Lord's Fall

That plan better be set in place quickly, Pia thought, as she looked around at the other campfires. The Elves had been through more than enough. They were no longer juiced on adrenaline, and they were burdened by grief. They needed to rest and recover their motivation. She probably had less experience than almost anyone present, but she thought Calondir should think up something to do to help inspire his people.

 

Meanwhile, the Wyr had worked hard to reach South Carolina fast in response to Dragos’s call. While they were fresher than the Elves and more battle ready, they could still use a few hour’s downtime, and as Dragos had said, they couldn’t go alone into any fight.

 

“Nothing’s going to happen this evening,” she said, surprising herself with the confidence she heard in her own voice. Everybody turned to look at her, and suddenly self-conscious, she shrugged. “I’m being logical,” she told them. “I’m not offering you any kind of inside scoop. I don’t think we’ve got a battle in us right now, not with the reality of what’s waiting for us at the bottom of that bluff. Not unless Gaeleval does something else to provoke us or attacks us first.”

 

Eva made a face. She said, “Another truth.”

 

Not long after that, some second sense made Pia look up, and she saw Dragos striding toward their camp. Even though he was in his human form again, Elves still shied away from him or averted their eyes. Other than one quick, piercing look around, he ignored everybody else and focused on her.

 

The others stood as he reached their campfire. “Relax,” he told them. He looked at Miguel. “Except you. Go report to Rune. Carling has agreed to coordinate the magic users on setting up defenses for the night.”

 

Miguel nodded and slipped away. “Does that mean you will get the chance to rest tonight?” Pia asked as he bent to give her a swift, hard kiss. She relished the heat that poured off his skin.

 

“That remains to be seen,” he said. “Carling thinks that our people can maintain an effective defense if Gaeleval tries something. He may be too overextended to do anything. He may not. If he does try something, the aversion spells they’re going to cast over the camp may hold. They may not. This is all experimental.”

 

“Have you had a chance to eat anything?” She stood.

 

“I had a couple sandwiches.” He looked at her cup of tea and the dark slash of his eyebrows came together.

 

“I haven’t had much of an appetite since I looked in the valley,” she said. “Linwe gave me some wayfarer bread and I have more protein bars in the tent that I can nibble on when I get hungry. Don’t fuss.”

 

He gave her a hard look, his mouth held in a severe line. “It is too cold for you.”

 

She said drily, “Well, not right here, it isn’t. And the armor kept me warm enough earlier.”

 

“I want to know why somebody hasn’t found you a cloak by now. “

 

“Because I haven’t asked anybody to,” she said, exasperated.

 

He looked around at all the others with his jaw set.

 

Eva said to her unit, “Move.”

 

As they scattered, Pia shook her head. “You didn’t need to do that,” she told her mate. “They worked hard to set up camp and they earned the right to relax for a bit. Besides, I am quite capable of looking after my own needs.”

 

He didn’t bother to reply. Instead he looked at the collection of tents. “Is one of these ours?”

 

“Yes.” She pointed to the largest one.

 

He walked over, flicked open the flap and looked inside. The frame was tall enough to sit in but not stand upright. The lightweight, wind-and rain-resistant tarps had been stretched over a simple A wooden frame, and the bottoms of the tarps had been buried in snow to insulate the inside of the tent from the wind.

 

More wood had been roughly planked, tied together and set inside to provide an insulating barrier to the snowy ground. Each of the psychos’ packs carried an emergency thermal sleeping bag that weighed a fraction of a pound and could retain up to ninety percent of one’s body heat. With shelter from the weather, and a barrier against the cold, wet ground, the tents weren’t comfortable, but they were quick to construct from materials that were either portable or easily harvested from the surrounding area, and they were sturdy enough to withstand a strong wind or even a snowstorm.

 

Pia and Dragos’s tent was the Hilton of basic survival tents. It had been built large enough to contain the dimensions of his massive frame, and inside, along with two packages of emergency thermal sleeping bags, there were two real wool blankets folded on the planks.

 

Pia had set her pack inside, along with her canteen of water, and her stash of wayfarer bread and soy protein bars, and her crossbow and belt filled with bolts. A small LED flashlight dangled from the top post of the A-frame.

 

“Good enough,” Dragos grunted.