Lord Hain didn't flinch, though his knuckles whitened as he gripped the stone railing. "A bold threat. We shall see who stands at sunrise. Depart now, or the ballistae fire."

  "You will regret those words, Lord Hain," Yvette added darkly.

  We pulled back to the main column. I gave the order to set up camp within sight of the granite walls. If Hain wanted to watch us all night, I’d give him a front-row seat to the army that was going to dismantle his peace.

  As the sun began to dip toward the western pines, I found Kashko adjusting his lute’s strings near the supply wagons. "Tell me about Lord Hain," I said.

  The bard set his lute aside and looked toward the city, his usual mirth replaced by a frown. "I have seen him in the Duchess’s court in Dram. He seemed puffed up on his own importance because of his family name. The kind of man who believes bloodline is a substitute for wisdom.”

  I glanced towards the gatehouse. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Hain was still on the roof, watching us. “He looks like a pompous ass.”

  “A succinct, if not poetic, description of the man, my lord,” Kashko chuckled. “He’s obsessed with protocol and dangerously proud. The type of pride that burns down a house rather than admit the roof is leaking."

  "He seems confident for a man facing ten dragons," I noted. "I saw the soldiers on the wall. They didn't look like the Town Watch."

  Kashko stroked his beard. "If I recall correctly, the Town Watch of Highfield is one of the most well equipped constabulary I have seen on the island. Because of the silver and iron wealth here, the Watch is funded better than many royal guards. If it were not for their black and silver sashes, you would mistake them for the Countess’s soldiers."

  "Well-equipped doesn't always mean willing to die for an arrogant leader," I mused.

  As the sky turned a bruised purple and orange, I walked to the edge of the camp. Petal-Flower was already there, her mace leaning against a rock as she stared at the dark silhouette of the city.

  "They are stubborn, these mountain people. Much like my people," she said, her copper-colored eyes reflecting the dying light.

  "They are," I agreed, standing beside her. "That fool Hain thinks he’s protecting his niece's honor. He doesn't realize he's inviting her ruin."

  Petal turned to me, her expression hard and her jaw set. "If the gates do not open, Roman... we will do what we must. No one stands between my King and his path."

  I placed my hand on her powerful shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “With you beside me, nothing can stop me.”

  Petal placed her calloused hand over mine where it rested on her shoulder. My half-orc woman said nothing, but her copper-colored eyes glowed with appreciation at my compliment.

  "I’m hoping the men on those walls are smarter than the man on the gatehouse," I said, looking at the first flickers of torchlight appearing along the battlements. "Because at dawn, the choice is no longer mine. It's theirs."

  ***

  The deep silence of the mountain night was shattered not by a dragon’s roar, but by the distant, unmistakable ring of steel on steel. I was on my feet before the guard even reached my tent flap.

  "My Lord! Fighting in the city!" the sentry shouted.

  I stepped out into the chill night, pulling a cloak over my shoulders. Monica, Petal, and General Logak were already gathering by the central watch-fire. From the direction of Highfield, the sounds of a desperate struggle drifted over the walls—angry shouts, the clash of weapons, and the orange glow of a fire reflecting off the granite skyline.

  "Goblins?" Petal asked, her hand white-knuckled on the grip of her mace. "Did they scale the north walls?"

  "I’m going up," Monica said. Before I could answer, she was sprinting toward Bakaan. The black dragon took to the sky with a silent, powerful thrust of his wings, disappearing into the velvet dark.

  She returned ten minutes later, her face illuminated by the campfire as Bakaan settled back onto the shale. "The fighting is centered around the central castle and the barracks," she reported, breathless. "A fire has broken out in the lower district. The north gate is quiet, and there is no sign of an external breach. It’s an internal struggle, my lord."

  "A mutiny?" Gromlin grunted, leaning on his axe. "Maybe someone finally got tired of Lord Hain’s perfume."

  "We should go in now," Monica urged. "If soldiers are rebelling against Lord Haim and the Town Watch they could use our support."

  I looked at the dark walls of the city. "No. It’s too risky. In the dark, we won't know friend from foe. Graxion can't breathe fire into a crowded city without killing the very people we came to save. We wait for the sun."

  Monica bowed her head. “Yes, my lord.”

  As dawn bled across the sky in shades of bruised violet, the sounds of fighting died down, replaced by a thin, lingering trail of black smoke rising from the city's heart. We didn't wait for a parley call. I mounted Graxion, with Yvette and Monica flanking me on their dragons.

  We approached the South Gatehouse. The tension was thick and the air smelled of charred wood. As we reached yesterday’s parley spot, the heavy iron portcullis began to grind upward. Then the heavy metal-shod doors creaked open, groaning on their hinges.

  A delegation emerged, but it wasn't the polished Town Watch. It was a group of about a dozen soldiers who looked like they had crawled out of a meat grinder. They were covered in grime and dried blood, limbs wrapped in hasty, graying bandages. Some leaned on spears used as crutches; others had their arms in rough slings.

  At their head was a grizzled man with a face like scarred leather. A bloody bandage covered the side of his head and his right eye. He was leading a horse by the reins, and across the saddle was a body draped in fine, blood-stained silks.

  The delegation stopped about ten paces from Graxion. I didn't need to get closer to see the pale, sightless eyes of Lord Hain.

  The leader met my gaze with his good eye. “I am Sergeant Kelen of Duchess Miranda’s Household Guard.”

  “What happened, Sergeant?”

  "He wouldn't listen," Kelen rasped, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. He didn't kneel; he looked like he didn't have the strength left to get back up if he did.

  Monica scowled at the man. “You address the King of Avalon, Sergeant.”

  I held my hand up. "That is not important at the moment. What happened here, Sergeant?"

  Kalen gave me an appraising look before nodding.

  "We arrived from the battle yesterday, my lord," Kelen reported, gesturing to his broken men. "The Duchess ordered the wounded back to Highfield. There was nothing more that could be done for us. Our healer, Lady Elara, had fallen into a deep sleep. She’d mended too many of the injured at Haltrock and pushed until her spirit broke. She’s still out; we don't know if she'll wake."

  Yvette leaned towards me and whispered from her saddle, "When a mage pushes too hard, the body shuts down to protect the soul. If she gave too much, she might never open her eyes again."

  Kelen nodded grimly. "We heard the rumors at the gate. We heard the King of Avalon was here to help. But Lord Hain... that fool had never seen a battle. He called you a ladder climbing opportunist and said Tallwyn needed no help. I told him our soldiers are being slaughtered. He told me to mind my tongue.”

  “Are the trolls armored?”

  “Aye, my lord. We’ve taken down two, but Lord James and his brown dragon fell in the first encounter.”

  Damn, I thought. I needed every dragon I could muster against the Savonians. I had a feeling the same Goblin Chief that had attacked Nander’s Pass was leading this assault. The son-of-a-bitch was going to pay for causing me this much trouble.

  "And the Duchess?" Yvette asked.

  "The goblins have the castle surrounded. We haven’t been able to break through the siege. The Duchess is holding the pass, but she’s losing ground," Kelen explained. "If she isn't relieved soon, she'll have to fall back here, and the goblins will be right on her heels."

  Countess Sizuna urged her dragon forward, her gaze cool as she looked at Hain's body. "Do you not fear the wrath of your Countess Calista for this, Sergeant? You have murdered her kin and opened her gates to a foreign power."

  Kelen turned his gaze to her, eyes hard as flint. "I am a sergeant in the Duchess’s personal retinue. My duty is to Tallwyn and Duchess Miranda. Lord Hain stood between me and my duty. I answer to the Duchess, and I will answer for this blood when she is safe. Until then, the gates are open."

  The sergeant was a brave soldier. He was risking his life for the sake of his brothers in arms. "I will vouch for your actions to the Duchess and your Countess, Sergeant. You did what a leader should have done."

  Kelen’s shoulders slumped slightly, a flicker of relief crossing his face. He bowed his head. "Thank you, my Lord."

  “How far is the pass, Sergeant Kelen?”

  The sergeant glanced at my troops, noting the cavalry and the wagons. “The road gets steeper past Highfield, my lord. With wagons, you should be able to reach the pass by tomorrow afternoon.”

  I turned to Yvette. "The army needs to move, but these men have suffered enough. Do what you can."

  As the column began to trundle through the open gates, Yvette and Sarah dismounted. They moved among the wounded, their hands glowing with a soft, green light as they closed the most jagged wounds and mended the pain of broken bones. Garryn and Ezza lent their healing magic as well.

  “The wagons will slow us down,” Monica noted as the wagons rolled by.

  “The cavalry will push on ahead. The supplies and the infantry will catch up with us when they can.”

  Monica gazed towards the nearby mountains. “We could always fly ahead and reach the pass before nightfall.”

  “I thought about it, but I don’t want to divide our force into too many pieces.”

  The dragons passed through the city last. They walked, saving their energy for the confrontation with the goblins and trolls.

  Men, women, and children watched our procession pass down the main street. Their expressions shifted from wary confusion to a desperate, quiet hope.

  These people were my people, even if they didn’t know it yet. My job was to keep them safe.

  The north gate’s doors closed behind us once Baron Marco and Lady Sarah exited. A whirring sound of gears and the rattle of chains followed as the portcullis dropped into place with a loud bang.

  The bard brought his horse close to Graxion. He gave me a lopsided grin. “‘Tis an ominous sound, King Roman. It is as if the very gates themselves are telling us there will be no turning back.”

  My eyes gazed at the mountains ahead. “The road to Haltrock is open, Kashko, and the real battle is about to begin.”

  46

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The air atop the jagged limestone ridge smelled of iron, sulfur, and the sweet, cloying scent of roasting human meat. To Rend Bonebreaker, Chief of the Bonebreaker tribe and self-proclaimed Scourge of the High Passes, it was the smell of a promise finally being kept.

  He stood with his thick, gnarled hands resting on the pommel of a massive, jagged blade, his yellowed eyes fixed on the crumbling remains of Haltrock Castle. Below him, the valley was a sea of chaotic motion. The banners of the conquered tribes fluttered amidst the smoke, their warriors swarming the outer works like maggots on a carcass.

  Rend spat a glob of thick phlegm onto the rocks. He had spent years breaking those tribes, killing their chieftains and taking their strongest for his own. Now, they were the anvil upon which he would shatter the Tallwyn line.

  His leadership had been severely tested by the setback at Nander’s Pass. He had promised his warriors a quick and decisive victory. Instead, the great red dragon of Avalon had burned many of them.

  Rend snarled at the memory of his defeat. Garlock, one of his mightiest warriors, had challenged him for supremacy of the tribes. Rend had slain the goblin and mounted his head on a pike as a stark reminder to the others that he was still the strongest goblin the gray mountains had seen in many a generation.

  The attack on Nander’s Pass had been a test of the human’s defenses. The fabled Dragon Stronghold was several days' flight to the east, and tortured prisoners had claimed that the dragon caves were nearly empty.

  Only two dragons had arrived to help the fortress, and Rend had raised his fist in triumph when the dragons were driven away by his armored trolls. It was he who had first thought to fashion metal plates for the giant warriors.

  But the cursed dragons had returned the next day. Instead of attacking the armored trolls, they struck at his warriors with fire and wind. Rend had been forced to sound the retreat.

  They had lost many warriors that morning and one troll. Rend was a shrewd leader. He had kept the bulk of his force hidden in the forest of another valley. As night fell, they withdrew back into the Grey Mountains.

  Rend needed a victory, or else the unified army he had painstakingly built would splinter back into their respective tribes. They would not challenge him–they would simply melt away in the night as they returned to their hunting lands.

  Scouts and prisoners had reported five dragons lived in the valley of the lake. It was why he had attacked Nander’s Pass rather than the black castle of Haltrock. The goblin chief was rolling the knucklebones, betting his reputation and the lives of his warriors that the humans in Tallwyn were not as shrewd as the humans of the east.

  The goblin chief focused his attention on the battle. The humans had tried to crush his horde between their army and the walls of the castle. Rend’s armored trolls had held the line, despite the dragon’s assault.

  The southern line had become a stalemate. Rend’s army was unable to push the Tallwyn army back through the pass they had arrived from. In turn, the humans could not reach the defenders in the castle.

  Rend smiled grimly. He was losing warriors every day, but soon they would breach the castle’s defenses. Once the castle had fallen, he would bring the undivided force of his army against the humans. The Tallwyn army was exhausted, and they and their dragons would be crushed.

  Astride his massive boar, the chief watched the battle's progress in the valley below. In the center of the carnage, his armored trolls were proving their worth. Encased in crude, heavy iron plates that clattered with every thunderous step, they were unstoppable. Rend watched with a toothy, predatory grin as a massive troll heaved a boulder the size of a mountain pony into the castle’s main gate. The wood splintered with a sound like a lightning strike, and the goblin horde let out a collective, high-pitched shriek of joy.

  Across the valley, the human army was a frantic, disorganized mess. They were pinned on the mountain slopes, unable to reach the keep to relieve the castle’s defenders.

  A flash of movement caught his eye—a shadow sweeping across the dust-choked courtyard. A Brown Dragon dived from the sky, its jaws snapping as it tried to rake the neck of a troll assaulting the castle. Its rider stabbed at the troll with a spear.

  The dragon was fast, but the trolls were relentless. One brute, his iron plating scarred by fire, lunged forward with a speed that belied his size. He caught the dragon’s trailing leg, his massive fingers sinking into the scales.

  The beast let out a piercing, agonized shriek, twisting its neck to bite deep into the troll’s shoulder. Blood, dark and steaming, sprayed the stones. But another troll moved in, raising a massive iron-bound club. Crack. The sound of the dragon’s ribs shattering echoed up to the ridge. The beast fell, pinned under the weight of the two giants.

  Rend watched as the dragon’s wings flailed one last time before going still. A pair of goblin warriors stabbed the rider. The troll that had caught the brown dragon slumped forward, its throat torn open by the dragon’s final bite, but Rend didn't care. One troll for one dragon was a trade he would make all day.

  "Only two dragons left," Rend grunted to his sub-chief, a spindly goblin with a missing ear.

  "The Blue and the Black, Great One," the goblin chirped. "The Green hasn't been seen since the sun touched the peaks. Perhaps it fled to the south."

  Rend chuckled, a sound like dry bones rattling in a jar. These humans were not like the ones at the other castle—the ones at Nander’s Pass. Those humans had been shrewd; they had used their fire and their wind with a cold, calculating precision that had cost Rend dearly. But these Tallwyn humans? They were desperate. They were fighting with the frantic energy of a cornered animal, and Rend knew how to skin an animal.

  "Once the keep falls, I want our warriors to regroup," Rend said, his voice a low growl of anticipation. "Then we turn our full strength on the army in the pass. No one escapes. I want their heads to line the road all the way to the silver mines."

  “Let me lead the charge now! I will drive the pathetic humans from the field!” Venom Bonebreaker, his eldest surviving son, held his spear aloft. Venom’s boar pranced sideways, sensing his rider’s excitement.

  Rend turned to look at the eager goblin. “Patience. We strike when the humans are at their weakest.”

  Venom was not as big as some of Rend’s other sons, but he was cunning. He had taken the name Venom because of his fondness for coating his spear with deadly poisons. His son glared at him, but he was not foolish enough to test Rend further.

  Rend had no doubt that someday, when he was older and weak, Venom’s oily spear blade would pierce his body and the Bonebreakers would have a new chief. But that day was in the future. Rend turned his attention back to the battlefield.

  The sounds of the battle reached a fever pitch—the thud-thud-thud of the trolls' clubs, the rhythmic chanting of the Bonebreaker warriors, and the distant, fading cries of the humans trapped within the stone. Rend closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the vibration of the earth. He could feel it. The castle was dying.

  The humans thought their stone walls were a shield. Rend Bonebreaker was about to show them that for a goblin king, walls were just a cage for the meat inside.