Chapter 46

O ur archers launched their leads into the cliff side. Hundreds of ropes dangled from the rock as they grasped hold and began their climb. The plan, as discussed, was to sneak up the cliff side, gather our forces, then launch our attack on the fortress gates.

My muscles burned as I climbed my lead. Arcturas rose from the cliff, seated on a rickety wooden platform. The wind ripped through us, tearing strands of hair loose from my bun. An occasional whip of a lead broken from stone whooshed passed me, sending the soldier attached to it plunging into the black depths. I tried not to think of the men as they fell, how terrified they must be, how unready for death they were.

Rain washed the glistening sweat from my brow as we continued our ascent. Aryx would have hated this. The climb up the southern mountain was nothing compared to this height. I smiled, thinking of the half-god clinging to the rock, his powerful legs quivering, frozen in fear. As courageous and stoic as he was, he had his weaknesses. Vibrations rippled down my spine as the golden blade strapped to my back came alive with his memory. The fear of an impending battle faded away, knowing a remnant of him would be by my side.

My palms were raw with rope burn when I finally reached the top. Throwing my leg over the ledge and rolling across the grass, I caught my breath. Only a few hundred soldiers, hunched over and exhausted from the climb, remained. This definitely wouldn't be enough.

"My Queen, we're ready," Balakros whispered beside me.

I nodded, leading my men toward the white fortress gate in the distance. Arcturas strutted low beside me, her ears on alert for any warning of a threat. There were none. Not a single breath of life around us. Lytos caught my eye from across the field, shaking his head. Suspicion wrinkled at the corners of his mouth.

"Something's not right here," I whispered, crouching behind the large stone carving of the Northern Elder.

"I know. It's too quiet. Too easy," Balakros said, scanning the fortress in front of us. I raised my fist for my men to halt. They too hid low in the grass, awaiting my signal.

Everyone stopped breathing.

Everyone was silent.

Only the soft chirp of crickets and a steady downpour of rain filled the seaside air.

Metal glinted in the moonlight from the keep's turrets. Shit.

"Shields!" I barked behind me. It was too late. The sky lit up with thousands of silver arrows. The clamoring of armor behind me filled the air as most of them struck true.

"GO! NOW!" I roared, lunging forward. We sprinted across the field, dodging wave after wave of arrows. I unsheathed the sword, gripping its hilt as I trudged through the mud. Arcturas weaved around man after man until we arrived at the gate. Stained in dirt, drenched to the core, my men and I flung ourselves at the keep, the adrenaline of battle pumping through our bloodstreams.

"Get the ram ready!" I barked, shielding myself from another wave of arrows.

Time seemed to stand still as soldiers, impaled with arrows, seeped blood into the rain soaked grass. Moving in slow motion, the crowd divided to make way for the heavy, iron ram. I searched through the chaos for Lytos. Muddy faces littered the grass, their eyes burning with gritty barbarity.

This was war.

Bloody, deadly, war.

It stole the air from my lungs. Bodies of men sunk into mud, forever lost to the ones they loved. Blood trickled from wounds, staining the trampled ground permanently red. Lytos dove past an arrow, just barely escaping its deadly point. The silver arrowhead sliced his tricep as he rolled through the muck. With crusted, brown armor, he sprinted forward, roaring with the rage of a lion toward its prey.

Blood pumped through my veins at a million miles a minute. The ram retracted with the grunts of its men. Strained muscles flexed beneath their dirt speckled arms as they struggled to swing it backward.

"Push!" Balakros commanded, sending the ram forward. The heavy stone gates creaked in protest against the force. An arrow shot through the air, piercing the front soldier clean through his skull.

We were lambs brought to slaughter. Another wave of death pelted down on us as the ram continued to pound on the door.

I needed to buy them some time.

Taking a breath, I called for the tingles. I'm in control. The demon scratched against the walls in my mind. I'm in control. She growled in protest, refusing to follow my orders. I sheathed my blade and planted my boots in the mud. Grounding me. Keeping me from the shadows. The tingles spread up my legs, into my chest, out to the tips of my fingers. Arcturas growled beside me, her snout wrinkled into a savage snarl. Sinking her claws into the soft muck, she howled at the sky.

Night spread across the horizon once more, blanketing us in the stealth of darkness. The demon slammed against the bars of her cage, furious that I was siphoning her power. I risked losing to her by dancing so close to the shadows, but it was necessary. With the lack of light, the sentries were shooting blind. Arrows continued to dart towards us, but without their visible target, they were easy to dodge.

Loose strands of hair floated around me as sheer, primordial power pulsed through my veins. The sword across my back hummed, its blade beaming like the glorious rays of an early morning sun. I closed my eyes, picturing Aryx beside me, keeping me in the present.

Filling my lungs with the misty seaside air, I reached out my hands. Beams of magenta shot into the sky. The turrets burst into flames as creatures were launched from their posts, hurtling to the ground below. Their sinewy skin, devoured in flames, lit up the night as they fell to their deaths.

"Get those gates down. NOW!" I commanded, continuing to shoot at the walls.

As the fortress burned, the ram splintered through and the heavy stone doors broke from their hinges. As the gate opened, a swarm of deep green, lizard-like monsters slithered from within. They leapt at my men, crushing their skulls beneath rows of razor teeth. One lunged for me and I rolled across the ground, plunging my sword into its chest behind me. Another jumped forward, but before it could land, Arcturas dove over me, ripping the skin from its neck.

Thick, unwavering darkness muffled the cries of men and monsters alike. Bodies flung around me, some void of limbs, some smothered in bloody grime. Harsh reality set in. We had broken through, but we'd suffered too much loss to press on against this second wave.

Arcturas pounced from one lizard to another, decapitating them with one clean rip of her fangs. Lytos was beside her, the full skill of his swordsmanship on display. Dodging attacks with nearly inhuman speed, he parried and struck with determined, graceful agility. There wasn't a single misstep in his footwork. He outstretched the sword in his hand as if it were the natural extension of his arm. He was glorious. A noble warrior through and through.

"My Queen! Look out!" Balakros cried.

A lizard fell from above, pinning my chest to the ground. It snapped at my neck with immeasurable strength. I flailed, trying to free myself from the incredible weight. My back sunk into the ground, mud oozing between the crevices of my armor, filling my mouth with vile, bloodied dirt. It forced its way down my throat, blocking my airway as I struggled to break free. The creature dug its claws further into my breastplate, snapping with its rows of jagged teeth.

Suddenly, it froze, impaled by a gleaming silver sword. It fell to the ground, twitching as life severed from its body.

A hand reached out from the darkness. "Lady Elpis, are you okay?"

I took it, feeling Lytos's powerful grasp pull me to my feet. The battle carried on around us, the cries of dying men deafening in the night.

"Y-yes. Thank you," I said, pulling my blade from the muck.

"They've taken down the gate. We have to keep moving!" he cried, plunging his weapon into the heart of an oncoming attacker.

I ducked an oncoming blow, throwing myself at the creature. Its throat slit open against my sword's edge. Sprinting through the horde, we dodged and hacked our way to the crippled gate. Like an unstoppable tsunami, creatures poured out in tumultuous waves.

"There's too many of them!" Balakros cried as he plunged his short sword into a sinewy, green chest.

Retracting the blade, the creature fell to the ground, its body squelching in the muck.

"We have to keep pushing forward!" I called, lunging for the gates.

What men remained pressed on, fighting with tireless determination. Carving a path through the mob of enemies, we slipped through the gates.

Somehow, we'd stormed the keep.

The small success gave us newfound energy as the battle continued. The victory cries were short-lived, however. My soldiers froze in their boots, greeted by the monstrosity that awaited us within the keep's walls .