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“I know.” Zavni spoke in a lowered tone, perhaps to keep the guards outside the door from hearing. “The king plans to keep you restrained even during the final battle. I fear without your help, we might not be able to turn back the elf and human armies. They are strong.”

Bracing himself, Rharreth twisted as much as he could to look at Zavni. Zavni’s eyes were a lighter blue than his, his gray skin a shade darker. He wore his white hair long enough to braid bits of leather into it to hang around the points of his ears. “Zavni, I know I cannot ask this of any of you, not when my loyalty to Kostaria is in question. But if the battle turns against us, could you see to it that I am freed? I will fight for Kostaria.”

Zavni met his gaze, then bowed his head. “I vow that when the time comes, I will free you.”

Three days ago...

Rharreth tugged on the shackles and restraints. Even standing, he couldn’t get enough leverage to do more than bruise his wrists, though he could peer out of the arrow slit window at the main gates of Gror Grar.

The whole fortress shook as a blast, both magical and mundane, blew apart the main gate, the dust and stone fragments shot through with blue bolts of Laesornysh’s magic.

With elves holding shields above them, human soldiers hustled forward with a makeshift wooden bridge to span the gap in the stone bridge caused by the blast. Troll warriors rushed to the gate to hold them back, but without Rharreth’s strong magic to provide a shield, many of them fell beneath the sustained firepower of the humans’ repeater guns trained on them.

Rharreth had to get out there. His people were fighting and dying and about to be overrun in their own fortress. What had Charvod been thinking, confining his best warrior on the eve of this battle? Even after what Rharreth had done, surely his brother still understood where his loyalties lay? He had to know Rharreth would fight for Kostaria in this battle.

Raised voices roared from outside Rharreth’s door. The clash of steel, then a crash.

The door flung open, and Zavni rushed inside. Through the opening, Rharreth could see the other members of his shield band holding off Charvod’s guards. There were Drurvas and Nirveeth wielding their battle-axes. Vriska, the only remaining female warrior in their band, swung her sword at the side of Eyvindur with Darvek and Brynjar flanking them.

Zavni gripped first one shackle, then the other, flooding them with his magic until they fell free. He yanked the leather restraints from Rharreth’s arms.

“My sword?” Rharreth glanced around, but he didn’t see it anywhere.

Zavni shook his head. “Couldn’t find it. I think Charvod has it.”

No matter. Rharreth’s magic was probably more useful than his sword at this point.

His back aching, his legs still shaky, Rharreth charged from the room, his shield band gathering around him to protect his back. He raced through the passageways and staircases of Gror Grar, even as the fortress shook with more of Laesornysh’s power.

Rharreth rammed into a door to the courtyard with a shoulder, bursting through and skidding to a halt, even as black spots danced at the corners of his vision from the lingering dizziness and pain from his still healing back.

Laesornysh stood only a few yards away. Magic crackled from him in waves, the building power so strong that Rharreth’s hair prickled along his scalp and he could barely draw in a breath.

Behind Laesornysh, more people poured from the door that led into the dungeons from the courtyard, including an elf warrior who carried Princess Melantha’s limp form over his shoulder.

Elves and humans filled the courtyard, pushing back the defending trolls step by step. If Laesornysh added his magic to the mix, this battle would be lost. Kostaria would be lost.

Rharreth blasted Laesornysh with as much magic as he could gather.

Laesornysh staggered a step, then steadied. His magic overwhelmed Rharreth’s in a surge of power so strong it burned all the way back to Rharreth’s hands.

When Laesornysh snapped his head toward Rharreth, his gaze was white-hot blue in its depths.

Rharreth only had a moment to attempt to gather magic, a heartbeat for his stomach to drop with the knowledge that it would not be enough, before an inferno of Laesornysh’s magic roared at him.

Fiery magic stabbed through his wrists and hurled him backwards, pinning him against the stone wall with such force that Rharreth struggled to draw in a whisper of breath. He fought against the blinding power, but it only tightened, searing like fire into his skin until he couldn’t help but cry out.

Behind him, he could sense his shield band as they were tossed back from the doorway. They huddled against the wall behind him, unable to take another step under the force of Laesornysh’s magic.

What had Charvod unleashed? They had tweaked a captured tornado, and now its fury was about to descend upon them.

What fools they had been, to think they could contain Laesornysh forever.

With one hand, Laesornysh kept Rharreth pinned, helpless as a snowflake against the rays of the sun. Eyes glowing, Laesornysh turned his head, his gaze fixing on Charvod where he fought King Weylind of the elves.

With a mere flick of his hand, the movement almost contemptuous, Laesornysh sliced a bolt of power toward Charvod.

It was over in an instant. One moment Charvod was fighting King Weylind. The next, he was dead, blasted through the chest by Laesornysh’s power. His lifeless body was hurled through a twenty-foot thick wall, the stones crumbling like dust in the seething fury of power poured upon them.