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him go.

“Stand down,” Cam said. “What are you people doing here?”

“We’ve come for Lagon.” A man stepped forward from the pack. His voice was nasally, like he’d broken his nose. His hair was dark and reached shoulders, and his leather armor was creased and well-oiled. “We demand his release.”

“Who are you?” Cam asked. “Who is your superior?”

“We have none,” Nasally said. “We’re here to demand the release of General Lagon.”

“Return to your tents,” Cam said. “I am the General of this army. Return to your tents now, lay down your arms, and await further orders.

The nasally soldier took a step forward. Cam could see the sneer on his lips.

“You’re outnumbered,” he said. “And I don’t think you can get reinforcements here before we kill most of you.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Cam said. “Some of you have seen me fight. You know what I can do.”

“Going to burn your own men, are you?” Nasally cackled. “Go ahead. That’d only prove our point.”

“This is insanity,” Cam said. He gripped the pommel of his sword. “Stand down, now.”

“Last warning,” Nasally said as he stepped back into line with his comrades. “Release Lagon.”

Cam stared at the men assembled across from him and his mind raced.

He could send word for help. There were easily thousands of men that could come and assist. But Nasally was right, they wouldn’t get there in time. It was late and most men had long ago taken off their leathers and put down their weapons for the evening.

Then he could burn them all. There were fifty of them, but he’d gotten stronger lately, and they were bunched in a tight formation. Cam could ash most of them and break the rest into submission.

But that would require him burning his own men.

“Cam,” Felin said. “What do you want to do?”

The fifty men began to advance in a tight shield wall, three rows deep.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Cam,” Felin said.

“Back up,” Cam said, his voice a bark over the men marching toward them. “Fall back.”

Felin’s guards did as instructed. They fell back between the tents. Cam stopped and stared down the advancing soldiers.

“Return to your tents,” he said. “Return to your tents now.”

“You’d better start burning us, General,” Nasally shouted.

Cam fell back with a snarl.

The formation reached the back of Lagon’s tent. The men in the front cut a long slit down the back and tore it wide open. Lagon stepped forward through the tear and turned to face Cam.

“Sorry it happened this way,” he said, smiling placidly like he’d expected this all along. “I didn’t want things to turn out like this.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Cam said. “Lagon, you don’t have to go down this road.”

But Lagon only shook his head and walked into the midst of his men.

They turned and disappeared into the gloom of the evening.

“You can stop them,” Felin said. “You can burn them.”

“No,” Cam said. “I can’t. As soon as I turn my magic against our own people, I’ll become everything they’re afraid of.”

She opened her mouth then clamped her jaw shut.

“Arter,” Cam said. “Go wake General Brice and General Key. Get them up, get their men ready. We’ll hunt Lagon down and bring him back.”

“Yes, sir.” Arter turned and sprinted off into the night.

Cam watched the guard go then turned to Felin. “This is what I was afraid of,” he said.

“I know.” Her eyes shone in the darkness. She looked so much like a wolf, it almost scared him. “I’ve let you down.”

“No,” he said. “Not at all.” He stepped toward her but she pulled away.

“Guards,” she said. “With me. We’ll start the hunt.”

“No,” Cam said. “Stay here. Make sure you don’t lose any more prisoners. Start figuring out exactly who those men were, and how many more might agree with them.”

Felin looked like she wanted to argue but turned away.

“You heard the General,” Felin said. “We need to get to work.”

She marched back toward her tent with her guards in tow.

Cam stood alone in the tent courtyard for a moment. Wind tugged at his tunic. He ran his hand along the grip of his sword.

They were close, so close. At any moment, this whole thing could fall apart. The factions within his army were at war with themselves, and if he couldn’t manage to bring them all together in time, the wolves would overrun them all.

He turned and marched into the night.

25

Early morning mist rolled off the mountain peaks and sifted through the pines. Cam’s boots bit down into loam and fallen needles. Brice marched at his side, and fifty of her best men marched behind them.

It was slow going. Lagon and the deserters hadn’t been careful about their tracks, but the fog worked in their favor. Cam kept stopping every few minutes to confirm that he was still on the right path, following a slow slope up along a ridge toward the rocky crags above. Half of Brice’s men wore heavy armor and the other half stayed in modest leathers. Every couple of hours, they’d switch roles, and the other half of the group would wear the armor, which allowed for the group to move longer distances than they’d be able to if everyone wore plate all the time.

“I can’t believe they did it,” Brice said. She hadn’t spoken since they left camp. She looked haggard and angry, her hair pulled back in an austere bun, her armor hanging from her muscular frame.

She refused to rotate out, wearing the armor their whole march.

“I can’t either,” Cam said. “Called my bluff.”

She glanced at him. “You did the right thing, you know. You couldn’t use magic on your own men.”

“They would’ve deserved it.” His eyes stared ahead. “They’re traitors. Deserters.”

“Still our own men,” she said. “Killing them like that would set a dangerous precedent.”

“I’m afraid the dangerous precedent’s already been set,” he said. “All the men have to do is come in big enough numbers and no justice can stand in the way.”

She made a grunting noise in the back of her throat.

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