I didn’t move. I barely even dared to breathe. I had no idea what was going on beyond this rough wall, or who else might be in there with the two children, but given the footprints, I certainly had suspicions—even if they made little sense. If there was one truth that had been indisputable up until now, it was the fact Adlin would never work alongside humans, be they adult or child. We were prey, a food source, not their allies.
After several more minutes, the noise resumed, and the beat of energy became quicker, harder, than before. I knelt and placed a hand against the earth. While I might have undergone the ceremony of Gaia with Trey, he hadn’t actually mentioned how I was supposed to use that power or even how to contact the voices within the earth. And while they might now have spoken to me, I needed more than that. I needed to see.
I closed my eyes and reached down to that part of me that had ever so briefly become one with the energy of the earth. She stirred within me, a pulse that was reluctant at first, but one that gradually grew until it matched the cadence coming from the earth under my fingertips.
Shapes twisted in the shadows behind my eyes. Shapes that were large and hairy, armed with sharp claws and wicked teeth. Not just one or two, but what looked to be a full sleuth. In front of them, standing with one hand against the wall, was a tall, dark-haired boy. On either side of him, each with one thin, lavender-gray hand wrapped around his arm and their bodies shaking and sweating, was a pale-haired girl and a dark-haired boy.
Three children, not two.
The original two had obviously survived the ferocity of the blast that had brought down the wall, but the third must have come in with the Adlin. And now they were all behind this wall, trying to get into the inner bailey. Because of the bracelet. Because whoever lay behind this scheme was so keen to get it back that they’d risk not only exposing the fact that they were working alongside the Adlin, but also risk the lives of at least four of their major weapons—because what else could Hedra and these three children be?
The images shifted abruptly, centering instead on the almost skeletal hand on which a silver bracelet gleamed. His fingers were pressed hard against a wall that had lost its black shine, and there was a three-foot radius of lifelessness around his hand. But even as I watched, it began to creep both up and down the wall.
They weren’t trying to blow this wall. They were creating a doorway—one big enough to fit the Adlin through. And with the entire outpost concentrating on damage done to the gatehouse and defending the breached wall, they could cause untold destruction before Blacklake was able to marshal its forces and fight back.
The screaming protest of earth, stone, and metal was growing stronger, a sound that suggested they were very close to achieving a break through.
I rose, then turned and raced back to the drawbridge. “Has communications been restored? Are you able to contact the command center?”
The nearest guard frowned. “No—comms and the earwig system remain down. We’re using runners—why?”
“Because the Adlin haven’t left. They’re still here, and about to break through the inner wall. We need to inform the commander immediately.”
“I can’t believe—”
“Believe it,” I growled. “And just do as I’m asking—now!”
“Nightwatch March, that’s impossible—”
So, he did know who I was. “So was them having the capacity to blow up the outer gatehouse and wall, and yet here we are, with both of them down.”
“Yes, but—”
“Trust me, and go. Now,” I added, when he hesitated. “Commander Stone’s anger at leaving your post will be nothing compared to the wrath that will fall on you for not doing as I ask in this circumstance.”
“There’s nothing stopping you—”
“Can you talk to the earth?” I bit back. “Convince it to heal the wound in the wall rather than break it? No? Then do as I say.”
He glanced at his fellow guard, then gave me a short nod and departed. I looked at the other man, but he held up his hand. “There will be hell to pay if we both left our post, especially if the Adlin are here.”
Which was a fair enough point. There might be no indication of other sleuths in the area, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be nearby, readying a secondary attack. Someone had to be ready to raise the drawbridge and lock everything down should that happen.
Which meant it was up to me alone to delay the Adlin—at least until Trey and his people got there. Urgency pulsed as fiercely as my heartbeat as I ran through the gatehouse and up the nearest set of steps that led to the top of the wall, but it was the earth’s as much as mine. They were so very close to breaking through.
I unslung the rifle as I ran down the wall walk, making little noise thanks to the rubber matting that covered the walkway to prevent slipping during rain. As I neared the junction of the true wall and the false one, I slowed. The air stirred around me, bringing with it not only that foul stench again, but also a warning.
They knew I was there.
I stopped and leaned over the parapet. In the V-shaped space between the original outer wall and the recently raised false one over two dozen figures milled. I couldn’t actually see the children, because several Adlin were now leaning over the top of them, using their bodies to protect them. But the frantic pulse rising up through the stone and metal suggested they were still trying to breach the wall.
I raised the rifle, sighted, and then fired.
Several Adlin went down, their brains spattering across the faces of the others. The others roared in fury and several attempted to climb the rough wall. But even a wall devoid of life and energy seemed resistant to the power of their claws, and they fell back before they got very far. I kept firing, picking them off one by one.
Within seconds, there were at least a dozen dead, but the frantic pulse of the earth had now shifted to the dead wall, and it was breaking down, reforming into a wave of stone and metal that quickly arched over the space to give them a rough umbrella. I cursed, heard a separate rumble in the earth, and spun around. Trey and a half dozen others were running toward me.
“The children have formed a false roof to protect the Adlin and themselves,” I said. “You need to get back downstairs and brace the other side of the wall—they’re almost through it.”
He and his people immediately turned and headed back down the stairs. I made to follow him, but the air spun around me, urging me closer to the outer wall.
I frowned but obeyed. The wall still pulsed under my feet, but I could no longer hear the screaming of the earth. I stopped at the junction where the outer and inner walls met, and peered down. The newly created roof didn’t quite meet either wall at this section and the Adlin were visible far below. A soft glint caught my eye; after a moment, I realized what it was. Silver. Not from any sort of weapon, but rather a bracelet. Only this bracelet wasn’t on the children, but rather one of the Adlin. An Adlin who bore coloring unlike any I’d ever seen before. Large sections of his brown fur had been replaced by patches of lavender gray; he was stained. Just like those children. Just like me.
Despite my desperation to believe the Irkallan weren’t behind all this, the proof of it was standing directly below me.
And while Saska might have been certain that her much-feared queen hadn’t enslaved and impregnated the Adlin and was simply using them, there obviously had been some cross breeding happening.
The Adlin chose that moment to look up, and another chill went through me. Not because his eyes were as lavender as the patches on his fur and filled with an intelligence and awareness that was as rare in the Adlin as his coloring, but because his eyes were human.
Either the Adlin were evolving into a more human form, or they’d not only interbred with the Irkallan during the war, but also with humans.
That was a nightmare I didn’t even want to contemplate.