“Is it close?” she whispered. “Once for yes, twice for no.”
He tapped the ground a single time. If he was frustrated at being limited to such basic communication, he didn’t show it. She thought for a moment, then asked, “Would you like to take a strike team? A few will be more effective than the whole group in close quarters.”
Another solitary paw strike.
She inspected the troops and chose two of the smaller Gols, ones who looked like they ought to be able move quietly, though certainly not as stealthily as Slay. When Ro explained the mission, they both assented in base Gol and she translated for Slay’s benefit. To the volunteers, she added, “Attack when Slay does. Don’t let the enemy call out.”
Understood, the first one said in base Gol.
“We’ll hold here until you tell us the path is clear,” she said.
Slay snarled something she couldn’t understand, then the black jaguar led the way with the other two following, She wished she could go with them, but someone had to stay and keep the troops calm. Chantisse would be doing the same at the center of the group. Hettie had charge of the rearguard, tasked with protecting the most vulnerable. Rowena let out a breath and turned to face the rest, a collective blur in the dim light, a sea of shifting bodies that smelled of sweat and fear and blood.
“Do we truly have a chance?” Maksim asked.
“We’re almost there,” she answered firmly. “There’s no room for doubt or hesitation.”
Still, it felt like Rowena didn’t breathe freely until those three returned. One held a radio, tuned to the frequency used by the guards. So far, nothing had been broadcast, but it was worth keeping in case some emergency message went out to all personnel.
“Did it go well?” she asked.
Slay couldn’t answer, but the slender, red Gol with double rows of needle-like teeth could, albeit in base Gol. Four clean kills. From the sound of his voice, battle lust was setting in, another complication that would need to be addressed. She smelled the seductive spice of it, and those powerful pheromones wafted from those who’d fought at various checkpoints. Previously, the damage to Rowena’s psyche had shielded her; she’d felt stirrings as they fought toward Hallowell, but nothing so powerful that she couldn’t resist. Even when she was surrounded by the grunts and moans of men unleashing their sexual fury on each other after a bloody clash, she ignored those mild, inchoate urges. Now, however, her desire had a target, and she ached for Slay in a way she’d never experienced, a fiery blaze of yearning that must be sparking in the air, driving others deeper into the battle lust.
Rowena took a breath. “Stay calm. I know this feeling is unfamiliar to most of you, but do your best to rein it in. After we take Golgerra, there will be time to…celebrate.”
What she meant was ‘fuck like wild things’ but that didn’t seem like the right verbiage. A chorus of assents in base Gol followed, and she gestured at Slay. “Lead on.”
He snarled and rubbed against her thigh, his long body vibrating. He’s feeling it too. Her experience with and knowledge of the Animari was limited, and she hoped Slay could resist constantly breathing in the chemical aphrodisiac created by Golgoth battle lust. Gently, she stroked the top of his head. He permitted that, then stalked off, disappearing with a quickness. Doubtless it was better for him to put some distance between them.
She counted to a hundred before signaling to resume the ascent. By now, water must be rushing through the undercity, flooding homes and destroying food supplies. There could be no retreat, only a desperate push forward, all the way past the doors that had been forever barred to prisoners. When resistance soldiers stood in Golgerra proper for the first time, that feat would herald the dawn of a new age.
As they approached the final checkpoint, even the atmosphere changed. A fresh breeze drifted past the edges of the doors, benefits of better ventilation and air drawn in from the outside. All around she heard her compatriots pulling in delighted breaths, astonished at how much better it was already. They would be overwhelmed with bliss the first time they left Golgerra and stood freely beneath the open sky. To her fellows, the sun, moon, and stars were the stuff of children’s stories.
There’s so much to learn and experience.
Even Rowena had barely scratched the surface, as her pledge to fight for Prince Alastor had kept her from indulging all her curiosity or seeing the sights freely as she would’ve liked in Hallowell. After Ded was injured, it had fallen to her to maintain order among the Exiles, raise morale, and encourage the younger ones to keep the faith, even when the odds seemed improbable, nigh on insurmountable.
Yet here I am, ready to tackle the impossible once more.
Her back ached, and so did her calves. A while ago, she’d lost track of time. There had been no opportunity to gather supplies, so her throat burned with dryness, and her tongue felt swollen. Probably the weakest among them were faltering, and she wished she could dig deep to find the perfect words to keep everyone moving. Yet nothing came to mind as she pressed forward, putting one foot after another.
It felt like she’d been at war for her entire life, even before she joined the Exiles and promised to fight for Prince Alastor. Her mind wandered as she walked, questioning if Ded had recovered and how many of their original group had survived the Battle of Hallowell. The curiosity diverted her mind from straying down darker alleys, where fear and dread laid in wait with heavy cudgels, capable of beating the optimism out of her.
“We’re close,” Maksim said.
Slay answered with a low growl that she took for assent. He circled back and nudged her knees, a move that made her stumble forward. Rowena took that to mean he wanted her with him for the last stage. She shifted since it wasn’t far, luxuriating in the slow spread of her wings. They gave her distance behind, and she turned to offer some final instructions in base Gol. The few Animari among them wouldn’t understand, but they didn’t need to either.
Give us to a count of two hundred and then come up. I need our heaviest and strongest up front to break the doors, as you did the ones below. Understood?
I have the count, the rhino shock trooper called back. And I’ll be first on the doors.
What’s your name? Ro asked.
Valoran, the shock trooper replied. Remember it if I fall today.
There was no way to predict what awaited them on the other side. She inhaled, savoring the smell of air untainted by stagnation, and then she followed Slay, who moved like a shadow, light and lithe even on stone steps. Her own movements were louder, as she couldn’t entirely conceal the tap of her hind talons. Walking strained her calves, but there was no space to fly.
Soon, though.
It no longer mattered if the enemy reported back; the tyrant’s Elite wouldn’t have time to mount a proper defense in the time it would take the resistance to break the doors.
As Slay leapt at the first enemy, Rowena took out another, screeching so that her battle cry echoed off the walls. The rest tried to run.
They failed.
It was hell on earth for Slay to keep the jaguar contained.
The big cat wanted to lash out at all Gols indiscriminately, but he snapped his teeth and held the fraying threads that kept his mind sharp, fully focused on the mission. Bodies surrounded him, the last sentries to die, and the sharp, coppery scent of blood, underscored with earthy tones, bubbled out of ragged wounds. Soon, that would stop, congealing in puddles on the cold stone. He paced while Rowena made room for the Gol door breakers.