Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9) Mark Wandrey (christmas read aloud txt) 📖

much closer than the first. Surely the Zuul hadn’t decided to attack after all this? What honor could there be in breaking an alliance, no matter how new it was?

“Speaking of concessions,” the Pushtal said, calmly unfastening his suit. “Where were we?”

Shadow blinked at him. How was the Pushtal not on edge from the explosion?

A dull alarm pulled at the back of his thoughts, a stale taste climbing the back of his throat, a creeping realization that the Pushtal weren’t on edge because they weren’t surprised.

The door opened again. Bana, back already? A flash of orange, yellow, and black in the doorway, and Shadow threw himself to the side and rolled before his conscious mind caught on. Gunfire from the door.

More Pushtal in the doorway.

They were under attack.

“To entropy with your concessions. We’re taking everything!” Eye Patch screeched, knocking over the table and pulling something long out of his suit. Mercs scrambled in every direction. Metal crashed as Silent Night soldiers knocked over shelves and folded tables that had been pushed to the walls to prepare for this meeting. There was precious little cover in the rec room—it had never been meant for combat.

Though this was less combat and more an attempt to shoot fish in a damn barrel.

Shadow tried to clear his mind, one hand reaching for his sidearm, one braced against something soft. Gunshots continued, and there were suddenly far more bodies in the room. The soft thing he’d fetched up against groaned under his hand.

Wet coated his fur, and he forced himself to look. Pierce.

“The…fuck…” the man muttered, his eyes unfocused and rolling.

“Shit,” Shadow said, his mind staggering for a long breath. He pressed his other hand against Pierce’s chest, but the merc was pumping blood too fast. Shadow’s ears swiveled, searching for sense in the sudden chaos.

Rex roared and dove for the Pushtal crowding in through the door, shooting with a pistol in each hand. Three of the original Pushtal were dead in the middle of the room, and Eye Patch had an enormous gun in his hand. Eye Patch bounded toward Alan, while Rex and several other Human mercs clashed with the four other felines that had burst into the room.

The last of the Pushtal stood at the flipped over table in the center of the room, Ifka’s neck clenched in one hand, and he shook her so hard, Shadow was sure her neck had snapped.

“Shit,” Shadow said again as Pierce’s blood stopped pumping, and his unfocused eyes stopped moving. The man had deserved better, despite what an ass he’d always been, and Shadow crouched over his body, doing absolutely nothing in the midst of an ambush…

Alan had his handgun out, kneeling and firing methodically. Shadow had half a second to admire the man who’d raised him. He was, first and foremost, a seasoned warrior. Surrounded by mayhem and death, he was working the problem, dropping aggressors in a meticulous manner. There was no sign of Eye Patch now.

Following his example, Shadow howled and pushed off from the wall so hard, he nearly flew in the low-G. He collided with the Pushtal clutching Ifka, and despite the feline being likely twice his mass, the impact sent them tumbling.

“Shadow, get out of the way!” Gardner’s voice called. More of Silent Night were joining the fight, shooting back to drop more Pushtal. No bloody way was he allowing the one he’d hit to continue rampaging through the room—he already had his own sidearm in hand.

His hand and weapon were slick with blood, Pierce’s blood, and Ifka was between him and the Pushtal. They were all sprawled on the floor, and Shadow reminded himself that Ifka was already dead. He shot through her, stroking the trigger, the Pushtal shuddering from the impact. The Pushtal reared off the floor and swung a massive paw at him, claws gleaming. A howl tore from Shadow’s throat as he rolled clear, fetching up on his elbow and shooting it three more times before it stopped moving.

Everything was chaotic with Human, Zuparti, and Pushtal bodies seemingly everywhere, but the gunshots had lessened. Rex and his father must have cleared the door of the incoming Pushtal, but now were nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Dad?” he shouted to the other mercs.

“I think he ran outside after Rex,” someone said. “Chasing a bloody huge Pushtal with an eyepatch?”

Without waiting or acknowledging, Shadow was already running out the door after his father, brother, and Eye Patch.

He didn’t look to see if anyone was following him, but he didn’t need to. They were Silent Night. Of course they fell in after him.

Another Pushtal sprawled across the hall, the overwhelming smell of blood and burnt fur and Pushtal making it impossible to tell how many had been here. Shadow lifted his nose and strained his ears, then ran to the left.

“Gardner,” he said, turning his head just enough to catch sight of the older merc in his peripheral vision, “they brought five ships in—we have no way of knowing how many there are. Take as many men as you can and get to the entrance. If those explosions were them breaching it…shut it down, in case more are coming.” His pace didn’t slacken, but Gardner grunted his assent and peeled off at the next turn. “Newt, raise the barracks. Get the Lumar if you can. They want a bloody ambush, we’ll make it bloody.”

“But what about our CASPers?” Gardner asked.

“No time; if they get inside in any numbers, we’re fucked. We can’t get in a scrum with Pushtal! Once we have them held, we can think about retaliating.”

He was a private, he had no business giving orders. But he was also a Porter, so he did anyway, and the mercs responded instantly and without complaint. He ran onward, searching for his father.

Shadow nearly skidded around the corner before his