Embers In The North
18

Reyna’s eyes flitted between Decker’s as his words sank in. She wanted to argue and defend her beliefs, but his words held irrefutable truth. She realized she had no rebuttal and hesitated for a minute.

“Privilege blinds us, doesn’t it?” she murmured, her voice both low and uncertain. “No matter how insignificant, I never considered certain things like you would. Then again ignorance of the truth isn’t an excuse either.”

Decker’s grip on her chin softened, his fingers tracing a line along her jaw.

“You should learn the wisdom in your words, Luna.” He smiled, a glint in his eye.

His fingers traced her jaw, then slowly found their searing way to her lips. She couldn’t breathe: the heat suffocated her.

It wasn’t just the heat that gripped Reyna; every second with him seemed to increase in fervour; his presence consuming her and leaving her struggling for air.

As Decker’s gaze shifted, the desire that had flared there waned and Reyna instinctively withdrew, putting some distance between them.

She spotted the Redfall Fangs, positioned just beyond the cave’s entrance. Reyna drew a steadying breath, not to quell the sensations aroused by Decker’s presence, but to prepare herself for what lay ahead. There was no doubt that the Fleet outside would stop at nothing to ensure that she acknowledged the authority of their Alpha.

Her fingers moved through her dark, silken hair, a subconscious gesture of preparation. The sound of her slow, deliberate exhale echoed through the tunnel. Then, she turned to face Decker again.

“Curious question,” he said with a playful grin as his eyes swept over her figure. “Are you really impervious to the freezing cold in that?”

With a flicker of contemplation in her dark eyes, she paused. “Yes, I am,” she replied with a cheeky smirk.

He held her gaze for a second, a moment of silent consideration, before smiling. Then he resumed his path out of the cave to join the Fleet. A curious smile played on Reyna’s lips as she watched him leave. It was hard to read Decker’s intentions, as they shifted like the wind. One minute, he seemed drawn to her, and the next, he seemed detached, as if he were a completely different person. She wondered if it was just the influence of the solstice. She should stop reading too much into things.

The sound of Roth and Gareth’s footsteps pulled her from her thoughts, and she briskly followed Decker. Squinting against the brightness outside, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the oddly brilliant, sunless sky. Taking a moment to assess the assembled Fleet—twelve in total, including Gareth—she shook her head.

There wasn’t enough of them.

Thorin was a native of Frostcall, so he was familiar with its terrain. Following them without being detected proved that. His Fleet would likely be poised to block them at the mountain’s exit. If his Fangs were as skilled as he was, they wouldn’t have long before they were caught.

“We’ve got runners with fire burning underneath to keep us warm,” Quinn reported, just as Roth and Gareth emerged.

“This way, Alpha.” Gareth took the lead, guiding Roth past her.

The finely polished oak wood of the runners gleamed, the Maynord crest etched with distinguished elegance. One of the four runners stood open, inviting her inside. Peering in, she spotted the plush leather seats and the well-insulated cabin. A smirk tugged at her lips. This was a far cry from the rugged travel she was accustomed to.

As she observed the runners and the Snow Beatles, a realization struck her—they hadn’t come through the ice mountain. The Beatles wouldn’t have been able to scale it.

Her eyes narrowed. “What path did you take to get here?”

Quinn pointed toward the path Reyna had dreaded. “Down that way, through the Woborn border,” he said.

Her heart sank. “Straight through Thorin territory.”

Decker and Roth climbed into the runner, sealing themselves in, and she wondered what was more important than figuring this out. Reyna pivoted to confront Gareth, who exuded a menacing energy. She could feel his hostility, and it didn’t take a scholar to know he didn’t like her; but she cared nothing for it.

“Is there an issue, Luna?” He growled.

“Cut those runners loose. We’re crossing the ice mountain,” she insisted. “If you passed through Thorin land, the berserkers may have tracked you here.”

“Nonsense! We’d detect their scent if they did,” Gareth retorted.

“In Frostcall, that’s impossible unless you’re an Icehelm,” Reyna countered. “And even then, you’d have to be a damn good sniffer,” Reyna finished.

The sound of dripping returned, reverberating through the dip slope they were in. Her senses heightened, trying to pinpoint where it had come from. It felt foreign, like an unexpected note in a familiar melody. She took a step toward the ridge, her boots crunching on crisp frosty earth as she distanced herself from the Fleet.

Reaching the top of the ridge, she looked around, her gaze sharp. She spotted a small path leading down the other side of the ridge, and set off down it, her steps cautious and slow.

“Ator,” she called. Her Shadowbeast materialized beside her. “Do you feel that?” she asked as she slowed to a stop.

Ator’s eyes, like pools of pure white, scanned the area, something was not quite right. Ator seemed to sense it too, judging by the way her growl deepened as her attention focused on the surrounding ridge. It was Reyna’s turn to growl. She knew that sound from Ator all too well; the Berserkers had them surrounded.

They’d nestled themselves in snow pockets on the ridges. The intermittent drips she’d heard were the sounds of the lanterns they used to ward off the cold. It was an old Icehelm camping trick.

“Luna, we need to move,” Quinn called.

Reyna climbed onto Ator and sprinted down to them. When she reached Quinn, she dismounted her Shadowbeast and whispered to him. “A Fleet of Berserkers is stationed in snow pockets around the ridges. We must abandon these runners and go through the ice mountain.”

His reaction was measured, with no expression on his face. She wasn’t sure if he fully understood the gravity of the situation.

“When have you ever known the Alpha’s private Fleet to retreat from a confrontation?” he questioned.

Without awaiting a response, he turned to the Fleet. “Rally around the Alpha! We have berserkers on higher ground,” Quinn commanded, his voice slicing through the biting cold.

The Fleet gathered in a close-knit circle around Roth’s runner, prepared to shift at a moment’s notice. Reyna carefully removed her cloak and satchel, draping them onto Ator’s back. Her movements were deliberate, her gaze fixed on Roth and Decker as they disembarked from the runner.

Decker went to Quinn. “How many are out there?”

Quinn’s gaze darted towards Reyna, silently asking for her insight.

“I can’t say for certain. They conceal themselves well. Give me a moment to replace out,” she replied.

The air bit at her skin as Reyna settled onto the ground, her breath forming small, misty clouds. She closed her eyes, shutting out everything to tune into the pulse of the land. It surged beneath her, a living, breathing force.

Through her mind, Reyna explored the terrain, listening for subtle tremors, hushed whispers, and the pulsing beat of life. Her heightened senses allowed her to detect even the smallest signs of life, and as she focused her awareness, she was able to perceive the Berserkers nestled in the ice alcoves.

With her eyes open, she stood, her gaze clear with knowledge. “There are twelve of them, spread across the ridges.” She pointed them out one by one. “But that’s not all. A Fleet rides towards us from that direction.” She turned her gaze to the only other conceivable path; right towards Caderia.

Then Roth to her. “Are you able to deal with the scouts on the ridge?” he asked. “I have witnessed your power and I know what you’re capable of.”

A frustrated huff escaped her lips as impatience pulsed through her. She could handle them, that much was certain. But time was a luxury they couldn’t afford to squander. Her father needed her at the conclave, and this delay was gnawing at her. She had to get back to him before those conniving Warmasters helped that Thorin lay siege to the Mithril Obelisk; Bandos needed her.

She turned to Ator, waiting patiently behind her. Snatching up her satchel and cloak, she commanded, “Smash.”

In a swift, startling motion, Ator surged forward, leaving everyone momentarily stunned. As she threw on her cloak and shut her eyes, she guided Ator with unwavering precision toward the hidden berserkers.

“Several Fleets are riding towards us. Still about four miles back. We need to leave, and those runners will slow us down,” Reyna said, her eyes still closed in concentration as she guided Ator through the swift, brutal assault. The grunts and strangled cries of the berserker scouts met her ears, as Ator moved concealed in the shroud of white mist.

A satisfied smile curved her lips, her senses attuned to the symphony of Ator’s onslaught. She could feel their eyes on her—Roth, Decker, and the First Fleet of Krelon. That’s the same Fleet she’d command if Bandos hadn’t interfered. Maybe it was a good thing; she didn’t like Gareth.

Ator returned to her side, battle stains etched into her fur. Reyna’s fingers gently stroked her Shadowbeast’s face. “Magnificent.”

With a graceful shift, Ator lowered herself, allowing Reyna to mount. “We need to go.”

“These runners were meticulously crafted for the fastest travel with enchanted heated steel cores nestled within for warmth,” Roth explained. “Luna, lead us back to the Mithril Obelisk. Let’s move out!”

Reyna watched the Fleet move with practiced precision, her eyes narrowing at Roth’s command. The Fleet was ready in an instant; some Fangs mounted their Shadowbeasts while the rest nestled inside the runners.

Decker and Roth summoned their Shadowbeasts, poised and ready with Gareth and Quinn flanking them waiting for the signal from her.

“Why are we turning back?” she asked Roth, confused as to why they had to change course.

Not because there was no interest in returning to defend the citadel, but they had to get to the conclave and barely had enough forces to defend the Mithril Obelisk.

“Thorin is laying siege to the exalted citadel because of us.” Roth gestured to Decker with a tilt of his head. “We cannot let Warmaster Bandos and the exalted citadel suffer for it,” Roth said.

Reyna looked at their group of twelve people, divided between the runners and their rugged Greenpeak Shadowbeasts. Their Reapers, with their gnarly, brown fur, seemed a world apart from Roth’s magnificent Reaper. She couldn’t help but wonder if his Alpha status was the reason behind such a majestic Shadowbeast.

“That still leaves us at fifteen against at least five Fleets,” Reyna pointed out. “We might as well just hand you two over to the Thorin.”

Typically, war-bound fleets had at least five hundred Fangs. Even with their formidable abilities and status, challenging such overwhelming odds was unthinkable.

Gareth ran a hand through his hair and looked at the sky with a sigh. “I’ll only repeat this once, Luna,” he said stiffly. “You must obey the Alpha’s commands without question. Only speak when he addresses you. If you wish to discuss anything with him, Quinn is at your disposal and will inform me of your concerns, and I will present them to the Alpha with a recommendation for action.” He paused in mid-trot, his Reaper moving in a more impatient fashion. “Do you understand?”

The scorn in Reyna’s voice was unmistakable as she sneered at Gareth. “You insufferable arseling. I’m not one of those common strumpets you slap around!” she spat out scornfully as Gareth hopped off his Reaper. She continued with a shake of her head, “Clearly, you have me mistaken for one of those poor wretched females!”

She, too, dismounted to stand beside Ator, watching Gareth’s approach, with everyone else hanging back, eyes glued to the confrontation. He was ready to do whatever was necessary to protect Maynord House and his honor as he approached her with his Reaper trailing behind him. Ator saw this and let out a threatening snarl, warning him not to take another step forward. As Gareth bared his teeth in defiance, Reyna couldn’t help but chuckle.

From the moment Gareth opened his damn mouth she could tell he was one of those ‘respect my rank’ males. Engaging with the Prime Omega was an unexpected twist, but then again, fate rarely followed a predictable path.

“What do you say, Roth? Should we get out of here or let this continue?” Decker said as he slowly led his Scourger past Gareth towards Reyna. “It’s pointless to go head-to-head with her; you will lose. Better to accept that she does whatever she wants and make our way back to the citadel while we still have a head start. I’m thinking this is our best course of action, but feel free to chime in, Maynord.”

Gareth halted as Decker turned to face him, now standing beside Reyna, who was honestly shocked that Decker intervened.

“Warmaster, she shouldn’t be allowed to disrespect the Alpha and the way of the Fang,” Gareth argued.

“You flatter yourself, Beta,” Reyna scowled. “But my distaste for your kind — and the old ways — isn’t something you can control.”

“We have wasted enough time,” Decker growled, in the thick of things. “Since your Alpha won’t end this; I will. Get back on your Reaper and let’s get out of here!”

“No disrespect to you, Warmaster Decker, but-”

“Do you not realize that the title of Luna supersedes that of Beta, and it is you who disrespects the Moltenroar Luna?” Decker cut Gareth off before he could finish. “Get on your Reaper, Redfall. I won’t tell you again.”

Reyna looked at Roth as he walked forward, passing Gareth and heading towards Decker. “Mount your Shadowbeast, Gareth. We’ll finish this at the citadel,” he ordered and Gareth obeyed immediately but not before giving her a hard stare.

She turned her attention to Decker as Roth reached him, Roth and Decker had a brief stare-down before Roth turned on his fascinating Reaper and walked away.

“A gracious move, Decker,” Roth said as he trotted away. “I warned the Luna about the consequences of disregarding my Prime Omega’s commands. Whatever judgment he makes at the citadel, I vow to uphold it.”

Rage bubbled from Reyna’s lips before she could stop it. “I can’t believe your arrogance!”

Decker and the rest of the Fleet stared at her, stunned by her outburst. Taking hold of Ator’s reign, Reyna mounted, not caring what any of them thought.

“Thorin’s Fleets stand between us and the Mithril Obelisk, but instead your Beta’s fragile ego is being catered to!” Reyna spat.

The moment her gaze met Roth’s, everything came to a halt. The howling wind was nothing but a low hum. All she could see in his blazing mismatched eyes were the reflections of her own. Despite his fury, there was something hypnotic and entrancing about it that kept her transfixed.

His Reaper growled at her and Ator growled back; her snarl shook the air.

Reyna’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears, and her breath came quick and shallow. Roth’s gaze burned into her soul as if he wanted to devour her.

The silence stretched on for eternity until finally, Decker’s voice cut through. “Come now, Roth. Let’s not make this a spectacle for the entire Fleet. We have more pressing matters at hand.”

Reyna’s gaze remained locked on Roth’s. His eyes were cold and angry, but after a beat, he finally looked away.

Decker moved past her, leading the way up the slope towards Caderi. Reyna followed suit, her heart still racing.

She could feel Roth’s eyes on her back, burning with rage. She had never been afraid of him before, but now she was.