Sivulu
The Hedjetti had their orders, and they were spread out according to where they were to end up in the assault. Looking over the horde of troops, Sivulu saw that the wolves—his people—were divided up evenly and ready for battle. Not a single Wolfwalker was left on two legs. Even he had taken to his lupine form to begin the assault, allowing him greater mobility and speed.
And a great set of fangs, he thought as he ran his tongue over his canines.
He took a final look back over the gathered force, then steadied his great green eyes on the compound. Turning his head to the sky, he let out a howl, fearsome and strong, to signify the start of the attack. It was soon joined by the haunting voices of the other wolves, and Sivulu thought he actually saw Yelto’s compound shudder in terror. He wouldn’t have blamed it; the howls were heralds of death. The Hedjetti behind him rallied their men forward, beginning their swift advancement on the stone compound.
The stars above them winked to life one by one as they approached, and the first of the defenders’ arrows hissed sharply into the sand.
“Forward!” came the cry from Hroth, who led the wave of warriors breaking off to the east. “There is more to fear than the sting of steel!”
Sivulu watched the two forces break away as they began to surround the compound. The dust they kicked up as they charged served to obscure their numbers a little better in the dark, but he was sure that advantage would be short-lived. He also knew that breaching the wall would come at a steep price.
From inside the wall, he heard a strong voice barking orders. He couldn’t quite make out the commands, but the sharpness and urgency behind them were, he knew, born from battle.
He had split off with the force to the east and was nearly upon the outer wall. A few of the Ohmati had brought ropes and grappling hooks and were hurling them up at the wall to start their climb amid a hail of arrows. When one of them fell, another fearless warrior was there to take his place.
War was not an easy language, but these men spoke it fluently.
Tennech
The wailing of wolves penetrated the sky as Tennech tightened his verbal grip on his men. “Dhrostain,” he shouted to the captain on the wall, “get them in line!”
“Yes, General!” He turned to address the archers around him. “No hesitation! No mercy! These men are here to kill you. Let’s not make it easy!”
Tennech could sense that the wolves had a profoundly demoralizing effect on the men under his command. The chilling howls that filled the air shook even him, the man who could look High Khyth Yetz in the eye and not back down.
He had to get control of his men now, or he might lose them entirely. He turned to Sera, who had been watching silently, and nodded. “Now is the time,” he said, and she turned without answering.
She knew what she had to do. They had to play their one advantage now or risk losing the battle entirely.
Or, more accurately, their two advantages.
Tennech watched her open the great gates that held back the Gwarái, and he smiled. The fire was about to catch.