Free Wytchfire (Book 1) by Michael Meyerhofer

rounding up Cassica’s men-at-arms, and the numbers are light. Most dropped swords, and there are still some skirmishes, but Brahasti insists there’s still at least one full brigade out there.”
    “Humans are infamous for deserting their compatriots in times of need, General.”
    Fadarah’s eyes narrowed. “You do not think I should rely so heavily on Brahasti’s advice, then.” It was not a question.
    “You lead this host, General. Not me. I bow to your wisdom.”
    “Thank you, but I did not request your endorsement. I asked for your opinion of Brahasti el Tarq.”
    The mention of the name made Shade’s lip curl. “An army can have only one general. Besides, Brahasti is a Dhargot.” He spat the word like a curse.
    Fadarah smirked. “Brahasti is banished from the empire. I believe the Red Emperor threatened to have him impaled if he returned.”
    Shade did not laugh. “Then let the Red Emperor have him! We’d gain favor, and Brahasti would get what he deserves.”
    Fadarah shook his head. “We need Brahasti. For now, at least. But I sense there’s more to your hatred than disagreement with his strategy.”
    Shade hesitated. Then in a low voice, he said, “Brahasti is a dog—even among Humans! He is a sadist who delights in torture and rape. Were it within my province, I would burn him to ashes and sleep well for it.”
    So strong was the Shel’ai’s revulsion that, as he spoke, violet tendrils of wytchfire flickered to life, writhing and flitting about his fingertips. Shade flicked his hands, and the wytchfire disappeared. He blanched and bowed. “Forgive me, General.”
    Fadarah faced him, unfazed. “No Shel’ai need fear disagreeing with my decisions, Kith’el. You above all others know that.” He sighed, leaning back in the chair, which strained to accommodate his muscular bulk. “I like the man no more than you do. I’ll make you this promise: when Brahasti outlives his usefulness, you will be the one who sends him to be judged by the Light. And I suspect I’ll sleep as well afterward as you will.”
    Shade bowed deeply. “Thank you, General.”
    Fadarah glanced at the reports again. “As for this missing brigade, it may be they deserted. But we should take care until this can be confirmed. Should this brigade return and attack us, they would not be so foolish as to assault the main camp. The hills to the south would be a perfect hiding place for them. I have dispatched scouts, but we should prepare, in the event that this missing brigade of men-at-arms attacks the subcamp to the south.”
    Shade caught his meaning. That is where the initiates are! “Silwren...” He whispered her name before he could stop himself.
    Fadarah nodded. “She and the others must be protected at all costs. I do not want to risk the common men of the army learning about the initiates, so take only the Unseen with you. Their silence is assured. I have already ordered Captain Lethe to assemble a brigade and proceed to Iventine’s tent, but we must guard the initiates’ tent as well. Assume command of my bodyguards and go there at once. I will send more Unseen to relieve you as soon as I can.”
    “Your own bodyguards... Forgive me, General, but—”
    “No need for concern. I summoned Que’ann from tending the wounded. She’ll remain here and guard me until you return. Besides, I suspect I will be quite safe at the center of my own army.”
    Shade hesitated. “As you command, General.” He bowed again and left the tent.
    Assuming command of Fadarah’s bodyguards—all handpicked from the ranks of the Unseen—he headed briskly for the southern subcamp. The Unseen followed without comment or complaint. Shade stalked through the main camp, his hood lowered. Armed men scurried to get out of his way. Shade led the Unseen past a line of sentries guarding the southern end of the main camp. At that moment, they were supervising the camp’s fortifications—the digging of a ditch and the raising of a