I’m starting to wonder about the logistics of the Hand operating out of this town when Hyllus clears his throat.
“They were on a mission to sabotage one of the Temple properties,” he says.
“And? Give me everything.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a major target, just a warehouse where the Temple stores some of the assets they’ve claimed from estates on the Godom border. ‘Stolen goods,’ Harman called it. No one was meant to be there except a few low-level clerics. But instead, they were met with a band of cleavers, sent to guard the transport of some goods. Harman feels he should’ve seen it coming. The Hand has been attacking Temple transports on the roads lately but were worried they were getting too predictable. The Temple has started putting up checkpoints and spies on their major travel routes. The warehouse attack was supposed to change things up and catch them by surprise.”
