The Vaimarites struck in tight formation, their pikes held forward like the quills of a giant, bristling porcupine. Hugo, fighting on the flank, saw the front line of Saelin’s army break. Their soldiers slowed, then began to fall back, stumbling over each other under the pressure of the pikes. The points crushed armor, drove heavily between the iron plates, pierced enemies through, and the impaled soldiers, faces contorted in agony, sagged onto the shafts, collapsing to their knees. The Aktida army advanced over the corpses. Behind the Kald pikemen came the Alven swordsmen, surging forward at full speed. Saelin’s defenses were crumbling. Hugo was drunk on adrenaline; he felt neither pain nor fatigue, charging ahead, striking left and right with his sword, then reining in his horse when he realized he had gone too deep into enemy lines and risked being surrounded. But he was always in sight of his men, who roared and rushed after him.

  The breakthrough happened quickly. The two vanguard regiments found themselves at the very heart of the battle, pushing forward with almost no resistance. The enemy troops were scattering before them. Through the smoke, the walls of Boreain became visible. Hugo, along with several Kalds, stormed a bastion with an artillery crew and fell upon the gunners, cutting them down until the remaining ones fled in panic. The arriving Aktida soldiers turned the cannons away from the front and stuffed the barrels with dirt. Hugo turned around in triumph, trying to understand what was happening behind them, and whether the remaining units had been able to build on the initiative his pikemen had won.

  Triumph turned to fear in an instant. Hugo suddenly realized they were alone in the breached line. Saelin’s army was changing formation rapidly, like water retreating from a solid obstacle, only to immediately flow around it and close the gap. A ring was now forming around the Vaimarites. Hugo saw that all the infantry had suddenly disappeared, and from the flanks, Saelin’s cavalry was closing in—giant spiders ridden by goblins.

  ***

  "We hesitated," Geonar admitted with a heavy sigh. "What was it? Fear? Indecision? Both—but caused by exhaustion, hunger, and hardship. We suddenly realized that Saelin’s army was much better prepared for this battle. They knew the terrain better, were more organized, their units more autonomous and able to make the right decisions very quickly, even without knowing what was happening in other parts of the battlefield. It all looked like a very well-thought-out plan. We sensed the trap, and still walked right into it, naively, like a bird in a snare.

  "The vanguard went too far ahead and got cut off from the main force. Saelin’s infantry pulled back, but at that moment, the flanks struck. They had rifles, and out of nowhere, they began gunning down our swordsmen like rabbits… We were easy targets. Then the cavalry and centaurs entered the battle, but it was too late: the main regiments were already gripped by panic, the formation collapsed, and from that moment everything went to hell.

  "Emerlun tried to save the situation to the very end. I have to give him credit, I didn’t expect such tenacity and courage from him. I didn’t even know he could ride and wield a sword so well. And maybe it was only thanks to him that we held out as long as we did."

  ***

  A meticulously crafted plan was collapsing like a house of cards before Geonar’s eyes. He desperately scanned the horizon, trying to understand the positions of the individual regiments and determine which epicenters of the battle required his immediate attention. He had to make decisions, and fast. And he did his best. He gave hoarse orders, and mounted messengers galloped into the thick of the battle, only to return and report on the status of each regiment or brigade. But the longer the fight went on, the more Geonar felt he was losing control of the situation, and his orders were beginning to lose all meaning. All that remained was to trust the junior officers and hope their madness and bravery would help them seize the initiative.

  But he also had to think about the possibility that, should defeat become inevitable, he would need to save as many people as possible and preserve the army.

  Where was Emerlun? Where was that damn boy who fancied himself a battle-hardened warrior? The royal guard was supposed to protect him, but there weren’t many of them, and he kept charging into danger, wanting to be an example, to inspire the soldiers... He’d read too many knightly romances and thought that if he rode ahead with his banner held high, it would be enough to turn the tide of battle? Damn it, this could end very badly.

  Geonar swore viciously. He left Felm to handle the couriers and spurred his horse into a gallop toward the front lines. There, infantry and cavalry had long since become a chaotic melee, mounds of corpses rose like grotesque monuments, everything was shrouded in gunsmoke, and the neat formations of both armies had devolved into utter chaos.

  He tried to stay away from the bloodiest center, where arrows hissed without end, bullets buzzed like wasps, and the simultaneous clash of dozens of swords merged into a single dissonant screech that made his head and teeth ache. Geonar rode past fallen banners, dead bodies, severed limbs. He saw centaurs fighting arachnids on the right flank, and from the jungle, Saelin’s rear guard was slowly approaching—goblins mounted on elephants.

  In the center, the infantry was locked in fierce combat. The severely diminished Vaimar regiment had managed to break out of an encirclement and return, preserving their lives but abandoning a promising offensive. Now they were much more cautious, having learned the hard way that the regular Alven army might not arrive in time to help. On the left flank, Geonar could see the river, its waters unbearably glinting in the rising sun, which was creeping closer to the zenith. That same sun shone directly into the eyes of the Aktida army. "Even the damned sun is against us," Geonar thought grimly.

  Then he saw Emerlun. The king was fighting on the left flank, and his royal guard was indeed with him, shielding him when the enemy pressed too hard. Geonar rode closer, waiting for a lull in the king’s latest skirmish. Finally, Emerlun cut another Nocturn from his horse, the guards finished him off, and the king halted his stallion, raised his visor, and wiped the sweat from his face. A squire brought him a waterskin.

  "Your Majesty!" Geonar shouted as he rode up. The king looked at him with a wild gaze.

  "The situation is becoming dangerous. They’re bringing in reinforcements from behind the forest... We need to shift to a defensive posture. We’ve become too scattered and now risk being surrounded. We must consolidate the forces back toward the center. I beg you, come with me and give the order to regroup—"

  "Defend?" Emerlun repeated hoarsely, as if that were the only word he’d heard. "Defend? Like hell. We just need to summon our courage again and strike... Break through their line... The Vaimarites did it once, they can do it again... We’ll shatter them, Geonar! They’ll run! Just a little longer, and they’ll run!"

  "Your Majesty..." Geonar began in despair, but the words caught in his throat—and the king was no longer listening. Emerlun gave a crooked smile, nodded at the commander, lowered his visor, and raised the banner in his left hand.

  "Forward!" he shouted. "Charge, Alvens! For Aktida! Now or never—we must win!"

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  With those words, he turned his horse and galloped off toward the burning heart of the battle, where the walls of Boreaine rose behind the curtain of smoke. The guards raced after him. They had no choice. They had to stay with their sovereign, and, if needed, die for him. Geonar watched them go, dazed, frozen in stunned resignation.

  He saw the scattered remnants of cavalry regiments rally, reform into something resembling order, and charge, following the banner in the king’s hand. Thunderous cries of "Hurrah!" echoed across the battlefield once more, and for a moment, Geonar felt a mad surge of joy. The banners above the standard-bearers swayed forward in unison, the infantry began to press the assault again, and the tide of battle shifted toward the hills, where Geonar believed the Saelin command post was located.

  The sun neared its zenith.

  Then something happened.

  The front lines of the Aktida army suddenly broke and faltered. The advance stopped abruptly, as if an invisible wall had risen before the regiments. For a few more moments, the human waves on the battlefield swayed back and forth at their border. And then the Alven, Kald, and Centaur troops began to pour backward, toward their own rear guard. The back lines retreated slowly, still unaware of the reason for the sudden shift. But the closer to the front, the faster the infantry and cavalry turned and pulled back, and the chaos of the attack transformed into the even greater chaos of a panicked rout.

  Hugo Hellerson was there, at the front of it all, in the thickest part of the melee. He screamed in desperation, tearing his voice, ordering his men not to break formation, to hold the line. But it was useless. Around them, the Alvens began to flee, dropped their banners, and their ranks dissolved into a frantic mob. People trampled each other, and those who had moments ago been ready to march forward shoulder-to-shoulder now, by the same herd instinct, were ready to flee side-by-side, with no idea why they were running.

  Hugo looked around helplessly. As a commander, he had to know the reason.

  And then he saw it.

  A cavalry regiment of Nocturns was charging them straight into the center, aiming at the heart of the infantry forces. They rode in a sharp wedge, and at the front, in person, was Orwell Cassander. In his left hand, he held a lance raised toward the heavens. At the tip of the lance, staring blankly down at the battlefield, hung the bloodied head of King Emerlun Winver the Third of Aktida.

  ***

  "Excellent work, Orwell!"

  Saelin felt like laughing. He could have laughed forever. After all, fortune like this doesn’t come every day.

  "Damn... Just yesterday I thought I wouldn't last long without the Lake, that I'd lose the army and would have to seek refuge with you in Talaska. And today this boy throws himself into battle and dies so bravely... No, but what courage! What drama! Don’t you find it touching?"

  "I'm happy for you," Cassander muttered. "But I’m more concerned about what you're planning to do next. Are we preparing for war with Vaimar?"

  "Of course. And not only that. I’ve thought long and hard, and decided. Since everything came to such an unexpected finale..." Saelin looked him over appraisingly and suddenly said, "I suppose I’ll return Charybdis to you."

  The admiral’s one eye gleamed.

  "I was honestly ready to come ashore for the throne of Mainor," he said with a smirk. "So now you’re sending me into an exile in the sea?"

  "Nonsense!" Saelin said indignantly. "It’s not exile. The throne in Mainor will be yours, you’ll see. But for now, we must make smart use of this victory. In Mainor, we’ll temporarily appoint one of Emerlun’s officials to govern in order to legitimize ourselves. And I want you to help establish a powerful port on the southern coast, preferably at the mouth of the Ilvion, where there were only fishing villages before. We’ll hire goblins. And from there, in December, you will set out on a special mission."

  He fell silent, smiling at his thoughts.

  "My plan—can you imagine!—which I’ve worked on for over forty years, is beginning to unfold. Now we need patience… patience..."

  The professor froze and slowly turned. The admiral followed his gaze and grimaced, shuddering inwardly. He did not like those creatures.

  "Urkrait," Saelin said lazily. "There’s a task for you and your boys. A rather delicate one, I would say."

  "We are at your service, Master," the goblin said, rising slowly and approaching him. "Just give the order."

  "You need to go to Onklag and track down the people who lived in the great white tower, Estogil. The Nielder family, Count Atgard... First, tell me: is it possible, considering you're two weeks behind them, to catch up, track, and capture them quietly, and bring them alive and unharmed to the Citadel?"

  "How many?" the goblin rasped.

  "A few. I think no fewer than ten."

  "Humans?"

  "Yes. Among them are two strong mages, the rest are skilled with swords."

  "There is no swordsman who handles a blade better than goblin mercenaries from the Desert lands," Urkrait growled. "I guarantee the ‘Python’ squad will never let you down… Four of my goblins can handle a dozen humans, even if we’re not killing but taking them prisoner. We’ve done harder jobs before… Tracking and catching—nothing simpler. You can count on us. It’s just a matter of price."

  "Do not search them," Saelin warned. "I need their belongings too. Now listen carefully to how you’ll recognize them…"

  ***

  Geonar finished his tale.

  Maclevirr was silent for a long time, staring not at the general but out the window of the tower, where the rain still drummed steadily. Dusk was thickening over Mainor.

  "How soon will they be here?" he finally asked.

  "Very soon. They were hot on our heels. We have a few days. Maybe a week."

  Maclevirr shook his head.

  "Pointless. We can’t prepare a defense in that time. The people are demoralized. The best thing we can do to save lives and the army is to admit defeat."

  Geonar bowed.

  "I fully agree."

  "Withdraw the troops," Maclevirr said firmly. "To Vaimar. And try to gain Jake Farian’s support. Then we might still have a chance. Dark times are coming, but this isn’t the end."

  "Who will rule Aktida, even if we retake it with Jake’s help?" Geonar asked grimly. "If we rely on him, then... he’ll want the throne of Mainor in exchange for his help. Especially now that the dynasty has ended and there’s no legitimate heir…"

  "There is a legitimate heir," Maclevirr said, and for the first time during their conversation, a faint smile flickered across his lips. Geonar looked at him in astonishment.

  "Lady Valena?.."

  "Yes. Before the campaign, we sent her to Vaimar, to the Temple of Tornir. She was pregnant. As far as we know, the child was due at the end of summer. The king ordered the child baptized under the name Elliar. As soon as you finish your business in Arctarium, go there and keep an eye on him, or send someone. But remember, this is a state secret. Jake mustn’t know we’re hiding the heir to the throne right under his nose. That will be our trump card, one we’ll play when the time is right."

  Geonar bowed again.

  "You’ll stay here?" he asked.

  Maclevirr smirked.

  "I’ll stay here," he said, and his gaze turned cold and hard. "In the absence of a king, or when the heir is still a child, I serve as regent. I’ll negotiate with Saelin when he arrives. And I’ll do everything in my power so that, when you and Jake attack from the north, Saelin can’t hold on to power... Don’t worry about me. I know nothing about war, but I do know a thing or two about politics. I’ll manage," he added with a grin.

  Geonar remained silent.

  "Go," Maclevirr said.

  Geonar stood, bowed, and trudged heavily out of the office. At the door, he hesitated for a moment and turned to look one last time at the head of the Secret Chancellery. Maclevirr’s face was hidden in shadow, but his eyes gleamed from beneath his brows.

  "Good luck on your way to Vaimar," he said.

  I wrote at least 4 different versions of the last chapter of Book 4, and finally converged on this one.

  The battle of Boreain is inspired by a very real historical battle that happened around the same time period as the one in which the novel is set. Many parts of that battle were reproduced here quite accurately.

  Do you know which battle that is? Share your guesses in the comments!

  ***

  This is the end of Book 4.

  We are more than halfway through the story, but there are still 3 books to go! The first chapter of Book 5 will go live on January 5th.

  I'm happy to hear your thoughts in the comments. If you are reading this now, but have not followed or rated the story yet, please consider doing it! By pressing those buttons, you will immensely contribute to my writer's motivation!