Page 20

Chapter Twenty

A s the keep loomed in the distance, an unsettling sensation slammed into Padraig, his chest constricting. It wasn’t fear. It was certainty. His body and mindknew this was to be the last time he would stand inside the ancient walls. Either he would leave and return to the other realm … or he would take his final breath here, among the ruins of the home that had defined him for centuries.

The others must have felt it, too. No words were spoken as they dismounted theaurochs, the massive beasts stamping their hooves against the dry, cracked earth. They stood in a silent line, shoulders squared, gazes locked on the once-mighty fortress that had sheltered the knights through times of despondency, fear, injuries, healing, and time itself.

Liam and Tristan took the aurochs toward the remnants of the stables at the far side of the keep. The creatures, despite their formidable size, were docile, their deep, wary snorts breaking the brittle silence.

Padraig couldn’t blame them for their unease. This place was nothing like their native plush Esland. Here the land was a barren husk, swallowed by extremes, searing heat by day, frigid cold by night.

The front door of the keep hung open, swinging slightly on rusted hinges. It wasn’t surprising. They had fled in the heat of battle, leaving the stronghold vulnerable.

Beyond the threshold, devastation awaited. The front room, once grand and welcoming, was obliterated. Splintered wood and piles of ash covered the floor, the remains furniture reduced to charred ruins. Animal tracks crisscrossed the soot-covered stone floors, evidence of creatures that had sought warmth here in their absence.

Swords in hand, the men inspected every inch of the keep. Only after every corner was deemed safe did they relax.

“We should barricade ourselves inside for the night,” Tristan said, returning from the stables hauling a massive wooden plank from outside.

Gavin moved toward the hearth, uncovering a broken-handled broom and brushing away layers of cold ash. “I’ll get a fire going. It should help drive out some of the chill.”

Rushing upstairs, Padriag found several blankets that had survived the destruction and carried them down to place on the floor in front of the hearth.

They moved through the motions, each man taking on his task without need for discussion.

Tasks completed, the five sat around the growing fire in quiet concentration, fashioning crude spears from broken beams, whittling the ends to deadly points and hardening them in the flames.

Padraig finished one and tossed it onto an ever-growing pile. “Liam, any idea when Meliot will attack?”

“Not yet.” Liam frowned, running a hand over the rough grain of a newly carved spear. The Brit shook his head and tossed another weapon to the pile of spears before disappearing into the darkness of the upper levels, needing silence to surround him when he summoned visions.

Niall finished sharpening a spear and turned his attention to the kettle, lifting it from the fire’s iron hook. “I’ll boil water. We should have something warm before taking shifts sleeping.”

Years ago, when they had still harbored hope of reclaiming their lives, they had fashioned ahand-pumped wellin the back room of the keep. It had been their lifeline, allowing them to gather water even when it was too dangerous to venture outside. Now, it was one of the last remnants of their preparations.

Padraig searched the kitchen shelves, fingers brushing over dust and emptiness. There wasnothing, no food, no provisions. Only a few brittle sticks used for making tea. He crushed a few between his fingers, inhaling the sharp blend that reminded him of cinnamon.

By the time Liam returned, each man sat with a cup cradled between his hands. Niall silently poured another cup and held it out.

Liam took it, but his expression was grim. “They come. They will arrive at dawn.”

The men exchanged looks, but there was nothing that needed to be said.

“There is something else,” Liam added, his fingers tightening around the warm metal of the cup. “Something unexpected will come. I tried to see, but something is blocking me.”

No one spoke for a long moment.

Then Tristan exhaled, his broad shoulders easing as he glanced around the ruined hall. His gaze softened, though his voice was strong when he finally spoke.

“In a way, I’m glad this is ending—no matter the outcome.” His eyes moved from face to face, lingering on each of them. “We have fought, endured, and survived for longer than any man should. And now, as we stand on the edge of fate, I can say with pride; I could not have chosen better men to stand beside me.”

Padraig’s throat tightened. Something in his chest clenched hard and fast. He swallowed against it and nodded. “Together, we conquer.”

Aroarof agreement filled the hall, their voices rising as one.

“Aye! Aye!”

They lifted their cups in unison, a final toast to battle, to brotherhood … tothe end.

The men settled around the hearth to sleep. They would need as much rest as possible before facing whatever the next day brought.

A sound like thundershatteredthe silence.

Padraig’s eyes flew open, his pulse slamming in his chest as he pushed up from where he’d slept beside the dying hearth. Across the room,Niall stood watch, motionless by the window, his silhouette rigid against the pale moons’ light creeping into the ruined keep.

Padraig’s voice was hoarse. “What is it?”

Niall didn’t turn. “I see the light of torches. The sound could be horses.”

Padraig was on his feet in an instant, crossing the floor in three strides.On the horizon, lines of fire flickered in the distance.The torches bobbed and swayed in waves, their golden light stretching across the darkened landscape. Meliot’s army. Hundreds of soulless creatures moved steadily closer.

A sense of anticipation filled Padraig. The suns would rise soon, and with them, clarity. What they faced would be evident, whatever the outcome this would be the last day of the life they’d known.

Behind him, the other knights were already moving.

Liam and Tristan fastened their leather harnesses, each loop filled with sharpened daggers, their movements swift and practiced.Liam slung two bows over his shoulder, disappearing up the ruined staircase to the upper floor where he would have the best vantage point. Withover a hundred arrows, Padraig had no doubtthe Brit would take down more than his fair share of enemies.

Padraig turned toward the rickety table where his own weapons lay. His fingers moved swiftly, securing the belts across his chest and hips, the familiar weight ofsteel pressing against his ribs somewhat soothing.

Then came the sound.

Womp. Womp. Womp.

The airvibratedas a dragon’s wings cut through the sky.The night collapsed into day in an instant.Unlike the world they’d once known, this realm had no gradual dawn—just a sudden, searing light that forced temporary blindness until the eyes adjusted.

Padraig squinted through the brightness.The torches had stopped.A ripple passed through the approaching army. They were disoriented, blinking against the abrupt shift from night to day.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Idiots.

He shoved open the front door, just wide enough to crawled through and going forward until he could hide behind the tangled branches of a bush. Theground trembled beneath him, a dull, rhythmic quake the unmistakable thunder of hooves closing in.Through the dense branches, he watched them near

He lifted his hand.A ball of fire flickered to life in his palm, spinning and twisting, growing hotter with each moment.

When the first wave of horsemen crossed into the trap they’d laid the night before, he let the ball of fire fly.

The flames struck.

With aroar, fireexplodedacross the dry brush,racing outward in a wave of destruction as the wall of fire circled the keep.Horses reared, their riders thrown as the inferno swallowed everything in its path.The screams of burning menfilling the air, a horrifying symphony of agony.

Padraig wasted no time.With a flick of his wrist, rings of energy formed in his palms—discs of concentrated power. He flung them one after another,cutting through the chaos, severing limbs, knocking dark warriors off their mounts, sending more bodies into the roaring flames.

It didn’t take long before his arms began shaking from exhaustion, still he continued. This was a chance to take down as many as possible.

Suddenly, aheavy hand shoved him back.

“Go! I’ll handle it,”Gavin barked, stepping forward.

Padraig knew better than to argue. He scrambled back asthe giant Scot lifted both arms, palms outward.An arc ofraw energyformed, humming with power.He unleashed it.

Lightning-fast bursts shot through the second wave of Meliot’s army.Those not caught in the blasts werepicked off one by oneby Liam’s arrows, each shotclean, deadly, unerring.

The keep’s front courtyard was filling with corpses sprawled among the smoldering remains, arrows piercing skulls, spears jutting from still-twitching bodies.

Still, they came.

Niall and Tristan stepped forward,forming a deadly line.Their spears struck true,taking down what remained of the advancing force.

Padraig closed his eyes, pullingevery ounce of strength he had.Shimmering domelike barriers formed, wrapping around his friends like an invisible wall.It would hold.For now.But he knew—Meliot’s power was stronger. The shields would not hold against him.

A new tremor shook the ground beneath his boots.

“We’ll hold here. Go check the rear!” Tristan called out over the din.

Padriagraced into the keep andraced upstairsto a crumbling balcony. A bow and quiver waited there. He grabbed it.

Some of Meliot’s men had managed to make it past the fire and were advancing.

The dark warriors were trampling over their own fallen to breach the back defenses.

The others had to defend the front where there were more opponents

The arrows Padriag had wouldn’t be enough.There were too many enemies.

Fire. It had to be fire.

Summoning another ball of flame, hehurled it downward.

The second line of brush ignited.

Screams erupted, the smell of burning flesh filling the air.

Padraig grabbed the bow,notched an arrow, and fired.Another. Another. Each shotfound its mark, thinning the herd of whatever creatures had survived the flames.

At last, therear of the keep fell silent.

Breathing hard, he hurried back to the first level, where the others had returned inside and peered out through the cracks in the stone.

“Where is the dragon?” Padraig asked.

Liam, stood by a window peering out.“Circling. It’s not attacking—it’s scouting. Probably sending messages back to Meliot.”

“At least there’s only one dragon,” Niall muttered.“That we know of.”

They had little time to waste. The menrushed outside, reinforcing their firewall with more dried brush, oil, and powder before retreating into the keep to drink water and prepare for what came next.

They barely had time tocatch their breathbefore Tristan’s voice rang from the top of the keep.

“I see sentinels! More fighters incoming!”

The wolf-creatures were formidable.

Padraig’s stomach clenched.Unpredictable. Ruthless. And worst of all—fast.They couldn’t wield swords, but the creatures’teeth and claws were just as deadly.

The battle raged again.

They triggered the fire—more screams, more bodies turned to ash.Arrows and spears rained down,Niall and Tristan’s spears finding their marks.

Then—theground trembled.

Athird wave thundered toward the keep.

Overhead, the dragon shrieked, and fire rained from the sky.

They barelymade it inside before the ground where they’d stood was scorched black.

Through the window, Niall cursed.“Centaurs.”

Padraig’s gut turned to ice.Elite warriors. Eagle-eyed. The centaur archers were death itself.

His jaw clenched.“Gavin, time to test those shields.”

How much longer could they hold them off?

Padraig had no answer. But as he crouched behind the crumbling wall, watching thedust and smoke on the horizon, he knew one thing.

This was only the beginning.