Break the Day (Nightstar Book 1)
Chapter 21

Standing among the numerous army tents, Fennrin didn’t think he’d ever felt this out of place anywhere. Not even at the palace did he feel this much like he had no business being here among the several thousand soldiers that had gathered at the border. He wasn’t a soldier, had very little combat experience, and while he could use a sword now, he wasn’t very good at it.

And yet everyone was certain his presence here will greatly increase their chances. He had rationally known this the whole time, but actually standing here, knowing that somewhere over the hill in the distance, Orinovo’s army was waiting to attack, it made all of this all the more surreal.

And Fennrin couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t scared because he was. Very much so. Though he was trying his hardest not to let that get to him. He’d already had a bit of a crisis earlier, and Ain had had to calm him down, which was embarrassing, to say the least.

Their trip around Lys-Akkaria to boost the people’s esteem of him backfired a little, at least in his opinion, because now some of the soldiers seemed to look at him with hope in their eyes. As though Fennrin was a savior. And while it was very nice of them to give him a chance to prove himself, he wished he’d had more experience before a large-scale battle broke out. And so now he was anxious about that instead.

Still, there was nothing to be done about that, and he needed to calm down. He was exhausting even to himself. If a battle broke out, as it was most likely going to, he would do his best and fight, and that was all he could do, so there was no reason to feel worried or anxious.

He was training his control over shadows at the moment, tearing up wooden logs to keep all the braziers around the camp going, using his mind instead of an axe to produce nice and even pieces. Though it seemed very pointless, and mostly it served only the purpose of helping around the camp since he was being given rations, as well, despite not being a part of the army. His control of a single shadow seemed near perfect. It was as innate as moving a finger for him now. He thought of what he wanted to do, moved his hand, and it happened.

Though this control tended to fall apart when he tried to grab more than a single shadow. Thinking about that, he tried to make two of the logs rise up into the air, grimacing a little as he tried to keep track of both of their shadows, his eyes flicking from one to the other, but as they rose, they wavered, one of them dipping as his hold on its shadow slipped. Fennrin quickly focused on that one, grabbing its shadow before it could fall only to hear a thud as the other log fell to the ground instead.

Huffing a frustrated breath, he tore the log apart, letting the pieces fall down, kicking them over to the pile. He needed to work on this.

He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like had the capability to control more shadows at once. He knew it deep down, though he wasn’t sure how to achieve it. And it wasn’t as though there was another living shadowforger that would teach him. All he had were books written by people who weren’t shadowforgers, getting information second hand or simply writing down what had happened in chronicles and diaries.

It just wasn’t very useful.

“Hey, liri!” Ainreth said as he practically bounded over to him, leaning in to kiss Fennrin’s cheek, bringing Fennrin out of his brooding. He had to smile at Ain’s bright smile, though his eyes were worried. Ainreth couldn’t hide that, no matter how much he seemed to want to try to pretend he wasn’t concerned about the battle.

“Sorry I was gone so long. I only now got finished with a debriefing,” Ainreth continued, shaking his head. “We made a plan, but a few of the generals kept arguing against my obviously superior ideas.”

Fennrin huffed out a laugh, unable not to when Ain was being so ridiculous. He did wonder what the plan was, though, feeling like maybe he should have been there to listen to it. Then again, only the generals had come together to hatch it, so perhaps he wouldn’t have been allowed, even if he’d wanted to.

“Making sure we don’t die seems more important than spending time with me, Ain,” Fennrin pointed out, though he was very touched that Ainreth saw being together as so vital. It was just irresponsible, though.

“Oh please,” Ainreth waves his arms before taking Fennrin’s hand into his. “We wouldn’t die. Least of all you. You can just turn into a shadow. I can become invisible.”

Fennrin shook his head. “You know that isn’t what I mean. What about everyone else?”

Ainreth sighed, leaning in to kiss Fennrin’s temple. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Fenn. Sorry, I’m just…” He shrugged, clearly not sure how to finish that sentence. But he didn’t need to. Fennrin understood.

“I am worried, as well. Do you think we have a chance?” Ainreth immediately seemed to want to confirm that as he opened his mouth, but Fennrin fixed him with a hard stare. “Honestly. I don’t want you to lie to me.”

Ain sighed again, nodding. “I do. I don’t think they can beat us. Not with you on our side.”

Fennrin felt like it was pointless to question that, but he couldn’t help but do so. “You really think I will make such a difference?”

Predictably, Ainreth scoffed as if what Fennrin had asked was ridiculous. “You killed how many soldiers to save me that day? On your own, in an instant?”

Fennrin huffed, wanting to fold his arms over his chest in annoyance, but not enough to stop holding Ainreth’s hand. “I suppose you have a point.”

Ain squeezed Fennrin’s shoulder. “Blighted right I do.” He grimaced then, frowning in thought. Before Fennrin could ask what was wrong, though, he spoke. “I…did some reading on shadowforgers, you know. That book I used to prove to you there was at least one good one before you.”

Fennrin nodded, not sure where Ainreth was going with this.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it because I thought it might upset you to know anything about the bad shadowforgers, but….” Ain holds up his index finger as if to stop Fennrin from arguing. As if Fennrin knew what he should even be arguing against. “Almost all of the shadowforgers in that book are talked about as unstoppable, and most of the ones who went on a rampage the book claims had to be killed by an army. Or they were killed in their sleep by assassins. So, I think you will be fine, liri.”

Fennrin tried to take that in, frowning. He hadn’t really given much thought to how the evil shadowforgers must have met their ends, how they’d been stopped. If they could all turn into a shadow then it would be difficult to deal with them, aside from ambushing them so expertly that they wouldn’t manage to react.

“I…should read that book properly.” He already knew he wouldn’t like the contents of it. He had been avoiding looking into it since Ainreth had read parts of it to him, worried what he might find. But he was desperate for every bit of information he could get, so it was foolish to avoid it just because he was afraid he might not like what he would read.

Ainreth smiled, looking relieved. Had he truly thought Fennrin would be upset by this information? “Probably. But my point is that I don’t think you have much to worry about, Fenn. You’ll have those soldiers running.”

Fennrin huffed out a laugh, imagining the highly trained Orinovan army scattering at the sight of him—an unimposing, inexperienced man with nothing to his name aside from his az-ari abilities. Surely they wouldn’t think anything of him, but perhaps he could use them underestimating him to his advantage.

“So, what is the battle plan?”

Fennrin grimaced when he saw Ain’s eyes sparkle with amusement, wondering if he’d said something stupid, but Ainreth said nothing about it, starting to lead him away toward the border. Fennrin wasn’t entirely certain where it was exactly, but he did know enough not to approach it.

“It’s simple,” Ainreth said as they finally stopped once they managed to get away from the tents far enough so that they had unobscured sight of the plain of grayish grass beyond, a slowly rising hill that the Orinovan army on the other side of. “We wait until they make the first move. We don’t have nearly the numbers necessary to try to chase them off. But once they do attack, a small group including you which I will make invisible will go behind enemy lines and try to take out the Orinovan generals.”

Fennrin nods, a little relieved he wouldn’t be fighting on the front lines, even though that was incredibly unfair to most of the soldiers here. Then again, he was likely one of the only people here who had never seen proper combat.

“Are they going to attack? Are we sure of that?”

Ain sighs, grimacing a little at him. “Between what the scouts are saying and the fact that Orinovo has concentrated a large part of their army here, yeah, I don’t think anything else would make sense. And I don’t think anything will stop that crazy queen from sending her soldiers to die here.”

Ainreth’s solemn expression was gone the next second, though, replaced with a smile as he raised Fennrin’s hand which he was still holding to his lips, kissing his knuckles. Fennrin gaped at this, never having had his hand kissed in his life. “But until they attack, we will just spend time here, hm? Perhaps train some more with a sword, no matter how useless it is for you.” He chuckled. “At least I can’t use my powers at night. Nothing is stopping you.”

Fennrin grinned, nodding, ignoring Ainreth’s thoughts on the pointlessness of learning to sword fight better. If nothing else, he enjoyed training with Ain, and even if that were the only thing to gain from it, it would be more than worth it.

“All right, let’s go train, then.”

It took five days of waiting, training, and doing random chores around the camp before Orinovo began its attack, but once it did, everything happened so fast. As battle horns sounded—at least that was what Ainreth had called them, Fennrin had had no idea—everyone rushed to get ready to fight, knowing that Orinovo’s soldiers would soon march in and slaughter them, forming a long, defensive line in many, many rows on the field beyond.

It was almost awe-inspiring to see, though Fennrin’s stomach twisted when he thought about how many of these soldiers would die today. They were here willingly, wanting to help defend their country, but they were also often young—younger than him, even, like Petre, for example.

Though Petre themself was going with them behind enemy lines. Fennrin would hate to imply anything about them not being a very good soldier—he was sure they were—but he suspected Ainreth had chosen them more because he wanted to keep them away from the main battle and possibly to keep an eye on them. It was clear how much Ain cared about Petre, so Fennrin wouldn’t be surprised.

Aside from Petre, Fennrin, and Ainreth, there were five others, three women and two men, who Fennrin didn’t know, but he had been told that they were high-ranking, good soldiers, all az-ari. There were three flamewielders, and two windwalkers, which, while some of the most common az-ari, were still quite rare.

It was quite odd to be in a group composed only of az-ari, a novelty, but it made sense. They could do everything other soldiers could, plus more. So it was the obvious choice for Ainreth to prefer them. He just hoped they would be successful in taking out the leaders of the Orinovan army. And that would be enough to stop their soldiers, or at the very least confuse them since they would have no one to give orders anymore.

Supposedly, some of the leaders would be fighting on the front lines, but everyone seemed very sure of the fact that the generals would be in the back, on top of the hill, looking down and giving orders by use of sounding different horns. Ideally, they were going to take out the people sounding them as well, and then join the fray, attacking the Orinovan army from behind.

But thinking about all of that made Fennrin feel intimidated, so he preferred to focus on their task, one step at a time.

“Everyone ready?” Ainreth asked, looking more serious and stone-faced than Fennrin had ever seen him before. But strangely, that helped him pull himself together also. He wouldn’t disappoint anyone here, he thought to himself with determination, least of all Ainreth.

Everyone nodded, one of the flamewielders saluting even.

“All right then. You know how this works.” Ainreth took Fennrin’s hand, stepping next to him. “Hold hands, wrists, shoulders, whatever. Just keep physical contact and stay in one line so I don’t lose control over the light surrounding you.”

“Yes, sir!” said everyone including Petre as one of the windwalkers grabbed Fennrin’s wrist. It made him flinch a little, not used to people aside from Ain touching him, but the woman didn’t even seem to notice, too focused on Ainreth. Good, Fennrin didn’t want to immediately look weak to these people.

“Good.” As Ainreth waved his fingers and they all disappeared in an instant, Fennrin took a deep breath, squeezing Ain’s hand, using the touch to ground himself as Ainreth began to lead him away. Toward the advancing army on the horizon.

Fennrin’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the sheer number of them, the distant line of soldiers stretching as far as the eye could see, their armor shining in the morning sun. Quite a number of the soldier seemed to be on horses, as well, which made Fennrin look back at Lys-Akkaria’s soldiers far behind them, trying his best to ignore their clearly lower numbers. Some of the soldiers stood ready with bows, while others held large shields to protect the archers from whatever arrows Orinovo may shoot at them. Fennrin had no idea how effective this was going to be, but he knew nothing about war, so he wouldn’t lose hope just yet.

Thankfully, almost immediately Ainreth started leading them toward a forest in the distance, away from the action as much as he could with how wide the battlefield would become. Fennrin tried not to look at Orinovo’s army looming in the distance as he kept following Ainreth, only focusing on the feeling of his hand in his, staring stubbornly at the forest and ignoring all the noise the two armies were making just by moving around.

It seemed like an eternity before they finally reached the other end of the future battlefield, long enough for the enemy army to make unnerving progress, but it didn’t matter how close to the border they got—Ainreth, Fennrin, and the others were going to the commanders’ tents over the hill.

And soon enough, after reaching the top of it, Fennrin saw them, a sea of tents not unlike the Lys-Akkarian camp, except these were blue. Only then did Fennrin realize that they were in Orinovo now, and he tried very hard not to remember what happened the last time he’d crossed the border.

Fennrin expected Ainreth to start leading them down the hill, much steeper on this side, but instead of going down, they turned left, heading seemingly in a random direction. At least until Fennrin noticed a few more, bigger tents on another hill, farther away from the one they were standing on, with what must have been a good view of the field below.

Fennrin kept his eyes on the tents as they went, seeing only a few soldiers standing around them. They only needed to get close enough for him to be able to kill them. He was sure he could manage to do it with however many commanders there were before they could figure out what was going on.

Everyone stayed deathly quiet as they reached the woods, and once hidden among the trees, Ainreth let the invisibility fall away. Though Fennrin had obviously known the entire time that the other had been there, it was nice to see them again, to know that he was far from being alone here.

“All right,” Ain whispered to all of them. “We follow the tree line until we get close enough, then Fenn tries to kill as many of them as he can before they scatter.”

Fennrin was about to agree, promising to try his best, when one of the flamewielders yelled.

“Look out!”

Fennrin’s head snapped to where she was standing, just in time to see arrows flying toward them from among the trees, stopped just in time by one of the windwalkers, throwing a gust of wind against the arrows, stopping them before they could hit.

“Sunder!” Ainreth cursed loudly, grabbing Fennrin’s hand again, pulling him along so they could hide behind a thick tree, wide enough to hide them, while Petre and the others did so as well, scattering as more arrows came, hitting the trees around them and flying past. “Either they had a spy, or they’re getting smart enough to figure out we’d be coming.”

“Surprised, Daybreaker?” called a voice from somewhere deeper in the forest, the man’s Orinovan accent thick. “Shocked that your pitiful attempt at strategy has failed?”

Fennrin looked at Ainreth, silently asking if he knew who this person was, and judging by his wide, surprised eyes, he knew. “Nev? What are you doing, hiding in the woods? I’d think the great kapetan would be fighting on the front lines.”

“I’ve been waiting for you, you infuriating vo,” the man growled.

Ainreth chuckled for some reason, making Fennrin very confused despite his terror. “Aw, and here I thought you were spoken for.”

“Friend of yours?” Fennrin whispered to Ainreth, even though all the yelling had long since given away their location.

“Neven Oretski,” Ainreth whispered back, though he still looked amused. “He thinks we have a rivalry going on. I only memorized his name last year.”

“Just kill the tshurek!” Oretski yelled at his soldiers, prompting Ainreth to pull Fennrin along, further into the woods as he made them both invisible. And that was well and good for them, but Fennrin couldn’t help but worry about the others, especially Petre.

“I can kill them,” Fennrin whispered to Ainreth. “The forest is full of shadows. I’ll move too quickly for them to fight back.”

Ain paused. Fennrin could almost imagine his unsure expression, even though there was nothing to see right now. “Are you sure?”

Fennrin nodded before realizing Ainreth couldn’t see him. “Yes, I can do it.”

“Okay, be careful, liri. Try to take Oretski prisoner, if you can. Might as well get some information out of him.”

Fennrin squeezed Ainreth’s hand before dissolving into shadow, immediately setting off toward the sounds of yelling deeper in the forest, though it didn’t take him long to find an enemy soldier.

Fennrin wasn’t brave enough to turn into his human form and snap his neck, knowing he might get shot immediately, and so instead he slipped into the woman’s shadow, letting her move, staying still for the moment. He hadn’t attempted hurting someone like this, let alone killing them, but he knew he should be capable of it.

It still made him feel strange to be so okay with murder, but these were soldiers, intent on killing them, so there was no reason to feel guilty, even if Orinovo conscripted soldiers. It was kill or be killed.

Fennrin focused, trying to make the death as painless as possible as he jerked the woman’s head to the side hard enough to break her neck, letting the body fall onto the ground soundlessly. He felt like he should feel worse about this than a general sadness concerning the fact that this was necessary, but he moved on, not dwelling on whether this was some kind of aspect of him being a shadowforger or not.

He moves on, sliding along the forest floor, following the sounds of the soldiers yelling until coming across one, his bow drawn, about to shoot one of the flamewielders hiding behind a tree and clearly not seeing her soon-to-be killer. Fennrin pushed on faster, becoming one with the soldier’s shadow and killing him too before moving on immediately, seeing a flash of fire in the distance.

He rushed toward it only to find what seemed to be the main area of their fight, with two of the flameweavers and the wildwalkers fighting a group of around twenty soldiers in a wide circle around them, throwing fire and incredibly strong wind at them, trying to keep them at bay and avoid their arrows, but it was clear that they would lose the fight eventually, their enemies too numerous.

Fennrin was about to start killing the soldiers one by one when he noticed one dressed differently from the others. It was a white-haired man of about thirty, his armor decorated with Orinovo’s creast in the front—a crown on a shield—a dark blue cloak with a fur collar drawn over his shoulder, and a grim, hard expression on his face.

Was this…the kapetan? That was the only thing that made sense to Fennrin, but he hadn’t thought he’d be so young. Perhaps he was an az-ari, and therefore older than he appeared? Though that seemed odd because in Orinovo, the az-ari were quite hated, so putting one in charge of their army seemed illogical.

As if to confirm this theory, the next second Oretski threw his hand out, sending a large burst of fire at the group of az-ari, burning them if not for one of the windwalkers pushing the flame back with her power.

The sight of this finally let Fennrin remember what he should be doing, reaching the soldier closest to him and killing him, moving to the one next to him before the man had a chance to figure out what had happened. He killed another and another, which was finally when the soldiers panicked, screaming about shadowforgers while Oretski snapped something in Orinovan. Fennrin didn’t understand the language, but he was sure it had been cursing.

“So you truly can turn into shadows, then, dehmon,” Oretski said, clearly very displeased at the situation. It made Fennrin pause to hear himself be addressed like this, which was unfortunately long enough for the kapetan to set fire to the ground in a circle around him, making it impossible for Fennrin to get close enough to him to grab him.

But that only protected Oretski from Fennrin taking over his shadow in this form. He could turn physical and still do almost anything, including dragging him out of the fire circle. But then Oretski did something Fennrin hadn’t expected.

Fennrin watched, frozen, as the Orinovan moved his hand, summoning a gust of wind so strong at himself that it threw him up into the air, and just like that he was gone, flying away toward the main battlefield.

In his shock, Fennrin turned back into his human form, staring after Oretski. How…how was that possible? How could he have control over more than one aspect of nature? Was he the same as Yarima?

“What the sunder was that?” yelled one of the windwalkers.

Fennrin turned to them, seeing their wide, shocked eyes, knowing he probably looked the same exact way. But looking at them made him gather himself because there was a distinct lack of Petre here.

“Where did Petre go?”

One of the flamewielders pointed to the right, deeper into the forest. “They went that way. Two soldiers went after them” She paused for breath before opening her mouth again to say more, but Fennrin was already melding into shadows again, setting off fast in the direction he’d been given, hoping to catch up with Petre before something happened to them. Assuming nothing had happened so far.

As he went, he came across the last flamewielder, fighting off three soldiers with his fire, who Fennrin decided to help, not sticking around for long, simply snapping their necks by jumping from one shadow to the next before zipping away, gliding along the ground as he continued searching.

He ended up exiting the woods soon, forcing him to turn physical again as there were no shadows to keep to anymore out in the sunny fields of grass. He took a few steps forward before looking around, realizing that if Petre was around here, they would be visible. There was nowhere to hide out here, and so Fennrin prepared to go back into the forest.

At least until he turned around to find himself face-to-face with Yarima. And before he could grab her shadow, she twitched her fingers. A horrible, shrill sound immediately hit his ears, feeling it was reaching the very core of his being, making his vision go blurry as he covered his ears.

His ears continued to ring even after the sound stopped, not letting him gather himself enough to grab Yarima’s shadow. He expected her to use this to kill or capture him, but when he forced himself to focus, she just stood there, a little closer than she had been before, her arm raised, clearly ready to strike but not doing so as she panted. Perhaps an attack like this had been difficult for her.

“Looking for that little friend of yours?” Yarima mocked him, making Fennrin grit his teeth. He wondered if he could kill her before she could kill him. “I’ll tell you where he is.”

“Where they are.”

Yarima rolled her eyes. “I suggest you hurry, comrade. They might not live for much longer. I locked them in a cottage west of here, down the hill. You’ll know where it is by the smoke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Fennrin growled, ready to grab her shadow and take his chances on her own attack, but she seemed to know it, too as she flexed her hand in warning.

“It means you should get running unless you want them to burn to death,” she said. “Instead of wasting time with me.”

Fennrin hesitated. This could be a trick. Just to distract him from whatever Yarima wanted to do here in the meantime. But despite how much of a threat she was, how many lives she could end, Fennrin didn’t have a choice, did he? He had to go help Petre if they were truly in trouble, and he couldn’t just assume Yarima was lying.

And so with an angry huff, he bolted, running west, going back inside the forest so he could become a shadow and move faster without any physical limitations. Though he was starting to feel the strain on his power after killing several soldiers and shifting from shadow to his physical body. It seemed modifying people’s shadows this way was more tiring than doing it only with his mind.

Just as he reached the end of the forest, he found the cottage Yarima had mentioned, mostly by its burning roof. His heart clenching in worry, Fennrin exited the forest, forced to turn into his human form again as he ran as fast as he could, sprinting down the hill and to the house.

He wasn’t even certain what he was going to do once he got there—he just knew he had to reach it. And when he did, he immediately rammed his shoulder into the door, the stifling smoke all around him stinging his lungs, but he didn’t let that stop him, hitting the door again and again, his arm burning as it finally gave way, flying open.

His worry only mounted when he saw Petre lying on the ground, gagged and tied up, their eyes barely open as they kept coughing, the fire starting to consume the far wall of the cottage. Fennrin quickly gathered himself, running in with a hand over his face as the smoke made him cough as well, putting his arms around Petre’s chest and dragging them out as fast as he could.

Once they were outside, Fennrin immediately pulled out Petre’s gag, cutting the ropes binding them with his sword, and helping them to their feet even as they coughed like they wanted to expel a lung. Fennrin watched with concern, having no idea what to do, rubbing at his sore shoulder, which was now strongly reminding him of itself.

“T-thanks,” Petre choked out, breathing hard, still leaning on Fennrin.

“Are you okay?”

Petre nods rapidly, running a hand through their hair. “I—” They cough again, putting one hand over their chest. “That Yarima woman. She…lured me here by mimicking Ain’s voice. Said he was hurt. I thought….” They take a few more deep breaths, already starting to move, heading back up the hill. Fennrin wanted to protest, but they had no time to waste. There was a battle going on. “I thought he was invisible. I didn’t know soundsmiths could pretend to be other people.” They shake their head as they increase their pace, still stumbling a little despite support from Fennrin, but now walking fast. “But I was stupid. I should have known something was wrong. And she said….” Petre shut their eyes for a second, their teeth gritted. “She said she would use me to distract you. While she takes Ainreth’s power for herself.”

Fennrin’s insides clenched in panic, now properly understanding why Petre was trying to get back so quickly. So that was what Yarima had wanted. Fennrin was the only one capable of stopping her, and he could avoid her taking his power away simply by turning into a shadow she couldn’t touch. And now he’d left Ain vulnerable with only the flamewielders and windwalkers to defend him.

They needed to go faster, but he couldn’t ask Petre to speed up. They were barely walking as it was. But before Fennrin could say anything about it, Petre spoke.

“Go. You’re faster as a shadow,” they said, their eyes full of the same worry for Ainreth that Fennrin was almost being overwhelmed with. He hesitated, though, worried something might happen to Petre. They were in Orinovo right now, after all. “Come on! Go! I’ll be fine.”

Fennrin still wasn’t sure about this, but his desperation to go find Ainreth won him over, nodding and after letting go of Petre, making sure they could stand on their own, he bolted, running up the hill to the woods, dissolving into shadow the moment he could.

He’d never moved as fast as he was moving now, barely taking in any of the trees around him as he zipped past them. All he could focus on was finding Ainreth, looking for a flash of light, the sounds of fighting, anything that would give Fennrin his location.

And just a while longer, he finally found him, just outside of the forest, laying on the ground, groaning, surrounded by the bodies of two of their az-ari companions.

And with Yarima about to touch him.

Knowing Fennrin couldn’t reach her directly from the forest, her shadow not touching the shadows of the trees, Fennrin almost by instinct, not thinking at all, turned into his human form, grabbing Yarima’s shadow and throwing her far away from Ainreth, not caring where she ended up as he rushed to the lightweaver.

“Ain!” he cried, checking Ainreth over, noticing some blood wetting his cloak on his side, but it didn’t seem too serious. “Are you okay?”

Ainreth stared at him for a moment, frowning, his eyes unfocused, but that only lasted a short moment, his expression clearing up. “Fenn! Oh, thank the sun you’re all right.”

“Me? What about you?” Fennrin couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculous situation, helping Ainreth get up when he saw the lightweaver trying to sit up. Fennrin took a sweeping glance at their surroundings, trying to find Yarima, but she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had given up now that Fennrin had returned? He wasn’t even sure where he’d thrown her.

He couldn’t help but curse himself, then. If he had stopped to think for a second and captured her, they could have interrogated her. But now they had no idea where she was.

“I’m fine. Just a few cuts. And I’m a little woozy from whatever sounds she threw at me,” Ain said as he put his arms around Fennrin’s back, leaning on him, prompting Fennrin to put his own arm around Ainreth’s shoulders. “You got here just in time. To save me, anyway.”

Fennrin watched Ainreth grimace at the two dead soldiers, wincing. If he’d gotten here sooner—

“No, not your fault,” Ainreth said, pointing his index finger at Fennrin’s face. “Just a shame. They were good soldiers.”

Fennrin wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing, instead noting that both of the soldiers had throwing daggers sticking out of their necks, which was interesting because it implied things about Yarima’s power. Perhaps it could only stun people, and not kill them. Though it was possible she simply hadn’t done that so she wouldn’t kill Ain.

“Where’s Petre?”

Fennrin quickly summed up what happened, making Ainreth glare with so much offended fury that it took him back a bit. “She dared put my little guy in danger?”

Fennrin decided not to point out that the battle going on just below them was very much dangerous as well and Petre was taking part.

“As much as I want to go back for Petre and fuss, we’ll have to hope they make it back safely on their own. Right now, we need to go take out those commanders,” said Ainreth next, nodding to himself. “Come on, time is wasting.”

“Are you sure? You’re hurt,” Fennrin pointed out, to which Ain waved his hand.

“I can be hurt later. Right now we have a battle to win.” He patted himself, pulling a vial out of his pocket, which Fennrin assumed contained Petre’s healing tonic. He had one on himself also, though he’d never used it. “These command tents were a decoy. The commanders are actually at the bottom of this sundering hill.”

Fennrin nodded, noticing that no one seemed to be around the tents. He said nothing as they started to run, only grimacing at Ainreth stumbling, but he seemed to walk off his injuries fairly well, only limping a little as they made their way down the hill as fast as they could without losing their footing and falling down, finding another group of regular tents, much smaller in general, with a few people standing around a map on a table, looking down at the view of the battlefield. Though notably, the kapetan wasn’t here, likely fighting on the front lines, instead, if his earlier involvement was anything to go by.

Fennrin’s eyes flicked over to the battlefield itself, the sounds of battle raging on. There was fire and smoke obscuring parts of the field, but even like it seemed Orinovo was pushing Lys-Akkaria back. Unsurprisingly. From here it looked even more like they had many more soldiers than his initial view of it from the bottom of the hill.

Fennrin felt Ainreth take his hand, soon enough making them both invisible as he whispered. “Do you think you could take them out from here?”

The commanders were still fairly far away from the group, but Fennrin could feel their shadows move with their owners, even from this distance. He raised his hand, focusing on one in particular, jerking the shadow of his head to the side. The man went to the ground immediately, prompting the other commanders to panic, but Fennrin didn’t let them run away, killing them quickly, one by one.

“Good job, Fenn!” Ain cheered, briefly hugging him as he let go of the invisibility. “Now let’s go save Lys-Akkaria, huh?”

Ainreth was already glowing, the light harsh and imposing, not at all what it usually looked like. He didn’t wait for Fennrin’s input as he spread his arms out, walking toward the battlefield, the air around him shimmering as he put his arms in front of himself, clenching his fists.

A beam of light so bright it made Fennrin’s eyes hurt shot out from Ainreth’s hands, immediately incinerating several Orinovan soldiers closest to where it hit, burning others, and setting some on fire.

The soldiers started yelling in alarm, seeing Ainreth advancing on them, not sure what they should do, now trapped between Lys-Akkaria’s army, and the Daybreaker. But there would be no change of tactics because the commanders were dead.

Put a little at ease by this panic, Fennrin clenched his fist, snapping the necks of the soldiers closest to him, going from one shadow to the next, which only made them panic more, someone attempting to shoot an arrow at him, but he managed to dodge just in time, killing that soldier as well.

Ainreth sent out another deadly beam of light, this time even brighter and bigger than the last, spreading his arms and making the light scatter, hitting the line of soldiers in an arch, killing at least ten instantly, burning another two dozen. Fennrin had no idea how long Ainreth could do this for, but they kept going like this, Fennrin turning into a shadow, jumping from one shadow to the next as he killed more and more soldiers, until eventually there was the sound of a horn blaring.

And even Fennrin knew what this meant. They were retreating. Lys-Akkaria won the battle.

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