Aldric ran to the top of the western wall as another large boulder shrieked overhead. Several of the mages lining the wall put forth their hands, invisible shields materialising to intercept the boulders. The massive rocks hit the barriers with deafening booms, shattering on impact, thousands of stone fragments spraying violently across the battlements. Aldric threw himself to the floor behind the wall as shrapnel flew, stone showering the walls and crashing into the streets of the city.

  Daveran was at his side, despondency on his face. “We cannot win this.”

  Aldric said nothing, getting to his feet, searching the stretch of wall for his generals. He spotted them, dressed in full battle armour like he was, hands on the hilts of their swords as they argued with each other. He could see the resigned look on Thessa’s face, the grim defiance on Ibonek’s.

  Below them, outside the walls, the surviving two and a half thousand Rhianian soldiers waited for their instructions. Cavalry on the flanks, infantry in the middle with thirty or so mages scattered among them, along with the rest of the Legion – the ranked soldiers.

  Across the fields outside, ten thousand of the enemy were advancing. Six trebuchets rumbled along, equally spaced apart across the enemy army, flanked on either side by large ballistae. Each of the siege weapons were separated from each other so they didn’t risk being attacked together. If one was to go down, the rest would still function. The army stopped two hundred metres short of the walls. The trebuchets dug in and lobbed their huge stone boulders into the air, followed by the sound of a dozen tree-sized bolts, fired from their larger ballistae.

  The mages put up their shields, enormous boulders splintering into fragments. Below them, the giant bolts struck large metal barriers with a clang like bells ringing, the bolts crumpling under the force of their own momentum. The cavalry horses snorted, stamping their feet as their riders kept them in check.

  Twenty metres to either side of Aldric, the city guard fired bolts from their own ballistae mounted along the wall, smaller than the ones the Bizaynians fielded. Aldric kept his eyes on them, watching them disintegrate against an invisible shield just short of the enemy ranks.

  It was the same elsewhere around the city. Ten thousand Bizaynian troops to the north and south, attacking the river entries. Another ten thousand each at two points in between. He could see them in the distance, to the left and right of him. Fifty thousand troops in total. They had appeared suddenly, tens of portals being created within range of the city, several large enough for their siege machines.

  The bombardment had begun before Cedric had even had time to organise his troops. Aldren only had fifteen thousand defenders in Carsonne. Cedric had split them across the four points of attack, the bulk defending the river to north and south. Protecting the entry points was the priority. If the river fell, Carsonne would follow. Cedric joined the southern forces, leaving Clarissa to direct the northern. The other two were being commanded by his High Nobles with Aldric’s own force holding the western gates.

  Already, his mages were slowing. Holes appeared in the battlements where they were either too slow to defend or they were managing their mana. The enemy’s plan was obvious. Wear down the mages, then send in their ranked soldiers. It had worked for them so often before. Crush the opposition with sheer force.

  As Aldric reached the two generals, the trebuchets fired again, followed by more of the massive bolts. The mages put up their shields. Guards along the wall barked orders. The ballistae fired a counter salvo.

  “…the soldiers within the walls,” Ibonek said.

  “We can’t stop them from breaching. Better to meet them on the battlefield,” Thessa replied, eyes glancing up as Aldric approached.

  “We should think about evacuating,” Ibonek shot back.

  “And go where?” Aldric asked. Ibonek spun, unaware he was behind him.

  A deafening blast sounded from within the city itself. Aldric whirled around, glancing beyond the battlements, looking across the city. Clouds of dust rose near the castle. His eyes narrowed. Had they breached the city walls? Somewhere he couldn’t see. Or maybe they’d broken past the northern river gates? He couldn’t worry about that. Clarissa was there.

  “We need to think about saving our people. Their numbers are overwhelming,” Ibonek said. “And that’s before we account for the ranked.”

  “You don’t have another plan?” Aldric replied.

  “I don’t even think that friend of yours could help, though he conveniently went missing just when the going got tough. We aren’t prepared for this.”

  “We could try to flank them,” Thessa said. “Send out a few sorties. Try to reduce the numbers.”

  “They have too many,” Ibonek shook his head as he looked Aldric in the eye. “And you know this comes down to numbers. They have five times as many ranked as we do. And that’s before you count the Starforged down there.”

  Aldric looked at Thessa. She met his eyes but Aldric could tell she felt the same. There was even the hint of a tear in her eyes. Aldric looked over the wall as the enemy continued advancing. The options weren’t good. Do nothing and be crushed. Fight and be crushed. He’d been here before. When Bizayn first attacked Rhian, they had slowly taken city by city, but the more they took, the stronger they became, until it became hopeless to resist. And whenever cities fell, thousands of Rhianians were slaughtered and many of the ones that survived were enslaved.

  Another volley of projectiles whistled through the air. Thunderous booms sounded above their heads as the large boulders shattered, stone flying past them as they ducked, chipping the wall.

  He knew they had little hope but…he knew Elliott and his companions had left for the market that morning and hadn’t returned. If they were out there…If they knew what was happening. Elliott needed Rhian. As long as he was here. He wanted the area around Tarnov and the Temple. Aldric was confident Elliott would come to defend Carsonne or failing that, he would help them take it back, along with Rhian.

  He needed to take option three. Buy his people time.

  “I want you to send messengers to Cedric in the south. Tell him we need to evacuate. We can’t hold out against this. Get him to give you portal mages, then take our soldiers and go.”

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  “Wait,” Thessa said. “Where will you be?”

  “I’m going to go out there and ask for single combat. I can buy some time. Enough to organise and evacuate.”

  “Single combat?!” Ibonek spat. “If one of their Starforged steps up, you wouldn’t last a minute.”

  “Do you have any other ideas? I can at least stall for a bit. They’ll hold to the rules of war. They’ll come to meet me.”

  Ibonek stared intensely at Aldric. “Let me go then.”

  “Hah. And make you the hero? You and Thessa will take our army and keep Rhian alive. Make sure they sing songs about me.”

  “What Rhian if the king is dead?”

  “Aldric,” Thessa cut in. “He’s right. You’d need a miracle to survive. Let one of us go.”

  “Maybe I can buy time for a miracle, then.”

  He didn’t wait for the response, running towards the guard tower and heading down the stairs. Daveran followed closely behind. At the base of the tower, Aldric shouted out orders for his horse. The gates were open already, several men standing to either side, ready to close it at a moment’s notice.

  “Bring our horses as well!” Ibonek bellowed, Thessa beside him. “We’re coming with you.”

  “Thessa. You stay here. Leave with the soldiers.”

  “I can’t do that,” his aunt pushed back.

  “Yes, you can,” Aldric said. “I name you Queen of Rhian in my absence. You will remain with the soldiers. You will rebuild our nation when the time is right.”

  Thessa looked taken aback. Around them, the soldiers had heard. There were enough witnesses. Thessa was tight-lipped, but kneeled and bowed her head. Then she rose, and spoke with a group of the soldiers, sending them to the north and south with messages, another running towards the cavalry.

  The horses were readied within minutes, Aldric and the other two mounted as three flag bearers joined them, one carrying the colours of Rhian, the other two with the white flags for a parley.

  “When Elliott comes,” Aldric said to Thessa, “tell him what happened here. He will help you. Keep to my deal with him and he’ll secure the nation for you.”

  She nodded though he could tell she wasn’t thrilled with the idea. She’d need to be pragmatic though. Elliott might claim he wanted it peacefully, but Aldric knew he would just as easily take it by force if he needed to. In some way, Aldric needed him to, if for no other reason than to end his uncle’s damn empire.

  He gently tapped the sides of his horse with his heels and it pulled away, the others following. The six of them rode past the army, Ibonek on his right, Daveran on his left and the three flag bearers ahead as another volley of projectiles flew above them. Aldric was in no particular hurry. In fact, he kept his horse to a deliberate pace. Not too slow. Not too fast. Measured. He needed to buy enough time for his men to flee. He wondered if Cedric would do the same or was he planning to go down with his city.

  Their flags fluttered in the breeze as they rode in silence across the field. The enemy bombardment had ceased so at least it looked like they would honour the old ways. He had thought they would. Bizayn was a lot of things, but they still honoured traditions of war. Up ahead, he could see their front ranks stirring.

  Aldric glanced back, then brought his horse to a halt roughly halfway between the armies and waited. Ibonek and Daveran were at his side, the standard bearers beyond raising the flags high. Aldric dismounted, holding his horse’s reins as he waited. Daveran and Ibonek followed his lead.

  Four people stepped out in front of the Bizaynian forces and a moment later, appeared a few metres ahead of Aldric’s party. Wardens. Most likely the Starforged that had created the large portals for the siege engines.

  Their leader was a woman wearing a a crisp uniform, red blazer above a red short skirt with thigh-high black boots. Beneath a red cap, she had long purple hair that fell below her waist. She glared at Aldric with ice-blue eyes, her hand gripping the hilt of one of her two swords. He found it difficult not to look away.

  Behind her were two guys and another woman. Both men were lanky and wiry, one in white trousers, white shirt and a white hooded tunic. That one had several scars across one cheek and a bald head. The other wore a light green robe that stretched to his ankles and had short-cropped black hair. He looked younger than the rest – almost as young as Aldric.

  The other woman towered above all of them, with broad shoulders and a thick neck. Dark brown hair hung to her shoulders and she wore navy blue mail armour and held spiked maces in both hands.

  “And who might you be?” the leader asked.

  “General Ibonek,” the man answered before Aldric could.

  The purple-haired woman narrowed her eyes at him. “We both know you’re not the one in charge here. Answer again and it will be the last thing you do.”

  She turned to Aldric. “Now, who are you?”

  “King Aldric, House of Rhian.”

  The woman smiled. “I am Marene. Commander of the Warden’s Fourth Legion. It’s good of you to meet us. Here I was thinking you would probably have run from the field. Now you’ve saved us the hassle of finding you.”

  “What do you mean?” Aldric asked. His spine tingled as goosebumps prickled his arms.

  “We’re here for you, and Cedric.” Marene smiled. There was no warmth in it. Just the cold certainty of a killer who had found their target.

  Aldric carefully moved his hand towards his sword hilt, trying his best to not make it obvious.

  “Someone betrayed us?” His eyes flickered to Ibonek, but there was anger in his eyes. He didn’t know.

  “Betrayed is a strong word. I think they preferred to thrive under Bizayn than survive under you. If you allow us to take your head, we’ll let the rest of your men leave. There’s no need for them to die. And your soldiers near the wall. Aldren is ours anyway.”

  “Like hell you will,” Ibonek spat, sword drawn. “We go down fighting.”

  Marene cocked her head at Aldric, an arm held out with her palm facing him. “It’s your choice.”

  Aldric couldn’t help but frown as he wondered who it had been. He knew in the back of his mind that someone from Aldren or Rhian had to be working with Bizayn. The swift arrival of their forces meant mages had to have been in place already. And the timing of the attack, when Elliott wasn’t here and the sheer numbers. Even the four Starforged Wardens. He suspected there may be more. Bizayn wouldn’t send their elite forces unless it was needed.

  “Ibonek. Put it down. Take the others and leave.”

  “Sire. We–”

  “Put it down, Ibonek,” Aldric said, more firmly this time. “You can’t achieve anything here. No need for everyone to die. Get on your horse and go.”

  Aldric moved to Daveran and whispered in his ear, in a secret language only known to them.

  “Tell Elliott about the traitors. Find out who it was.”

  Daveran nodded, moving back to his horse and getting into the saddle. Aldric stared at him, a small part of him wondering. No. It couldn’t be Daveran. He’d been by Aldric’s side for three years. Suffered with him. A bittersweet smile crossed Aldric’s lips. He recalled those nights that he and Daveran spoke of hope, of how Rhian would rise again under Aldric’s leadership.

  Those had been good dreams.

  “Let them leave first. Then do what you must.” He was resigned to it. He’d always known the likely outcome would always be him being killed. Whether on the battlefield. Whether by execution. Whether by a poisoned drink before bed. His uncle couldn’t let him live. He grabbed his gauntlets and pulled them free, tossing them to the side as he watched his men ride back towards the city walls.

  Movement flickered in the corner of his eye. Near the walls. It was hard to tell from so far out, almost a hundred metres away but he tried to focus on the area where he’d seen a blur. He was certain of it. He scanned the city walls.

  There.

  A black spot. A shadow. Moving along the side of the wall flickering in and out of his vision.

  “What is that?” one of the Wardens behind him said. The scarred man in the white clothes.

  “You seeing things again, Alek?” the other woman said.

  Aldric shuffled a little away from them, slowly enough to not be noticed.

  “You can’t see it,” Alek said.

  “Yeah, there,” the green-robed man said.

  “They weren’t meant to be here,” Marene spoke, but there was an excitement in her voice.

  The black speck was on the walls above the Rhianian soldiers when it leapt into the air, streaking across the sky accompanied by thunderous booms.

  His ears rung from the sound of a pounding thump to his right, the ground shaking beneath him as clouds of dust and dirt flew into the air.

  When it cleared, Isabel stepped forwards in her maid dress, her axe strapped to her back.

  She curtsied to Aldric.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Your Majesty. Elliott will be here soon.”

  Aldric smiled, relief flooding through him so strongly that he feared he would collapse. “Am I glad to see you,” he said.

  Isabel smiled back, then turned to Marene.

  “Time to take out the trash.”