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Though the legions were his enemy, a wall of steel pressing forward with every second, Dom found it in his heart to pity them too. They did not know what they marched for. They did not know they fought for their own doom.

Or, Dom thought darkly,they have no choice in the matter at all.

“Hold firm, together,” Dom called out along the line. “They will break before we do.”

He remembered what Andry had said about battle tactics.Galland relies on their knights to charge first, using the cavalry to sweep away the front line of an opposing army.Andry’s fingers illustrated across a table in the library.We can stop them with a pike wall, an Elder pike wall, no less. It will be like charging into the side of a castle.

Dom tightened against his own pike now, setting his shoulder to reinforce the wood. He hoped Andry was right.

The Gallish horns blew, bellowing over their own army. The knights reacted to the command, spurring the horses beneath them. They couched their lances, one hand on the reins, the red light flashing through the endless column.

Closer and closer they came, until the ground shook beneath Dom’s boots, trembling under the weight of many hundreds of heavy horse. He could hear the knights shouting, voices raised in a battle cry, as he could hear the snorting breath of their horses, the jingle of tack, the bray of horns, the clang of armor. And the constant, cloying sweep of the dragon’s wings.

The air turned hot, smelling of smoke.

To the east, the sun began its descent behind the mountains, sending the first shadows streaking over the valley like another army.

“They will break before we do,” he growled again.

The Vedera responded with a cry of victory, speaking the old words from a realm lost. Even Isibel joined the call, the air trembling with her power.

Behind their line, he heard a thousand bowstrings pull taut, a thousand arrows aimed. He prayed to every god, in the Ward and Glorian, for those arrows to fly true.

Somehow, he forgot the dragon, the red sky, the city behind him. Even Taristan. Even Corayne. There was only the pike against hisshoulder, the line of cavalry, and the breath in his body. This was the only place in the world, the only moment in all of existence. His senses flared, overwhelmed by the sound, the smell, the feel of the tidal wave crashing toward him.

They will break before we do.

The arrows arced, suspended for an instant before curving down into the charge.

Earth and dirt kicked up beneath the many hooves, a cloud rising with the oncoming cavalry. Flags still waved over them, the men of Galland roaring beneath their helmets, teeth bared, as fearsome as their galloping horses. The Vederan arrows found home among them, downing knights and their steeds in equal measure, each one collapsing in a heap of twitching limbs.

But there were more soldiers than arrows, and the cavalry charged on.

Dom braced, his jaw set, every muscle in his body tensed for the crushing blow. All down the line, his people did the same.

They will break before we do, he prayed.

And the legions broke.

The first knights careened into the wall, their eyes going wide in the last seconds, the horses screaming beneath them. The Vedera held their line as lances splintered and pikes sheared through flesh, man and horse both. Blood ran hot, legs flailing, hooves pawing as the ground turned to red mud. It was a crush of bodies and broken bones, the lines charging into each other, until the cavalry was forced to wheel, lest they be crushed too. Flags fell streaming, drums faltered, and mortal commanders screamed out above the fray, trying to re-form their destroyed line.

Dom saw the chance.

“FORWARD,” he bellowed.

As one, the Vedera moved, pushing against the piled corpses, theirbloody pikes creeping ahead. The archers went with them, firing again, raining death.

Part of the Gallish cavalry tried to wheel around the pike line, to attack the army from the flank, only to meet the ditches instead. Horses flailed in the muck, their knights impaled, blood filling their armor. The bottleneck held, forcing the cavalry right into their jaws.

But the charge did not end, the long column of Erida’s calvary forming up again. They were a river and Domacridhan the dam.

“Forward,” Dom shouted again, the line moving carefully.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the edge of the ditch wall, making sure to keep level with the funnel, lest they leave their sides undefended. The last thing they needed was the cavalry to worm around them, and attack from behind.

Then the dragon gave a ragged scream from behind the cavalry, spooking the horses. Dom went cold. Taristan would not hesitate to scorch a thousand of his own men, not if it meant conquering the city. His heart stopped in his chest and he braced himself, preparing to be burned alive.

Instead, the dragon leapt up into the air like another arrow from the bow, arcing high into the red sky. Dom watched it, puzzled.