When Goslin and the others arrived below the west wall, he found, to his dismay, Tyrian soldiers milling about in confusion. Archers stood atop the wall, firing arrows at the unseen enemies below. What worried Goslin was the rhythmic, heavy poundings on the gate and the distressing way the thick wooden gate cracked with each attack. Goslin knew that the gate would not last long.

A row of stone houses lined the narrow passageway that led deeper into Tyralien. The houses created a natural chokepoint where the rhinn would be forced to funnel through. If the Tyrian archers took position on the rooftops, they would be able to rain arrows upon the enemy when the gate was toppled.

Then, the front soldiers would hold against any enemy soldiers that managed to escape the arrows. If they could do that, they might hold the enemy indefinitely and create a wall of corpses. The front lines would have nowhere to fall back to and would be forced forward until they were downed by Tyrian soldiers.

“Who is in charge here!” Goslin yelled, trying to make his voice carry over the incredible din. People yelled and screamed, weapons and armor clanked, and horses whinnied. No one answered his question, but he drew a few worried glances from the nearest troops. They were a nervous mess, and he saw more than one young man collapse in a fit of tears. Where was their superior officer?

A hand clutched Goslin’s shoulder and he swung back. Tomford pointed to the steps leading up to the wall. “There.”

The Vatner was right. A man stood shifting his weight from left to right and back again. Like the soldiers around him, he was young, and his gaze jumped from person to person as he shouted orders that were swallowed up in the chaos.

“We have to get to him!” Goslin shouted. “This won’t end well. Not like this!” Half the men on the ground would die before they could retreat and regroup. Panic would ensue as soon as the gate fell. Goslin could smell it in the air.

Goslin and his friends were crushed by the pressed bodies of the Tyrian soldiers as they tried to cross the narrow passageway. “Tom! Hart! Help me make a way to the officer!”

“We’ll have to go around the houses!” Tomford yelled. He started shoving soldiers out of the way to make a path. Hart shoved one soldier to the ground, where he quickly disappeared.

“Em!”

“Yeah?” He couldn’t see her amongst the masses of sweaty male bodies, but he heard her voice in his ear. She was close.

“Can you do something about the gate if it falls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please try,” Goslin said. “However much you can block off will help.”

Emeryn suddenly appeared before him and looked up into his eyes. “I’ll try.”

Someone shoved Goslin from behind and he fell toward Emeryn, grabbing her shoulders to steady himself. She glanced up in surprise. His gaze fell to her lips and flitted away. This wasn’t the time.

Goslin was about to pull away when Emeryn’s eyes hardened and she muttered a curse before clutching his tunic with her arm and yanked him down. She kissed him, hard, before softening when he wrapped his arms around her body. He felt her lips curve into a smile.

They both breathed a little harder when they separated.

“Aren’t you here to marry a princess?” she teased.

Despite the lightness in her tone, he caught hints of apprehension.

“No. I don’t think I will,” he said. “Not to a princess, but perhaps someone from a Fourth Circle? If she will have me.”

Emeryn broke out into a beatific smile and Goslin had the urge to kiss her again. So, he did.

He finally broke away and Tomford grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him loose. Goslin backed away reluctantly, keeping his eyes on Emeryn, her flushed face and shocked look, until the crowd around them swallowed her.

With a sigh, Goslin turned, slightly dazed, to follow after Hart as his wide childhood friend muscled his way deeper into the crowd.

What he’d just said came back to him. Eld’s burning feet, had he just proposed a marriage to Emeryn on the cusp of battle? Goslin’s cheeks burned as he hurried through the crowd.

Tomford and Hart displayed incredible strength and tenacity as they bowled soldiers over to help Goslin reach the officer. The crush of the crowd even made it difficult to breathe and Goslin knew once the gate fell, there would be a panic, a stampede. They needed to hurry.

Goslin rounded the corner onto the next street to find it blessedly clear. They ran down the street, dodging to maneuver around smaller groups of soldiers. Goslin passed injured men laying on the ground being treated by medics.

“What are they doing with injured so close to the wall?” Goslin asked Tomford as they hurried along.

“This whole thing is a shitshow,” Tomford growled. “I’m not sure how much help we can be here.”

“So much pain,” Hart said, as if speaking to himself.

Goslin sidestepped a soldier carrying a pike. They found officers of lower ranks and a bunch of messengers who were all shouting up to the young man by the stairs. All of them were ignored. Tomford elbowed his way through them and grunts of pain were followed by shouts of alarm and angry voices telling them to wait their turn.

Goslin ignored them all. They needed to get to the man in charge.

“Who are you? Get down from here!” the officer barked at Goslin when he approached. The young officer’s voice was squeaky, trembling slightly.

“I am Goslin of House Steerian, from Eldsprak. I have come to provide aid. What is going on here, man? Why are the troops packed tight down on the ground when they could be helping on the wall?”

The officer’s face shone. “Did you bring pyromancers from Eldsprak?”

“No! It’s just us,” Goslin said, indicating himself, Tomford, and Hart.

That revelation was met with a frown and a dismissive wave. “Then get away from me. We have our orders.”

“Which are?” Tomford asked. He loomed behind the much shorter young officer.

“Protect the gate and keep the devils out of Tyralien. The troops,” he made a sweeping gesture, “are here to make sure we keep our oath in protecting the city.”

“But they can’t fight packed together like that!” Goslin barked. “There’ll be panic!”

“Perhaps Eldsprak stock is not held to the same standard as Tyriu’s sons and daughters.”

Goslin pointed at the crowd. “Look! Soldiers are passing out from the lack of air! They’re being crushed before they’ve even seen a rhinn. And why aren’t you doing something to protect the gate?”

The young officer looked to where Goslin pointed and frowned. “The wall is not my problem. My stupid cousin is up there. Johan’s failure means we have to have a stronger defense down on the ground.”

Goslin shook his head in disgust. “Tom. Can you go up there and see if we can do anything to help?” Goslin asked.

Tomford started up the stairs, pushing up the young officer against the wall to pass by. The young man glared at Tomford’s retreating back.

Goslin grabbed the officer’s arm, forcing him to face him. “Now you’re going to listen to me.”

The officer shoved Goslin away and shouted. “I am in charge here! My commission, my say! Screw off before I have you arrested!”

Goslin steadied himself, then he punched the officer in the jaw. The young man crumpled to the ground in a heap. Everyone around him fell silent as Goslin turned to shout, even Hart looked a little surprised. “I have met with King Caelin and have been ordered to assist in the defense of this wall!”

He pointed to the group of officers. “You! Who are the junior officers here? I need four of you!” Four men stepped forward, all of them younger than him.

Goslin picked out three. “You three immediately pull men back in all directions. Construct barriers by any means necessary and get more archers up to the roofs. All of the roofs! Order the injured to be pulled further into town. There has to be a general hospital set up somewhere. Find out where!”

They yelled “Yes sir!” in unison and set off.

Goslin turned to the remaining one officer. “You’ll gather a fifth of the troops here, check in with squad leaders, and bring more men onto the wall. There should be bows up there for you to use. If not, go back down and get anything heavy you can get your hands on! Stall the invaders by any means possible!”

“Yes sir!”

No one questioned Goslin as he started receiving messages from the runners and used the junior officers to re-route troops to areas in dire need. The banging on the gate continued, but from his vantage point, he saw the Tyrian soldiers begin constructing blockades out of furniture, wagons, and anything else they could find.

Goslin scanned the crowd for Emeryn’s bright red hair, but she was lost in the crowd. He felt sure that she could take care of herself.

“What do you think, Hart? Can we do this?”

“There will be much killing,” Hart said. His chest rose excitedly with each breath.

“Why don’t you join Tom up at the wall, for now?” Goslin said. Tomford would need as much assistance as possible wrangling the archers.

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Hart disappeared up the stairs, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Goslin wondered about Hart’s bloodlust, which worried him on most occasions, but would be a boon today. They would need all of Hart’s strength and tenacity to survive the upcoming battle.

Goslin didn’t know if his strategy would be enough to keep the rhinn at bay until dark or even if the invaders would continue their attack throughout the night. Their numbers meant they could fight in shifts, but the rhinn’s lack in leadership would have given Tyralien the advantage in the long run if it wasn’t for the dire need of rations.

Goslin knew that Sarien’s mission into the belly of the city would decide the city’s fate. If Sarien and the others eliminated whatever creature was blocking the tunnels, it would be possible for Syster to sneak in rations. So many moving pieces and the fight was just beginning.

But first things first, they would have to secure this gate.

A yell came from above. “Goslin! Get up here, now!”

Soldiers hurried up the stairs beside Goslin, and he allowed himself to be swept up the stairwell in the flow of moving bodies.

Tomford stood by the battlements surrounded by soldiers firing bows straight down into the teeming masses of rhinn below. Arrows from the enemy bounced off the stone wall, but the occasional scream rang out across the long passageways.

The high winds whipped through Goslin’s hair. The stink of urine and loosened bowels wafted in the air. The men were understandably scared. He couldn’t blame them. Goslin thought he’d be terrified of taking part in fighting on a scale such as this, but he found himself strangely calm.

He stepped up to join Tomford. “What’s happening? Where is Hart?” The soldiers coming up behind him picked up bows and arrows to join their comrades in firing down at the invaders.

Tomford waved for him to lean over the battlements. “I don’t know where he disappeared off too. But, look, the rhinn have used a single battering ram up until now, but they’re bringing more of them. They’ll be able to fit three of them side by side. The gate won’t last long!”

“There’s so many of them,” Goslin breathed. The rhinn spread out, dotting the fields, but Goslin couldn’t discern any order to them. Several stood firing arrows up at the wall, though, with the high winds, most fell short. The battering rams moved closer, the rhinn soldiers carrying a makeshift roof to protect them from arrow fire.

Goslin turned to Tomford. “Have you been able to discover who’s in charge up here?”

Tomford patted the back of an archer next to him. “This man.”

“You’re the officer in command?” Goslin asked. “Johan, was it?”

Johan shot another arrow and turned, wild-eyed. “Yeah, I mean. I guess. But I’m not an officer. Not officially.” Goslin noted that Johan looked to be about their age, but it was obvious he was inexperienced with battle. “I’m an archer, you see? Someone just told me I was in charge and then left me here. I’ve just been telling the men to shoot at whatever moved below.”

“Do you mind if I give you some suggestions?” Goslin asked.

The archer grabbed the front of Goslin’s tunic. “Yes please!”

“This is the main gate. There should be hidden doors that lead to the outside. Sally gates. Do you know where they are?”

“Down at the base of the wall.” He pointed to the right and to the left.

Goslin nodded. “Good. We’ll meet the enemy outside the gate and attack. When we do, use your archers to provide us protection while we destroy the battering rams. Do you understand?”

Johan nodded jerkily. “Yes, sir!”

“Good,” Goslin said, slapping the young archer on the back. “We still have hours of daylight left, so we can’t wait for dark, but at least you won’t have trouble seeing us when we emerge. Who holds the key to the sally port?”

“I don’t know,” Johan said, shrugging. “I don’t think it’s locked. People use it as a shortcut to bypass the main gate all the time.”

“Are you serious?” Tomford asked. “It’s been down there, unlocked, all this time?”

“Yeah, I think so. But it’s hidden, you see?”

“Spread my orders along the wall. Tom, you coming?”

Tomford grinned. “Of course!”

“Great. Head down and I’ll join you in a moment, just have to find Hart in this mess.”

The west wall curved outward with small stone towers every few paces. Each of them allowed one to enter it and move through it to the other side through tunnels. Goslin found Hart at the other end of the closest tunnel. He sat hunched over a fallen soldier with his back to Goslin. The soldier in front of him screamed.

“What are you doing?” Goslin asked. He felt a cold dread rise. He already knew the answer. Looking back, he’d known for quite some time, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself.

The screams stopped and Hart stood, turning. His hands were stained with blood, as was his face. He swallowed a chunk of flesh.

“Princeling,” the kozimuz purred. “Time to end our little game.”

Goslin drew his sword. “Where is Hart?”

“I am Hart, can’t you see?” It pointed to itself, swaying back and forth. “His memories are mine, the transformation complete. See me and tremble, little prince.”

“Tell me where he is!” Goslin shouted. Other defenders glanced nervously at them, but Goslin waved them away. He would not have their deaths on his conscience.

“Such interesting creatures,” it said. “Delicious memories. I wonder what yours will taste like.”

“You ate him?”

A cackling sound erupted from its throat. Not a human sound, but still a laugh. “Nothing so base. I feed like all creatures must, but form gives memories. Your friend lies rotting where you destroyed my way home. Be glad I spared the girl.”

Tears welled in Goslin’s eyes and he charged with a scream, slashing at the creature’s arm. The metal didn’t even break through the skin and Hart smiled.

“Why are you doing this?” Up close, the smell of blood almost overpowered his senses.

It sniffed the air between them. “You smell like excrement. Have you fallen in the pit again, little child? How will your father take it this time?”

A wave of nausea struck Goslin as his skin began to itch. The air turned thick with the stench of human feces, drowning out the smell of blood. He didn’t know if it was the monster’s doing, or the memory of that one long day rising up in his mind. He couldn’t stop the memories from forcing their way to the surface. His father’s disappointed look and the mirth in his brothers’ faces when Goslin was admonished, rather than they punished. The humiliation and hurt. The shame for being weak and not fighting back.

Goslin violently shook his head and pushed the bile back down his throat. “Enough! Tell me why you desecrate my friend’s memory!”

It giggled. “To learn, what else? Now I will shed this bore of a man to become you. As a prince, I will have power over you weak humans. And,” Hart leered, “I will get to sample the redheaded woman you so cherish.”

“Never!” Goslin screamed and rammed his sword home right in the kozimuz’ belly.

Hart stood still as Goslin’s sword slid uselessly across its torso. It didn’t even bother to counter the attack. Why would it, when steel couldn’t hurt the kozimuz?

It swiped lazily at Goslin’s sword arm. Pain bloomed and Goslin’s sword fell from his bloodied hand.

Hart raised its hand. Long sharp claws protruded from the ends of each of its fingers. “This world is full of marvels. Pity you won’t be here to bear witness to its subjugation.”

It struck out again with blinding speed. Goslin hastily raised his shield to block the strike. The sound of bone crunching against metal reached his ears, but the incredible force he expected didn’t come. Instead, the kozimuz’s arm was flung back hard enough that its shoulder crunched and snapped before falling to its side, rendered useless.

The unbridled shock in the creature’s eyes was perhaps the most satisfying thing Goslin had ever seen, and with a silent thanks to Sarien for creating the shield, Goslin swung the edge of it in an arc straight into Hart’s chest. It crunched inward with incredible force, flinging the creature to the stone ground.

“I’m sorry Hart!” Goslin shouted, following down to deliver a blow with the flat of the shield against its leg. “Sorry I let this thing take you!”

The kozimuz shrieked and flailed with its one leg and arm, snapping with its razor-teethed maw. It caught Goslin’s injured arm in its mouth and bit down hard enough to hit bone.

Goslin screamed in pain but did not let up in his attack. This was his only chance to kill the monster once and for all. If it escaped, it could take on any form it wished. Disguise itself as any soldier, any Tyrian. He would never find it again.

“Die!” he screamed, striking with the shield again and again, mangling the monster’s body until its flesh stopped trying to reform itself. The kozimuz released Goslin’s arm, but instead of biting again or screaming, the head changed in both shape and size.

Emeryn looked up at him with her beautiful eyes and expressive face. The fiery red hair was steaked with blood. “Gos!” she yelled. “It’s me! Don’t do this, please!”

Goslin drove the shield into the creature’s face, smashing it to a pulp. He grunted and punched down again and again, crunching the bits that remained of its skull into the stone pathway. Tears rolled down his face, mingling with black ichor that covered him from head to foot. In that moment, he could not muster the energy to care about being covered in filth.

The kozimuz lay in bits and pieces, nothing keeping the strands of flesh together. Just a pool of ichor. It did not stir. Finally, it could haunt them no more.

All Goslin wanted was to mourn his dead friend, but this was not the time. It would have to wait. Goslin stood, picked up and sheathed his sword, then kicked a part of the skull from the wall. With that, he hurried down the stairs. Stumbling from exhaustion and the pain in his arm.

Tomford seemed to understand instantly when he saw Goslin covered in the black ichor. He saw the Vatner’s face crumble slightly before he reached out and healed Goslin’s injured arm. Hart was gone. He had been gone for days and Goslin hadn’t known, not really. When this was over, he promised himself that he would return to Primie Woods and find Hart. Give him the proper burial his friend deserved.

The cold rush jolted him out of his spiraling thoughts and rejuvenated him. That was welcomed, for the day was not over yet.

It took some time gathering a force of volunteers to attack against the rhinn’s siege equipment. The sally port was not unlocked, it turned out, but could be opened with a mechanism that didn’t require a key.

The stink of sour sweat and unwashed bodies filled the staging room where Goslin waited with his half of the troops. He peered around at the twenty something soldiers who’d joined him. They were grinning nervously and speaking in hushed whispers, as if they were preparing for a surprise party. Then again, this wasn’t all that different from one, except it would end in death. Hopefully not theirs.

Goslin felt alone, despite the packed room. He wondered how Sarien and the others were doing and wished Emeryn was by his side. Goslin was doing the right thing with this attack. He knew that. But

The thought that he might not return to Emeryn made his hands shake. The words that he would never be able to tell her. He regretted losing Hart, his friend, but to lose Emeryn…

Goslin tried to calm his breathing. It wouldn’t do to let the troops see his anxiety. A leader should be a rock in the foundation of his soldiers’ courage.

With as much authority and calm as he could muster, Goslin turned from the door to face the men. “It’s time. Today we save Tyralien.”

Tomford had taken the rest of the soldiers to the other side of the gate. The plan was to attack from both sides simultaneously. Kill or disable the rhinn operating the battering rams and then set them on fire before retreating.

“Let’s go.”

Goslin opened the door and rushed through. There was no yelling or battle-cries as he charged. On the other side, he could see Tomford closing in, running at top speed. They came in silent and fell upon the invaders with deadly intent.

Not until Goslin rammed his sword into a rhinn man in the front did he yell, “For Tyralien!”

The few rhinn soldiers escorting the battering rams were quickly put to the sword. Tomford leapt into a group of rhinn, striking like a whirlwind of fists, elbows, and knees. One of Goslin’s soldiers took a spear through the chest and went down screaming. Another fell to an arrow, and a third slipped in the mud. A loud snap sounded from the defender’s broken knee as he went down with a cry.

Chaos ensued.

Goslin struck again and again in a frenzy, pushing to defeat as many enemies as possible so they could retreat before the rhinn army fell upon them. Arrows rained down from the wall, flying over their heads to strike at the troops who’d been quickest to react. A rhinn soldier carrying a mace struck for Goslin’s head, but he wasn’t fast enough. Goslin danced back and then thrust forward. The tip of his sword bit into the soldier’s throat. When Goslin pulled away, blood sprayed across his entire front. He wiped at his face with his dirtied sleeve, the stench of the kozimuz’s ichor filling his nose.

They cheered as a soldier poured oil over the battering ram. Someone tossed a lit torch and the ram went up in flames. That was all they had time for. Too many enemies approached. Their time was up.

“Retreat!” Goslin yelled. The ram they’d lit up was right in the middle of the road. It would block any rhinn from approaching with another ram for the time being. An arrow burrowed deep into the muddy ground right next to Goslin, and he almost lost his footing stepping away from it.

They ran back to their door while Tomford brought his own troops back the other way. The enemies were closing quickly, and fewer Tyrian soldiers returned than Goslin would have liked.

Goslin smiled. With the rams disposed of, the gate would stand. They pushed ahead for safety and threw themselves through the opening with the rhinn army only a few strides behind. Goslin slipped on the bare stone floor and went down in a heap as the door slammed shut behind him.

The rhinn banged on the door, but the steel reinforced wood would not be so easily penetrated. The side door itself was too inaccessible for any kind of siege equipment to be used. They were safe.

Four out of fifteen men returned with Goslin. He hadn’t seen what happened to most of those who were left behind in the mud, but he knew they would stay there. Despite the losses, the mission had been a success.

“Well done, men,” he said, panting as he struggled to his feet. “Rest a moment. I’ll send in reinforcements in case they manage to get the door open.”

Goslin stepped back into the city on tired legs, only to hear a cry from up on the wall.

“Pyromancers!”