Meta Gods War 3

fortress. Galla’s lamp shifted and swung as her hips swayed. She wore a long conservative dress that covered her ankles and wrists. Cam’s ring glinted on her finger.
The halls felt heavy with smoke. Families sat outside their rooms eating dinner. Chicken grease covered their lips. Cam wondered how long the meat would last.
“Do you understand the plan?” Galla asked.
Cam looked at her face half lit by the lamp light. “I understand it,” he said. “I just don’t love it.”
“No turning back now,” she said.
He didn’t argue.
Galla took him through a series of side halls until they reached the main entrance. The high ceiling echoed with boot steps and amplified voices. Cam smelled burning fat and sweat. Galla’s red hair was piled up on the top of her head and her spine arced gracefully down to her long legs.
“He’s not here yet,” she said as they walked further into the room. The space was empty except for carts parked up against the far wall. The makeshift tent village was dismantled four days ago when the people were all given lodgings. Some of their detritus was left behind: an old patchwork doll, a scatter of bones, torn lace from a dress.
The guards at the front gate were stationed outside. Moonlight spilled in through the enormous stone maw and made Galla’s pale skin almost glow.
“Are you sure he’s coming?” Cam asked.
“He said he would.” She held her lamp up higher.
“We’ll wait,” Cam said.
Galla turned to him and put a hand on his chest. He reached up and took her fingers, his own palm swallowing them up.
“I know this is hard for you,” she said. “You didn’t expect politics to be a problem.”
“I didn’t think I’d have to work against my own people,” Cam said.
“But that’s the way of power,” she said. “Those that have it don’t want to share with those that don’t.”
“I’m not interested in power.”
“You’d better get interested.” She shook her head and her sad green eyes gleamed. “Because no matter what you think, you’re in a power game now.”
He squeezed her fingers and said nothing. There was nothing to say.
Galla was right and he couldn’t argue.
That didn’t make this any easier.
Cam didn’t come to the Mansion to lead the army or to overthrow the Lord. He came to protect his village. But he couldn’t protect his village if those in charge were unable to do their duty. It drove him mad with anger, with self-pity, with loathing. He hated the systems in place that ruled the world, and he hated himself for coming along and breaking those systems.
But in the end, none of that mattered. The wolves were coming and he had to stop them.
Lamplight flickered at the far end of the room. Galla turned away from Cam, dropping her hand from his chest. He stepped toward the light as men spilled in through a side entrance.
Cam let out a frustrated breath. Men in heavy armor marched in formation toward them. He recognized the man at the head of the column, recognized his sweeping helmet and the way he carried himself.
“That one’s name is Vogen,” Cam said, keeping his voice low.
“He must be my father’s dog,” Galla said.
“He’s the one that picked a fight earlier today. I have a feeling your father didn’t come here to discuss politics.”
“I think you’re right.”
Cam watched as more men spilled into the room. He counted fifty in all, a full armored division. Behind them came two figures, both wearing long, flowing black cloaks that shimmered in the flickering moonlight. The armored division stopped ten feet from where Cam and Galla stood alone and parted to allow Lord Remorn and Warden Dore to pass through.
Lord Remorn’s hands were clasped behind his back and he stood straight and narrow. Warden Dore remained a few steps behind him. Dore’s thin mustache and his thick double chin seemed to twist into a simpering snivel. Cam held his anger in check as Lord Remorn stared his daughter down.
“I almost didn’t think you’d come,” he said. “But of course you did. You’re my daughter, after all.”
“I thought we agreed we’d meet alone,” Galla said.
“And why would I do that?” Lord Remorn asked. “The shaman could kill me at any moment. He’s worth an armored division himself.”
Cam inclined his head. “Thank you, Lord Remorn,” he said.
Lord Remorn’s eyes snapped to him and anger flared in the man’s face. “I’m here to meet with my daughter,” he said. “You should watch your mouth.”
“And I’m here to speak as the head of the army and your daughter’s husband,” Cam said. “As much as you despise me and dislike what I’ve done so far, you can’t deny my position.”
“Galla, why are you doing this?” Lord Remorn looked at his daughter, and for half a moment Cam thought he saw a measure of pleading in Remorn’s eyes.
“I’m doing what must be done,” she said.
And all that pleading fled in a rush. “You still cling to your misguided beliefs.”
“I tried to reason with you,” she said. “I tried to get you to do the right thing, but instead, you sent that army out ill-prepared and under-equipped. Then you decided to do nothing for weeks. If it weren’t for Cam, we’d all be wolf meat right now.”
“Cam was lucky,” Lord Remorn said. “I did the best I could, given the circumstances.”
“You know that isn’t true. I told you what had to be done. I told you—”
“What do you know of warfare?” Lord Remorn asked. “You wear your pretty dresses and you sit at my table, but what can you know?”
“I know more than you give me credit for,” Galla said.
“You’re a little girl, playing with fire. I can’t gamble my entire kingdom based on your whims.”
Cam forced the anger from his voice. “She’s much smarter than you give her credit for,” he said. “If you would have listened to her from the start, none of this would have happened.”
“Oh, you still would have come to my door,” Lord Remorn said. “Begging for my protection. And once you