The night had fallen like a shroud of black velvet over the Split Spine.
All around the fortress, the circle of my troops could be guessed at by the scattered glow of torches.
The dry air carried a scent of dust and oiled leather, mingled with the more carnal odor of bodies ready to kill.
The ramparts, down below, seemed deserted, but I knew that behind those stones cowered men and women too weak to attempt a sortie. Their silence pleased me. It was the silence of prey that knows the night will be its last.
At my side, Kaelira stood tall, her armor half-open on her bare chest, as if the night's chill had no hold on her. The torchlight caressed her long, taut muscles, and slid into the hollow of her breasts, making the sheen of sweat there glimmer. She did not take her eyes off me.
