Heart of Defiance (The Royal Spares)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Signy

W e stop well before we reach the glow of the guard post's lantern, which is hanging over the door of the wooden structure.A couple more lights glow in the second-floor windows.

I flex one calf and then the other. The walk took three peals of the hourly bells ringing in the temples and villages we've passed at a distance.

Jostein considers the terrain around the guard post. It’s mostly open fields with a few low hills to the east and south, but a sparse woodland starts several paces to the north of the building.

He tips his head toward the trees. “Let’s circle around, staying out of view, and see what we can make of the place from closer up.”

We have to cross another road dotted with horse dung on the way over. None of us speaks, keeping our ears pricked for any hint of discovery by the soldiers inside the post .

We make it to the scattered trees without any calls of alarm. But then, even if a soldier on guard noticed a few figures walking across the nearby fields, they’d probably assume we’re no threat.

When was the last time anyone truly challenged Darium authority?

We sneak between the trunks until we’ve come up alongside the building within the shelter of the trees. We’re close enough that I can make out muffled voices and a brief chuckle but not most of the words.

Then someone who must be near an open window or in the upper lookout that’s open to the air lets out a disgruntled sigh. “My uniform still smells like fucking smoke.”

Her companion snorts. “That’ll take ages to come out. At least you have happy memories to go with it.”

“Happier if we could have barbequed all those stupid peasants.”

“I wish I’d been able to join the razing. To see a bunch of ungrateful Veldunians crushed—can’t get better than that.”

My teeth set on edge. Ungrateful? What exactly do these assholes think we’re supposed to be grateful for—the honor of having them shove us around and steal what’s ours?

“Bastards,” Landric growls under his breath.

Jostein’s gaze looks even more determined than before. “How are we going to do this? I’ve got a flint, and all that wood will be flammable, but we’ve got to get the fire to the post before they can stop us. And make sure it’ll spread quickly enough that they can’t just stamp it out.”

Iko hums to himself. “We should have brought some pitch. It burns like anything.”

“I don’t think Captain Amalia wanted us stopping to make supply runs along the way.”

My mind trips back over our journey alongside memories of the odd sorts of kindling I’ve had to resort to at the worst of times. “We might have something just as good.”

Jostein’s eyebrows lift. “What?”

I aim a slanted smile at him. “Dried horse manure is almost perfect fuel if you don’t mind the smell. And I’d say in this case that’s a benefit rather than a downside. Especially if we mix it into balls with dead leaves or grass…”

I’m expecting the men to recoil, and maybe Landric does, but I’m paying the least attention to him. Jostein nods slowly, and Iko clasps his hands together with an air of excitement. “We can find plenty of that along the road. The summer heat will have baked it dry quickly—it hasn’t rained for days.”

“We still have to get the burning dung into the building,” Landric points out. “I guess it’d be too heavy for arrows even if we had a bow… A strong enough throw might cross that distance.”

Iko’s face lights up. He reaches to one of the trees, just barely bigger than a sapling, and tugs on a pliant branch. “We don’t need to risk falling short. It’d be easy enough to turn part of a tree into a miniature catapult.”

Jostein chuckles. “Get to it then, master inventor. We’ll collect all the fuel we can.”

Without a word of complaint, Landric hustles alongside the squad leader and me back toward the road. He produces a sack of thin canvas that was folded in his pocket.

“You never know when you might see something worthy of collecting,” he says at my surprised glance, with a hesitant grin.

I’m not going to reject his contribution. It’ll beat hauling horse shit around in our arms.

We pick our way along the road, snatching up the harder, grittier droppings that are obviously older and tossing them into the bag. Wrinkling my nose, I grab a few pieces that are still partly damp as well. “To stick it all together. ”

When we head back through the trees, we all stop to pick up any fallen leaves that’ve turned crackly brown. I add the tiniest stray twigs I can find to the mix.

By the time we reach Iko, he’s carved a branch as tall as he is off one of the trees and is testing its capabilities by launching rocks in the opposite direction from the guard post. He sends one flinging as high as the treetops just as we reach him and beams at us triumphantly. “Just need to trim a little more off the top, and it’ll be perfect.”

Jostein swipes his hands together. “I’ll survey the site around the building again and pick the best position to launch from.”

I hunker down next to the sack, and Landric follows suit across from me. “Looks like we’re stuck with manure duty,” he says.

I reach into the sack. “No one said you had to stick your hands into shit.”

He replies steadily enough. “What am I here for if I’m not going to pitch in every way I can?”

A fair question.

He watches me shape the first ball, packing several droppings with leaves and twigs and a little damp manure to glue it all together. The final result is as big as a round of bread.

Copying my technique, Landric forms a couple of his own. In the end, we have enough for five projectiles.

Returning, Jostein appraises our work and motions us all over to the edge of the trees by the back corner of the guard post. “We’ll want to fling them in there in quick succession, before they realize what’s hit them. Here’s the flint. I need to get to the door as soon as they start fleeing.”

He flicks his fingers down his front in the gesture of the divinities and unsheathes his sword.

A sense of ominous anticipation grips me like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My heart is thudding, but I have the urge to yell some kind of war cry and pound my feet in a primitive dance.

We’re really doing this. We’re going to show these murderers what it’s like to really have your lungs filled with smoke.

Landric takes the flint. I hold up the first globe of dung while he lights the spark to its side.

On the second try, the spark catches. I adjust my hands, waiting until the flames have crept all the way over one side of our projectile and dug deeper inside. Heat wafts over me, but it only spurs on the excitement quivering in my chest.

I place the flaming ball on the back of Iko’s branch catapult. He shifts the angle slightly, braces himself, and lets it fly.

As the fiery dung ball careens through the air, I’m already holding out the second one to Landric. I only wait until I’m sure the fire has totally caught before yanking it over to Iko.

Shouts reverberate from the guard post. As Iko launches the second ball into the air, I’m vaguely aware of Jostein sprinting across the open ground between the trees and the building’s walls. Most of my attention is on getting the rest of our projectiles lit.

It’s only between the fourth and fifth that I let myself take the swiftest glance between the trees. My breath catches.

I drag my gaze back to the lump of dung and leaves I need to heft, but the flames flaring above the wooden walls and climbing to the lookout blaze on in my memory.

More yells ring out alongside the rising roar of the fire. Metal clangs, and bodies thump.

My heart stutters with the thought of the threats Jostein is facing alone, but all I can do is keep up my part of the bargain.

The instant Iko has propelled the final fiery dung ball into the guard post, he drops his catapult, and we all run after Jostein. I whip my hunting knife from its sheath, not sure how to land the best blows but knowing I’ll fight with everything I have regardless.

As my gaze catches on Jostein in the wavering glow of the fire, my rushing steps slow. He’s just slamming his sword into the gut of one of the Darium soldiers, right where there must be a joint in the basic armor.

The enemy soldier crumples with a spurt of blood over his lips, next to four other foes Jostein has already toppled all on his own.

I guess a warrior has an advantage when they’re prepared and their opponents are dashing around in a panic. All the same, he cuts a magnificent figure. I’ve never seen anyone wield a blade that skillfully.

One more soldier stumbles out of the flaming building. Iko springs forward to run him through.

The four of us remain braced around the guard post’s entrance, but no one else hurtles toward us. Any other guards currently stationed there must have succumbed to the fire.

When it’s obvious that no one could still be living inside the inferno that’s baking my face, I take a step back and sheathe my knife. A victorious, giddy laugh tumbles out of me.

Iko whoops and slings his arm around me, spinning both of us around as if we’re in the middle of a dance. “We did it. We destroyed those fuckers.”

As he sets me back on my feet, his handsome face fills my entire view, his gray eyes glinting with delight. In that moment, I think he might kiss me.

I think I might want him to.

My pulse hiccups, and he lets me go.

As I wet my lips, the motion sending a tingle of desire through me, Landric cranes his neck toward the far side of the fort. “They’ve got a stable. Maybe we can ride back.”

The thrill of triumph sweeps through me again, strong enough to carry every other consideration away. The words spill out of me.

“There’s a whole fort less than a day’s ride north of here. Who says we have to stop now? Let’s show Captain Amalia just how worthy this risk is.”

The men stare at me for a moment. Then Jostein breaks into a soft laugh of his own.

Iko claps his hands, his teeth flashing in a feral grin. “I like the way you think, Spitfire. Let’s ruin them all.”