***

There was a method to Frances’s apparent madness. Thorgoth’s artillery was continuing to bombard the breach to keep the defenders pinned, and that meant there was a deadly hail of iron shot scything through the air.

Which meant that the sky was not safe for the dragons.

As Frances plummeted down towards the rubble-strewn breach in the wall, she screamed out a rapid succession of notes, pulling dirt and rubble rapidly underneath her. A blue glow surrounded her as she hit the impromptu slide she’d made and skidded down.

With cannonballs still pounding the ground around her she raised her ring hand again to renew her shield and ran back again for the wall itself. While it didn’t provide protection against the dragons, the crumbling foundations would shield her from the artillery.

A clump of baked clay slammed into the ground in front of her, spraying dirt into her face. Wiping it off, Frances took in her new surroundings.

Despite the thundering cannonballs, she could see musketeers and other allied soldiers hunkering in the trenches. However, to Frances’s dismay, the bombardment had smashed several of the bunkers built into the ancient houses. No cannon could be moved into position the cover the breach either, and even now she could see burning remnants from the houses scorched by dragon fire. The enemy had prepared their breach well and Frances knew that not far behind her were the Alavari army.

Glancing at the sky, Frances saw the dragons had broken off. They were looking for better targets. This wasn’t good, but it also would be a terrible idea to try to fix their attention on her and the practically unmanned breach.

She needed help. Running with her shield up, Frances charged toward the trenches.

A cannonball slammed into the magic barrier. Despite being braced against that possibility, Frances felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Almost losing her footing, she staggered, continuing to sing to renew her shield.

She staggered into the trench, almost falling facefirst into it. A soldier in Lapanterian yellow caught her and she managed to press herself against the side.

“Milady? Stormcaller?” stammered the human woman.

Grabbing her flask and pouring a good amount of drink into her parched throat, Frances forced a smile. “I’ll be fine. What’s your name?” she asked, noting the relatively young age of the soldiers. She spied a few older humans but the unit looked rather green.

“Sergeant Jadia. 10th Grenadier regiment. Lapanterian Legion”

“Nice to meet you. Standing orders?” Frances asked.

“Last we got was to hold here and that reinforcements are on the way. Are you it?” Jadia asked.

“I’m afraid not. Cannons and muskets?”

Jadia grimaced. “No cannon ma’am. Got destroyed in the same barrage that killed our major.”

“Oh dear,” said Frances in an almost mild tone. “Grenades?”

“A few but—”

“Get them ready. When they show up at the breach, start tossing. Then after I hit them with a spell, we’ll charge.”

“Ma’am, are you crazy? We’re a regiment against their main attack!”

“You’re correct Jadia, but if they get through that breach they’re taking the Second Terrace. I’ll call for reinforcements, but we’re all that stands between them and a full on breach. Do you understand?”

The woman took a deep breath and shook her head, sending black, curly hair flying. Then she gave a single firm nod. “Yes ma’am.”

“Cover me for a moment. You have my orders,” said Frances. Pulling out her hand mirror, she noted Jadia barking down new orders down the line as cannonballs continued to fall around them. “Mom?”

“Frances! Where are you?” The tinge of panic in her mother’s voice was quite scary, but Frances forced her voice level.

“At trenches behind the breach in the wall. It looks bad. We have no cannon. Do we have any friendly formations heading there?” she asked.

She could practically hear her mother’s grimace. “The dragons are torching the roads and as you know, Thorgoth has directed artillery to suppress our routes into the city. We do have troops moving there to reinforce but it doesn’t look good. We’re pulling back the artillery to the Third Terrace.”

“A gradual withdrawal?” Frances asked.

“Yes.” Someone yelled something to her mother, pulling Edana from the mirror for a moment. “We need to hold that breach for at least three hours to withdraw.”

Frances chanced a glance over the trench parapet and ducked back down to dodge spray from another skipping cannonball. “Understood. Can you get me at least four regiments?”

“Already on it. Captain Aloudin and one of the Lightning Battalion’s regiments are heading to your location already.” A woman’s voice boomed over Edana’s shoulder and her mother nodded. “Thanks! Lady Alice Trollhammer is also leading a group to your position.”

Frances blinked. “Huh, I feel like I haven’t heard from Lady Alice for some time.”

“Well, she’s basically been going where we haven’t been. You know how it is. She’ll have a company of knights.”

“That’ll help. Thanks mom.”

“Stay safe.”

“I will. Love you.” Snapping the mirror shut, she turned to Jadia. “You hear that?”

“Yes. This is going to be rough isn’t it?” the sergeant asked.

Frances nodded. It was hardly the time to lie and frankly there was no disguising how bad the situation was. “I’ll soften them up as best as I can before they get here. Just do your best. It’s all we can do after all.”

Just then the barrage stopped. In the sudden quiet only punctuated by the wingflaps of dragons and distantly bellowed orders, Frances could still hear one constant sound. As she took it in, she felt a cold dread creeping up her back.

“Prepare to fire! Ready grenades!” She rose to her feet, funnelling magic to her armour. Gaze fixed on the currently empty breach, she raised Ivy’s Sting. The thunder of the footsteps of Thorgoth’s army continued to rise.

“Hold!” Frances could feel her teeth grind together as the helmets of the enemy Alavari rose above the ground. Moving as fast as they could, they clambered onto the level ground. Chancing a glance to her left, she saw the musketeers and pikemen of the 10th Grenadiers. She could see them stiffen, their eyes so wide she could see the whites in them.

Whipping her gaze back to the breach, she could see the soldiers start to flood through the opening. A centaur mage with a staff and an orc mage with a wand were just behind the first ranks. Frances narrowed her eyes, raised her wand and screamed out the notes to her song.

***

Edana was watching Frances’s face vanish from the mirror when Spinera dragged Morgan into the Third Terrace’s gatehouse.

“Wait, mom’s alive. Where is she?” Morgan stammered, running over to Edana. Spinera flashed the Grandmaster a smile before running back out.

“At the breach in the Second Terrace—No you don’t!” Edana seized Morgan’s shoulder with an iron grip. The harpy-troll tried to pry her fingers free, but found herself more than a little surprised at the strength of Edana’s grip.

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“Let me go!” Morgan exclaimed.

“You are staying here, Morgan!” Edana hissed.

Hattie grabbed onto Morgan’s wand hand. “Just listen to her, Morgan. I know you want to help Frances, but Edana knows what she’s doing.”

“Don’t you want to go too? Morgan asked, stopping suddenly. She met Edana’s gaze but only found piercing green eyes staring back at her.

“Of course I want to go but like your mother trusts me, I have to trust her.” Edana pursed her lips. “Hattie?”

The half-troll straightened. “Yes?”

“I’m assigning you to the breach. Help Frances as best as you can,” said Edana.

“Wait, why her?” Morgan demanded.

“Because she’s older than you, and has gone into combat before. I trust that she’ll survive the breach. I don’t know if you will, Morgan.”

Edana’s words were directed to Morgan, but her eyes were fixed on Hattie. The half-troll blinked and found herself nodding. She knew why.

“Don’t worry, Master Edana. I will come back with Frances.” Hattie squeezed her friend’s arm. “See you.”

Then without a glance back, the half-troll walked through the doors and towards the battle.

She had to get to the breach as quickly as possible. The gatehouse tower on the Third Terrace was the largest of the three terraces. It and the wall it guarded was twice the height of the Second Terrace’s wall.

Hattie could also see that the gateway was not going to be a good way for her to get to her mentor. Troops were funnelling in and out, whilst heavier pieces of artillery mounted in the Second Terrace were also being dragged up the wall ramp toward the Third Terrace.

So she ran along the Third Terrace’s wall. The dragons were continuing to circle high above. Mages were firing up at them from the Third Terrace, including the Otherworlder pair Nicole and Jim along with Master Spinera. Once in a while an arrow also arched toward the dragons from Anriel, who was hoisting a massive crossbow that a burly orc was helping her to reload.

“Hattie? Where are you going?” called a familiar voice.

“I’m heading to the breach. Frances is there,” said Hattie as John and Diana ran up to her.

“Mind if we tag along?” Diana asked, the harpy flashing her a wry smile.

Hattie frowned. “Don’t you have your orders?”

John shrugged nonchalantly. “Technically we’re supposed to be in reserve but I don’t think they’ll mind us lending a hand at the breach. How are you going to get there?”

“Was going to jump off the wall. Unless you have any other suggestions?”

The harpy grinned. “Always knew you were a bit crazy.”

“Why, you never asked,” said Hattie in an airy voice. The trio broke into a run.

The Third Terrace’s wall was the thickest of the three. It allowed the wall to mount full-sized cannons, which the defenders were taking advantage of to pound the Alavari. Yet even with that extra space, the battlement felt cramped. Mages both human and Alavari, dressed in the yellow, red, or light blue robes fired spells from behind the battlements. Teams of cannon crews fired and reloaded their guns in a coordinated and frantic dance.

It forced Hattie to dodge around them, sometimes even leaping out of the way of running soldiers. Muttering automatic “pardon mes” she threaded a needle through the chaos.

She soon arrived where she needed to be, the section of wall directly across from the breach.

It was unmistakable where Frances had to be. Despite the distance, flashes of blue lightning arched around the gap in the wall. However, between them and the breach were a lot of houses and trenches, a slide down a wall that made Hattie sick to look down, and three dragons circling above.

The dragons seemed to be spraying their flames in random directions at first glance, but as Hattie narrowed her eyes at the flames on the ground, she quickly realized they were targeting the network of trenches and bunkers that allowed safe passage towards the breach. It was why the mages and musketeers on the walls were doing their best to try to shoot at the dragon.

“Stick to the plan?” Hattie asked.

John nodded. Diana huffed. Hattie shook her arms and began walking to the rampart. She clambered on top of it, holding Silver Star in both hands.

“Hey what are you doing?” yelled an orc gunner.

“Going. Don’t worry about me,” said Hattie. She grit her teeth. Silver Star?

With you. Quite a crazy plan you have there, but I think it’ll work. What are you waiting for?

Hattie looked down at the ground. It was a far shorter drop than the balcony atop of Athelda-Aoun’s crevasse. And yet it looked underneath her, an unending swathe of packed earth and baked brick.

Not so long ago she’d contemplated jumping to end her life. The thought returned, though, not to fulfil that idea but in contemplation.

How things had changed. How she had changed and grown. She was jumping now, but to live.

The half-troll held her breath and leapt. In her mind, she held a clear picture of what she wanted to do. She’d spent hours with Morgan, watching her friend’s wings and how they moved. How each primary feather flexed and fluttered in the breeze and even the downy feathers that helped to the down feathers that helped insulate her wings against heat loss. On occasion, she’d even helped Morgan groom those precious feathers.

Words falling from Hattie’s lips, dark-blue wings sprouted from her back, spreading out magnificently into the sky. They grabbed ahold of the wind whipping by her face, slowing her down and converting her drop into a controlled dive.

“Nice wings!” Diana called out. She was holding onto John with her claws, carrying him aloft. He was making himself lighter with some kind of spell, muttering to himself.

“Thanks! We’re not landing by the way. We’re going to get as far as we can before dropping to the ground!” Hattie cried out.

“Got it! On your mark!”

Hattie turned her eyes back to the rapidly approaching ground. Muttering a Word of Power, she funnelled more magic to her wings, making slight adjustments.

If you don’t mind, I’m helping with the wings, Silver Star whispered.

“Thank you.” Hattie took a breath. “Level out!” Her wings expanding to their full span, she pulled back, the feathers scooping the air and levelling her flight. She could see John and Diana behind her doing the same, albeit, they were a bit slower on account of the centaur’s bulk creating more resistance.

As they zipped over the rooftops and burning trenches, the battle at the breach loomed ahead of her eyes. There were far more of Thorgoth’s Alavari than she expected. The purple banners and yellow uniforms of the Lapanterian soldiers holding the breach were being joined by red-bannered Erisdalians. They were fighting, but Hattie could see squads of purple-uniformed Alavari starting to spread into the city.

All human resistance was coalescing around two points.

One was what had been a cannon battery but now served as almost an impromptu command centre. Underneath flying Erisalian banners, an armoured Erisdalian knight barked out orders. She punctuated said orders with the warhammer she carried and sometimes used that warhammer to brain an Alavari soldier that leaked through.

The other was a singular figure standing near a trench’s parapet, surrounded by a corona of lightning. Bolts of magic from harpy mages overhead along with fireballs from two goblin mages hit human mage’s shield, causing bright blue flashes before a bolt of lightning lashed out to smash one of the harpies out of the sky. All around Frances, soldiers brawled, firing muskets at point blank range, lashing out with pikes and swords.

Hattie’s boots hit the ground some distance away. Running as fast as she could, she leapt over a trench and let loose a fire bolt at a group of Alavari trying to get onto her mentor’s flank. The fireball engulfed one of the Alavari and scattered the others.

Over her head, John and Diana were casting their own spells, targeting the other harpy mage. Hattie turned her attention to the two goblin mages that were sniping at Frances from behind some rubble near the collapsed breach. Seeing some of the clay debris from said breach was still loose, Hattie seized it with her magic and yanked it down.

The rubble buried one goblin, and forced the other one to scurry back down the breach, where more soldiers continued to pour out.

“Frances!” Hattie cried out.

“Get your shield up!” Frances exclaimed. Hattie managed to put up a magic barrier just in time for several musketballs to almost shatter it. Muttering to herself, she focused on her shield and stepped in beside Frances, firing at whatever she could see.

“Thanks for coming!” Frances gasped.

“What’s the plan?” Hattie replied, hitting an armoured officer with a bolt that knocked him into the dirt and dented his helmet.

Her teacher didn’t reply, which was expected. Suddenly, Frances pulled Hattie back. Too late did she see a spray of sickening silver magic hit her shield and melt through. However, Frances’s yank had meant only a few droplets melted holes into her robe rather than over her face.

Chased by more mage bolts, the pair leapt back into the trench, Frances gestured for John and Diana, who were firing their own spells to join her.

“We need to hold as long as we can. John, Diana, go help Lady Alice,” said Frances, pointing at the Erisdalian knight Hattie had seen earlier.

“Yes ma’am,” said John.

“Hattie, stay with me, we need to take that mage out,” said Frances. Her eyes widened. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thanks Frances.” Turning her attention back to the house, Hattie crept up to the trench’s parapet, narrowing her eyes at the mage who’d shot at them. It looked to be a very slight looking orc accompanied by an ogre. The pair had clambered to the roof of a half-destroyed house and were casting again at their friendly soldiers. “Two mages. I’ll suppress them.”

Raising Silver Star, Hattie stepped up onto the trench’s firing step and seized rubble and cannonballs from around them. They rose, coloured in a dark-blue glow, before pelting the two mages. That forced them to keep their heads down and behind the cover of the shattered house’s wall.

Until a fireball that Frances tossed over the ruins slammed into the building, torching it.

“Thanks. Just a little longer—” Frances suddenly froze, and the color drained from her face. Hattie turned, following her mentor’s gaze and instinctively took a step back.

The white hand on a purple field or a purple hand or a white field were standard symbols for the Alavari flags that were attacking them. However, the banners that approached them out of the breach were grey. They also featured a purple hammer topped with a bone white crown.

Before he’d left for the trip that got him captured by Thorgoth, Prince Timur had done a brief lecture on Alavari heraldry.

Grey was the Alavari royal color and when paired with a purple hammer, represented House Greyhammer. No flag however, would dare carry the symbol of a bone white crown except for one flag.

As the new troops marched out of the breach, their heavy burnished half-plate armour shone in the firelight. They carried flintlock pistols on their belts, or carbines on their backs. In their hands were longswords, halberds or poleaxes. Grey-purple surcoats marked these troops apart, only lightly covered in dust.

“Thorgoth,” Hattie whispered.

Frances grimaced. “Or at least his Royal Guard. Cover me, I need to make a call—”

“Stormcaller, is that you? I’m coming for your head. Wait a moment will you?” bellowed the king’s voice.

“Oh crap,” Frances whispered.

“Go, hurry!” Hattie hissed as the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Alavaria launched themselves into the fray.