When morning came, Hump took up his position in the fifth regiment, led by Count Daston. If all went to plan today, it would be them that breached the walls of the citadel—or Hell’s Pocket, as the soldiers had taken to calling it. Soldiers moved with purpose as they readied for the battle that would soon come. The hammering of metal was a constant in the camp as blacksmiths mended armour and sharpened weapons.
Much had changed in the encampment during Hump’s training. What was once a sprawling sea of tents had transformed into a formidable fortification. Supply tents had grown as reinforcements arrived from Alveron, bringing with them enough supplies and equipment for a prolonged siege. Wooden palisades ringed the side of the encampment that faced the citadel, enhanced with stone walls at the key defensive points so as to deny the possibility of sabotage.
Trebuchets were fixed upon the fortifications, their long arms unleashing a constant barrage at the magical barrier that protected the citadel. Deep cracks coated its surface, leaking a constant stream of essence.
Hump watched with anticipation for when it finally broke. His party stood with him, the Blackthorne company ready nearby, as well as the Sheercliff contingent led by Marcela. On either side of them, other companies watched with the same anticipation, fully armed and ready for war. Boulders rained down upon Hell’s Pocket, cracking against its barrier like thunder. Bit by bit, it weakened.
“This is the one,” Celaine said quietly.
Hump’s eyes went to the uneven boulder as it turned over in the sky, flying in a perfect arc toward the barrier. It trailed down and struck true.
There was no forgetting the sound of the great barrier as it broke. It was as if the fabric of the world had splintered into a thousand pieces. The air itself shook with the force; a tremor that reverberated through the ground beneath Hump’s feet, sending shockwaves through his bones. The chaotic energy of the dungeon was unleashed in a tempest of raw energy that crackled as it blasted past them.
Hump shielded his eyes and stared at the scene, unable to look away. Witnessing magic as powerful as the barrier was one thing, but seeing it finally break apart so violently was awe-inspiring. Five days it had been bombarded by enchanted ammunition. Five days it had stood unbroken. Now though… the sky above the citadel was transformed into a tapestry of falling stars, descending upon the buildings below in a glittering rain.
Even in this hellish world, Hump couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer spectacle. Revel in the power that tore through the air. Though he was young, he had experienced magic that was more powerful than many wizards would see in a lifetime. Each encounter gripped him with the same wonder he’d felt when he witnessed a god pillar descend from the sky for the first time. A dream of wielding such might himself. Demonic magic was foreign, and while he knew it was wrong, Hump was fascinated by it. The thought of studying it, of wielding such formidable power, consumed his mind even when he should be focusing on the battle to come.
“Amazing,” he whispered.
“What?” Bud asked.
Hump glanced at his friend, feeling a little guilty. If Bud knew what was going through his head, the knight would have been horrified.
“It’s almost time,” Hump said.
Bud nodded, turning back to the citadel, his eyes burning with resolve. There was no fear on his face. No hesitation. “Whatever terrible tricks the demons have left, it will not save them now.”
“Oh, don’t say that!” Dylan said, his expression pained.
Bud gave him a confused look then glanced at Emilia. “What did I say?”
She chuckled and stepped up beside him. “It is bad luck to say such things before a battle. You’ll put a jinx on us.”
“Really, Bud, I thought you would have learned such things by now,” Dylan said. “Best go have a word with General Korteg and see if we can push this back until tomorrow.”
Bud’s face became even more confused, and Hump couldn’t help but laugh.
Bud furrowed his brow as his eyes went to Hump, his lips forming a tight smile. “You’re having me on.”
“It’s true,” Hump said. “Jinxes are serious business. Such things cannot be undone by my magic.”
Dylan’s seriousness broke into laughter.
“Uh-huh,” Bud said. “Well, my mistake then.”
“Oh, stop it you two,” Emilia said.
“People are looking,” Celaine said quietly. “The three of you should really be more focused at a time like this.”
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“Really!” Emilia snapped. “This is hardly a good look for the company.”
“The three of us?” Bud said affronted. “I—”
Hump shook his head in disappointment. “Terrible, Bud. Truly. We have a battle to win. Nisha’s ashamed of you too.”
The little dragon perked up at the mention of her name, her bright purple eyes moving between them in excitement.
Soon, the order came from Count Daston for them to move to assemble with the rest of the army. They passed through the front facing gate of the fortification, stepping out onto the fields before Hell’s Pocket. The trebuchet bombardment continued, fires spreading throughout the citadel as they struck the inner buildings.
Alveron’s army poured out steadily from the gates, forming quiet lines before the palisades, the sound of marching feet, steel, and shouting officers adding to the din. Hump drew a nervous breath. Outside, Hell’s Pocket seemed far nearer. Without the wall between him and it, Hump felt exposed. He could see the small forms of demons upon the walls and moving within the streets of the citadel.
Nishari pressed against Hump’s leg, feeling his nervousness. She was as tall as his waist now, like a small horse, only with deadly claws and fire breath.
“Whatever happens, stay close to me,” he told her.
Play. He caught a glimpse of the demons from her mind—the smell of smoke and feeling of the oily essence of the dungeon on her scales. A low rumbling growl escaped her, vibrating against Hump’s leg, excitement and fear racing through her at once.
It seemed he’d been worried for her for nothing.
While Bud, Emilia, and Dylan went to speak with Henrietta and the Blackthorne company nearby, Hump greeted Lady Fenris and the other Chosen of Osidium as they joined the ranks of Count Daston. He glanced at the other Chosen that had arrived with the Crystal Sorcerer—led by Owen and what remained of his party. The giant man greeted Hump fondly, his giant hammer resting on his shoulder. Marian, Theodore, and Lani were with him, along with many Chosen that Hump did not know the faces of, but he could tell they were powerful. Most wore the robes of a Sorcerer, many bearing the sigils of Ordana, Seres, and Sumi, the three gods most known for their destructive capabilities. While Hump and the other earth users would try and keep the wall at bay, they were the ones that would create the breach.
Still more poured from the gates: siege ladders carried by two dozen men, wooden barriers to protect against enemy projectiles, the shrines to the gods. All of them gathered to where General Korteg would lead the assault against the centre wall—a distraction, while Count Daston led the true attack to the left. Once the breach was made, the other regiments would swing around and join them through it.
Soon, Bud and the others returned.
“What do you make of it?” Emilia whispered to Hump. “Are you confident?”
Hump clutched the Earthheart Opal around his neck, feeling his connection to the earth. He had slept little last night in preparation for this day, but nonetheless, he felt strong. His essence flowed easily, his mind was clear, and most importantly of all, he felt confident.
“We will make the breach,” Hump assured her. “You just keep the enemy off us until then.”
She smiled. “My blade shall dance through the ranks of the enemy, don’t you worry about that.”
“I do wish they’d hurry up a bit though,” Dylan muttered. “Can you make anything out on the walls, Celaine?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “They seem afraid, but it’s hard to tell with demons. Their ranks aren’t as organised as they were during the last assault.”
“So either they’re baiting us in, or their strength is not what we thought,” Hump said.
“Or the demons are demonstrating the cowardice we know them for,” Bud said. “We will soon find out.”
The knight nodded, and Hump followed his gaze to see General Korteg stride out in front of the army. The essence of Byzantius cloaking him in a red aura that drew Hump’s eye away from the city. His heart pounded in his chest, spurred on by the sensation of the war god’s essence. The sensation of beating drums rolled, stirred from somewhere deep within Hump.
The general’s armour gleamed red in his essence, its intricate designs reflecting the light. He held his helmet under his arm, revealing his greying hair tied up into a tight, disciplined bun. His gaze roamed over the fires of the citadel, yet his head was held high, his posture exuding confidence.
With deliberate grace, Korteg turned his back on the burning city and faced his army. His eyes blazed with the war god’s essence like the very demons they would now face. Hump thought the soldiers stood a little taller as the general’s eyes passed over them. He found that he did the same.
“Warriors of the gods,” General Korteg roared, his voice a thunderous echo, resonating with essence. “My brothers and sisters. Today, we stand at the precipice of destiny, poised to strike at the heart of this foul world. A world that seeks to engulf all we hold dear if we do not stem its tide here and now. A world that will spread despair to our sacred lands: our homes, our kin, and our children.
“We march to war beneath the banners of our gods. They watch us now! Honour and the eternal halls of heaven await our valour. Victory or death. But let not the shadow of fear darken your hearts, for those that fall in glory shall be embraced in the loving arms of the gods.”
Drawing a mighty war horn from his belt, General Korteg unleashed a mighty blast that seemed to shake the very world. His essence flared, and the aura of Byzantius expanded, transforming the world around them. A colossal cube of power enveloped the army and the field before them in the divine might of the war god. Deep red fissures cracked the air like shards of glass. Strength and courage pulsed through Hump, pushing back the vestiges of fear. Around him, the eyes of everyone were now red, blazing with Byzantius’ power.
Korteg raised his massive sword into the air, appearing as a titan among men. “To hell. To war. To glory. For the gods!”
All along the line, more horns sounded, like the angry bellows of a great beast. The army erupted with shouts and cheers—the fury of Alveron unleashed. With one hand, General Korteg placed his helmet upon his head. His red eyes gleamed through the helm’s visor.
“For Alveron,” he declared, the words resounding in the ears of every soldier like a sacred oath.
Then the general turned toward the citadel, sword outstretched at his side, and he marched. In that moment, he resembled a paladin out of legend—a figure of unyielding strength. It crossed Hump’s mind that he might be witnessing the birth of a new legend. After all, when was the last time an eighth circle Chosen led the march to war?