Terra's Victory (Destiny's Trinities Book 7) by Tracy Cooper-Posey Page B
Authors: Tracy Cooper-Posey
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armor and elegant robes of elvish warriors and each of them had a sword and a long-handled knife.
Beth sighed. “Amrod.” She hurried through the grass, her knives slapping her thighs, over to where the tall Elf was tightening his sword belt and checking his weapons.
Zack stretched his hearing. It was a challenge, even at this short distance, to hear them, because there were so many others around them talking in low voices, as they glanced toward the south end of the field where the vampeen were sitting.
Beth smiled at the senior elf. “Amrod, I appreciate you and your people’s assistance once more.”
“Your summons seemed urgent,” Amrod said stiffly.
“Every battle brings us one battle closer to the last one,” Beth told him. “Your help ensures we get to that next one.”
It was a subtle way of saying they couldn’t survive without the elves. Zack hid his amusement. Beth was handling Amrod perfectly. She was appealing to his vanity, which all elves had in bucketloads, including Lindal. That was why Zack went out of his way to tease him. It was so easy to get Lindal flustered and irritated.
Amrod bent stiffly, an almost regal nod. “While the gates remain open, it is prudent to guard them against invasion.”
“Or you could just help us deal with the Grimoré once and for all, then you wouldn’t have to guard them at all,” Beth pointed out.
Gloves off. Zack held his breath, straining to hear Amrod’s response.
“Each war has a turning point,” Amrod said, sounding old and wise. “This might be one of them. Shall we find out?”
It was no answer at all. Zack let himself breathe again, disappointed. He saw that Lindal was watching him, the wariness back in his eyes.
“Amrod won’t commit one way or another,” Lindal said. “It’s not his place to do that.”
“Perhaps it should be. He sounds frustrated,” Zack said.
“We all are,” Lindal said, shoving his sword back into the scabbard with a hard push.
* * * * *
Ángel nudged Remmy. “Hey, the fight is over here.”
Remmy stirred. “That barn structure….” He nodded toward the west.
“The one that is falling down?”
“There’s enough of it left for someone to hide behind,” Remmy said.
Octavia lowered the knife she had been balancing on her finger. She had taken weeks to settle on this one long-bladed weapon. Ángel had to admit she was very good with it. She looked at Remmy, then at the wreck of the barn. “Quite a few people could squeeze behind what’s left of the walls,” she said thoughtfully.
Ángel smiled. “Go for the Grimoré, yes?”
Remmy nodded again. “When we get a chance, yes. Watch yourselves. It is anyone’s guess what might happen when we try.”
There was an inhuman cry, rising up into the twilight, issuing from among the milling vampeen. It might have been a signal, for immediately, the vampeen began to lope toward them, their hands slapping the ground for speed and balance. The sounds they made were ferocious, filled with snarls and growls like nothing else on Earth.
Octavia let the knife drop and snatched the hilt out of the air with a flick of her wrist and gripped it.
“And so it begins,” Remmy breathed.
* * * * *
In the months and years the trinities had been facing off against the vampeen, all of them had become so much more skilled at dealing with them. Diego preferred his guns, only in close quarters, they were dangerous to more than just vampeen. Instead, he had trained himself to proficiency with a pair of knives. There was an artistry in using them, he had discovered, that rivaled any satisfaction the guns might bring. Thanks to his vampire speed and the experience he’d built up from numerous encounters, the work of killing the vampeen went smoothly.
It made a difference that Blake and Sera were with him. He couldn’t see them and didn’t have time to look for them. He could feel them, close by.
“Look for the Grimoré!” Blake shouted.
“Why?”
“To kill
Beth sighed. “Amrod.” She hurried through the grass, her knives slapping her thighs, over to where the tall Elf was tightening his sword belt and checking his weapons.
Zack stretched his hearing. It was a challenge, even at this short distance, to hear them, because there were so many others around them talking in low voices, as they glanced toward the south end of the field where the vampeen were sitting.
Beth smiled at the senior elf. “Amrod, I appreciate you and your people’s assistance once more.”
“Your summons seemed urgent,” Amrod said stiffly.
“Every battle brings us one battle closer to the last one,” Beth told him. “Your help ensures we get to that next one.”
It was a subtle way of saying they couldn’t survive without the elves. Zack hid his amusement. Beth was handling Amrod perfectly. She was appealing to his vanity, which all elves had in bucketloads, including Lindal. That was why Zack went out of his way to tease him. It was so easy to get Lindal flustered and irritated.
Amrod bent stiffly, an almost regal nod. “While the gates remain open, it is prudent to guard them against invasion.”
“Or you could just help us deal with the Grimoré once and for all, then you wouldn’t have to guard them at all,” Beth pointed out.
Gloves off. Zack held his breath, straining to hear Amrod’s response.
“Each war has a turning point,” Amrod said, sounding old and wise. “This might be one of them. Shall we find out?”
It was no answer at all. Zack let himself breathe again, disappointed. He saw that Lindal was watching him, the wariness back in his eyes.
“Amrod won’t commit one way or another,” Lindal said. “It’s not his place to do that.”
“Perhaps it should be. He sounds frustrated,” Zack said.
“We all are,” Lindal said, shoving his sword back into the scabbard with a hard push.
* * * * *
Ángel nudged Remmy. “Hey, the fight is over here.”
Remmy stirred. “That barn structure….” He nodded toward the west.
“The one that is falling down?”
“There’s enough of it left for someone to hide behind,” Remmy said.
Octavia lowered the knife she had been balancing on her finger. She had taken weeks to settle on this one long-bladed weapon. Ángel had to admit she was very good with it. She looked at Remmy, then at the wreck of the barn. “Quite a few people could squeeze behind what’s left of the walls,” she said thoughtfully.
Ángel smiled. “Go for the Grimoré, yes?”
Remmy nodded again. “When we get a chance, yes. Watch yourselves. It is anyone’s guess what might happen when we try.”
There was an inhuman cry, rising up into the twilight, issuing from among the milling vampeen. It might have been a signal, for immediately, the vampeen began to lope toward them, their hands slapping the ground for speed and balance. The sounds they made were ferocious, filled with snarls and growls like nothing else on Earth.
Octavia let the knife drop and snatched the hilt out of the air with a flick of her wrist and gripped it.
“And so it begins,” Remmy breathed.
* * * * *
In the months and years the trinities had been facing off against the vampeen, all of them had become so much more skilled at dealing with them. Diego preferred his guns, only in close quarters, they were dangerous to more than just vampeen. Instead, he had trained himself to proficiency with a pair of knives. There was an artistry in using them, he had discovered, that rivaled any satisfaction the guns might bring. Thanks to his vampire speed and the experience he’d built up from numerous encounters, the work of killing the vampeen went smoothly.
It made a difference that Blake and Sera were with him. He couldn’t see them and didn’t have time to look for them. He could feel them, close by.
“Look for the Grimoré!” Blake shouted.
“Why?”
“To kill
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