Kael Draven
The plan was simple. Simple plans worked best with limited resources.
"The entrance to the valley is naturally narrow," I said, drawing in the dirt with a stick. "Maybe thirty feet wide at most. That's our killing ground."
Dren crossed her arms, listening. Other rebels gathered around, skeptical but curious.
"A hundred soldiers can't attack in formation through that space," I said, "they'll have to funnel in. Maybe ten abreast at most. That neutralizes their numbers advantage."
"For the first wave," someone objected. "What about the rest?
"We don't let there be a rest. We hit the first wave hard and fast. Make them think we're stronger than we are. Force them to commit more troops into the narrow space. Then." I drew lines in the dirt showing the valley walls. "We collapse it on them."
Murmurs ran through the crowd. Dren leaned forward. "Collapse it how? We don't have explosives."
"No. But we have shadowstone." I looked up at her. "Shadowstone veins run through those walls. The crystal is unstable when properly stimulated. A controlled fracture could bring down enough rock to block the entrance and bury anyone inside."
"And how do you know shadowstone can do that?" Dren's eyes narrowed.
I had said too much. I'd revealed the knowledge a mine slave shouldn't have. I needed to recover quickly.
"My father worked with shadowstone in the mines. Before it killed him. He taught me about the crystal's properties."
Partial truth: the best kind of lie.
Marcus spoke up, "Even if the shadowstone is unstable, how do we trigger a fracture? You'd need someone who can manipulate shadow magic with precision. That kind of control is."
"Rare," I finished. "I know. But possible."
The implications settled over the group. Dren studied me with new intensity.
"You can do it," she said. Not a question.
I met her gaze. "I can do it."
Silence. Then Lyra spoke up beside me. "I'll vouch for him. I've seen what he can do."
Dren considered for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Alright. We try it your way. But if this goes wrong, if you're leading us into a trap…"
"Then I'll die with everyone else," I said simply. "I have as much to lose as you do."
She accepted that. "Everyone, listen up! Here's how this works."
We prepared for the next hour. Rebels positioned themselves along the sides of the valley, bows ready and whatever projectiles they could find. Others built false fortifications at the far end of the valley, targets to draw the Temple forces deeper in.
I went to the entrance of the valley with Lyra and Marcus. We had to find out exactly which veins of shadowstone, when fractured, would cause the most structural damage.
"There," Marcus said, pointing out a thick vein running diagonally through the left wall. "That one connects to at least three others. Break it right, and the whole section becomes unstable."
"Same on the right side," Lyra added. "See how the crystal forms a support pattern? Remove that support."
"And everything above comes down," I finished. "Perfect."
Marcus glanced nervously between us. "You're really going to do this? Manipulate raw shadowstone? The energy release alone could kill you."
"Probably." I examined the veins, calculating angles and stress points. "But I've survived worse in the last week."
"That's not reassuring."
A whistle came from the lookouts. In the distance, one could see the Temple forces. We had about thirty minutes.
Dren appeared beside us. "Positions, everyone. Eren, you're sure about this?"
"No," I said. "But it's our best chance."
She almost smiled. "Honest to the end, I respect that." She clasped my shoulder briefly. "Don't die. I hate wasting potential."
Then she was gone, moving to her command position. Marcus and Lyra headed up to the walls with the archers. That left me alone at the entrance, standing between the rebel camp and a hundred Temple soldiers.
I reached out to the shadows, feeling them respond. Stronger here, with so much shadowstone around. The veins practically hummed with power, eager to be used.
I just had to not die in the process.
The forces of the Temple appeared in the entrance of the valley: Soldiers armored in white and gold, disciplined in their formations; a horse-mounted commander at the head, surveying the valley with tactical precision.
He saw the fortifications at the far end. Saw what looked like a poorly defended rebel camp. Saw exactly what we wanted him to see.
"Forward!" his command echoed off the valley walls. "Shields up, spears ready!"
The first wave entered the valley. Twenty soldiers, cautious in their movement. When nothing immediately attacked them, the commander sent in more. Forty. Sixty.
They were halfway through the killing ground when Dren gave the signal.
Arrows rained from both sides. Rebels shouted. The soldiers of the Temple raised their shields, standing in defensive formation. They were professional enough to react promptly to the ambush.
"Push forward!" ordered the commander. "Don't let them pin you down!"
More soldiers poured in. Eighty now. Maybe ninety. The valley was packed with bodies and steel.
Now,
I reached into the shadowstone veins with my power. Felt the crystal structure, the delicate balance of forces. Found the stress points Marcus had identified. And I pushed.
It resisted. It wanted to stay stable, to maintain the structure of itself. I pushed harder, forcing shadow magic into the lattice, disrupting the bonds that held it together.
Pain exploded through my head. This was more power than I'd ever channeled. More than this body should be able to handle. My nose started bleeding. My vision blurred.
But the crystal was cracking.
I heard it before I saw it-a sharp sound like ice breaking. Then another. The cracks spread, racing through the shadowstone veins. The walls began to groan.
"Fall back!" the commander of the Temple screamed finally. "Everyone fall back!"
Too late.
The left wall went first. Tons of rock and crystal crashed down, entombing the rear half of the Temple force. Screams cut off abruptly under the weight of stone.
Then the right wall went. It was a deafening, apocalyptic sound. Dust and debris filled the valley, obscuring the view.
I felt myself falling, the power drain too much. The ground rushed up to meet me.
Strong hands caught me before I hit. Lyra's voice in my ear: "I've got you. Stay with me."
The dust began to settle. Where the entrance to the valley had been, a huge pile of rubble now blocked the passage entirely. And on our side of it, the broken bodies of Temple soldiers.
Maybe twenty had been at the front of the formation, past the collapse point. They stood in shock, surrounded by rebels, completely cut off from their main force.
Dren approached them, his sword drawn. "Drop your weapons. Now."
They did so forthwith. The fight had gone out of them.
We could hear the Temple commander, on the other side of the rubble, shouting orders. But he couldn't get to us. Couldn't do anything except retreat and report his failure.
We'd won.
"Is he alive?" Dren asked, looking down at me.
"Barely," Lyra said. "He needs rest. And medical attention."
"Get him to the healer's tent." Dren looked at the blocked entrance, then at the captured soldiers. "We'll deal with prisoners and cleanup. That boy just saved all our lives."
As Lyra helped me toward the camp, I heard rebels cheering. Celebrating. We'd faced impossible odds and survived.
I'd done it again: turned near-certain defeat into victory because of calculation and risk.
But this time, it had cost me almost everything I had left.
It was then, with my consciousness fading once more, that one thought pierced my mind: I needed to get stronger-much stronger.
Because next time I may not be as fortunate.