"Jehral, we aren't going anywhere," Shani said. She turned to Bartolo. "What do you think they're saying?"
"The ladders are coming forwards," Bartolo said. "I don't need to tell you what that means."
"The prince plans to attack again today?" Shani asked. "But we've lost so many men."
"The enemy have lost as many," Jehral said.
"You're right," Bartolo said, "but attrition isn't how you win wars. Lord of the Sky, I miss Miro."
"That's the signal," Jehral said. "We're to advance. The ladders will follow."
Bartolo and Shani exchanged glances as Jehral kicked his horse forward.
"Bartolo," Shani said. "I… I want to thank you."
"For what?"
"For helping me find hope again. Even if it ends here, I didn't realise how dead I was inside until I met you."
"Don't worry, Shani, we'll make it."
"How can you be so sure?"
Bartolo thought for a moment. "Because I have to be. I'm not going to let anyone or anything take you from me, and that's all there is to it."
Shani grinned. "That's what I like about you. So sure. Lord of Fire, where were you in Petrya when I needed you?"
"Practicing," Bartolo said.
"For what? How to love a woman?" Shani's smile broadened, and then faded when Bartolo looked into her eyes.
"For this battle. It's not going to be easy. Come on, Jehral needs us, whether he knows it or not."
~
THE Hazarans wheeled, galloping in a circle around the field, gathering numbers and momentum before turning and rushing forward in a mighty column. The fastest riders outdistanced the others to form a wedge like the point of a spear, and at the very tip rode Jehral, flanked by Shani and Bartolo. The elementalist in her red robe and the bladesinger in green stood out against the uniform yellow-on-black of the Hazarans, and the sound of the hooves on the earth formed a roar that provided a thunderous counterpoint to the jagged lightning that danced in the clouds above.
The gates stayed shut when they pulled up in front, halting their wild momentum, and Bartolo looked up fearfully, but when no orbs rained down, and no enemy came to meet them, he immediately knew something was wrong.
The Hazarans kept coming, forming a great mass of riders that milled in front of the gates, with Jehral, Shani and Bartolo the foremost of all. Ladders were lifted, ponderously moving through the air, incredibly long to reach the top of the Wall. The riders kept coming, but with no enemy to fight they were no longer able to use the speed of their wild charge. The horses stamped and the men astride them halted in confusion.
"We need to get out of here," Bartolo said.
"The prince has ordered that we stay here to guard those who carry the ladders," Jehral said. "We cannot leave."
A chill went through Bartolo's spine as the gates started to open. "Form your men up. Do it now."
"Lord of Fire," Jehral breathed as the gates drew wide.
The enemy commander must have stripped the Wall bare of defenders; there was no other way to account for the force that now challenged the Hazarans.
Sixty imperial avengers led them. Behind the avengers was a column of legionnaires — the elite imperial guard, with Alturan-made enchanted armour and swords. At least four thousand revenant swordsmen and axemen stood side by side with twice as many revenant pikemen. Bartolo could see at least three columns of templar warriors in white, and then more men in black — legionnaires and Black Army regulars as far as the eye could see. Bartolo had never seen so many men formed up in disciplined ranks. He knew a superior force when he saw it.
"Sound the retreat," Bartolo said harshly. "Do it!"
Bartolo heard the sound of trumpets, but it was the enemy's call to attack. The sixty avengers led the charge.
"I cannot retreat," Jehral said.
"Scratch your honour!" Bartolo said. He turned to Shani. "Stand by me. I'll carve a way out."
Shani smiled sadly. "You know that's impossible."
"Then I'll take as many of them with me as I can!"
Bartolo drew his zenblade and called forth its power. His armoursilk blazed like the sun as he pointed his weapon at the avengers leading the charge.
Jehral lifted his scimitar above his head. "Charge!" he cried.
The Hazarans cried out as one, spurring their horses into action.
Just outside the gates of Seranthia, the two forces met in one final cataclysmic crash of blood and death.
59
EVRIN Evenstar sighed as he regarded his handiwork. He'd done what he could, built what wards and traps he was able to, but he was too weak, his injuries were too great and now he could do no more.