The Book of the Wing (Vesik 15) by Eric Asher

Author:Eric Asher [Asher, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Eric R. Asher
Published: 2020-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“It is a good plan,” Wahya said, adjusting his glasses. Foster thought the lenses had to be at least bourbon-bottle thick, forget Coke-bottle thick.

“How do you see through those?” he finally asked, interrupting the werewolf.

“You live long enough, everyone’s vision goes.” Wahya smiled and his old face wrinkled. “As I said, it is a good plan. If Aeros can distract the leviathan—”

“I will destroy it,” the Old God boomed.

Wahya made a loop with his hands in Aeros’s direction. “Of course, no disrespect meant. While Aeros is destroying the leviathan, it will draw the attention of the Georgians. A small party can slip south on the Sunken Road until they are behind the Georgians’ line.”

“They’ll smell us,” Caroline said.

“Over a leviathan?” Wahya said, raising an eyebrow.

“Unlikely,” Utukku agreed.

Caroline grimaced but inclined her head. “Dell, Zola, you’re least likely to be detected. The scent of a necromancer is dulled on this battlefield.”

“Gravemakers,” Dell said, crossing his arms and answering a question no one had asked.

Caroline pointed at a pitch-black wolf who hadn’t shifted back to human. “I want lookouts in the watchtower and the church. If they come for the armory again, we cannot leave it unguarded. There are too many artifacts that remain here.”

Utukku ran a claw down the length of the silver javelin, and the metal sang. “Agreed.”

“I’ll stay with Zola and Dell,” Foster said. “If any of us can be stealthy, it’s me.”

“As long as you don’t have any sugar,” Zola muttered.

“What?”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Foster narrowed his eyes and changed the subject, failing to hide an edge of irritation in his voice. “Can I borrow your phone?”

Zola reached into her cloak and unlocked it before passing it over.

Foster spread his arms and grunted when Zola let go. Phones were a hell of a lot easier to maneuver when he was in his Proelium state. It wasn’t that it was heavy when he was small; it was just awkward as all hells.

He set it down on the display case and flipped through the screens with the flat of his hand, finally reaching the number pad. Foster tapped in a number and waited.

“What is it, Zola?” Aideen said, exhaustion plain in her voice.

“It’s me.” Foster glanced around the room. “You’re on speakerphone. Have you heard from Drake?”

“Yes, and our healers are half-dead from working on his reaper.”

“Is Sparkles okay?”

Silence answered for a time. “I will never tire of that name.”

Foster chuckled. “Vicky gave us a gift.”

“I’ve never been so happy to learn something so random. Drake’s never going to hear the end of this one. But yes, she’s going to make it. She’s curled up with one of the wounded green men like a lap dog.”

“Can you get a message to Drake? Tell him we might need his help at Antietam? Assuming he’s done with Appalachia and the others?”

Aideen hesitated. “I will. Be safe. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Foster ended the call.

“Sparkles?” Dell and Zola said in unison.

Foster laughed through his teeth. “Oh, yes. Sparkles.”

“This is a gift,” Zola said.

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