"Fuck," growled Krolf, crouching behind a bush and peering out towards the Tiger Lord camp. "We're late."

  "Look at the bright side," said Amiri. "With less people around, we'll have an easier time getting about in camp. Anyway, good luck!"

  The other three took turns patting her on the back before she downed her potion in one gulp and slipped away.

  True, if they wanted to stop the battle from happening, they were deplorably late. But Amiri was conflicted about that goal, anyway. As every follower of Gorum worth their salt knew, people needed wars from time to time, to cull the weak and let the strong emerge even stronger. Still, not everyone was a warrior, and life in the Stolen Lands was trying enough without throwing an external enemy into the mix. Amiri could understand her new chieftain's intention to keep the simple folk of Nightvale and Brevoy (and if she had her way, even the Tiger Lords) out of harm's way. Sometimes war was not the wisest course of action, particularly if one had friends on both sides, and evil fey were pulling the strings from the background.

  Alas, there was no time to plant the seeds of discord among the Tiger Lords anymore, or to gather information. Not that Kassil was interested in whatever Amiri would deliver to him, anyway. She could only hope that her three friends would be able to address the right people to start a riot, but she was in no position to help them with that. Still, there was one objective she could still complete: finding Nilak and getting her out of the pickle she was probably in.

  Like a shadow, Amiri sneaked into a bustling hive of warlike bees. She wove her way between Tiger Lord units flooding out through the gates, careful not to collide with anyone, least of all a Defaced Sister. Wigurd said there were eight of them altogether. Three of them had died in Varnhold and hopefully hadn't respawned ever since. That meant five of them could still be out there.

  Amiri caught a glimpse of a man standing head and shoulders above the rest of the Tiger Lords, and she couldn't help but gawk. Tangled beard, restless, bloodshot eyes, and a ridiculous quantity of sheer muscle. But the dead giveaway was two Defaced Sisters busying themselves around him. Loath as she was to admit it, Amiri was relieved that the guy was heading out the gates, away from her. He looked like a true force of nature, comparable to the giant owlbear laying waste to Tuskdale. If that was Armag... then perhaps the stories were true.

  "Ugh!"

  A man carrying a stack of empty crates bumped straight into her, bounced back and fell on his butt, the crates scattering on top of him. It was time to leave, and fast. Amiri quickly took refuge in a tent before the Sisters could spot her.

  She realised too late that the tent was not completely empty. Currently, its sole occupant was a small dog rooting around for something edible. It was a mystery how it could tell the invisible presence apart from any random Tiger Lord based on scents. One would have thought that travelling with three members of the other tribe had left enough of their smell on Amiri. Still, this particular dog seemed to have it out for her, and its furious barking made up for what its body lacked in terms of size.

  Amiri had to act quickly, before the crate fellow would cease to provide enough distraction. She ripped open the lid of a chest standing at the back of the tent, grabbed the dog by the tail and stuffed it in, adding a few sitting cushions for good measure, then piled a heap of random objects on top. The dog didn't shut up, but at least the noise was dampened somewhat.

  This would not do. Amiri's invisibility would expire in a matter of minutes, and she hadn't gotten anything done yet. It was high time to check on her old tribe, with special regard to Nilak.

  She crept out of the tent, quickly letting the flap fall behind her, and dove behind another one in the last moment before getting into a lone Sister's line of sight. Hell, this would be dangerous. If two of them were with Armag, three others could still be patrolling the camp. It might be a good idea to thin out their numbers a little. She'd managed to do it once, so it was not impossible. All she had to do was draw upon the power of surprise.

  Until then, the safest place to be in was right behind a Sister's back. So Amiri ventured out from the cover of the tent and set out in the footsteps of the Sister passing by, at no more than a few yards of distance, heading towards the middle of the camp. There were not many people in this part, and whoever saw the Sister was quick to avert their gaze, decreasing Amiri's chances of getting discovered even further.

  The fey halted in a sort of common space, probably set aside as a resting place for troops rotated out of the battle. A deer carcass was being roasted over an open fire, and the appetising smell made Amiri's mouth water. Yesterday's less-than-hearty stew, shared with four people, seemed deplorably far away. Luckily, the wholesome sound of the crackling flames and the sizzling fat drowned out the angry noises her stomach was making.

  The Sister didn't come to get lunch, though. With slow and calculated steps, she continued her way to the very edge of the camp, to a small enclosure with poles driven into the ground. As a sneak peek above the Sister's head showed, this was the place for captives. At the moment, only two poles had occupants, both of them familiar. A man in his fifties, stripped of his cleric's insignia and beaten up so badly that he could barely be recognised as Dugath, and a woman of Amiri's age – Nilak herself. Unsurprisingly, the core of resistance, like always.

  Amiri silently promised herself that if she happened upon Chieftain Akaia, she would punch him in the face a couple of times, invisibility be damned. He was supposed to stand up for his tribespeople, regardless of gender. How could he let this happen?

  The Sister exchanged a few quiet words with the two burly Tiger Lords standing guard at the entrance. Apparently, that was not enough for them to let her pass. Amiri felt a strange urge to chew on her fingernails. A part of her approved of the guards' reluctance to let the Sister anywhere near Nilak, but another part was counting down in anguish, wondering if the potion's effect would expire in the next few seconds and leave her exposed before getting anything done. Even though brute-forcing her way to places felt as natural to her as breathing, this time it felt an unwise thing to do. What, then? Should she acquire a tent pole and vault over the guards' heads, or crawl through between their legs, or what? She held out her hand in front of her eyes, squinting, trying to make out its outline. It didn't show... yet.

  At last, the Sister managed to cow the guards into submission, perhaps because Amiri added her own invisible glare, and walked into the enclosure, pulling out a dagger from under her cloak. She headed straight towards Nilak.

  Amiri's innards turned to ice, and her hand automatically reached for the hilt of Ginormous. The steel felt cool against her skin, anchoring her in the here and now against an almost debilitating fear of failure. The stakes had never been this high. This time the rage didn't come to Amiri's aid, either. It was slumbering somewhere at the back of her brain, unaware that it was needed. It didn't matter, though. Perhaps a cool head would serve the purpose better.

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  Dugath lifted his head, and his piercing gaze (or whatever remained of it in his swollen face) rested on Amiri. Nilak's eyes opened wide, as did her mouth, the incredulous expression on her face easy to mistake for a fear of death. Apparently, the potion had expired. Amiri didn't mind.

  "Don't take this personally," said the Sister in lightly accented Hallit, oblivious to what was going on behind her back. "I cannot allow betrayal to flourish behind the mighty Armag's back while he marches to ba –"

  Splotch.

  Tears rolled down Darlac's cheeks, as her squinting eyes struggled to clean themselves from the dust and debris carried by the whirlwind. She'd been following the vanguard from relatively close up with Hilla's squad and a handful of Varnlings, while the baggage train guarded by Sotha Aldori and the bulk of the army brought up the rear. The units tasked with taking out the shamans had also joined up with her, hard-pressed to keep the pace. Alas, horses were still in short supply (mostly requisitioned from merchants and couriers in Tatzlford), and as such, their use was the privilege of Darlac's closest entourage.

  With every step Gale took, Darlac got closer to her first trial by fire as a general. Would her years of experience in a versatile mercenary force, halfway between a regular army and a bunch of adventurers, prove to be enough for this task, even combined with the book knowledge she strove to accumulate in her little free time? Would she prove to be enough? Formations, moves, ruses, tactics swirled in her head, all useless until she saw the terrain and the enemy, but all the more successful in fraying her nerves. Her stomach was a tiny little knot, painfully tight. She told herself she didn't have to take responsibility for the entire allied army, only for the troops she was bringing. It didn't help. What if she'd already committed a host of mistakes that would prove fatal?

  The majestic pillar of swirling air, leading the way and hiding the vanguard in its middle, gradually slowed down and started to dissipate. Bits of vegetation, small rocks, even a few stunned birds and jerboas fell to the ground as gravity reclaimed its control over them. The dust took its sweet time to settle, though, and until then, it filled any orifice it could possibly find. Finished with the ritual, the druids dispersed between the ranks of the vanguard, two of them heading towards Darlac.

  Guelder walked with uncertain, wobbly steps, half leaning against Faeli, a happy, intoxicated grin splitting her face in two. Gale responded to her presence with nervous snorts, dancing in place. Darlac maintained a firm grip on the reins, all the while scrutinising Guelder's face, wondering if the baroness expected her to dismount, which she was unwilling to do. First, it was easier to keep her semi-spooked horse under control if she remained in the saddle, and second, she was curious how much arrogance she could get away with.

  The baroness didn't seem to give a damn.

  "Phew," she said, wiping her forehead with a piece of cloth. "Did you see this, Darlac? Of course you did, how silly of me. Brambles, I am tired. I should really do this type of community thing more often. It is... invigorating."

  Darlac couldn't help but smile down from the saddle, deep inside grateful for a little distraction from the thousand worries making their ceaseless rounds in her brain.

  "Drunk on power, Your Grace? To be frank, you look everything but invigorated. If I had my way, I'd tuck you into a soft, feathery bed and make you sleep through the day."

  Now that was probably a little too much. Luckily, Guelder took no note of it.

  "Wait until you see me drunk on moonlight. No. Wait until you see me the day after. This is nothing."

  Even her speech was incoherent and slurred with exhaustion. Although, admittedly, this was the worst time to get drunk, either off alcohol or off Nature energy, Darlac found her strangely endearing in this state. She was quick to banish the feeling to the back of her brain. This was no time to take stolen pleasure in moments of adorable weakness. The most she could afford today was loyalty and comradeship, not... whatever this was.

  It didn't last long, anyway. The broad smile dispersed from Guelder's face, replaced by an apprehensive frown. Her ears perked up, and she sniffed the air, curling her upper lip. After briefly consulting Pangur on his input, she turned to Darlac, cutting short the momentary respite from her pre-battle anxiety.

  "There is blood in the air. The battle has been started without us."

  A brief surge of panic swept through Darlac's nerves. If there had already been enough bloodshed for Guelder to sniff out from afar, perhaps they were irreparably late. She chased the thought away. If the Brevans had won the day without them, all the better. If not, she could still strike at the victors and turn the tide, even though that wouldn't bring back the fallen. Anyway, she had to act quickly and decisively by deploying the vanguard where it was most needed. In fact, that seemed a lot easier than coming up with a battle plan all on her own.

  But first of all, she had to know what was going on. It was time to get a bird's view picture of the battlefield.

  She turned to Tehara, sitting by her right side on the back of a roan mare and holding the dual banner of Nightvale and Varnhold.

  "Tehara, bring me two airworthy druids who haven't knocked themselves out completely with the ritual. Faeli, you stay, too. I need you for an aerial recon mission, now."

  Faeli nodded, full of her usual enthusiasm. Tehara handed the banner over to Gekkor before trotting away, using her tail as a riding cane.

  "Your Grace," said Darlac, "just so you know, I'll have the vanguard engage right away. Find Lady Jamandi, let her know about our arrival, and stay out of trouble if you can."

  "You can count on me," said Guelder with a wry smile, clearly intending to do the opposite of Darlac's last request. "Godspeed, General. Hope will prevail."

  "Hope will prevail, Your Grace."

  Darlac bade her farewell with her sharpest salute, secretly regretting her insistence on staying in the saddle. Heavens, she could have used a hug.