Farley actually is sick. She heaves up her guts in an alleyway, dumping whatever her quick breakfast was. I forgot she hates flying, not to mention teleporting. The drop was the worst of both.
I make for her, looping my arm to help her stand up straight. “You okay?”
“Fine,” she replies. “Just giving the wall a fresh coat of paint.”
I glance at the sky, still lashing us with cold rain. Oddly cold for this time of year, even in the north. “Let’s get moving. They aren’t on the walls yet, but they will be.”
Cal steams slightly and zips up the neck of his vest to keep the water out. “Shivers,” he calls. “I have a feeling we’re about to be snowed in.”
“Should we go to the gates?”
“No. They’re warded with Silent Stone. Silvers can’t pummel their way in. They have to go over.” He gestures for us and the rest of our dropjet to follow him. “We have to be on the ramparts, ready to push back whatever they throw. The storm is just the vanguard. Block us in, reduce our vision. Keep us blind until they’re on top of us.”
His pace is hard to match, especially through the rain, but I forge to his side anyway. Water soaks through my boots, and it isn’t long before I lose sensation in my toes. Cal stares ahead, as if his eyes alone can set the entire world on fire. I think he wants to. That would make this easier.
Once again he must fight—and probably kill—the people he was raised to protect. I take his hand, because there are no words I can say right now. He squeezes my fingers, but lets them go just as quickly.
“Your grandmother’s troops can’t get in the same way.” As I speak, more gravitrons and soldiers plummet out of the sky. All screaming, all safe when they touch down. We turn a corner, moving from one ring of walls to the next, leaving them behind. “How do we join our forces?”
“They’re coming from the Rift. That’s southwest. Ideally, we’ll keep Maven’s force occupied long enough for them to take the rear. Pin them between us.”
I gulp. So much of the plan relies on the work of Silvers. I know better than to trust such things. House Samos could simply not arrive and let us all be captured or killed. Then they would be free to challenge Maven outright. Cal isn’t stupid. He knows all this. And he knows Corvium and its garrison are too valuable to lose. This is our flag, our rebellion, our promise. We stand against the might of Maven Calore, and his twisted throne.
Newbloods man the ramparts, joined by Red soldiers with arms and ammunition. They don’t fire, only stare out into the distance. One of them, a tall string bean of a man with a uniform like Farley’s and a C on his shoulder, steps forward. He clasps arms with her first, nodding his head.
“General Farley,” he says.
She dips her chin. “General Townsend.” Then she nods to another ranking officer in green, probably the commander of the Montfort newbloods. The short, squat woman with bronze skin and a long, white braid coiled around her head returns the action. “General Akkadi.”
“What are we looking at?” Farley asks them both.
Another soldier approaches in red instead of green. Her hair is different, dyed scarlet, but I recognize her.
“Good to see you, Lory,” Farley says, all business. I would greet the newblood too if we had the time. I’m quietly happy to see another one of the Notch recruits not just alive but thriving. Like Farley, her red hair is closely cut. Lory belongs to the cause.
She nods at us all before throwing an arm out over the metal-edged ramparts. Her ability is extremely heightened senses, allowing her to see much farther than we can. “Their force is to the west, with their backs to the Choke. They have storms and shivers just inside the first ring of cloud cover, out of your sight.”
Cal leans forward, squinting at the thick black clouds and pelting rain. They make it impossible for him to see farther than a quarter mile from the walls. “Do you have snipers?”
“We tried,” General Townsend sighs.
Akkadi concurs. “Waste of ammunition. The wind just eats the bullet.”
“Windweavers too, then.” Cal sets his jaw. “They have the aim for that.”
The meaning is clear. The windweavers of Norta, House Laris, rebelled against Maven. So this force is Lakelander. Another person might miss the twitch of a smile or the release of tension in Cal’s shoulders, but I don’t. And I know why. He was raised to fight Lakelanders. This is an enemy that won’t break his heart.
“We need Ella. She’s best at storm lightning.” I point up at the looming towers overlooking this section of wall. “If we get her up high, she can turn the storm against them. Not control it, but use it to fuel herself.”