The horn blared again.
Low. Thunderous. Final.
The sound rolled across the broken valley, echoing off stone and fog alike, a death knell that seemed to set the very air trembling.
Kaelen’s gut tightened. This was it.
Malrik had let them choke on flood and fear. Now came the blade.
They appeared first as shadows in the mist. Figures advancing in ranks, steady and silent, masks gleaming pale in the half-light. The rhythm of boots on sodden earth grew louder, the weight of it thundering through Kaelen’s chest.
“Shields!” Roran’s roar cracked like a whip. “Wall! Gods damn you, wall!”
The mercenaries stumbled into formation, ragged and thin but resolute. Mud sucked at their boots, water dragged at their legs, but they locked shields as best they could.
Kaelen shoved the boy back into li
