Midwinter eve dawned bright and cold, though the cold sunshine quickly gave way to black clouds that swept in from the west. A storm was coming, metaphorical and physical.
“We’re not ready for this,” Thom whispered to himself as he perched in the watchtower, settled on a stool with a whetstone in hand, a sword braced against his knee. They had enough to arm everyone, but he wasn’t confident in everyone’s skill at using them. He watched the clouds on the horizon, shivering as the wind picked up.
We’re not ready, but the storm’s coming and so is Cariocecus, whether we’re ready or not. A shiver worked its way down his spine. The first time he’d dared to go toe-to-toe with the minor war god, it hadn’t ended well—as J.T. had put it, he’d undone weeks of healing in a span of five minutes.
Thom closed his eyes and exhaled. It’ll be different this time. We know he’s coming. The wardings are strong. He doesn’t have anyone on the inside anymore.
But we can’t stay bottled up behind the wards forever. He knows it. He can wait us out.
“Unless he’s got something else up his sleeve,” Thom muttered.
“You talking to yourself again, Thom?”
He glanced toward the sound of Davon’s voice as the other man came to relieve him of his watch post. “Yeah. Must be going crazy.”
“Must be,” Davon agreed. “You been up here for long?”
“I had the four am watch,” Thom said as he stood slowly, wincing at a twinge of stiffness in his back, a faint trace of pain in his ribs. Suck it up. You’ve got to be able to fight tomorrow. Who knows when the attack will start? He slid the almost-sharpened sword into its hand-stitched scabbard and tucked the whetstone into the pocket of his coat. “Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“Slept like a log,” Davon said. “Almost didn’t make it up here in time.” He appropriated the stool Thom had been sitting on. “Do you really think that the attack’ll begin tonight?”
“As soon as midnight comes,” Thom said. “We’ve got to be ready if it starts then, Davon. I don’t know that it’ll start then, but it’s better to be safe than sorry at this point.”
Davon shook his head. “I still don’t get it, Thom. Why does he care?”
“I’m still not sure,” Thom admitted. “But I’m getting closer and closer to finding out. Unfortunately, we’re out of time.”
“Yeah,” Davon said. “I guess we are.” He stretched and shook his head again. “Well, here’s to a peaceful watch. They’ve got coffee going down by the fire. Better hurry if you want some while it’s still available—or not boiled down to sludge.”
Thom laughed weakly. “Yeah. Give a shout if you need something.”
Davon tossed him a thumbs-up before Thom climbed down the ladder to the snow-covered ground. His boots crunched in the snow as he headed around the corner of their makeshift dormitory and around toward the tents. He could smell breakfast and wood-smoke well before he reached the tent itself.
“Bacon, Tala?” He smiled as he came within earshot of the woman who’d become their chef de cuisine since the end of the world. “I didn’t know we had any.”
“We have it because I’m a fucking wizard when it comes to food preservation, Thom,” Tala said with a faint smile. She reached for one of the plates stacked to one side of the cookfire. “Do you want toast, too?”
“Just coffee to start,” he said as he snagged a mug. “Was a cold watch.”
“I believe it,” she said as she started making him a plate anyway. “Is it my imagination, or is there a storm coming, too?”
“Black clouds in the west,” Thom said.
“And a neon pink sky this morning,” Tala said. “Sounds like a storm to me. Hell of a day for it.” She handed him the plate, her brows knitting. “Please tell me that everything for the defenses is in place.”
“Seems to be,” Thom said, then shook his head slightly. “If it’s not, it’s too late to fix it now.”
Tala hugged her arms across her distended belly. “I’m worried, Thom.”
“Everyone is,” he said, then smiled at her. “Don’t worry. You and Angie and the wounded down in those steam tunnels? You’ll be the safest out of everyone.”
“You still think it’s safe to move them?” she asked softly.
“I don’t think it’s safe not to,” Thom said. “We’ll move them tonight, just in case the attack starts at midnight. I’m worried it will, though Phelan and Marin don’t think it’s going to. That’s not a chance I’m willing to take, though.”
“I don’t blame you,” Tala said. She relieved him of his mug and reached for the coffee pot. “Go sit. I’ll bring this.”
“Right.” Thom gave her another weak smile and settled down in his usual spot near the fire. “Have you seen my wife this morning?”
“I think she’s with Jacqueline, checking on the others,” Tala said as she waddled over to hand him his coffee. “How does it feel not to be the wounded one this time?”
Thom snorted. “A little weird to be honest, but not in a bad way. Hopefully I can keep this up.”
“Here’s to hoping,” Tala said softly, staring at the dark clouds beyond the tent’s flap. “Hope’s all we’ve got.”
“Have some faith, too,” Thom said. “We can do this.”
“Yeah,” she said, sounding like she didn’t quite believe it.
Thom sighed and let it go. At least she wanted to believe.
Maybe if they wanted it badly enough, they’d make it happen.
