The clinking of the buckles that held Alina firmly in her saddle on Rynvar's back barely pierced the rushing wind in her ears. With her hands gripped firmly around the handles at the front of the saddle, she looked down over the landscape below.
The city of Lostwren lay upon the flat plains of grass and rock that sprawled outwards in all directions. The city's sandy brown walls rose thirty feet or so, topped with crenelated battlements and intersected by square towers that rose another fifteen or twenty feet again. A mix of Lorian soldiers and warriors of House Vakira stood atop the walls, though there were far more Vakirans than Lorians.
Further into the city, the rooves of orange slate and the tiered seating of the semi-circular amphitheatre, for which Lostwren was famous, glowed in the light of the afternoon sun.
Alina raised her right fist, signalling the Wyndarii that rode with her to bank left. To her right Mera, Amari, and Lukira all gave the signal of acknowledgement.
"Circle back," Alina said to Rynvar, pressing her face to the deep orange scales at the side of the wyvern's neck so he could feel the vibrations of her voice. Rynvar gave a rumble of acknowledgement, then caught the wind and banked left with such speed Alina would have been ripped from the saddle were it not for the straps that connected it to a belt that wrapped around her waist.
As the wyvern circled back, Mera, Amari, Lukira, and near a hundred more Wyndarii following suit, Alina cast her gaze over her forces that had already surrounded the city.
The bulk of the warriors of her own House – House Ateres – fronted the main gates of the city, rippling banners of orange and white held high, the wyvern of House Ateres and the sigil of a free Valtara emblazoned across them. The forces of House Ateres numbered just over seven thousand. She could have mustered more, but they did not yet have the infrastructure to feed that many mouths on an expedition like this; they would have to rely on the strength of their spears, the fear of the wyverns, and the loyalty of the Valtaran people. Even from high above on her saddle, Alina saw the white plumes of Dayne's Andurii at the front of the Ateres lines and the shifting mass of Turik Baleer's cavalry.
To the left and right of the Ateres forces, spread around the city, Alina saw the colours of all the Major Houses. The green and gold of Deringal, Senya likely standing at the front; the red of House Herak; the yellow of House Thebal; and even the black of House Vakira and the pale blue of House Koraklon. If she squinted, she could make out some of the banners that belonged to Minor Houses – banners that, along with those of the Major Houses, hadn't been displayed in decades due to Lorian laws. Men and women of all the Houses had flocked to Alina's call, picking up their spears and shields in the name of a free Valtara. It was a powerful notion, a noble one. She would need to make use of it before the weariness of war took over.
With Senya Deringal and Vhin Herak openly supporting Alina, the warriors of their houses made up the bulk of the remaining numbers. If they could take Lostwren with little bloodshed, they would be able to add the might of all the banners that flew under House Vakira to their cause.
Alina didn't consider that to be too difficult a task. From the reports, the majority of Valtarans who fell under the banner of House Vakira supported Alina's rebellion. It was only Tula Vakira's desire to sit and wait that kept the people of Lostwren from the fray – that and the Lorian forces that now occupied the city. Alina had hoped to reach Lostwren before the imperial forces pushed Tula to re-declare House Vakira's allegiance to the empire, but she had quite clearly been too late. Even with that, the Vakiran forces within the city still looked to outnumber the Lorians. Alina was quietly confident that once her forces were in place, the white crests of the Andurii visible from the walls, the banners of a free Valtara rippling in the air, and the skies full of wyverns, they could convince the Vakiran forces to turn on the Lorians from within, and major bloodshed would be avoided. Where it was possible, she would prefer Valtarans not kill Valtarans.
A quick surrender would make all the difference.
Alina leaned forwards, pressing her body against Rynvar's, her right hand gripped around the saddle's handle, her left pressed against the wyvern's neck. As the wyvern circled back once more, dipping towards the white plumes of Dayne's Andurii, Alina couldn't hold back the smile that spread across her face or the pride that swelled in her chest. Not only were the banners of all six Major Houses rippling in the wind next to one another, for the first time in Alina's entire life, but ahead of her, near filling the skies, were over three hundred of her Wyndarii and their wyverns. She had left a number to defend Skyfell and several more detachments to patrol the newly secured regions, but the bulk of her Wyndarii had travelled with her to Lostwren, scales of all colours glinting in the warm sunlight. The wyvern riders of Valtara were born again. And they would see Valtara free.
Mera sat astride Audin to Alina's right, her hands moving frantically through various signals before she pointed to the east. The signals Mera had made set Alina's hairs on end: Urgent. Friend. Attack.
Alina turned her gaze towards where Mera was pointing in time to see fifty wyverns drop from the sky towards the city walls. The wyverns dove at immense speeds, unleashing shrieks and roars as they did. There wasn't a doubt in Alina's mind that it was Hera Malik leading the charge. The wagon of a woman had already spent many nights arguing with Alina's plan to force a surrender, and now it looked as though she had decided to go behind Alina's back and take the option away from her. No matter the outcome here, Alina would have to make an example of Hera.
Alina watched for a few moments as the wyverns descended on the walls, shredding through the Lorian and Vakiran warriors alike in a blur of tooth and talon.
A blinding flash erupted from somewhere along the walls, followed by high-pitched screeches, and Alina watched as two wyverns fell from the sky, plumes of dark grey smoke trailing behind them as they slammed into the ground in clouds of dust. More flashes, then arcs of blue and purple lightning were ripping through the sky, crashing into wyverns. A hail of arrows followed the lightning; more wyverns fell.
"Gods damn it!" Alina signalled to Mera, Amari, and Lukira, who passed the attack message on to the other Wyndarii captains. They couldn't leave their sisters to die. Elyara curse you, Hera.
"Attack!" Alina shouted, loud enough so Rynvar could hear her over the wind. There was a moment's calm, and then the wyvern lurched forwards, his body rippling like a wave as he gathered momentum, then dropped into a dive.
To Alina's left, Mera and Audin matched Rynvar's descent, the wyvern's deep red scales glistening, Mera reaching for one of the three javelins strapped to the right side of her saddle. On her right, Amari and Lukira rode astride Syndel and Urin. The two brown-scaled wyverns were half Rynvar's size, but they were quick and ferocious. Past Alina's wing-sisters, she could see the rest of her Wyndarii diving towards the walls, their wyverns unleashing blood-chilling shrieks.
The air tore past Alina's face as Rynvar angled deeper into his dive, the bitter chill nipping at her exposed skin, causing her eyes to water. She reached down, her fingers brushing the spruce wood shafts of the three javelins strapped to the right side of her saddle. Without taking her eyes off the walls below, she undid the clasp of the first javelin, yanking the weapon free from its resting place, seeing her wing-sisters do the same out of the corners of her eyes.
Alina drew in a long breath, settling herself, then picked her target: a thick-chested man bearing the black lion of Loria on his breastplate.
By blade and by blood, I will find freedom, or I will die in the trying. Alina rolled her right shoulder, stretching out the muscles. She tightened her grip around the shaft of the javelin, the softer spruce wood feeling as light as a feather in comparison to the dense ash wood of a valyna.
Alina gripped the left handle of her saddle, the wind whipping past her as she leaned backwards, angling her body to throw the javelin. One of the first things a newly blooded wyvern rider learned was never to throw their javelin across the body of their wyvern. At the speeds wyverns moved, all it took was the slightest shift in balance to send sharp steel through the body of the creature that protected your life. When Alina had first bonded with Rynvar, there had been nobody to teach her, but luckily she had taken a keen interest in wyverns since she had been a young girl and had read every book on the creatures that had ever been stored within Redstone's library.
She waited for the thick-chested man to come within range, the beating of Rynvar's wings thumping in her ears. As the man lifted his sword and made to slice through the neck of a Wyndarii who had fallen from her wyvern and onto the ramparts, Alina pulled her arm back, the muscles in her shoulder and back bunching, then launched the javelin across Rynvar's flank.
The wyvern was lifting again, pulling away from the walls by the time Alina saw the javelin hammer into the man's chest with a heavy slap, knocking him backwards and sending him plummeting from the far side of the walls.
A rain of javelins followed Alina's, Lorian and Vakiran soldiers dropping like flies as the weapons found their marks. The wyverns roared and shrieked as they swept over the city, their riders unleashing piercing war cries.
As much as Alina wanted to join the shouts and cries, she could not. For although the fire of battle burned in her veins, she could also see the lifeless bodies of women and wyverns strewn about the ramparts and the ground below on either side of the wall. She could even see some of the Wyndarii who had survived their falls, fighting tooth and nail on the ramparts. She lifted her right arm and gave the signal for another javelin pass.
Twice more, Alina and her Wyndarii rained death on the Lorian and Vakiran soldiers who manned the walls, shredding them with javelins. She regretted the loss of each Vakiran life, but Hera Malik had forced the situation; she had given the Vakirans no choice but to stand with the Lorians and defend the walls. And if Alina had to choose between the lives of Vakiran soldiers she had never met and her Wyndarii, there wasn't a choice to be had.
Bolts of lightning from Lorian mages and hails of arrows claimed the lives of several more wyverns and their riders.
As Rynvar circled back around for the fourth time, Alina took stock of the situation. They needed a plan. A battle of attrition was not the fight Alina wanted this day. And they would not take the city by simply harassing the walls – besides, she was out of javelins.
A quick glance showed her that Dayne and the other commanders had brought their ground forces closer to the city walls, likely confused as to what in the void was happening. Gods damn you, Hera, for forcing my hand. Alina hadn't seen Hera and her wyvern Yarsil amongst the dead or fighting on the walls – the woman must have avoided the sting of steel and lightning. But as she looked down, Alina could see a cluster of Wyndarii had formed atop the walls, not far from the gatehouse.
"Two birds, one stone," she whispered. Alina leaned in to Rynvar, pressing her head against his scales. "Draw up close to Mera."
Without a moment's hesitation, the wyvern angled his wings, caught the air, and glided next to Audin, Mera's wyvern.
"I'm going to land on the walls!" Alina roared at Mera, trying to raise her voice above the rushing wind.
"Are you mad?" Mera called back.
Alina smiled at that. Being called mad usually meant she was thinking along the right lines. She pointed down to where the surviving Wyndarii had formed near the gatehouse. "I'm not leaving them. If we can take the gatehouse, we can open the gates and let Dayne and the others in." Alina jerked backwards as a gust of wind caught Rynvar, almost sending him crashing into Audin. "The longer the fighting goes on, the more we lose. We need to end it. Me, you, Amari, and Lukira. The rest can support."
Mera hesitated for a moment, then nodded, pulling back to issue orders to the others. As Rynvar circled towards the walls, Alina patted at her weapons belt, feeling the hilts of the short swords strapped at either of her hips and the knives slotted into the leather strap across her lower back. She felt the weight of the small, circular dardik shield on her back. It always felt strange going to battle without a valyna gripped in her right fist and the handle of her ordo shield strapped to her arm. But the ordo and the valyna were too heavy for Wyndarii to carry; they would weigh the wyverns down too much.
After a few moments, Audin, Syndel, and Urin drew level with Rynvar. Alina gave the hand signal: attack.
She urged Rynvar down and gripped onto the handles of her saddle with all her strength as the wyvern plummeted, twisting left and right to avoid arcs of lightning and hails of arrows. "Mage," Alina shouted to Rynvar. "Kill."
Alina heard the ringing of steel as arrowheads caught Rynvar's scales at an angle and skittered away. Then Rynvar crashed down, vibrations jarring Alina's arms and shoulders as the wyvern dropped onto a Lorian mage in a spray of blood and bone, talons rending steel like paper.
As Rynvar ripped open the man's throat, Alina slipped a knife from her back, turned, and launched it through the eye of a Lorian soldier who was charging towards Rynvar from the back. She reached down, undoing the buckles that held her in place, pulling them free with practised ease, then slid from the wyvern's back, her feet finding stone with a thud.
"Go!" Alina roared, slapping her hand down against Rynvar's scales so hard it went numb from the sting. He was a stubborn beast and was always reluctant to leave her alone – which was a trait Alina actually appreciated, but staying on the walls would only turn him into an easy target.
The wyvern roared in response, whipping his tail and knocking several Lorians off the ramparts before snatching two soldiers in his talons and leaping into the air, blood and gore spraying as flesh tore and bone shattered. Roars rippled through the air as Audin, Syndel, and Urin followed after Rynvar and Mera, Amari, and Lukira drew close to Alina.
Alina shrugged her dardik shield from her back and slid a short sword from its scabbard at her hip, and then she was charging towards the cornered Wyndarii, towards the gatehouse. "For Valtara!"
"Forward!" Dayne roared at the top of his lungs, thrusting his spear into the air. Around him shouts and war cries rang out, men and women eager for the first taste of true battle. If only they knew, they wouldn't be so eager.
Marlin's hand clamped down on Dayne's shoulder, and the man leaned in close. "My lord, we cannot simply charge. Alina's plan was to force their surrender. The gates are closed, and we've not erected any siege equipment yet. We'll be at their mercy."
"You saw her land, Marlin. Alina is on those walls. We can't leave her there. We charge." Dayne shrugged off Marlin's hand and turned towards the walls, readying to break into a run.
Marlin lowered his voice, leaning closer. "Don't be stupid, Dayne. The lives of these men and women are in your hands now. You've been away a long time, but you're not just making decisions for yourself anymore."
Dayne narrowed his gaze at Marlin, then grunted, turning towards the Andurii. "My sister, your chosen leader, fights on the walls of Lostwren," he called out, bellowing so loud his lungs burned. "Will you leave her to fight alone? Will the Andurii leave her to fight alone?"
"HA-OOH!" came the response, a chorus of spears clattering off shields.
The majority of the main force couldn't hear a word Dayne shouted, but once the Andurii started to charge, the rest would follow. That was the reputation Alina wanted him to build, and he would build it.
"What about the gates, Dayne?" Marlin grabbed the back of Dayne's helmet, locking their gazes. "Heroics are one thing, but we'd need a battering ram to break them down, and we've not yet built one."
Dayne pulled Marlin's head against his, their helmets clinking. "I am the battering ram."
With that, Dayne turned and broke into a sprint, hearing the thundering of feet charging behind him. He had not yet told the Andurii, or anyone outside of his family, that he could command the Spark. He had hoped to be able to keep that a secret for a while longer – Valtarans had a tempestuous relationship with mages – but he was going to have to tell them eventually. Today might as well be that day.
As Dayne charged towards the forty-foot walls of sandy stone, he opened himself to the Spark, feeling its warmth flood him. He let his consciousness drift across the pulsating elemental strands, his mind lingering on the cool touch of Air and the calming sensation of Spirit. Through his years with Belina, Dayne taught himself to use the Spark subtly, to make the slightest of shifts and adjustments to give himself an edge. But training with Aeson had taught him not only to refine that ability but also to harness the raw power within himself. There was going to be nothing subtle about what he was about to do.
Blood pumping, heart pounding, Dayne's feet ate the ground.
"Shields!" he roared, lifting his shield and angling it as a shadow rose from the walls above, a hail of arrows momentarily blocking out the light. The slightest of glances back over his shoulder showed him that the Andurii had not charged as a single unit. A clutch of warriors had set off at Dayne's back without hesitation, but others had lingered, leaving them off the pace. In truth, he didn't blame them. One of his first commands as their Andurios was to order them to charge towards a closed gate. He was more surprised that any of them at all had chosen to follow him so blindly.
Dayne pushed his shield further away from his body, making the angle steeper. Already, his arm burned from the weight of it, but the Spark flooding his veins pushed the pain to the edges of his mind. A number of thunks sounded as arrows smacked against the front of his shield, the angle and concave shape of the ordo sending them skittering away. But then a burst of splinters sprayed, and Dayne turned his gaze to see a steel arrowhead jutting through the wood. There was a second spray of splinters and another arrow came through the shield, the edge of its head slicing through the skin of Dayne's forearm. He hissed, gritted his teeth, and pressed on.
A glance over his shield rim told Dayne they were almost at the gates. Dayne pulled deeply on the Spark, drawing in thick threads of Air and Spirit, weaving them round each other, letting the Spirit augment the Air. He allowed the threads to swell, pushing energy into them. There were more precise ways to open the gates with the Spark. But all of them took time and patience, neither of which Dayne had. Alina's plan had been to turn the Vakirans within the city against the imperial forces. That was still doable, but only if the odds were stacked on their side. They needed to get inside the walls.
He saw threads of Fire, Air, and Spirit whirling through the air above, bolts of lightning ripping across the sky. From his gauge, there were only four mages – and judging by the focus of their threads, they were too focused on the wyverns to contemplate reinforcing the gate. The empire wasn't used to facing mages on the battlefield. They were accustomed to having complete superiority when it came to the Spark. That made them complacent; it made them vulnerable.
He drew in a long breath, the sounds around him capitulating to the thrum of the Spark in his blood, the world crystallising for a brief moment, then unleashed the thick threads of Air and Spirit slamming them into the centre of the wooden gates. A thunderous boom sounded, clouds of stone dust pluming from where the gate was fixed to the wall, but the gate remained closed.
More arrows skittered off Dayne's raised shield, one piercing through the bottom in a spray of wood. Some of his Andurii had caught up with him; they were more used to carrying the weight of the heavy ordo, valyna, and armour. They pulled alongside him, leaving enough space so as not to provide an easy target.
They were only thirty paces from the gates.
Once more, Dayne slammed thick threads of Air and Spirit into the reinforced wood, and once more, the gates creaked and stone dust plumed, but they remained standing.
"Is there a plan, Andurios?" one of the Andurii, a woman named Tarine Valanis who had previously been one of Alina's Redstone guard, roared. As she shouted, an arrow burst through her shield in a spray of splinters and stopped shy of plunging into her eye.
"Keep the shield further from your face!" Dayne called back. The woman had four markings of the spear on her arm, but she had never seen true war. She had never had to protect herself from a hail of arrows. "We go through!"
Tarine gave Dayne a sharp nod, shifting her shield further from her face, glancing towards the arrowhead that now protruded from the inside of the rim.
They were only ten paces from the gates.
Dayne clenched his jaw and pulled from the Spark one last time, feeling the warmth of it burn in his veins. Through his threads of Spirit and Air, he could feel the subtle vibrations of the gate's drawbar snapping, the wood weakening, the metal twisting. With a roar, he unleashed another torrent of Air and Spirit, and the gate burst inwards, hinges snapping, wood splintering. The iron-braced gates lifted through the air and slammed into the Lorian and Vakiran soldiers who had been waiting on the other side. Screams and cries rang out as the men and women were crushed beneath the weight of the structure that had once protected them.
"Forward!" Dayne roared, a chorus of cries answering him, more and more Andurii pulling level with him.
Dayne charged through the gates, ramming into the soldiers on the other side. Their lines had been broken by the crashing gates, and Dayne slipped into the cracks. He swung his left arm forward, ramming the rim of his shield into a man's nose, hearing the snap of bone accompany the spray of blood. As the man fell backwards, Dayne thrust his valyna forwards and into the belly of another Lorian before sweeping it to the side, creating space. He moved like a man possessed, taking advantage of the disarray the gates had created. Blood sprayed wherever he sliced, and bone snapped under the weight of his shield. He whipped threads of Air around himself, knocking the soldiers back, keeping them at the distance he needed.
As Dayne carved through the Lorians, the Andurii crashed in beside him, spears striking out like vipers, wyvern-emblazoned shields glistening in the sun.
A hand clamped down on Dayne's shoulder, pulling him back, and he heard Marlin's voice. "You're Andurii now. We fight together. We fight as one. Call it."
Dayne clenched his jaw, quelling the fire in his veins. For twelve years, blood and steel was all he had known. That hadn't changed, but now he wore the wyvern of House Ateres, and he fought beside men and women who shared the same cause. By blade and by blood, they would break the chains from around their people's neck. He cast a glance towards the walls where he saw wyverns swooping and slicing through Lorians and Vakirans alike, a clutch of Wyndarii fighting near the gatehouse. He needed to get up there, but he couldn't leave his Andurii alone. He had to find a way to turn the battle quickly. "Shield wall!"
Feet shifted, ordo shields snapping together as the Andurii reacted to the call. It felt strange for Dayne to be fighting in a formation again, foreign and yet soothingly familiar. Marlin stood to his left, Tarine and the young Iloen to his right.
"Let's show them what Valtaran steel tastes like," Dinekes Ilyon, one of the new Andurii captains, said from behind Dayne. The Andurii captains lined the right side of the shield wall, with Dayne at the front. It may have been many years since he'd last fought in a shield wall, but most of it had been like muscle memory. He still wasn't skilled enough with the spear and shield to truly operate at the front right of the shield wall, but his ability with the Spark filled the gaps in his skill. The one thing that would take time for him to get used to again was the weight of the shield in his left hand, the burn in his shoulder.
With the shield wall formed, the Andurii pushed forwards, slow and steady, step after step, dirt grinding beneath their feet. Spears bit into flesh and shields forced the Lorians and Vakirans backwards. Alone, the Vakirans might have been capable of standing against the steady shield march, but with their forces scattered amongst the less organised Lorian soldiers, they couldn't forge themselves into a coherent shield wall. And so they died like lambs under the unceasing march of the Andurii shield wall. The men and women around Dayne had not been Andurii long. They hadn't yet earned the reputation of the legendary warriors who had come before them, but each of them were chosen for their skill, strength, and resolve. They were the finest warriors House Ateres had to offer. Many were blademasters or spearmasters; some were both. And there were no warriors in Epheria more legendary than the blade and spearmasters of Valtara – had the empire not possessed the strength of dragonfire, history would have been different.
As the Andurii pushed through the yard that fronted the gates of Lostwren, and more of the free Valtaran forces charged through the gates and reinforced their flanks, the city's defenders fed the ground with blood and began to break.
A tingling sensation ignited in the back of Dayne's mind, and before he could react, threads of Earth and Spirit struck out towards the Andurii on the left side of the wall. Screams and cries rang out as the greaves that guarded the shins of those Andurii collapsed inwards, snapping bones.
As the Andurii from the other rows moved forwards to fill the gaps left by their injured companions, Dayne followed the threads back to where he saw a Lorian Battlemage riding astride a black war horse, the power of the Spark radiating from them.
"Take my place," Dayne roared to Dinekes, who stood behind him. Dayne heard Marlin shouting at him, but he ignored the man, leaping out of the shield wall. He swung his shield forwards, slamming the rim into the throat of an unsuspecting Lorian soldier, crushing his windpipe, then swung it back, smashing a man's jaw.
Dayne pulled in threads of Air, feeling their cool touch over his skin. He clenched his fist around the shaft of his spear, threw his shoulder back, then launched the spear through the air with every ounce of strength in his body. As the spear sliced through the air towards the Battlemage astride the black war horse, Dayne corrected its course with threads of Air and sliced through the Battlemage's own threads with Spirit.
The spear caught the mage in the chest like a battering ram hitting a gate, Dayne's threads of Air pushing it forward with inhuman power. The spear punched through the mage's sternum and lifted them from the saddle of their horse, sending them careening backwards.
Dayne fell back towards the Andurii line. He snatched up a dropped spear, falling in beside Marlin, Dinekes moving back to the second row. Around them, the rest of the Valtaran forces were carving through the Lorian and Vakiran forces alike. At least two of the Lorian Battlemages were now dead, and Dayne couldn't sense any more threads around them.
"That was idiotic," Marlin growled as Dayne fell in beside him.
"That mage needed to die. He's dead now."
Marlin grunted in response.
"We need to get to Alina. We're winning here, but she—"
A sharp roar ripped through the air, and Dayne turned to see Alina's wyvern, Rynvar, drop from the sky, drawing level with the walls. Then Alina was leaping from the ramparts, the orange spirals on her armour giving her away. For a few moments, Dayne's heart clenched as Alina hung in the air. Then with the ease of someone mounting a horse, Alina landed on the saddle, barely flinching as she slammed down, her free hand gripping onto the saddle's handle. As Alina and Rynvar descended towards the fighting in the yard, more wyverns followed, roaring and shrieking, their riders calling out war cries. The sight and sound alone caused the Lorian and Vakiran soldiers to hesitate, their gazes turning to the skies.
Javelins rained down from the descending Wyndarii, Lorian soldiers dropping in sprays of blood. The wyverns followed the javelins, crashing down on top of the waiting Lorians, talons tearing through armour, teeth ripping limbs.
Rynvar, orange scales reflecting the sun's light with an incandescent glow, dropped down atop three Lorians. Two of the soldiers were crushed beneath the wyvern's weight, blood spraying as talons sliced deep. The third soldier stumbled backwards, blood spraying from the stump of their neck, their head firmly caught in Rynvar's jaws.
As more of the wyverns crashed down, ripping apart the already wavering Lorian forces, Alina looked to Dayne, then began to call out. "Warriors of House Vakira. We are not your enemy!"
It took Dayne a moment to understand why Alina had looked to him, but then it clicked into place, and he pulled on the Spark, weaving threads of Air and Spirit into his sister's voice, amplifying it so it resounded through the yard. "We fight for a free Valtara! Fight beside us rather than against us! Any who turn their spears on the Lorians will be granted a place in a free Valtara, as our brothers and sisters!"
Tension hung in the air, the snarls and pulsing chirps of the wyverns breaking the silence that had descended. Then, slowly, men and women in the black of Vakira, ordo shields on their arms, black, swirling tattoos at the sides of their head, turned their spears towards the Lorain soldiers they had previously fought beside.
Alina rested her hand on the orange scales of Rynvar's snout, her thumb tracing the black edges. "Rest easy. You did well."
The wyvern leaned his head into Alina's hand. Soft clicking reverberated from his throat, followed by a low rumble. Alina smiled, tracing her fingers along a groove that had been cut into the scales at the side of Rynvar's snout, less than half a finger's width deep. Wyvern scales were strong, but they weren't impenetrable. She drew in a deep breath, wiped the sweat from her brow, and looked around the courtyard that fronted Lostwren's main gates.
All around, Lorian soldiers were being bound with rope and chains. Healers were tending to the wounded, strapping bandages around wounds, splinting damaged limbs, and trying to ease the pain of those who would not survive their injuries – unlike the Lorians, the Valtarans did not have access to healers who could use the Spark. Alina saw the bodies of at least ten wyverns lying about the yard. Some lay in pools of their own blood, their bodies sliced open by arrows and spears. Smoke still drifted from knotted wounds of melted scales where the Lorian mages' lightning had knocked the creatures from the sky. She did not doubt they had lost at least a score more wyverns across the city.
"Alina."
Alina turned to see Dayne walking towards her, the white-crested helmet of the Andurii nestled in the crook of his right arm, his shield strapped to his left.
Dayne dropped his shield, a cloud of dust rising as it hit the ground with a clang. He reached out and grasped Alina's forearm, pulling her closer and planting a kiss on her forehead. He pulled away, streaks of blood marring the weak smile that spread across his face. "The city is yours. With the exception of a few, every Vakiran soldier we've come across has pledged allegiance to the cause. Tula Vakira and her personal guard are still holed up in the keep, but I don't think their decision will be any different."
Alina stared at her brother wordlessly for a moment, her gaze tracing his face, her mind replaying his words. Her heart still beat faster every time she saw him. He was alive. Such a small, simple, fact. But it still felt strange to her. Her brother was alive. And not only was he alive, he stood before her wearing their father's armour, leading the Andurii, fighting for a free Valtara. All she wanted to do was embrace him and sob – to cry the tears for everything that had happened, the tears they should have shed together across the years – but everything was so much more complicated now. Aside from Alina's anger at Dayne for leaving in the first place, he was also a clear obstacle to her leadership. He was the rightful heir to House Ateres. He was the eldest and there were many who would rather see him as the head of the House.
"Alina?" Dayne reached out, eyes narrowing as he looked her over. "Are you hurt? Rest. I'll fetch a healer."
"I'm fine," Alina snapped, slapping Dayne's probing hand away. "I'm not your child, Dayne. There are many with far graver wounds than myself. Your Andurii, did they take many losses?"
"Forty-three. More than I'd like," he said, scratching at a patch of dried blood on his cheek. "But less than I'd feared when charging through those gates. What happened, Alina? The wyverns attacking wasn't part of the plan."
"Hera Malik." The name left Alina's lips with a growl. A deep rumble resonated from behind Alina, and she turned to see Rynvar looking towards the sky, veins of ice running through his blue eyes. Following the wyvern's gaze, she saw several dark shadows descending towards the yard with the sun at their backs. "Speak of Efialtír, and he shall appear."
Five wyverns dropped into the courtyard, alighting on the stone, their wingbeats drumming up clouds of dust. Alina recognised the dull yellow scales of Hera Malik's wyvern, Yarsil. She strode towards them, Dayne and Rynvar following as Hera and the other Wyndarii slid from the backs of their wyverns.
"What a battle!" Hera called out to Alina, gazing about the yard and raising both her arms in the air. "Onwards to Myrefall!"
Alina's fingers curled into fists as she marched towards Hera, her heart thumping, jaw clenching. She swung her right fist and cracked Hera in the cheek.
The woman stumbled, touching her hand to where Alina's fist had broken the skin and drawn blood. "How dare—"
Alina slammed her fist into the bridge of Hera's nose, feeling a crunch beneath the weight of the strike, blood spraying down over Hera's mouth and chin.
As Hera fell backwards, her wyvern, Yarsil, unleashed a roar and leapt towards Alina, jaws opening, eyes burning with a cold fury. The wyvern spread his wings, reaching its neck out, but before he got within a foot of Alina, Rynvar crashed into him, jaws closing around his neck. Rynvar lifted the smaller wyvern off the ground, then slammed Yarsil down, pinning him against the stone.
"Let him go!" Hera roared. She pulled her sword from the scabbard at her hip and lunged, blade driving towards Alina's chest.
Alina twisted, allowing the blade to slide past her, then slammed her hand down on the flat of the extended blade and swung her elbow into Hera's nose as the woman's momentum carried her forwards. Alina extended her foot and sent Hera sprawling to the ground, blood streaming from her nose. "You risked the lives of every warrior under our banner." Alina kept her voice level and calm as she stepped over Hera, who lay on the stone, propped up on her elbows, blood still pouring from her nostrils. "You disobeyed direct orders. You were reckless, idiotic, and selfish."
"We won!"
"Tell that to our dead." The sound of shuffling feet caused Alina to glance up and see the Wyndarii and wyvern loyal to Hera standing a few feet away, weapons drawn. It took a moment for Alina to understand why they were not charging. Then she saw Dayne standing to the left, shield in one hand, sword in the other, shards of shattered stone floating in the air around him.
Shrieks, rhythmic chirps, and roars signalled the return of Mera, Amari, Lukira, and the other Wyndarii Alina had sent to scout the rest of the city.
Alina slid her sword from the scabbard at her hip and lowered it to Hera's neck, tilting the blade at an angle so as to lift Hera's chin. "Today, you caused the deaths of over twenty of your wing-sisters, along with their wyverns. You caused the deaths of hundreds of Vakiran warriors – Valtaran warriors. You're responsible for every man, woman, and wyvern that died here today. What say you, Hera of House Malik?"
In spite of herself, Alina couldn't help but be impressed by the way Hera held Alina's gaze despite the steel at her neck. The woman stared back at Alina, swallowing hard in the silence between them. "I say I will take whatever is due. Death was not my intention, but it is what my actions have caused." She drew in a short breath. "Forgive me."
Alina hadn't expected that. She lifted her gaze from Hera and looked at the gathered crowd around them. The entire courtyard had ceased in its actions. Hera's Wyndarii and their wyverns still stood ready to pounce on Alina, only Dayne's presence stopping them, shards of broken stone swirling around him. Mera, Amari, and Lukira had dismounted and now stood only a few feet away, swords drawn. Many others – warriors, healers, and citizens alike – had stopped in their tracks, watching, waiting.
Fuck. Hera wasn't stupid. Anything Alina did now would spread through the camp like wildfire.
Alina ran her tongue along the inside of her bottom teeth, staring down at Hera, who, to her credit, had not moved her neck from Alina's blade. Hera gave a slight flinch at the sound of Yarsil whining, Rynvar still pinning the wyvern's neck to the ground. Alina exhaled slowly, then pulled the blade away from Hera's neck. "You will personally build the pyres for the dead. You, and those who followed you, will burn the bodies so they may see rest." Alina reached out her hand and pulled Hera to her feet, staring into the woman's eyes. "I know we don't see eye-to-eye, Hera. But we both want the same thing. We both want a free Valtara. This city could have been taken without bloodshed. The Vakirans are as Valtaran as you and I. They are our people. There will be plenty of blood to come."
Hera nodded, her gaze wavering for the first time. "It will be done… Thank you."
Alina leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a near-whisper. "By blade and by blood, if you ever again challenge my leadership the way you did today, I will take your head and stand it on a spear before the gates of Redstone." Alina held her stare on Hera's, unblinking. She wanted the woman to understand. She would fix the head on the spear herself.
"I will not." Hera's gaze flitted from Alina to her wyvern, Yarsil, who had grown increasingly still under Rynvar's weight. "Please, let him go."
Alina nodded. "Rynvar. Release."
The wyvern released his grip on Yarsil's throat but hovered over him a moment, a deep growl resonating in his throat – a warning.
Yarsil pulled himself to his feet, balancing with his forelimbs, shaking his head and neck like a dog would do when wet. Blood trickled over his scales where Rynvar had bitten his neck.
As Hera moved to comfort Yarsil, Alina turned to Dayne, who had allowed the shards of stone to drop to the ground.
"She is not the forgetting type," he said, gesturing towards Hera. He looked wearier than before, his eyes sunken, his legs unsteady. She had only ever seen Dayne use his magic a handful of times when she was younger, and even then, she barely remembered it, but she did remember seeing him grow weary after. But she had never seen him use it like he had this day: smashing in the gates of Lostwren, ripping through the ranks of Lorians and Vakirans alike, whirling shards of stone around himself as though he were in a hailstorm. Her brother had become far stronger than she had given him credit for. "You should have taken her head."
"Once, you told me not a single life you'd taken had brought you any happiness. Now you tell me I should have killed one of my own?"
"Her death wouldn't have brought you happiness, but it would have brought you safety. She's a Wyndarii, she has strength. You don't leave someone like that waiting around."
"I want to destroy the empire, Dayne. Not replace it." Alina stared into her brother's eyes, finding nothing but weariness staring back at her. "Have your Andurii march through the streets. Let the white crests and the sigil of House Ateres be seen. Once the city is secure and the Lorians contained, you have my permission to refill your ranks with warriors of your choosing, as is custom. We march onwards to Myrefall at dawn's light."