Myraden rode Kythen near the front of the Aerdian army, keeping pace with the trotting horses as they passed through the Dremfell Pass and crossed the Sirdian countryside. Their three thousand horses reached the river, and followed it as far north as they could—until it reached the Sheercliff.

  Kythen wouldn’t have been able to keep up with a horse normally, but with his enhanced body, he had no trouble keeping up with the front of the column. He trotted alongside Ivescent’s horse and Marshal The?mir’s, until finally, they reached Northvel.

  She’d seen the smoke well before the cliff rose above the horizon. The Sheercliff was a line of dark stone, still shaded with the rising sun, and the city of Northvel perched at the very brink. Dominion flags flew on the outer wall, but the inner keep still flew blue banners.

  It wasn’t over, but it might have been too late.

  They stopped at the top of a hill, having approached the Dominion army from the southeast—The?mir said it was to keep the rising sun behind them, to obscure them from the sight of their enemies before they approached the wall.

  But seeing the horde of silver, white, and green in the snowy expanse ahead of them put a damper on any hope Myraden felt. The Dominion army was still massive, and though many had died…their three thousand horses would hardly make a dent.

  She shut her eyes and swallowed as the Aerdian riders formed a battle line at the top of the hill. They arranged into neat rows of riders, with the few Sirdian riders at the helm. Ivescent was putting his own forward as a sign of good faith, and to his credit, he remained at the front of the army.

  So did Myraden. She unwound her spear from her shoulder and let it form up into a solid form, then hoisted it up into the crook of her elbow. She was at the very front of the column, with two Sirdian riders on either side of her, and a troop of Aerdians behind.

  Everyone glanced side-to-side, looking to see what their companions would do. The Aerdians looked to The?mir and Ivescent, watching to see if either of the leaders would bow down, turn tail, and flee. They probably wanted to do the same.

  Of course they did. They’d charge, but they weren’t winning alone. Perhaps if Myraden advanced to Wildflame she could do some serious damage, but alone, she couldn’t win the day. Maybe two Wildflames could, but Pirin was nowhere to be seen.

  For all she knew, they were charging to their deaths.

  “Ivescent,” Marshal The?mir said, “if you have a second plan, now would be a wonderful time for it.”

  He was thinking the exact same as Myraden was.

  She rubbed her thumb up and down on her spear. This was their only chance. They had to do it.

  “Do not say it,” she begged with a whisper. “Do not say it, chancellor…”

  Ivescent will back down. He always does. He will find a new place to hide, a new rebellion to muster.

  As she waited, watching Ivescent’s silent, mortified stare, a bolt of blue light shot up over the wall of Northvel, then a flash of green light.

  The Essence from Pirin’s Shattered Palm and Lord Three’s techniques. Pirin was still alive, and still fighting.

  “Chancellor!” Myraden called. “There are no more chances. Either we die now, or we die later, but we will die.”

  Better to die trying to make a difference, Kythen echoed in her mind.

  Ivescent rose up in the saddle of his horse, then spurred its sides and trotted closer to Marshal The?mir. “Marshal, forth and lead your army. Give them instruction. We’ll do as much damage as we can. Leave the speeches to me. You’ve shown them you trust me, so let us prove it.”

  The?mir nodded. “It is a good morning to die.”

  Ivescent drew his sword from his sheath, then trotted in a circle ahead of the army. “All of you, listen! The Dominion’s full might is here, and they aren’t leaving! We do nothing, and they win. We retreat to the shadows, but soon, there won’t be any shadows left to hide in. They’ll burn it all.

  “Aerdia, you’ve seen the throne bloom. Your governor-king is dead, but the true king awaits us! Arise for him, aid him, and we may just survive! We give up now, and we consign millions of souls to death and tyranny. We’re outnumbered, and soon, we’ll be surrounded. There is nothing else we can do but charge.”

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  He flourished his sword and raised it.

  “Is that the best he has?” Myraden whispered, though a little louder than intended.

  Ivescent caught her gaze, as if he heard, then shouted, “Spears! Spears!”

  The front line riders all lowered their spears and pikes into a charging position.

  Ivescent pointed his sword down the hill at the Dominion army. “There is the enemy. Behind them is our bastion and our king, our brethren. Ride to them. For glory and freedom, and for a new world!”

  He turned his horse to face forward, then tightened his helmet up his head and pointed his sword. “Eane be with us!”

  He tightened his knees on his horse’s flanks and urged the beast to charge. As soon as he took a single step down the hill, a chorus of horns blared out from the army behind, signalling the charge.

  Myraden nudged Kythen forward and cycled Aes to the distant reaches of her limbs. She activated her Tundra Veins, fortifying her body, and pointed her spear with the rest of them.

  With the Tundra Veins active, Kythen charged faster than the horses, even when the entire column sped up to a trot. They sprinted toward the Dominion army like a wave crashing to shore, and though Chancellor Ivescent charged at the head of the column, Myraden and Kythen outpaced him.

  The Dominion army turned to face the new threat, soldiers brandishing spears and taking up a position against the cavalry wave approaching, but she flung out a crimson arc of bloodhorn Essence, bashing back the nearest defenders and giving them an open crowd to charge into.

  Soldiers scattered as horses trampled over them. Spears impaled, hoofs stamped, and Dominion soldiers died. Myraden unleashed technique after technique, clearing away waves of mortal soldiers.

  They’d nearly charged straight through the center of the Dominion army when a pressure welled up in her spiritual senses. It came from the west, and screamed of warning and impending danger.

  A blast of magenta Essence tore through a crowd of horses, flinging them into the air and thrusting them aside. Myraden turned to face the threat, and just in time for the figure of a man to blast toward her in a puff of purple tyrrh-shrub leaves. He struck with the counterweight of his chain-scythe and knocked her off Kythen’s back.

  She skidded through the snow and mud and came to a halt in an opening in the battle. Horses rushed past on one side, and a wave of mud pushed back Dominion soldiers. Lord Two delivered another blast of magenta, acidic Essence, which struck the ground with such an impact that it created a crater and blocked off the Dominion soldiers from approaching.

  They were busy enough with the Aerdian cavalry, anyway.

  Myraden’s armour absorbed some of the venomous scorpion Essence and vented it out the side, but it still left a stain of yellowed steel across the front. The Charge couldn’t keep up with all the Essence use. Venom scoured a blistering burn across the surface of her shoulder, but where it would have infected a mortal with a deadly, she pushed back, keeping it at the surface.

  She clenched her teeth and whirled her spear as Kythen charged over the ridge behind and jumped down beside her. Are you alright?

  “I’ll live,” she replied in íshkaben. “We have to keep this guy busy.”

  You’re only at the peak of Blaze. He’s a Wildflame.

  “I’m close. Just…one more push. This could be what I need.”

  Be careful.

  She brushed herself off, then flicked out the tails of her new waist cape, fashioned from the smoke-mesh of her old dress, then prepared the channels to vent any excess Essence. On the airship flight across from the mainland, she’d fastened threads to her armour in a conducting pattern, allowing it to join in with the power of her armour’s original Charge.

  “No more running, girl,” Lord Three snapped. “You won’t escape this time. No Hand to save you.”

  “I am not here to run,” she said, then pointed her spear. “You will die here.”

  “That’s bold talk for a Blaze. Let’s see you back it up.”

  She rose up on the balls of her feet, then, with the power of the Tundra Veins, sprang forward.

  ~ ~ ~

  Pirin smashed his elbow down on Lord Three’s loose grip, then struck the Lord with another Shattered Palm, sending him skidding back a few feet.

  That had been an Aerdian horn. Help had arrived at last.

  But…those presences. Another Unbound Lord was here.

  He had to be fast and efficient. Lord Three couldn’t be allowed to continue fighting, and Pirin still needed the strength to fight off another Unbound.

  He snatched up his sword and tightened his grip on the hilt, joining his own channels with the veins of the throne branch, preparing to fuel them with regular Essence and flood the sword’s steel with them.

  “Oh, good,” Lord Three said. “I thought perhaps you’d died then and there. That’d be a shame. A quick death is too good for a nuisance like you.”

  “Shut up with that quick death talk,” Pirin gasped. “You said it once, and I turned you down.”

  He pushed Essence into the hilt of his sword and up into the steel, then fuelled the Charge. It glowed blue with pure Essence.

  In an instant, the blade straightened out, like a crinkled sheet of parchment someone was pulling on both ends of.

  Then the Ichor-steel fillings began to glow as well. Blue light overtook them, then faded, and they disappeared into nothing. But the sword held its form, despite its overall cracked appearance. The Essence was holding it together, though it looked disconnected.

  He flourished it, and it held its form, trailing blue sparks.

  “I can keep going,” Pirin said. “Last time, you were the one who got tired.” He pushed off the ground and sprinted back toward Lord Three.