Battle Ground (The Dresden Files #17) - Jim Butcher Page 0,100

to occasional barks of weapons discharge. The enemy’s first rush at the fortifications must have failed.

“You came here to fight. So did they. If you’ve got loved ones somewhere behind us, you’ve got a reason to stay. If you don’t, the weapon that just killed most of the mobile force is going to be used on them. Make up your mind. Now.”

There was a long silence while everyone stared at me.

I turned and hunkered down by Randy across from Butters.

“We can’t fight that,” Randy sobbed. “No one can.”

I put my hand on his shoulder.

The skinny man looked up at me through tears. He wasn’t a coward. He just hadn’t been ready for what he’d been forced to see.

“No one can fight that,” he whispered.

I made a dangerous moment’s eye contact and said, hard, “I can.” I stood up and offered Randy my hand. “But I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”

He stared at my hand.

The volunteers stared at us. I could feel the moment hanging in the air, brittle and tense as crystal. They were terrified. The survivors of the earlier action were terrified, and the defenders were terrified.

And all of them were watching Randy for his reaction.

The man closed his eyes for a moment. Then he whispered, “My little girl was born early yesterday. She’s still in the hospital. They couldn’t move her.”

“Well,” I said. “That makes it pretty simple. But that’s not the same thing as easy, is it.”

His jaw clenched.

And when he looked up at me, his eyes were hard and cold. “No. It sure as hell isn’t.”

The sound of his hand smacking into mine was loud in the hazy quiet.

Butters and I pulled Randy to his feet.

Something like a long exhalation went through the volunteers. They turned back to their positions, watching the ruddy haze for any incoming enemy.

Sir Knight, came Grimalkin’s creepy voice. I report.

“Officers!” I called. “Get them into firing positions and make sure everyone has enough ammo. If you don’t, there’re cases of the stuff. Assign a runner to bring more.” Then I turned and walked several paces away, muttering, “Go, Grimalkin. Report.”

I am near the enemy, the Elder malk said. Hear them for yourself.

And suddenly my senses surged, and I was elsewhere.

* * *

* * *

“. . . a ridiculous mess,” hissed King Corb’s voice. “You said there were no mortal forces in the field.”

A steady baritone answered. “And there weren’t. This one came from nowhere.”

“Nowhere!” snarled Corb, furious. His voice bubbled like a teapot. “Would you like to see what nowhere truly looks like, slave?”

I looked around me. I was crouched in a hollow space beneath a mound of rubble, my fur compressed on all sides, and the ground was hard and vicious against my paws. The air was full of the scent of blood, human and monstrous alike, and the smell made me flex my claws in and out repeatedly in instinctive reaction.

Ah. I was getting Grimalkin’s sensory input, then.

Ethniu spoke, and the Titan’s voice was thoughtful, rich, vibrating pleasantly through octaves of sound I could not possibly have heard with human ears. “Corb,” she said, “cease your whining. Listen has proven his ability repeatedly.”

“Yet he could not see a small army of mortals ready to bleed us dry.”

Listen spoke, his voice steady. “It is hardly reasonable to expect millions of people to lie down and die for our convenience. Especially not in a place with so many interests in the supernatural world. We knew they would fight. The battle plan proceeds smoothly enough.”

“Smooth!?” Corb spat. “A fifth of my legion fills the gutters with their blood.”

“They shouldn’t have advanced without hearing from my recon team.”

“Your team was dead!” the Fomor king shrieked.

Listen replied without passion or uncertainty. “Which should have been an excellent indicator that it was not safe to attempt the crossing.”

The air suddenly crackled with sorcerous power.

“Corb,” Ethniu said. “Put your hands down or I will rip them off.”

Corb burbled a curse in some language that sounded absolutely disgusting.

“Better,” Ethniu said. “Captain Listen?”

“The enemy is in fortified earthworks around the pavilion,” Listen said. “And even if we had sufficient squids remaining, we couldn’t use them here. The svartalves appear to have prepared the lattices over the pavilion to prevent them.”

They had? Hell’s bells, I hadn’t noticed that, and I’d been standing in the place. Granted, I’d been a little distracted, but how the hell was Listen smart enough to know that?

“Mab appears to have taken position here, in front of the Cloud Gate,” Listen continued.