Chapter Twenty Two
Four constructs. Four teams of Lokants, four sets of explosives.
Four shape-shifters.
Llandry, Pense, Ori and Avane stood in a huddle of Lokants, their group screened from the skies by a ragged canopy of crumbling glissenwol caps. Those skies were ominously quiet. A few hours ago the draykoni attacks had largely ceased. Llan privately hoped that they had worn themselves out for the present; after all, with the help of her father’s machines Waeverleyne had taken down many of their number, forcing the draykoni to expend massive energy in order to reclaim the corpses and resurrect their allies. She knew first-hand that this took a heavy toll on the draykoni. The resurrections had certainly slowed: before the retreat, perhaps one third of their numbers were down and the r
