LastRock by Tucker Phil

Author:Tucker, Phil
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

“Listen up.” Taron didn’t need to shout. The loose collective that had followed him out onto a stretch of packed sand wasn’t there to mess around. They cut off their conversations and listened intently.

Taron crossed his arms and rocked back onto his heels. “I’ve nothing terribly exciting to share. The business of running an army is as boring as it is bureaucratic. But if you cut through all the nonsense, in essence we’re in a holding pattern until we receive confirmation from the Seamstress that her Imperators are incoming.”

A young man at the back of the crowd raised his hand. “How’s that going to be coordinated? We need to strike LastRock just as they arrive, right?”

“That’s the crux of all the deliberations.” Taron’s bleak blue gaze glimmered with dour amusement. “Charoth and his strike team need to draw the Blood Ox to LastRock just as the Imperators arrive. We can’t afford to waste a minute of their time. Each second that they’re away from the Twilight Cradle results in catastrophic consequences that we can’t begin to fathom. But that’s none of our concern. We’re mere peons, ignorant foot soldiers who need but do and die as commanded. As far as anyone can tell, we have a week before we ride forth into the Bone Plains. Which is fortuitous, as we need to integrate a handful of new talents into our battle plan.”

Scorio glanced at those around him. Nobody seemed taken aback by Taron’s tone; it was clear that negligent sarcasm was the Pyre Lord’s modus operandi. In the near distance stood a large circle of standing stones, the spaces between them hidden by a flowing wall of milky-white fog. Groups were clustered around this stone circle, indifferent to Taron and his Dread Blazes.

“Some of your trial memories may have shown you ancient battles. You might have seen thousands arranged in neat and orderly blocks marching toward each other while archers darkened the skies with arrows. A battle might take the course of a whole day, and its outcome determined as much by morale as anything else. That is not how we Great Souls fight.

“We’ll be facing foes who can at times number in the thousands. Most often these are the Bronze-ranked fiends of the Telurian Band, but sprinkled throughout for our delight are Gold-ranked fiends who can ruin your day if you’re not paying attention. Who can tell me what our approach is, seeing as our dastardly little company will only number about fifty individuals?”

“Power integration,” said Fyrona, her tone a hair’s breadth short of exasperated.

“Power integration,” agreed Taron. “We’re all such special, unique creatures. Nyrix can open portals. Wesanin turns into a living tornado of whatever materials lie around him. The Shadow Petal can cleave through endless ranks of enemies with her infamous blades. I can make it so that the ground beneath our foes’ feet becomes as slick as wet glass. How do we fight as an organized group and avoid tripping each other up? How do

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