Page 32

D awn broke blood red over D'thallanar as we pressed through the narrow streets of the merchant quarter. I rolled my shoulders beneath unfamiliar armor, the weight of it somehow both comforting and restrictive. The breastplate bore Starfall blue with gold trim, a statement of allegiance rather than mere protection. My throat felt naked without the phantom weight of a collar, the absence of that restriction still strange even after all these months of freedom.

"Eastern approach clear," reported a Wolfheart scout, materializing from a side alley. "Tarathiel's forces are concentrated on the bridge itself, as expected."

I nodded, tightening the straps on my vambraces. "And the other teams?"

"In position. Awaiting your signal."

The plan was simple in its brutality. A coordinated dual frontal assault at the eastern and western bridges. Captain Yisra's ships would engage Tarathiel's navy on the wide Thallan River, preventing reinforcements from crossing. Meanwhile, Tariq's Mirage would sweep in from the blind side, a ghost ship navigating the treacherous currents where other vessels dared not sail.

Simple. And yet my heart hammered against my ribs as if trying to escape what was to come.

Our forces gathered in a small square where the broad avenue leading to the Eastern Bridge began. Two hundred warriors in total—a mixture of freed slaves, Wolfheart infantry, Stoneriver archers, and the remnants of Katyr's battle mages. Not a large force, but we didn't need to win the entire war today. We just needed to secure a foothold on the Assembly island.

An order from Aryn had most of our forces take cover in the surrounding buildings. Before they dispersed, I caught a rare moment between him and Daraith in the shadow of a doorway. The normally stoic Aryn gripped the front of Daraith's robes, pulling him close for a fierce kiss. The necromancer's silver tattoos flared briefly at the contact.

When they separated, Aryn noticed several warriors staring in surprise.

"What are you staring at?" he growled, a flush rising on his pale cheeks. "Get back to work! The enemy won't wait for you to finish gawking."

The warriors scattered immediately. Daraith's lips curved in the barest hint of a smile before his expression settled back into its usual grave composure.

"Stay alive," Aryn told him, his voice low and rough. "I won't lose you to this battle."

Daraith's fingers briefly touched Aryn's face. "Death and I have an understanding." Then he, too, was gone, melting into the shadows to take his position.

"We don't move until we get the signal," Aryn reminded everyone, his voice once again the cool, professional tone of a commander. "Don't waste the advantage of surprise."

I found myself alone with Niro for a moment, the general checking his weapons.

"It's been a while since I faced a true battle," I admitted, checking the edge of my sword. "Not since Homeshore."

Niro's face betrayed nothing. "Combat is like breathing. The body remembers even when the mind forgets."

"Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

A rare smile flickered across his features. "Consider it a promise. When steel meets steel, you won't have time to worry about whether you remember how to fight."

Before I could respond, a whistle carried from the direction of the river—three short notes followed by one long.

"It's time," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Signal the advance."

The first wave moved forward, composed of fifty of our best warriors, many of them former slaves who knew these streets intimately. They slipped from doorway to doorway, keeping to shadows despite the growing daylight. I followed with the second wave, twenty paces behind.

The avenue widened as we approached the bridge district, elegant shops giving way to formal guild houses. This was neutral territory, claimed by no single clan but frequented by all. The streets remained eerily empty, civilians having fled or barricaded themselves inside at the first signs of conflict.

We'd chosen this approach precisely because it cut through unclaimed territory. The traditional clan holdings—Deepfrost, Ivygrass, Longclaw, Seashore—were clustered on the other side of the river, surrounding the Assembly island like jealous courtiers around a throne. Here, we might pass unnoticed until we reached the bridge itself.

The illusion of safety shattered as we rounded the final corner.

"Ambush!" The warning came too late as arrows rained from rooftops.

Five of our forward scouts fell before they could draw weapons. The rest scattered for cover, some dragging wounded comrades with them. The tranquil morning erupted into chaos as hidden doors flew open, revealing squads of Deepfrost warriors in gleaming silver armor.

"They knew we were coming," Niro said, appearing at my side as I pressed myself against a stone wall. "Someone betrayed our route."

I ducked as an arrow struck the wall where my head had been a moment before. "Doesn't matter now. We fight through."

Niro nodded once, whistling a signal that brought our forces surging forward. The narrow street became a killing field as Stoneriver archers returned fire from whatever cover they could find, while our infantry engaged the Deepfrost warriors directly.

I drew my sword and plunged into the fray. The first enemy came at me with a battle axe, swinging with enough force to cleave me in half. I sidestepped rather than blocking, letting the axe bury itself in the wooden post beside me. Before he could wrench it free, I drove my blade through the gap between his helmet and breastplate. Hot blood sprayed across my hand as I ripped the sword free and moved to the next opponent.

A Deepfrost soldier lunged from my blind side, blade aimed at my kidneys. I sensed rather than saw the attack, twisting too late. The sickening certainty of impending pain flooded my mind—then vanished as an arrow sprouted from my attacker's eye socket with a wet thud. He crumpled, his sword clattering on the cobblestones.

I spun toward the source of the shot. Across the street, atop a three-story merchant house, Ieduin stood with a group of Yeutish archers. Their bows sang in deadly harmony, each shot claiming another of Tarathiel's loyalists. Ieduin caught my eye and grinned fiercely, flame-red hair a beacon against the morning sky. They nocked another arrow and loosed it at a mage who was about to unleash fire in my direction. The mage fell, his spell sputtering out with him.

Ieduin shouted something I couldn't hear over the battle, but the exaggerated wink that followed said enough: Watch your back, or I'll have to keep saving it .

I offered a quick salute before turning back to the fight. The Yeutish archers continued their deadly work, arrows raining down with unnerving precision. Each rooftop had become a platform of death for Tarathiel's forces caught in the streets below.

It was as Niro had said. My body remembered what to do even as my mind reeled with the suddenness of battle. Duck under a spear thrust. Parry a sword strike. Use an enemy's momentum against him, sending him stumbling into his comrade. Each movement flowed into the next, my muscles recalling training sessions in Ostovan's royal courtyards, in Calibarra's practice yards, even the brutal lessons of survival during my time in chains.

"The bridge!" someone shouted. "We need to keep moving!"

Through gaps in the fighting, I caught glimpses of our goal. The Eastern Bridge, known as the Bridge of Bones for the elaborate carvings that adorned its stone pillars. It stretched across the Thallan River, connecting the outer districts to the Assembly island. From here, it looked impossibly far, the gap between intention and achievement yawning wider with each fallen ally.

Aryn materialized beside me, his silver hair stained with enemy blood. "We're pinned down," he reported. "They've blocked the main approach with barricades."

I nodded, my breath coming in sharp bursts as I parried another attacker's thrust. "We have no choice but to push through directly. The bridge is our only way across."

"Their barricades are well-positioned," Aryn observed, flicking blood from his blades. "A frontal assault will be costly."

"So be it," I replied grimly. "We knew this wouldn't be easy. Form the warriors into wedge formations. We'll concentrate our force at the weakest point and punch through."

Aryn whistled a series of commands, reorganizing our fighters into three tight formations, shields overlapping at the front of each wedge.

"The central barricade," I decided, pointing to where the enemy defenses looked thinnest. "That's our target. Archers provide covering fire. We go on my signal."

He whistled again, a different pattern this time, directing a portion of our forces toward the riverfront shops and warehouses that lined the approach to the bridge.

The coordinated push began as Ieduin's archers intensified their covering fire, forcing Tarathiel's defenders to duck behind their barricades. Our warriors surged forward in their wedge formations, shields locking together as they advanced through the debris-strewn street. I moved with the central group, sword ready, as we approached the first line of defenses.

"Now!" I shouted as we closed the final distance.

Our front line crashed against the barricade with the full momentum of our charge. Wood splintered, warriors shouted, and the makeshift wall began to give way under our combined assault. Deepfrost soldiers scrambled to reinforce their position, but our momentum carried us through the breach.

I vaulted over the broken barricade, landing among startled defenders. Two fell to my blade before they could properly react, their blood hot against my skin as I cut through their ranks. Behind me, our warriors poured through the gap we'd created, widening the breach with each passing moment.

"The bridge," Niro shouted over the din of battle. "Keep moving forward!"

We pressed on, fighting yard by yard toward our objective. The Eastern Bridge loomed closer now, its ornate entrance guarded by a phalanx of Deepfrost elite wearing ceremonial masks carved to resemble skulls. These were no ordinary soldiers but Tarathiel's personal guard, trained from childhood to die without hesitation at their master's command.

A horn sounded from the direction of the river, three long blasts that carried over the sounds of combat.

"They're retreating," someone shouted from our lines. "We've broken them!"

Our warriors surged forward, carried by bloodlust and the promise of victory. I found myself swept along with the tide of bodies. It was either move with them or risk being trampled.

We had crossed nearly halfway across the massive span when everything went wrong.

One moment I was running, sword in hand, the next—

BOOM!

The blast hit with such force it felt solid, a wall of unbearable heat and pressure that lifted me off my feet and hurled me sideways. My ears popped, then filled with a high-pitched whine that drowned out all other sounds. The world tilted sickeningly, stone and sky swapping places in nauseating succession.

I slammed against something—the railing?—pain shooting through my shoulder. The air itself felt scorched, my lungs burning with each desperate breath. Through the ringing in my ears came a terrible groaning sound, deep and primal like the death cry of the earth itself.

Stone rained from above, massive chunks falling like deadly hail. The world tilted again, steeper this time. Warriors slid past me, their mouths open in screams I couldn't hear over the terrible ringing. Someone grabbed my ankle, fingernails digging into flesh before they lost their grip and plummeted away.

The section of bridge beneath me suddenly dropped, my stomach lurching into my throat as gravity reasserted itself. My sword went spinning away into empty space. I clawed desperately for anything solid, finding only air as the world fell away.

The surface of the river rushed up toward me—or I toward it—the distinction meaningless in that endless moment of free fall. All around me, bodies tumbled through space, their limbs flailing uselessly against the inevitable.

I hit the water with stunning force, all thought obliterated in an instant of pure impact. Then came the cold—not just cold, but a living thing that invaded every part of me. Ice water flooded my nose, my mouth, and my lungs in a shocking rush.

Wait. When did I go underwater?

My mind couldn't process what had happened. One moment I was running across stone, the next submerged in freezing darkness. The cold hit my muscles like a seizure, locking them tight, refusing to let them move as I wanted. Panic bloomed, bright and terrible.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't think.

The weight of my armor dragged me deeper, water pressure building against my ears, my chest, my skull. Above, distorted by the churning water, I could see fire still burning on floating debris, casting an eerie, wavering light through the depths.

The cold tightened its grip with each passing second, my lungs screaming for air that wasn't there. With numb, clumsy fingers, I fumbled at the straps of my breastplate, fighting to free myself from the weight dragging me down.

The first strap gave way. The second refused to yield, my fingers too numb to work the buckle properly. Black spots began to dance at the edges of my vision.

A massive stone block plunged into the water nearby, driving me deeper with its wake. The current tossed me like a leaf, sending me tumbling end over end. I didn't know which way was up anymore, which way was down, which way led to air and life.

My chest convulsed, my body desperately trying to draw breath where none existed. The black spots grew larger, consciousness slipping away despite my frantic efforts to hold on.

In my fading thoughts, I saw Ruith's face. Saw Leif and Torsten. Saw the family I had only just formally claimed. I would never see them again. Never return as I had promised. Never know if our dream of a better world would survive.

The world narrowed to a single point of light, then began to fade entirely. Through the gathering darkness, I saw an enormous piece of the bridge—a decorated column larger than a horse—plummeting through the water directly toward me. Its shadow engulfed everything as it descended, the final punctuation to my existence.

I couldn't even raise a hand to ward it off as consciousness slipped away and darkness claimed me completely.