Blood Soldiers: The Second Army - Grishaverse Prequel

22 - Aleksander

Aleksander's heart was racing as he made his way through the assembled crowd, the darkness surrounding them. The Grisha hadn't reacted, but the First Army and the Fjerdan's were all panicking, their shouts filling the night.

Slowly, he allowed the shadows to retreat over the Ravkan army, allowing them to see him for what he was, the Shadow Summoner. Let them see, let them not be afraid. It sounded more like a prayer than anything else.

Yelena stood before him, still looking towards where the Fjerdan's were hidden by his shadow. The oprichniki had formed their protective ring around her, and he would be having...words with them later about how they should have moved her out of the net's way.

She turned to face him, eyes bright, a spray of blood across her perfect face. He fought the urge to wipe it away.

"Commander," he said.

She dipped her head respectfully, still slightly shaky after her close call, "General."

They turned back to the Fjerdan's together, and he lifted a hand, the shadows retreating. He stepped forward, lifting his chin, as they raised their weapons again. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the Grisha spreading out again, the red and blue of their keftas striking in the firelight. Pride swelled in his chest at their fierce expressions, knowing exactly where they'd learned that glare from.

Beside him, Yelena's face was smug, a slight smile on her lips.

"You are outnumbered and no match for my Grisha army," he declared, and Yelena translated for him. Naturally, the Fjerdan's resumed their name calling and angry shouts as the witch spoke their language. He'd heard what they called her too, Blodhäxa. He thought it was rather fearsome. She was going to love it.

"Run home and tell your King that the Grisha will no longer be hunted. From now on, they will have a place in Ravka's second army. Any who are foolish enough to oppose us or stand in our way," he gestured to the battlefield of slaughter, "Well, you've seen what we can do."

Yelena finished the translation and the Fjerdan's looked on with a newfound hatred.

"Du gjorde en fiende idag, Skuggkallare," one of them called, before shouting to his troops to retreat. Some of them remained with their weapons out to cover their comrades retreat but the Ravkan's didn't pursue them.

Unfortunately, as soon as the Fjerdan's had disappeared, the Ravkan soldiers turned their weapons on the Grisha army.

"No!" Yelena called out, raising her hands in surrender, "We are not you enemy! We are Ravkan too, and we are here to help you!"

Calls and shouts came from somewhere back in the camp, ordering the soldiers to stand down. Slowly, they began to ease up, dropping to the ground as exhaustion set in. Yelena didn't give them long though, instead ordering every able-bodied person to bring the injured to the healers.

Aleksander helped the other Grisha and soldiers to bring the injured ones to the tent. The Fabrikators were there too, reinforcing bandages, splints and other materials for the Healers and other doctors to use. The medic tent was a flurry of activity, the crimson keftas flashing as they moved from person to person, sealing stab wounds, mending broken bones and knitting flesh back together.

Yelena instantly fell into place helping them, using the healing skills she'd learned from her parents too. Aleksander did his best to help where he could, bandaging cuts and helping the injured onto beds as they waited to be attended to.

"No, get out of here," Yelena shoved him back.

He frowned at her, stunned, "What are you..."

"Rest, please. You and all the other Etherealki and Fabrikators. We'll work tonight, but I need you all to be ready to guard us tomorrow. Go. Now," she turned back to another patient then, and he reluctantly agreed.