CHAPTER 26

COMMANDER RYATT

The anxiety between the six of us is palpable, like a thick presence that closes in around us. Because just like Isalee asked me, how can so few possibly stand against so many?

The truthful answer is, we can't.

Not numbers against numbers. Not sword against sword.

But we do have the upper hand with one single thing: We know this land. I know this land.

The fae have no idea how many times I've come to Cliffhelm pretending to be Rip as I ran training sessions. No idea how many times I've flown across this very border and gone straight to Deadwell to visit my mother and the other villagers.

I know everything there is to know about this strip of land between Fourth and Fifth. And while it may look like a vast, empty stretch of snow and ice, it hides a sinister secret.

I keep counting down the time in my head—two minutes already passed. Lu and I share a look. I know she's as tense as I am, but she's as stoic as ever. She always ensures her strength bleeds into the soldiers she leads. It's one of the reasons she's such a good captain.

"Gideon, send Captain Osrik the signal."

The bulky soldier grabs hold of a thick, twisted iron branch beside him. This tree is the tallest out of all of them, and a couple of days ago, we attached a strip of metal and glass at the top. Even in the dreary daylight, it's enough to cast a reflection for Osrik to see at the wall.

Gideon makes the iron shake back and forth, and even from the ground, I can see the reflection that the metal and glass casts off. After a few more seconds, he stops, just as there's the slightest tremble that travels through the ground.

An inhale sucks in, and my eyes fly to Lu's.

The plan is working.

My adrenaline spikes just as a wicked grin spreads over Lu's face. Every single one of us tightens like a coil. Ready to spring.

Now, it's time to reveal ourselves and hope like hell we can draw the fae toward us.

"Roland?" I call, looking over at the brawny soldier with deep gray eyes.

"On it, Commander."

He unbuckles from the saddle and jumps off, landing in the snow shin-deep. Then he leans over, reaches for his shadow on the ground, and yanks it up. Like it's a physical entity instead of just blocked light.

We all watch as he shakes it out like a fucking blanket and then starts ripping it apart and tossing it into the air.

Varg picks at his teeth, watching the shadow fragments as they stretch and flatten. When Roland stops tearing it into pieces, they build and ripple, until he's made a good five dozen shadow figures that resemble his own silhouette. When he moves, they move.

"That's really fuckin' creepy, mate," Gideon tells him.

Roland smirks and looks over at me. "I think that'll do it."

"Alright," I say. "Then let's lure a fucking army."

Still on our timberwings, we leave the confines of the clustered iron and cross out of the tree line. Roland stays on the ground, moving his pitch-black shadow silhouettes, filling in the gaps, making it seem like there are way more of us than there actually are. His magic wouldn't work up close, but far away, it'll do the trick.

The instant we leave the cover of the trees, the fae spot us, their shouts clashing into the air. I can feel their gazes yanking away from Cliffhelm, brought here instead, to the line of twisting iron.

"Come to us, you fuckers," I mutter atop Kitt. She paws at the snow, talons scraping through the slush.

If this is going to work the way I've calculated it, we need their trajectory to shift toward us slightly.

Cutting my gaze toward Cliffhelm, I see Osrik has notched Fourth's flag into the wall, the black fabric snapping in the wind. It signals that the catapult is loaded and ready, but other than that, the wall looks empty while he and the others lie in wait.

I pull my blade from my sheath and lift it high into the air.

Then I let out a battle cry as loud as I can.

Everyone else joins in with me. Gideon knocks his fist against an iron tree, making that noise split the air too, and our timberwings open their mouths and roar.

We sound fierce. We sound threatening. We sound and look like we're more than six fucking Oreans and a trio of timberwings standing here.

And the fae…take the bait.

Their battle drums suddenly sound, and their front lines pivot.

Victory and adrenaline surge through my chest, and our shouts become even louder in answer. Their drums are caustic and unsettling, trying to gorge themselves with dissonant teeth, but we answer back.

"We stand our ground!"

"We stand our ground!"

"We stand our ground!"

Our own battle cry and the roars of our beasts make fresh bloodlust pump through our veins. The fae start to race toward us, as if they can't wait to crush us beneath their might.

Their front lines are so close now we can hear their shouts. See their faces. Feel the stomping of their running steps over an already reverberating ground. Their swords are raised, legs sprinting. They don't even bother with their magic. They want to cut us down by blood and blade.

Good .

They're getting louder, louder, louder.

Closer, closer, closer—

"Hold!" I order, watching them breach the distance, tracking the ground behind them… " Hold …"

Then, their army is right where I want them.

It's time.

I look over, voice raising. "Roland!" I shout.

Instantly, he jumps back onto Lu's timberwing and buckles himself in, his shadowed forms evaporating. As soon as he's secured to the saddle, I see the shift of snowy ground in the distance, and my heart gallops.

It's the sign of the second phase. Meaning Finley and Maston are doing exactly what we need them to do.

Elation fills me, pumping through my veins with a burst of energy.

I give the order. "Riders, lift! Archers, loose!"

Our timberwings launch into the air without hesitation, and as soon as we gain altitude above the iron trees, arrows shoot from our archers' bows.

Kitt aims straight for the rumbling clouds above us, making snow pelt my face. Behind me, I feel Tyde against my back, shooting off his arrows with wicked speed. The rest of our group is doing the same thing.

What can three timberwings do against an entire army?

Nothing.

Except make them look up .

So that with our distraction, they don't see how the snow has shifted. How the snowy dune they passed has flattened out. They've become so focused on us they don't notice how the top layer of snow has started to melt away.

Or that beneath it, the ground is actually riddled with lines.

Because while the fae may have the numbers, we have the land, and they have no way of knowing what I know.

I've spent a lot of time out here at this border…but so has my brother. Hundreds of trips over the years to this very spot.

To this piece of empty, frozen land where he's poured out all of his pent-up power.

He'd loose his deathly magic right here, partly to deter people from traveling near Deadwell, partly to protect our border, and partly just because he had to expel his magic.

Which means the rot he's dumped into the earth has accumulated. Decades' worth of rot amassed within Fifth's frozen soil.

The frigid cold and empty landscape has always helped hide it. And for the most part, the freeze has contained it.

Until now.

The fae can march upon us, but this is our ground. And our ground is exactly what Finley and Maston will exploit.

Both of them have very unique powers—it's why I picked them. Finley works in our armory as a blacksmith for a reason. His touch can melt metal straight through.

Or…heat an entire area of snow and ice that's solidified my brother's rot.

And Maston? He can cause the earth to shake with a single stomp of his foot.

The plan was simple. Wait for the fae to pass a certain point, and get Finley and Maston to that slope of snow. Because there, they'd have the cover to land at that dune, where one of the largest clusters of rotted veins lies in wait.

Right there, where Finley's magic could melt through the icy ground just enough to free the trapped poison beneath. And then, Maston could tremble the earth to aggravate it.

To set it free .

Because just like we practiced with the smallest strings of poison near Deadwell, you can rid the freeze and shake the rot loose.

Which is exactly what happens right now.

I flinch at the sound, my hands tightening on the reins. It's like a stampede. Like thousands of timberwings blaring out an ear-splitting growl.

Then, the ground cracks.

Beneath the melting snow, the land suddenly splits open right beneath the middle of the rushing army. Instantly, hundreds of them fall in. Screams competing with the rumbling noises of the ground.

The melted snow reveals the thick brown and black veins running through it, and now that the land has cracked, it starts a chain reaction. Like yanking up the roots of a tree, it spreads, rupturing and gaping, filling the air with its deafening break.

From the sky, I pull Kitt around to watch as the snow shatters, splitting apart the panicking army, fracturing open and swallowing them whole.

My stomach leaps with a thrill. It's working. My plan is actually fucking working .

I can't help but grin as triumph pumps through my chest. Behind me, even Tyde lets out a cheer, breaking his usual quiet. "It's working, Commander!"

Somewhere, I hear Gideon answer with another whoop and Lu laughing, the sound traveling through the frost.

We have a chance now, and I'm not going to waste it. The front lines of the army are rushing toward the iron trees, so we focus our timberwings on following them. Tyde looses more arrows, his sight magic helping him make killing shots.

The ground at the middle continues to rupture, the snow giving way. It starts collapsing in on itself, further and further out. The stinking soil of slush caving in, pulling down hundreds of fae in its wake.

They try to flee, but their running steps get swallowed. Their hands scrabble at the disintegrating edges, but they drop into the festering depths anyway.

And the ground isn't done splitting.

The stench of rot is now exposed to the air and lets off its putrid smell of death as it spreads more destruction.

"Out!" Tyde shouts, alerting me that he's out of his arrows and he needs to grab the extras kept in the side saddlebag.

I level Kitt out so he can shift safely and fill his supplies, and I take note of Lu flying ferociously. She's letting her timberwing glide low to the ground, snatching up running fae before knocking them into their fellow soldiers or tossing them into the crevices.

Gideon and Varg are flying in circles, focusing their arrows on a group trying to run in the direction of Cliffhelm. But a thundering crash makes me jerk, and I whip around to see that Osrik has launched the catapult. The hunk of stone smashes into the ground, striking the fae retreating on the other side of the rift. Within seconds, Osrik is reloading and letting loose again.

I turn, searching the sky for Finley and Maston's timberwing, but I can't see them. They should be well off the ground by now, picking off fae with us. They should've been back up on their timberwing the split second the ground started to give way.

Worry slams into me, my shoulders tightening as I keep looking through the spitting snowfall, counting the timberwings dipping in the air.

I still don't see them.

"Fuck," I say into the wind as snow drops down thicker, coating Kitt's feathers.

Gripping her reins, I pull her around and lower, searching the slope where the worst of the rot disintegrated the ground. My breath freezes and I feel the blood drain from my face when I see that the entire dune where they would've been is just…gone. There's more than a three-hundred-foot gouge where that spot used to be.

I aim Kitt in that direction anyway, determined to find them, even though my gut is telling me they were already swallowed up. That they never even made it to the back of their timberwing again.

That there's nothing left to rescue.

"Fuck," I grit out again, dread and anger tightening my throat.

Kitt takes us closer, but a volley of arrows suddenly comes through the air in a downpour. We try to dodge, but one strikes Tyde right in the arm. Blood sprays out of him as he cries out in pain, his back slamming against mine as he jerks in the saddle.

"I've been hit, Commander!"

My nerves triple, the tension in my body bunching my arms and making my pulse drum. Another arrow nearly slices through Kitt, her chest only saved by the thick chained armor worn at her breast. Tyde flinches from her jerky movement, and his bow and arrows fall from his grip.

"Hold on!" I call over my shoulder to him.

Sparing a quick look down, I spot the group of fae shooting at us. They're on our side of the split, a dozen of them aiming arrows at our timberwings. Roland and Gideon manage to strike two of them, but we're outnumbered.

When I start to redirect Kitt, my gaze catches on black chest plates and helmets. Black—not the drab color of the fae's rocky armor.

Maston and Finley?

I try to see, but the snow is falling down faster, and I'm too far away. "Tyde! My left flank!"

Tyde strains to get a look in that direction, and my heart beats wildly.

"It's them. Stranded. Their timberwing's down. They're under fire and vulnerable." He gives the report through grunted gasps, and I know his arm must be hurting like a son of a bitch.

But I can't leave them out there.

Setting my sights on the dots of black armor, I direct Kitt their way, and she flies as fast as she can. As we get closer, my men become clearer, and I see what Tyde already did. Their timberwing, dead on the sliver of broken land beside them. They're surrounded by cracks that are far too big to cross. They're sitting ducks, using their dead bird as cover, but the fae attacking them are relentless with arrows.

We race through the slapping snow, my attention pinned in place, but my stomach drops when I see one of the men go down with an arrow at his neck.

Maston.

"No!"

Finley tries to get to him, but he gets struck down too, making a furious roar tear from my throat. "Come on!" I yell to Kitt.

Suddenly, a ball of green light lobs toward us in a crackling streak. The blaze nearly slams into Kitt's neck, and she screeches, pulling up short, wings flapping wildly.

Tyde grunts in pain as he gets jostled again. There's another heave of light that nearly hits me, but Kitt drops at just the right time with a roar.

My timberwing then looks down at the ground, narrows her iridescent eyes, and dives .

"Kitt, no!"

I try to make her pull up, but she ignores my directions completely. She's locked in on her prey, too pissed to listen to me.

Another ball of green shoots at us, but she jerks to the side, avoiding it without stopping. Below us, the magical fae starts to throw another fistful, but when he realizes she's almost upon him, he shouts and tries to dive out of the way.

It doesn't work.

Mouth opening full of razor-sharp teeth, she swoops down, maw clamping shut over the fae's head and cutting off his scream. Kitt lifts in an arc, shaking the fae like a rag toy and decapitating him in the process. She tosses the rest of him away and flies back upward, circling, while the fae below us scatter.

Except for one archer that points his arrow right at her.

It happens slowly—like time is squeezed in a fist. I watch the arrow aim for her. I jerk on her reins, trying to move her, but her prey drive has overwhelmed her. She's listening to that instead of me.

She doesn't budge, doesn't move, even as I pull with all my might, the reins slicing into my palms. A bellow of warning tears from my mouth for her to turn back, but it's too late.

I'm too late.

The arrow hits with a sickening gush that makes my stomach drop, piercing right through her eye.

I shout out, my own voice clashing with Kitt's screech that abruptly cuts off. Her entire body goes slack as we begin to plummet, the ground rushing up at us while Tyde and I can do nothing but hold on.

"Brace!" I warn him, and then a second later, we hit.

We land hard, in a spray of snow and the cracking bones of my timberwing that also cracks something in me.

The fist around time lets go. Everything is so much faster and louder on the ground. The screams, the cracking earth, the catapults launching.

We're on a strip of narrow snow with gaping chasms on either side of us, and when I whip my head over, I see fae running at us, swords drawn.

"Tyde!"

Unbuckling myself as fast as possible, I tear myself free of the saddle and rip the sword from my scabbard as I leap off Kitt's back. Three fae soldiers are upon me in an instant, and I barely have time to meet the first's blade.

Raging grief over the death of my timberwing fuels my movements, and everything else empties from my thoughts except my need to kill.

Years of training and combat take over.

I block the fae soldier's sword attack, letting stone clang against metal. Another one of them tries to come at me from the left, but I drag my blade down enough to shove the first aside, and then kick him in the knee as hard as I fucking can.

He goes sprawling back, and I press in, swinging my sword at his neck and slicing through his throat before he's even able to get his feet steady. Spinning, I meet the other fae's sword again, circling him, pressing my advantage and blocking his strikes, remembering every single vulnerable part in their armor.

When he lifts his arms higher to block another one of my attacks, I yank the dagger from my waist and stab him in the exposed part of his underarm.

The second he falters, I grip my sword with both hands again and pierce him through his armor, at a weak spot right between two stones. He falls to the ground, and I pull my dagger out of him and turn, looking for the third fae. Fear flashes through me when I see he's moving toward Tyde.

Tyde, who still hasn't managed to unbuckle from the saddle, one arm useless with the arrow stabbed through it, holding his sword sloppily in the other.

With my hands flexing around my sword and dagger, I leap forward just as the fae manages to knock the weapon from Tyde's grip. With a cry, I hack into the fae's neck, teeth gritted, eyes full of fury.

Blood spews from the wound and splatters onto his helmet. He whirls around to look at me, but it's too late. I've landed the killing blow. His eyes go wide just before he falls to the ground, his blood staining the snow.

Slamming my sword and dagger back into their scabbards, I tug at the buckles and get Tyde off the saddle. He nearly tumbles down as soon as I release him, but I shove my shoulder under his good arm to prop him up. Then I notice the bloody wound at his side.

Fuck .

I whirl us around, realizing that just like Finley and Maston, I'm surrounded by gaps too wide to jump across with Tyde. Dread drenches my guts. The cracks on all sides of us are widening, the ground groaning and shaking, and my poor timberwing lies in a dead, broken heap while snow dumps down.

We're trapped.

"Leave. Me," Tyde coughs out, his body barely able to stay upright even with me propping him up.

"Fourth soldiers don't abandon each other," I snarl out, hating myself for not being able to get to Maston and Finley in time.

I lost them. I'm not going to lose Tyde too.

The ground trembles beneath me, nearly sending me crashing into Kitt. I look down in alarm, my hands shaking.

This piece of land could give way any second.

I underestimated how much rot would spread and break, and I never accounted for any of us being on the ground, because I knew that was a guaranteed way to fucking die.

A chunk of ground just ten feet away from us falls away, and panic freezes my limbs.

We're fucking stuck. I can't get Tyde across these gaps, and every time I turn around in another direction, the crevices widen, threatening to drop away completely.

Cold sweat breaks over my skin, my ribs freezing in place.

Suddenly, I hear a voice shout down. "Hey, fucker, you miss me?"

I'm stunned for a second, and then my head snaps up. I blink up in shock, brain trying to catch up to the fact that somehow, fucking Judd is on the back of his timberwing and grinning down at me.

His beast lands in front of us, and I waste no time rushing forward, dragging Tyde with me. I shove him onto the timberwing's back, my muscles straining with his weight. He's unconscious now, slumped over and bleeding way too fucking much.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask as I start fumbling with the straps, trying to get Tyde buckled in as fast as I can.

Judd tsks. "What, you thought you could just go and have a battle without me?" he replies with a scoff. "Fucking rude. You know how much I like battles. They're my favorite hobby, Commander."

Shaking my head in a daze of relief, I secure Tyde before I leap up, keeping my back to Judd so I can make sure Tyde doesn't slip out of the straps.

When I'm on, Judd takes us into the air, and then I see them. Dozens of timberwings.

"What…"

In the distance, on the other side of the rift where the rest of the fae army was feeding in from Fifth Kingdom, I can now see white ships gliding over the snow.

Red Raid ships.

"What the hell are the snow pirates doing here?"

"Oh that? Called in a favor," Judd shouts back at me with a grin in his voice. "Thought we could use the help."

"And the timberwings? Are those King Thold and his Elites?"

The beasts are everywhere, attacking the fae in fatal swoops and roaring mouths.

"Nope," Judd calls.

The answer comes in a thousand screams that suddenly rip through the air. The noise pierces my eardrums, making the fae below either stop to slam their hands over their ears or run in terror.

Then I see her on her timbering, flanked by her guards. Her black hair is littered with snow, and her body is clad in silver armor.

Queen Kaila.

She came to help. She actually came .

The magical sounds cut off, only to start blasting all around in different directions at different times, confusing the fae even more, making their horses bolt.

Ecstatic relief charges through me because…we're winning. We're fucking winning .

A groan from Tyde makes me check on him, and I know we need to get his wounds bound so that he stops losing blood. "We need to get him to Cliffhelm!" I shout.

Judd must hear me, because he yanks his timberwing around, and I brace Tyde and myself for the turn. But then Judd spits out a curse. When I wrench around in the saddle to look and see why, my stomach drops.

The fissuring ground has spread all the way to our outpost. Rifts lengthening, reaching further into Fourth's border.

Shit .

My plan to stop the fae by cracking the earth didn't just work—it's working too fucking well. I thought I'd measured things out, thought I'd had us plan accordingly. I calculated where to focus Finley and Maston's magic so that it was far enough away from Cliffhelm that it wouldn't spread there.

I was wrong.

With a ferocious crack of cliff and stone, Cliffhelm begins to fall. The guard towers give way beneath the crumbling snow, and the protective wall snaps in half as the ground snaps with it.

"Os and our men are still up there!" I yell.

A few of Kaila's soldiers try to swoop their timberwings down to get them, but it's too late. The ground rumbles and shatters with thundering chaos, and I have no choice but to look on with horror as Cliffhelm's wall collapses completely.