Titus kept his tired arms wrapped tightly around Slate’s armored torso as they both rode his crew member’s thunderhoof back to the newest camp they’d built for the main rebel caravan. Titus was pretty sure that he’d never been this tired in his entire life.

  Of course, there had been some brutal days on the streets of Thanhil as a new orphan, and the reality of those days had faded some in his memory. Even so, those days had been more a matter of fear and malnutrition than extreme effort with no end in sight.

  He and the other rebel squads had been running themselves ragged, locating and gathering as many groups of evacuees as possible. At the same time, they had to protect them from roaming empire troops while taking every opportunity to ambush the ones they could take unawares.

  Every victory was hard-fought and essential to their survival, just like the one they’d managed in the early pre-dawn hours of this morning.

  Thank you, Astra. He sent a thrum of gratitude and pride to his companion. Without you, we’d never have taken that empire crew by surprise.

  They couldn’t fight together as well as our hive, so they died, Astra replied. Her words were pragmatic and brutal, as usual.

  Titus grinned. Let’s hope that trend continues, right?

  Agreed. We need to get stronger and add new warriors to our hive. We must be cautious. If enough of them combine forces, numbers are a strength all on their own. Astra’s words carried the weight of experience from her time as a guardian leading the numerous glitterflare fighters of her hive.

  Very true. Over the last few weeks, Titus had gained an appreciation for her intuitive understanding of group battle tactics. I would love more numbers, but the rest of our hive is busy with Brightgate. Let’s just hope they finish fast enough to rejoin us before things get too desperate.

  A sudden slowing of their galloping pace caught Titus’ attention. He blinked dust out of his eyes and looked over Slate’s left shoulder, recognizing familiar landmarks. They were almost back to camp.

  Beside him, Girrec, the dwarven warrior in their crew, slowed his own thunderhoof, the animal’s storm-gray mane tossing in the wind. Crissim rode double behind him, looking just as exhausted as Titus felt.

  “You’re quiet,” Crissim said, his voice cutting through the hoofbeats as their crew slowed to a walk and moved closer to each other.

  Titus gave him a shrug. “Tired, mostly. And thinking.”

  “That’s dangerous,” Crissim quipped, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You should let me handle the thinking. It’s safer for everyone.”

  Titus snorted despite himself. “Sure. You’ve got all the answers, right?”

  “Obviously,” Crissim replied. “For example, here’s one: You need to stop looking like you’re about to keel over. Morale depends on seeing our fearless leader upright, even if we’ve been out non-stop fighting for three days.”

  “And another?” Titus asked dryly. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “Take a break before you pass out. Maybe eat something as soon as we get inside.” Crissim’s tone was light, but his sharp eyes betrayed genuine concern. “You can’t keep running yourself into the ground, Titus. You’re no good to anyone if you collapse.”

  Titus gave him an amicable smile of agreement, and they fell into a companionable silence as the camp came into view. His friend was right. He was letting all the deaths he couldn’t prevent get to him. But there were only so many things in his control, despite how much he wished it were different.

  As they approached their newest base, Titus marveled again at how seamlessly it blended into the natural landscape. Instead of the usual imperial structure of walls in an open plain to give protectors a clear field of view, the rebels had chosen a natural cave and used their earth mages to expand it.

  It still left them vulnerable to burrowing beasts, but they’d have to sense the number of people sheltering there and find them first. With all the activity in the area, it took time for the beasts to detect and respond to a new presence of gathered people. Not to mention the rebels had become experts at hiding over the years. Their combined skills, spells and artifacts helped keep them hidden much better than their imperial counterparts.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The entrance, an effective and reinforced choke point, was tucked beneath a jutting cliff face overgrown with moss and thorny vines, carefully maintained by the rebels. It was nearly invisible unless you knew exactly where to look. Massive boulders and dense groves of nearby trees provided natural cover. Every rebel took varied paths through the surrounding terrain’s maze of blind spots and dead ends to confuse anyone who might try to track them.

  They also kept an earth mage among the outer guards at all times with the specific duty of cleaning up after any tracks from incoming and outgoing troops.

  Slate slowed his thunderhoof to a walk as they neared the perimeter, his companion’s ears twitching. Titus wasn’t surprised when a stealthed guard stepped out from behind one of the larger boulders, her hand resting on the hilt of a short blade as the faint brown of her mage tattoos flared under her gauntlets.

  “Identify yourselves.” Her eyes scanned the crew with the precision of someone who took her job seriously.

  “Titus Trueviper and crew.” Titus kept his hands where she could see them as he slid off of Slate’s thunderhoof with a groan. His legs wobbled beneath him, and he had to grab hold of Slate’s saddle to steady himself. “Returning from a three-day mission that just ended this morning with a pre-dawn ambush of a vanguard squad.”

  The sentinel nodded, her eyes suddenly alive with interest at the mention of one of the empire’s elite units. But she didn’t step aside immediately. Instead, she glanced toward a thick copse of trees nearby. Titus felt the subtle flicker of a high-level Identify travel over him.

  The hidden guard must have sent her a signal, because her shoulders and grip on her weapon relaxed just enough to notice.

  “All clear,” she said, giving Titus a grim nod. “I hope you killed them all this morning. We just received a report yesterday of a bloodbath discovered by some of our scouting outriders. Three families plus their handful of low-leveled escorts, all slaughtered in cold blood. Barely a decent fighter among them. They didn’t stand a chance.”

  Titus’ jaw clenched as he heard the report, his rage returning full force. Incidents like this were why he pushed himself and his crew so hard. Every minute, more of their own were dying.

  It wasn’t even close to the first time the empire had targeted their civilians, but each time felt like a punch to the gut. His mind flashed to the faces of evacuees he had met over the last few weeks, tired, scared, clinging to hope despite everything. The thought of those hopes snuffed out filled him with a storm of anger and helplessness. “Yes, we did. Wiped out every last one of the squad this morning.”

  She gave him an angry nod of gratitude and acknowledgement, though he could see she knew just as well as he that it wouldn’t bring any of their lost people back.

  “Monsters.” He met her eyes, letting a bit of his fury out. “We’re going to stop them and make them pay. All of them.”

  The guard’s expression turned grim in agreement before she stepped aside, motioning for them to continue. “Go on in. And Warrior Truesworn,” she said, her voice low. “Take some time to rest. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  Crissim smirked at the words that agreed with the advice he’d just given Titus.

  Titus gave her a tired smile, ignoring his smug friend. “Thanks, I’ll try.”

  After getting their mounts settled in the stable area hollowed out at the front of the base, Titus led his crew through the narrow halls, nodding to the other guards as they navigated the twisting tunnels. Inside, the base buzzed with controlled chaos. Rebel fighters moved purposefully between various chambers, makeshift barracks, supply depots and the central meeting hall carved into the center of it all.

  Exhausted evacuees were being escorted to rest areas, where medics and caretakers provided food, water, and comfort. The air was thick with the scents of sweat, earth, and the faint tang of breakfast wafting through the base from the distant cafeteria. Thankfully, water and earth mages helped keep the underlying musk of a lot of bodies in too small a space manageable.

  A few minutes later, Titus reached the central chamber where wide corridors branched off to the other sections of the base. On the far side, he could see into the wide opening to the leaders’ planning room with the usual two guards to make sure only authorized people entered.

  He could see the edge of the large table in the middle covered in maps that he knew would have the latest reports of troop movements, theirs and the empire’s, with notes hastily scribbled in a mix of handwriting.

  The leaders kept maps on the largest wall marked with strategic points, potential escape routes, and colored indicators showing enemy movements. He knew Mistress Harkness, along with a surprising amount of help from his mother, had covered another wall with charts of supply usage and requirements, incoming and outgoing camp numbers along with projected needs to keep everyone alive until they reached the main rebel encampments outside of Brightgate.

  The last wall, the one unseen from the doorway, contained the more sensitive information. Coded messages, reports from scouts, battle plans and everything they needed to keep the empire squads at bay and their people alive was laid out there.

  Titus knew as soon as someone realized he was back, they’d summon him to join those working and planning in the command center. A few familiar faces had already looked up as his crew entered the main chamber, their expressions a mix of relief and familiar exhaustion.

  “Titus!” one of them called, gesturing for him to join them.

  But Titus shook his head and waved them off. “Not yet. I need to check in with my mother first.”