Dawn Study (Soulfinders #3)(120)

Leif, Irys’s voice sounded in his mind. We’re ready.

Cooling relief flowed through him. The soldiers? he asked.

They’re regaining their senses, but a few are stubborn and insist they have to defend against the Commander’s army. They might try to stop you.

Leif checked his tunic. Darts loaded with his sleeping draft had been threaded through the fabric. The rest of his team was similarly armed. Let’s hope by the time they figure out what’s going on, it’ll be too late.

He signaled the Councilors to secure the slingshot. Keep well away from the wall, he told Irys.

Will do. See you on the flip side.

He clamped down on a chuckle.

Once the slingshot was strung between two trees, Leif took the orb from his father. Councilor Featherstone pulled the rubber sling back and angled it. Leif hoped the man’s aim was as accurate as he’d claimed. A few other hopes followed in quick succession: hope that they were far enough back to avoid being flattened by the blast. Hope that no one was killed on the other side. Hope that they reached the main administration building before one of Bruns’s magicians could warn the other garrisons.

Leif shoved all those worries deep inside. He placed the orb in the sling. The others moved deeper into the woods.

He held up a finger, signaling to the Councilor. One. Two fingers. Three.

Featherstone let go. The orb sailed through the air. Moonlight sparked off the glass, and for a heart-stopping moment, Leif thought it would fly over the wall. But then it smashed into the marble. Lightning exploded, blinding him two seconds before a roar slammed into him.

The force of the storm picked him up, carried him a few feet and hurled him to the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs in one whoosh. Bits of greenery floated in the clouds of dust while dirt and pieces of stone rained down on him. When he caught his breath, he sat up. Every muscle ached, and small cuts peppered his arms and legs.

Then he remembered the others. Panicked, he stood on shaky legs, searching for Mara and his father. She materialized from the fog. Blood streamed from a gash on her shoulder, but she waved away his hand.

“I’m fine,” she said, reassuring him. “But your father’s been knocked unconscious.”

She led him to Esau. A nasty gash marked his temple. Leif felt his pulse. Strong. Thank fate. He rolled his father into a more comfortable position and covered him with foliage. “He should be fine. We need to go, or we’ll lose the element of surprise.”

They assembled and did a quick injury check. Councilor Featherstone and Leif had gotten the brunt of the blast, but nothing serious. The others had minor cuts and bruises.

“Stay close to me,” Leif ordered.

Every one grabbed a dart, and the team raced for the ragged hole in the garrison’s wall.

Bits of marble crunched underfoot as he led the others. Dust clouded the air, but fuzzy yellow dots marked the location of the torches and lanterns. Shouts and sounds of confusion echoed off the parts of the wall still standing. They climbed over the mounds of debris. Figures rushed toward them.

Leif aimed at the closest man, but Irys yelled, “He’s one of ours.” She strode into sight with a number of armed soldiers trailing her. Her long hair had been pulled up into a bun. Irys wore a generic Sitian uniform, but there was no mistaking the power in her emerald gaze, nor the commanding posture that only a Master Magician could pull off. She gestured to her men. “Provide cover.”

Her soldiers surrounded them in a protective formation. Sweet.

“This way,” she said, breaking into a jog.

His team chased her. They headed straight for the administration building where the garrison’s high-ranking officers and magicians lived. A thick ring of guards two deep waited for them outside the building. They slowed to a stop. The defenders remained in position despite seeing Irys leading them.

Surprised, Leif asked Irys, “Is Cahil no longer on our side?”

“He sent his men on a mission, but Bruns ordered extra security, and he had to comply or risk being discovered.” She glanced at him. “Bruns suspects something is going to happen, but I didn’t tell Cahil which night, just in case.”

Smart, but it didn’t help with this obstacle. He looked over his shoulder, ensuring Mara remained right behind him.

Before he could stop him, Councilor Featherstone strode through their front line and approached the guards. “I’m Councilor Drake Featherstone. This is my garrison, and I’m in charge. Stand down at once.”

No one moved.

“What now?” Leif asked Irys. “The noise of a skirmish will alert the magicians inside, and they’ll send a message to Bruns.”

Irys smiled. “I’ve a null shield around the building.” She gestured to the guards blocking them. Two of them flew through the air and crashed to the ground. They lay still. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

Ah, yes, so nice to be fighting with a Master Magician again. “Engage,” Leif ordered.

The soldiers surrounding them surged forward. He glanced at Mara. “Stay with me.”

“I’ve got your back,” she said in a firm tone, even though she trembled.

Irys remained beside Leif as they fought through the chaos. Using the darts, Leif jabbed them into arms and legs while ducking blades. It worked, at least until he faced an aggressive opponent intent on skewering him. Irys’s attention was elsewhere, so he pulled his machete to defend himself. Unwilling to inflict any major harm, Leif stayed on the defensive, searching for an opportunity to jab the man with a dart. Except the guard was smart enough to avoid getting too close.