The commanders and elders threw themselves into the new arrangements, their voices dropping from a panicked roar into low, rushed whispers as they cross-referenced maps and spirit-compatibilities.
The air in the High Hall was thick with a calculated malice now.
Sol stepped back from the obsidian slab, letting the crowd of veterans argue over which scouts had the fastest wind-attribute core pathways to fill out the four hornet squads.
Anyway, the strategy was set. Now came the part where he had to stand in a muddy ravine with a few hundred terrified recruits and watch four thousand alien bastards run at them with their mouths open.
"You've got a lot of nerve for an outsider, kid," a voice rumbled from behind him.
Sol turned his head. Thauren, the Lion Commander, was outside the war room, standing by the pillar, his massive seven-foot frame shaking the dust off his golden scales armor as he shifted his weight.
