Loud alarm bells roused Aeolwyn out of his slumber. What was going on? There was yelling and stomping, and was that the clashing of swords? He could smell the faint odor of smoke. Something was going on. He needed to find out what.

  He leapt out of bed and threw the door open. A shape in front of him forced him to jump back. He fumbled for the sword beside his bed while not losing sight of the target.

  He needn’t have bothered. It was Reiva, as he should have expected.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “We’re under attack,” she replied. She already had his chainmail in her hands and was trying to get it over his head.

  “There’s no time for this. I need to help!”

  He tried to get around her, but she wouldn’t let him move. He tried to squeeze past her, but she used his chainmail as a shield and kept him from leaving.

  “There’s time, and you will take it.”

  He could do nothing but agree. He let her put the mail over his head, put his helmet on and clasped the sword belt around his waist. He took the shield from her as she led him out of the room.

  She went first, slipping quietly into the corridor. The smell of smoke was much stronger here. Someone had set fire to the outpost. As soon as he could find a large enough group, he would have to set the men to putting it out before it got out of control and burned the whole building down.

  Together they went down two flights of stairs before they encountered anyone. Unfortunately, they were dead soldiers. Standing over them were a half-dozen Fennish men with blood on their swords and lust in their eyes. The second they saw Aeolwyn and Reiva, they charged.

  How had they gotten into the outpost? He had made sure to set guards. Had they been betrayed?

  There wasn’t time to place blame. The six men were already upon them. Reiva leapt up in the air and landed on the back of one of the middle soldiers as the first one’s sword bounced harmlessly off Aeolwyn’s shield.

  Aeolwyn swung low, under his shield. His blade slashed the soldier’s unprotected leg and cut deeply. The man let out a muffled scream as Aeolwyn slammed his shield’s metal boss into his face. He collapsed to the ground.

  Reiva’s two daggers had already plunged into the back of one soldier. She cartwheeled away from him amid a flurry of swings by his shield-mate who was trying to force her into the blade of his companion. She dove between the soldier’s legs and sliced deep into his thighs. She gracefully rolled to her feet as the man’s legs unleashed torrents of blood.

  The second guard reached out and pulled down Aeolwyn’s shield and attempted to skewer him with a sword lunge at his face. Aeolwyn twisted to the side. His sword came up at the man’s overextended arm and sliced it in two. His sword clattered to the ground.

  Aeolwyn turned in time to dodge a slash by another soldier, who, like the second man overextended his lunge. Aeolwyn stuck his foot out, tripping him, sending him sprawling to the floor. His now handless companion tripped and fell atop him. Aeolwyn drove his sword into the pile, skewering both men.

  The last man standing, seeing the sudden destruction of his men turned and fled. With careless nonchalance, Reiva flipped one of her daggers and threw it at the fleeing soldier. It pierced him in the back, forcing him to stumble a few steps before he landed, face down on the ground. She grabbed Aeolwyn and together they hurried to the next set of stairs. She made sure to retrieve her dagger from the soldier’s back as they fled.

  The second floor, where the only door to the outside lay was a roaring inferno. Flames licked up from the rear of the building where General Alaric had taken his quarters towards the front of the room. The heat scorched their skin as smoke choked their lungs. He hoped the general had gotten out in time.

  Revia held onto his arm as she pulled him quickly towards the exit. He needed no urging.

  “Lookout!” she cried. A beam above both of them, engulfed with flame cracked and fell. She shoved him just in time to stop him from getting brained by it. It landed hard between them; the rising flames becoming an impenetrable wall.

  “Go!” she said. “I’ll catch up.”

  He didn’t want to leave her, but if he stayed, the flames would kill him. If there was anyone who could get out of a towering inferno like the outpost, it was her. He nodded and headed towards the staircase.

  He hurried down the steps as fast as he could. Commander Boede had formed up a shield wall that was doing very poorly against the Fennish shield wall. There were just too many Fenns and too few of the Camulan soldiers. They needed help! Off in the distance, towards the river the men of the cavalry were slowly getting their equipment together. That was where Sefalus was. If he rallied the cavalry, he might be able to break the enemy’s line.

  The burning building finally gave up trying to hold the staircase. It collapsed as he made his way down the last few steps. He jumped as he felt it shifting under his feet and raced towards the water.

  Just as he came around the corner of the tower, he ran face-to-face with the person he least expected to see: Fraius. They ran into each other hard, and both men went sprawling.

  ***

  Reiva watched Aeolwyn go. She might die in this inferno, but at least he was safe. The thought didn’t bring fear to her mind. In fact, even if she took her time, she expected some sort of miracle would save her from the fire.

  Ever since she’d heard the soothsayer’s words, she had been taking many more risks than were prudent. Not that she had feared death before, but now she just wasn’t worried about it. It was like his words sunk deep into her like she had become part of some sort of prophecy.

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to relive that day, nor did she want to think about her cousin, the Spires, or The Ring of Anud. She’d considered her past old history until Xabat had brought it out. She couldn’t get her hopes up though. It needed to stay in the past. Her life was here now.

  With all this burning timber, there had to be another way out. She just needed to find it. She turned back to the stairs and headed down into the basement. The prince had ordered some of the rotten timbers replaced there and, if she remembered correctly, the hole from the rotten timbers were still there.

  She raced down the stairs, flames licking at her boots. She ran down the corridor where all the storerooms were located and found one with the door still open. That had to be it. She dove into the room just as another beam fell behind her.

  The flames brightly lit the empty room. The hole was still there, with no sign of the guards. Had they been killed? She hoped not. They must have run off to defend the outpost when the alarm bell sounded. Foolish soldiers. An unguarded opening was probably how the Fenns got in.

  “Reiva of the Spires!” A man called out from behind her.

  She spun, daggers in hand. She recognized the man instantly. He was of medium build and neither strong, nor attractive. His pock-marked face gave him a decidedly sinister appearance. The patch covering one eye made it worse. She was the one who had taken his eye. Had he come for revenge? How did he find her?

  “Hello, Dallin,” she said. “Did my cousin send you?”

  He said nothing. He just drew his sword and began walking towards her. She stepped to the side, making sure to keep a safe distance from the weapon until he decided to lunge. She didn’t have time for this, but he was too good of a swordsman to strike out of haste. Maybe she could goad him into an ill-timed attack.

  “The years have not been kind to you, Dallin,” she said. “You’re uglier than I remember. And what a shame about your eye.”

  She kept sidestepping towards the eye covered with a patch. It was a vulnerability that she wanted to exploit. He kept turning as well, not wanting to give her the obvious advantage.

  They kept circling until his back was to the opening. She shouldn’t have been so foolish. She didn’t need this fight. All she needed to do was escape, and she could have done that easily before. Now, she had to go through him to get out of here.

  “Lady Larella sends her regards,” he said and suddenly attacked with lightning speed.

  She parried his first blow with her off-hand dagger and thrust towards him with her right, but his blade was already there countering the strike. He swung back again towards her face, forcing her to duck. She stepped forward into his guard and jumped up, both daggers pointed at his chest. He leapt back before either of them hit their target.

  Lady Larella? They weren’t related at all. She was friendly with her cousin and helped him take the ring from Reiva, but then, so did a lot of other people. Larella was of noble birth but was not of the Spires. Why would she send an assassin after her?

  Dallin charged again, his sword a blur of motion. His blade was moving too fast for a dagger to make an effective shield. She dove to the side, rolled to her feet and leapt up, grabbing one of the beams that was not yet on fire. She kicked out with both legs and hit him on the side of the head. He stumbled sideways, but kept his feet.

  That gave her all the opening she needed. She bolted towards the opening and climbed through, wall-climbing her way up and out of the pit. He would soon be after her, but she needed to see to Aeolwyn.

  ***

  Fraius was the first to get to his feet. The heaviness of Aeolwyn’s armor gave the assassin a slight advantage, and he used it. The assassin jumped on him before he could stand and tried to stab the blades of his weapons into Aeolwyn’s chest. They were stopped by his armor, but he still felt like he was getting punched hard.

  “Nice to see you well, Fraius,” Aeolwyn said. The heavier man on his back forced Aeolwyn into the dirt. No matter how hard Aeolwyn tried, he couldn’t get out from under the assassin. His hilt stabbed him uncomfortably in the hip.

  Frauis didn’t answer his taunt. He just grabbed Aeolwyn’s helmet and forced his head back. Aeolwyn knew the dagger was coming for his throat and got his hand there just in time. If not for his armor, the blade would have cut some fingers off. He was lucky he hadn’t quite grown into the length of the chainmail.

  His left hand reached under his sleeve and drew the only weapon at his disposal: his dagger. He thrust the blade behind him over his shoulder. Fraius was unarmored and the knife cut deep into his flesh. The man screamed and rolled off. Aeolwyn got quickly to his feet and drew his sword. His shield was too far away to fetch.

  The dagger sliced into Fraius’ shoulder blade, but the man moved as if he hadn’t been struck at all. His hands were a blur of motion, and Aeolwyn barely could fend off the attack. The chainmail saved him from a hundred fatal blows. He was suddenly thankful that Reiva had made him put it on.

  It was difficult keeping his feet while retreating. As Aeolwyn backed closer to the river, the ground got muddier and more waterlogged. It was all he could do to keep his feet from sliding around. Fraius, it seemed, had no difficulty in the loose terrain.

  If only Aeolwyn could strike him. The longer reach of the sword should have quickly put an end to this battle, but the assassin was so fast, and so acrobatic, it was impossible to do anything but keep himself alive. At least his armor protected most of him. There were only a few targets Fraius could strike for: his legs, his groin, and his face, so he focused on protecting those.

  Then, Fraius slipped.

  He had lunged forward with a blade directed straight at Aeolwyn’s neck and planted his feet on a particularly muddy section. The sliding mud overextended his stance, and suddenly he was exposed. Aeolwyn shifted his hips and came up with his sword. He had expected his blade to block Fraius’ strike, but the assassin was too far forward and off balance. Instead of blocking the dagger, the blade came straight up on Fraius’ arm, slicing right through it.

  Fraius screamed as his severed arm flew away from him and landed in the mud. Aeolwyn didn’t give him an opportunity to counter with the right-handed dagger. He turned, stepped into the attack and plunged the blade into Fraius’ chest.

  Fraius’ expression was a mix of shock, surprise, and pain. He mumbled some inaudible words as the light drained from his eyes and he slumped to his knees. Aeolwyn pulled the blade out, and the assassin collapsed, face first in the mud.

  “Aeolwyn!” Egne shouted from behind him.

  The mage was disheveled, but unhurt. Aeolwyn was glad to see him. He was afraid that all his friends had died in the fire. He hadn’t seen Galafar or Brakus, but at least he knew Egne was alright.

  “Didn’t we already kill that guy?” he asked, looking at the body of Fraius.

  “It didn’t take,” he said.

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  “That one will,” Egne said, pointing at the hole in Fraius’ back. “You want to cut his head off, just in case?”

  Aeolwyn shook his head. “No point in desecrating a corpse.” He gazed out in the distance. He had twelve horsemen still getting their horses ready. Someone had already saddled Sefalus. He needed to rally those men into action. The shield wall was holding, but not for long.

  “Egne, I need you to find and rally as many archers as you can. Gather the mages, too. See what you can do with them.”

  “Sir,” Egne said in a surprisingly serious tone. The mage hadn’t treated Aeolwyn any different since his promotions. He wondered what had come over him.

  It wasn’t the time to find out though. Aeolwyn grabbed his shield and ran over to the horses, mounting Sefalus in a single motion. The horse was prancing, eager for action.

  “Get mounted!” he said to the cavalrymen who had jumped at his sudden appearance. “We’ve got work to do!”

  The men quickly got on their horses and drew their swords. He wished they had lance, or even spears. But they didn’t—swords would have to do. He wished he had knights, too, instead of the mounted soldiers, but knights were expensive, and were all far away, partying with the other nobles.

  “For Camulan!” Aeolwyn shouted as he spurred his horse into motion. The men behind him cheered and fell in line behind him.

  Aeolwyn led them far outside the enemy’s shield wall. He needed to get behind them and crush them from behind. Normal doctrine for light cavalry would be to harry the flanks of the shield wall in a hit-and-run type of maneuver, but Aeolwyn didn’t have time for a long engagement. His men needed him. He needed to go for the throat.

  One of the cavalrymen rode beside him as they rounded behind the enemy’s shield wall. He made sure to keep a good distance from them. He wanted to stay out of range of the archers, though he still didn’t see any. Were they keeping them in reserve somewhere? It was logical not to deploy them now since they would hit their own men in the shield wall, but shouldn’t they be kept somewhere ready?

  “Lord Aeolwyn, where are we going?” the cavalryman asked.

  “Down the middle,” Aeolwyn answered. “We’re going to crush them from behind!”

  The man just nodded and kept on going. Aeolwyn brought them to a halt a quarter mile from the enemy’s line. Still no sign of any archers or cavalry, or any soldiers in reserve. The general of this attack, wherever he was, committed his full troops to the shield wall. No wonder Aeolwyn’s men were so outnumbered.

  In the distance, he could see Galafar next to Boede in the shield wall. He was happy that they both got out alive. Hopefully both of them would stay that way. They would if he had anything to say about it.

  “Swords!” Aeolwyn shouted.

  At his command, all the men drew their weapons, holding them out to the side, ready to trample or slice any enemy that got in the way of their charge. He pointed his at the rough area that he thought was the best point to divide their shield wall.

  “Charge!” he shouted.

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he brought Sefalus to a gallop. He thought he was a fast horse, but apparently, he was mistaken. Half of his 12 cavalrymen passed him in the first hundred yards. They shouldn’t have been doing that. They all needed to stay together!

  “Together!” he yelled at the group that was quickly outpacing him. He might as well have been yelling in an empty room. They were already too far away to hear; the pounding of the horse hooves clogged their hearing. He chased after as best he could.

  Just as the horses were getting close enough to plow through the enemy’s back line, then men turned and raised pikes. Pikes were the cavalry’s worst enemy. Horses were reluctant to stampede knowingly to their deaths. Sefalus and the horses behind him turned off in time, but it was too late for the others.

  “Stop!” he cried. It was a futile gesture, and he knew it. The six horses ahead of him couldn’t stop or turn fast enough. They ran straight into the line of pikemen. The pikes drove into the horses torsos and out their backs. The men atop were flung forward into the shield wall, only to be immediately killed by the men they landed on top.

  It was a disaster. Sure, the horses may have trampled a few of the Fenns, but it was, in his opinion, a worthwhile exchange for the enemy. Aeolwyn had just lost half of his most important troops and routed the rest.

  As Aeolwyn chased after his fleeing horsemen, he saw Galafar and Boede look up at him. Just as he locked eyes with Boede, a spearman from the enemy’s shield wall rammed a spear through his throat. Blood sprayed from him as he disappeared below Galafar’s shield.

  The men closed ranks, but their shield wall started to buckle. It wouldn’t take long before it would completely collapse. He had to do something!

  He kicked Sefalus even faster to catch up with his cavalry.

  “Stop! We have to go back and help.”

  “Not a chance!” the closest man shouted back at him. “Those pikemen will be our deaths!”

  He was right. They couldn’t charge them again, that would be suicide. They needed better tactics. But how? The Fenn’s shield wall was too big, and he had too few horses to just harry them.

  He needed a plan, and as they came around the backside of the enemy’s shield wall, already blazing with pikes, he realized he had one.

  “On me!” he shouted.

  He urged Sefalus faster to get to the head of the column of fleeing horses. His idea had better work, or they were all dead men.

  ***

  Galafar had been on duty when the soldiers attacked. He barely saw them coming just in time. He sent Toldor to go ring the alarm bell and called for more men with barely enough time for Commander Boede to gather them together and form a shield wall against the main force. Some of the attackers must have slipped through and set fire to the outpost. Aeolwyn was still inside as far as he knew. He prayed to Laryn that he would get out in time.

  He stood shoulder to shoulder with Boede in the shield wall now. He had quickly taken command of the shield wall, but they were now fighting a losing battle against the oncoming Fenns. Where was General Alaric? They needed a commander to oversee what else was happening on the battlefield. From here, their view was limited.

  They were consistently losing ground to the Fenns. Whenever Galafar struck down a man, two more took his place. There were so many of them! Where did they get all these men? None of the scouting reports he had seen had indicated so many men.

  The heat behind him was getting hotter. They were getting closer to the burning tower. Pretty soon their backs would be against the tower and the men would be burned alive. Or they would turn and flee and be cut down by the Fenns. They needed more men! Where were the remaining soldiers and the archers? Where was the cavalry that General Alaric had brought?

  Just then he heard the thundering sound of hooves ahead of him. He held tight on his shield. The enemy had cavalry! He expected that any second the Fennish shield wall would part, leaving their shield wall open to a cavalry charge. Without pikes to protect them, they were as good as dead. Spears just weren’t long enough.

  The Fenns stayed put as the horses drew closer. Then, a mass of pikes appeared in their back lines. As quick as could be, their rear pikemen set their weapons. Moments later he heard the booming sound of horses striking a line of pikemen. He saw the horses and men scream as they were thrown from their mounts.

  It wasn’t enemy cavalry! It was theirs! And they had just tried and failed to charge the rear of Fenn’s shield wall. A brilliant tactic that, unfortunately, the Fenns were prepared for. The Fenns’ shield wall bucked amid the chaos of flying horses and men, but before Galafar and his men could exploit it, it firmed up and pushed harder.

  The rear line of cavalry managed to turn away from the pikes before it was too late for them. Near their front, he saw Aeolwyn. Only someone like him could have thought of such a bold strategy. He was lucky to have not been decimated by arrows or the enemy’s cavalry.

  His eyes were panicked. He hadn’t expected the battle to go this way. He was cleverer than he was experienced. Galafar thought the young captain had just learned a valuable and important lesson.

  Aeolwyn and Galafar locked eyes for a moment before. Boede lifted his head up to watch the prince go. “Where is he going?” the commander asked. Galafar had the same question. Before Boede could react, a spear came from behind the enemy shield wall and pierced his throat. Blood sprayed from his neck and he made a strange gurgling sound before collapsing to the ground.

  With no time to tend to him, Galafar closed ranks and overlapped his shield with the man that had been next to Boede. The pressure of the enemy’s shield wall pushing them was getting to be too much. They had given up so much ground already. Now, with their commander dead, what were they going to do? Some men behind him who had seen the commander go down were already crying out. Some to Galafar’s left had already thrown down their weapons and fled. He didn’t blame them, but he was not one to flee.

  “Hold together!” he shouted. “For Camulan! For the prince!”

  Hollow words, but a few of the men near him echoed his shout and pushed harder against the Fenns. They were hanging on, but barely. With his cavalry charge broken, he hoped Aeolwyn would think of something.

  ***

  Aeolwyn found Egne behind the shield wall with the archers and a handful of mages. He didn’t know where the rest had gone. The archers were holding steady but were wary of the retreating shield wall and the heat of the now-engulfed tower.

  Most of the archers were missing. Aeolwyn suspected they had or were about to burn to death in the tower. They had been stationed at arrow slits on various floors in case of a pending attack. What they hadn’t prepared for was for someone to burn the tower from the inside.

  “We can’t do anything while the two shield walls are so close together!” Egne said. He needn’t have told Aeolwyn, he recognized the situation immediately. But he didn’t need the archers for what he was planning.

  “Archers! Pick up swords and shore up the shield wall,” Aeolwyn ordered. “You’ll not be needing your bows today.”

  Some of them grumbled, and others looked like they were ready to flee, but a sharp look from their commander put a stop to complaints and any idea of running away.

  “You heard him, boys! Let’s go save the infantry!” their captain shouted.

  Aeolwyn turned to his friend and held out his hand.

  “Come up, Egne. I have an idea.” Egne took his arm and jumped on behind him. Sefalus would be slower with two riders, but they didn’t need speed for this. He looked to the other mages, “You all do the same. Find a horseman and mount up.”

  The three remaining mages found riders and climbed up behind the cavalryman.

  “Do your best to hold on tight and keep your concentration,” Egne shouted at them. “This is going to be wild!” He grinned as Aeolwyn got Sefalus in motion and the remaining cavalry galloped away.

  ***

  Galafar was afraid. Death was coming, and he knew it. The shield wall was on the verge of crumbling. They got a little boost when the archers finally realized that their bows weren’t going to be of use and joined the shield wall. It didn’t make up for the number of men they lost, but it was at least something.

  The wall hadn’t broken yet. These men were bold and strong. Galafar knew some Shielders who would have cracked and fled by now. But not these Camulans. Many had begun taking up his call, shouting, “For Aeolwyn! For the prince!” The battle cry distracted them from the hopeless situation and gave them fortitude.

  The enemy, however, was pressing their advantage. Now that the Camulani shield wall was so much smaller than theirs, they were beginning to curve around the flanks. The men on the outsides were struggling to hold them back. Once they got through, it would all be over.

  With Boede dead, Galafar wasn’t sure how much longer they could hold out. The cries for Aeolwyn’s glory could only do so much. For every step backwards, he could hear men behind him fleeing from the wall. It wouldn’t bode well for them if they were caught.

  Just then a hatchet came down on his shield, shattering it. Galafar, now defenseless stepped back, but the men to his left and right were slow to fill the gap. A few men started pouring through the hole in the shield wall swinging their weapons wildly. Galafar was able to strike down the first two, but more were coming.

  This was the end. If they couldn’t close this growing gap, the Fenns would break through here and pinch the rest of the Camulani from both sides. He fought with all his might to keep the enemy soldiers at bay, but it was too much for him. He was exhausted, as were the men around him. The spearmen weren’t holding their spears as high, nor thrusting as hard. Someone needed to close that gap!

  Men started yelling and grumbling behind him. Not the sort of panicked yelling of men ready to flee. More the sound of a man angry that someone had stepped on him while he was sleeping.

  Then, to his right, a bit of motion caught his eye. He didn’t dare to look, but he didn’t need to. A black whirlwind of death appeared from nowhere and landed on the few men who were trying to force their way through the shield walls. The men collapsed as spinning daggers cut them down.

  It was Reiva! She climbed over the men of the shield wall to come to their rescue. The new distraction gave Galafar enough time to grab a shield from a dead man and plug the gap that had been created.

  As soon as Reiva had dispatched the remaining men behind their lines, she grabbed another shield and joined him, pushing back at the Fenns with all her might. It was not enough. Both of them, feet anchored against the enemy kept sliding backwards. Galafar felt his strength draining from him.

  Then, a massive firebolt erupted behind the Fennish lines, sending burning soldiers screaming and flying through the air. The heat of the fireball scorched Galafar’s eyes. Then another, and a third. What was this?

  The Fenns stopped shoving as hard. A few shifted uneasily. Some dared look behind them at the chaos before receiving a spear to the back of their heads for their curiosity.

  After the firebolts came tiny slivers of ice, shooting from behind their lines. He could hear men screaming and dying.

  “Push!” Galafar shouted. This was their chance. “Attack!”

  His men began to push back at the Fenns and regain ground for the first time in the battle. Some of the enemy tripped over the dead bodies they’d had to step over in their advance. Galafar’s men quickly dispatched the fallen enemies.

  Then the crackle of lightning sounded from behind the enemy lines and a massive bolt blasted through the Fenns. It went so far that it hit some of the Camulani soldiers, exploding them in a fury of fire.

  The Fenns were panicking now. Men dropped their weapons and began to flee in any direction they could. Others, thinking they were being attacked by their own men turned their weapons on each other.

  “What just happened?” Reiva asked, hiding her head behind the shield.

  As the pressure of the shield wall eased up, Galafar stopped to watch the action.

  In the chaos of the enemy line, Galafar saw two men atop a piebald horse. One with a sword and gleaming helmet, the other in a robe shooting lightning from his fingers. It was Aeolwyn and Egne! Behind them three more horses each carrying a pair of men in the same configuration.

  “Aeolwyn has just changed the face of battle,” Galafar answered in awe. He had indeed thought of a new strategy and brough the mages behind the enemy. Out of the range of their pikemen, but close enough to attack, the mages destroyed the enemy with impunity.

  “Forward!” he cried. “Destroy the Fenns!”

  This battle was over, and they had won. All that was left was the cleanup. Men cheered and rushed forward, cutting down the fleeing men, shouting “For the prince!” and “For Aeolwyn!” at every step.

  ***

  After the shouting and crying and the clang of weapon against weapon, the silence was almost too much to take. Aeolwyn almost couldn’t bear the quiet. Only the wails of the dying could still be heard.

  Bodies lay everywhere. Both Fennish and Camulani. Aeolwyn had sent men and mages out to heal the men who could be saved and give a merciful ending to those who could not, on both sides of the battle.

  The Fennish survivors were taken prisoner and sent to a holding pen surrounded by guards. They sat sullenly, afraid of what came next. They would be questioned for certain. Aeolwyn would try to make sure they wouldn’t be tortured, but he couldn’t guarantee it.

  The outpost was a complete loss. It had burned completely to the ground, now just a pile of ash and glowing embers. The price of this battle had been high on both sides. He wanted to bury his face in a pillow and cry, but he dared not. After the battle, everyone was looking to him for their orders.

  “Where is the general?” he asked Brakus. The grizzled old soldier was nursing over a dozen wounds, but declined any healing, telling the mages to save it for those who were more critically injured than him.

  “Burned alive,” if the reports are to be believed. “The soldier Albus said he saw one of the Fennish men leave his room just as the fighting started. He was tied to the bed. We believe the assassin, whoever he was, was the one who set the building ablaze. According to Albus, the assassin got away.”

  “The assassin is dead,” Aeolwyn said. He had no doubt it was Fraius. “He came after me next. I killed him.”

  “That was well done, Lord,” Brakus said. “With General Alaric and Commander Boede dead, you’re in command now.”

  Aeolwyn nodded. He was the most senior officer.

  “What of Flint?” he asked. He hadn’t seen the captain during the battle and had thus far not seen him among the dead.

  “Never escaped from the cell, as far as I can tell, but there’s too much wreckage to sift through to know for sure.”

  Captain Flint too? This battle had been a disaster. All their senior leadership killed in one night. That alone was worth the price the Fennish had paid. Someone needed to take charge, and since he was the senior officer at the moment, it had to be him.

  “I’ll assume command for now,” he said. “A massive gap in leadership like we just received could be disastrous. The men need someone to look to.”

  That was the truth. He had to hold the army together. If he didn’t, the Fenns would gain a foothold in Camulan. If they captured Fort Camulan, they would be able to use it as a base to conquer the rest of the kingdom. He couldn’t allow that.

  We’ll stay here tonight,” he continued. “But in the morning, we will make for Fort Camulan. A war has started, and we aren’t safe here.”

  Brakus saluted. “As you say, general.”