The Battle of Lake Town [7]

Daenys snapped upright with a sharp gasp, her lungs greedily pulling in air as her chest ached with each ragged breath. The scar, fresh and raw, burned as though the Astadian's hammer had struck her again. She instinctively pressed her hand against it, her fingers trembling against the angry welt. Her vision blurred for a moment, and then the dim light of the camp's torches brought the battlefield into harsh clarity.

"Stay still." Tengri's calm, steady voice cut through the chaos of her mind. His six eyes bore into her, unyielding but not unkind. He crouched beside her, his blade still gleaming with blood, the edges of his bandages frayed and soaked. "You're alive, but barely. You shouldn't move yet."

Tasha stood on her other side, her sickle dangling loosely in one hand, though her sharp green eyes darted around the battlefield as if searching for threats. "She's already moving. Stubborn as always." There was no humor in her tone, only frustration. "Daenys, for once in your life, listen to reason."

"I told you I was fine," Daenys rasped, her voice hoarse and cracked as she tried to push herself up. She batted away Tengri's hands as he moved to steady her. "There's no time to waste. We've won the landbridge, but the Pickette isn't ours yet."

"You're barely breathing," Tasha snapped. "Look at yourself. That hammer should've killed you. And it would have if you didn't have…" Her words trailed off as her eyes flicked to the scar in the center of Daenys' chest, a faint glow still pulsing beneath the skin.

"I can't rest now," Daenys said, her voice firm despite the stabbing pain in her ribs. "The battle isn't over. There's still more to do."

Tengri's hands hovered near her, reluctant to let her go entirely. His six eyes glimmered in the faint torchlight, betraying a rare uncertainty. "You should rest, Gahkar. You have led us to victory, but the Lunar Storms approach. The men can handle the aftermath."

"I'll rest when the Pickette falls," Daenys countered. She forced herself to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her, but she gritted her teeth and steadied herself. Her warriors needed to see her standing. If she faltered, so would they. "Tasha, have the men taken shelter?"

"They've pulled back to the lower fortifications," Tasha answered, her voice clipped with irritation. "Now you should do the same. You're no use to anyone if you collapse again."

Daenys ignored the jab, her eyes scanning the battlefield. The landbridge was littered with bodies, both Estilian and Astadian. The smoke of burnt flesh and broken timber still hung heavy in the air. Her warband moved like shadows through the carnage, collecting their dead and finishing off any surviving enemies. The faint howls of the approaching Lunar Storms sent shivers down her spine, but her resolve didn't waver.

"Relieve the men of their duties for tonight," Daenys commanded, her voice cutting through the haze of fatigue. "They've earned a chance to rest and mourn their fallen. Make sure they have food and drink."

Tasha huffed. "And what about you? Will you even eat?"

Daenys didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the violet tendrils of the storm began to creep closer. "Go," she said after a moment. "Celebrate with them. Let them know this victory belongs to them."

Tasha studied her for a long moment before finally shaking her head. "You're hopeless, Daenys." She turned sharply on her heel and strode toward the gathering warband, her sickle gleaming like a fang in the firelight.

"You should follow her advice," Tengri said softly, his voice devoid of judgment. "Even the strongest weapons must rest."

Daenys forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Weapons don't rest, Tengri. They serve until they break." Her fingers brushed the edge of her cloak, pulling it tighter around her as if to shield herself from the cold.

By the time they returned to her command tent, the Lunar Storms were fully upon them. The mist clung to everything, casting the camp in an eerie violet glow. The howling wind carried faint whispers, though whether they were real or imagined, Daenys couldn't tell.

Inside the tent, Merd was hunched over a table, her quill darting across a piece of parchment as she scribbled down numbers and orders. The younger woman looked up as soon as the tent flap opened, her eyes wide with concern.

"Daenys! Tengri!" Merd's voice was a mixture of relief and worry as she rushed to their side. "You're limping! Are you hurt? Did the battle go—"

"I'm fine," Daenys interrupted, raising a hand to stop the flood of questions. "The battle is won, but the work isn't finished. We'll need to prepare for the next step."

Merd's eyes flicked to the scar on Daenys' chest, her brow furrowing. "You should rest. You look like you've been dragged through the depths of Drema's forge."

"Rest is a luxury I can't afford right now," Daenys said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We need to finalize our position before the other Gahkar arrive. They'll be expecting answers, and I intend to have them."

Merd hesitated but eventually nodded, moving to fetch a set of finer clothes from a nearby chest. "You'll need to look the part, then. If you're going to face them, you can't do it looking like…" She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Daenys' blood-stained armor.

Daenys allowed herself a faint smirk. "Like I just fought a battle and won?"

"Exactly," Merd said, her tone sharp but affectionate. She held up a deep burgundy robe embroidered with gold thread. "This should do. Come on, let's get you out of that mess."

With Merd's help, Daenys changed into the regal outfit. The golden sash across her chest pressed uncomfortably against the scar, but she ignored it. The weight of the bracelets on her arms and the delicate mooneye silk draped over her shoulders added an air of authority she didn't feel.

"You look like a queen," Merd said, stepping back to admire her work.

"I look like someone playing dress-up," Daenys muttered, adjusting the sash. "But it'll have to do." She straightened her posture, ignoring the ache in her ribs. "Come, we have negotiations to attend."