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They stood under the sun and waited.

A lot depended on what the wolves did next. He hoped they’d take his challenge and meet them in the field, but there was no guarantee. They might not come at all during the day and attack the camp at night, or they might make Cam bring his army out again and again, wearing them down a little at a time.

Which wouldn’t be so bad. At least he knew Haesar and the Elves would be in position if the wolves delayed.

Cam continued to pace as the army stood out in the morning sun.

Hours passed. Quiet from the far tree line. Scouts came and went, aides gave reports, message flags waved. Miuri stood next to an anxious Felin and kept an arm draped loosely around her shoulder.

At noon, Cam sent down the order.

“Food where they stand,” he said. “Water as needed. Pass it along.”

“Cam, they’ve been on their feet for hours,” Miuri said.

“And they’ll be on their feet for longer,” Cam said. “Lycanica’s smart. She won’t attack right away. The longer we delay, the more precarious things get down there. I can’t wait for morale to break.”

Miuri said nothing. The men ate where they stood.

Midday came and went. Cam finally stopped pacing and crouched down on his heels, staring out at the valley, trying to keep his mind from reeling too far into a black abyss of fear and anger.

He could only imagine what the men below him felt.

There was a good chance many of them would die, and that was the best outcome. At worst, they’d all end up slaves for the wolves, spend a few years in horrible agony, and then end up dead.

All the while they knew their families were at stake. Their children, their wives, their mothers and fathers. Cam thought that was the only thing keeping them down there. The fear of battle was so palpable that Cam felt drunk on it at times. He knew the terrors men went through in the hours before fighting. He knew just how deep their madness could go.

But none would break. He was sure of that. Because the pressure of losing was so much stronger than the pressure of standing and fighting. Sometimes, death wasn’t the worst outcome imaginable.

A noise broke through his thoughts. He scattered the clump of grass and stood. A scout ran toward them, a boy no older than twelve. He stooped over, breathing hard.

“Wolves,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Wolves coming.”

“Where?”

“Scouts found… not far…”

“Take a breath,” Cam said.

The boy stood, hands behind his head. Sweat rolled down his reddened face.

“In the trees,” he said. “Right in the middle. They’re coming, a lot of them, they’re coming.”

Cam nodded and looked over at Miuri and Felin. Miuri looked back, but Felin’s eyes were hooded and distant.

“Report to General Theus,” Cam said. “Tell him this: today’s the day to find it.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy straightened then sprinted off back down the hill.

Cam turned to Arter. “Drums,” he said. “Signals.”

The drums began to boom across the valley as a series of flags flashed in the sunlight.

The ranks below straightened. He thought he could hear the general staff shouting at the men to prepare themselves.

Cam could only imagine their reactions. Vomit, piss, crying.

And yet they stood. And yet they’d hold.

He gripped his sword and wished he could be down in their midst.

“There,” Arter said, pointing. “Look, right there.”

Cam followed Arter’s outstretched hand and saw a line of wolves appear just beyond the trees. They were fifty yards away from the army, and their ranks fell back deeper into the forest.

“Ready the archers,” Cam said. “Don’t fire until they charge.”

“But they’re within bow shot,” Arter said.

“Hold until they charge,” Cam said. “If they fire now, half the arrows will be lost in the trees.”

Arter grunted and gestured for a messenger from the gaggle of them standing off near the drums. A boy sprinted off down the ridge toward the ranks of archers that stood behind the main infantry. Cam only had a few hundred archers, which wasn’t nearly enough, but they’d do some damage.

And when the hand to hand started, he’d make them join in.

Drums pounded. Flags rippled. The wolves drew up.

Nothing happened as the army faced its foe. The field was open before them. There was nothing holding them back.

“Why don’t they come?” Cam asked.

“They’re waiting.” Felin spoke, her voice soft and shaky.

“For what?” Cam asked.

“For her.” Felin pointed.

Cam looked down at the field. It was the silver wolf again, monstrous and beautiful. It walked forward out of the trees and stood in front of the army, its head held up proudly toward the sun. It opened its mouth and released another howl, but this was truncated and weak compared to the howl the day before.

The wolf army took up their call.

Felin stepped forward, her mouth open. Miuri held her arm and leaned forward. “Remember where you are,” Miuri said.

Felin clenched her jaw and said nothing.

“They’re coming,” Cam said, gesturing at Arter. “Signal the men to hold ranks. They’re going to charge.”

Flags waved again. The drums were barely loud enough to be heard over the howling.

Abruptly, it stopped.

Silence fell thick on the valley. Cam thought he could hear whimpering coming from the assembled men.

And then a massive roar as the front line of wolves launched itself forward.

“Archers,” Cam said.

The arrows flew skyward and dropped. The unarmored wolves took arrows directly into their flesh. Wolves tripped and stumbled, falling to the rocky ground, as the wolves behind them tripped on their bodies.

But so many more came behind them.

The arrows fell as fast as the archers could fire.

The wolves hit the front lines a moment later with a sound like breaking bone. Cam felt it in his chest.

The center buckled but held. Wolves gibbered, screamed, threw themselves at spear and shield.

Bodies ripped open and blood sprayed into the air.

Chaos down below.

35

Cam stalked across the ridge as the fighting grew desperate.

“Key needs to draw her line forward,” Cam said.