Page 75 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

75

GIDEON

T he shore of the Kinderby River leading towards the city walls was covered in metal and banners as every single Destroyer soldier who could carry a sword stood at attention. Battalions lined in perfect rows. Their shields on their backs, blades in their hands.

I looked up. The sun burned directly above us.

Midday.

Dressed in full armor, I marched from the very back of my army towards the front line. My swords sheathed on my back, the bloodlike rubies on the hilts glistening under the bright rays of the sun. My black cape waved with each step as rows of soldiers parted, making way for me until I reached the shore.

I eyed the narrowest part of the river. There, between the large city walls extending far underwater, was the naval toll gate. What was previously used for merchants and traders to pay their dues to enter the city became a stronghold. The warships cramped the little space. Chains and catapults and boat killers—large spear launchers—all stood ready to destroy any ship that dared to approach within a mile, blocking the weakest part of the city.

Rows upon rows of enemy archers stood ready to fire at a single snap of their commander’s fingers the moment we advanced. Their leaders grim and heavy, watching my armies from their towers and behind the rows of their shielded men.

Though our numbers were only a fraction of what they had, they put on a full show of force, not leaving anything up to chance.

Orest stood near me, silently observing the city, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting.

A loud enemy horn sounded, signaling Justice Wielder, my presence, on the battlefield.

“I missed the sound of that,” Orest voiced.

“Of what?” I asked, watching the enemy commanders scramble, shouting commands at their soldiers struck in panic with fear and shock as they realized I was still alive.

“Of triumph.” Orest turned to me. “On your command.” He gave a curt nod, drawing his sword.

I walked into the river until the water reached my knees. In one swift motion, I pulled both of my swords out, the zing of the metal like a melodic prophecy reaching the armies hidden beyond the grand walls. The wildfire in me churned with anticipation, ready to explode. The swords’ magic drew upon my raging flames with their deadly song. A thought and my blades lit up in silver flames.

The armies on both sides waited, unsure.

We had no navy, no battleships ready for a naval fight.

But we didn’t need them.

Neither did we need enormous armies to breach the city. The large walls and the deep river were not enough to stop me.

I searched the lines of the enemy soldiers, waiting until I saw him.

The fire on my blades matched the one in my eyes when I found him. General Thynirite. His white feathered helm stood out bright against the dark armor of the soldiers.

I was going to enjoy this moment.

The moment he realized that he lost to some bastard.

Our glares crossed. Matched hatred lingered in the air.

I gave him a smug smirk and plunged both of my burning swords into the water.

A blink.

My powers, unchained and unleashed, ran free.

And the entirety of the Kinderby River evaporated into the air.

The ravine from the dried river was enormous, and I sent another wave of heat drying the layers of mud, incinerating the flopping fish.

“Xentar is going to hate you for this giant natural disaster,” Orest mumbled near me as we watched the enemy tremble in fear, staring at where their giant warships were only a few moments prior.

“If I remember correctly, his exact words were ‘Please don’t make it a second Desolate Desert.’ The shores are still intact, so I think I’ve done well.” I yanked both of my swords out of the ground.

Orest observed as enemy battalions flooded between the city walls, frantically preparing for the battle where the river once had been. I put on my helm, hiding a slight wince. Burning the river reminded me of exactly how weak death left my body, my powers hungrily taking a toll on my physical body. I rotated my aching wrist before sending another wave of fire burning their archers.

“Let’s go for a stroll,” I snarled, watching Zora’s father depart, leaving his scrambling soldiers behind. Orest noticed it too, his deep frown—the only sign of his dreadful worry. I knew Orest was eager to get through the city walls to find Zora, each moment away tormenting him. I knew that, because I too found myself desperately fighting against my own thoughts of searching for Finnleah.

He raised his fist up, opening it. A few horns echoed through the battalions, signaling our move forward, and we marched into Svitar. Our steps drummed the ancient song of war. And of triumph.