City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [188]
‘Getting to you?’ Brynd stood up suddenly, tipping his chair to one side. ‘You think I’m not fucking stressed? I know exactly what you mean, lieutenant. But you remain under my command. Is that fucking clear?’
Nelum’s eyes betrayed his rage.
‘Indeed, commander.’
At that point, Brynd suspected he had lost any future support from his second-in-command. He realized that Lupus was facing them now, wide-eyed and uncertain how to act. ‘As you were, private,’ Brynd ordered, and Lupus turned silently to face the maps again.
Brynd moved to pick up his chair and brought it calmly to the table. ‘The only question is how we do this. I suggest it needs to be a night mission, because although witnesses say the Okun can be active after dark, it seems they prefer not to fight then – and neither do our own forces – but at least we Night Guard are enhanced. Somehow, we’ll need to penetrate a zone that lies deep within enemy ground, without being seen.’
‘We could use the garudas,’ Nelum suggested eventually, and Brynd liked that idea.
*
Hours had passed and still it wasn’t the right time – it seemed thae’d never find the right time. Sleep had so far avoided him, as Neluet his concerns and angst continue to ricochet around inside his head.
He pushed himself up, got dressed, picked up the case containing thotulinum blade. He unwrapped the curiosity and held it before him, marvelling at the technology involved.
The two men he shared the room with – Brug and Haal – would be out of the way for the next few hours, wading through the messages and directives in the report.
Which meant Brynd himself should be taking this opportunity to get some sleep.
How dare the albino talk to him like that – in front of Lupus. There was no respect from Brynd, no appreciation of how Nelum’s mind liked to work. He wished to shut out all distraction in order to formulate this operation, and all the commander did was offer annoying assistance. Nelum needed no help. No, if there is ever a time to do it, it’s now.
He pulled up a black hood to keep his face in shadow, then headed outside. Soft footsteps on the flagstones, as he moved along the corridors with the blade ready in his hand. There was hardly anyone else up at this hour, and he felt himself more on edge than he’d ever known. His senses were sharpened by his desire not to get caught, every sound alerted his gaze, every flicker of light ahead challenged him.
Four doors along on the right was Brynd’s room – the commander preferring to sleep apart from the rest of the men. If this had not been a time of war, there would have been night sentinels stationed along the corridor, but now every single soldier needed to be fresh to fight.
Nelum took a breath to steady his nerves, and listened for any sound of movement inside. His grip on the door handle was so gentle, almost caressing it open, without a sound.
He slunk inside.
There, at the far end of the room, lay a man breathing to the rhythm of his dreams. The milky light of the moons filtered through a tiny round window high up on the wall and, as his eyes rapidly adjusted, Nelum could make out clearly the form of the commander on the bed.
A pale face turned slightly, and the words were whispered suddenly: ‘I wondered how long.’
The chink of metal unsheathing, and Nelum moved fast. Brynd must have kept a blade ready by his pillow.
They fought desperately in the dark. In an instant they were locked together, gripping each other’s wrists, muscles stinging, then Nelum felt two sharp blows connecting with his ribcage before he managed to headbutt Brynd away, with a heavy grunt.
After their separation there was a pause, as each of them waited for the other to strike.
Nelum lunged again, his blade skilfully slicing back and forth, forcing Brynd to topple forwards. Nelum kicked his opponent’s legs under him, but Brynd gripped Nelum’s ankle then raked a knife across his shins. Nelum managed to twist himself away but the agonizing pain had him writhing on the floor as the commander began to