Page 92 of A War of Three Kings

The enemy catapults cease firing the moment their line of soldiers passes them. I have become so used to the crack of stones hitting the fortress and the ground constantly shaking beneath my feet that this stillness is eerie.It’s like the whole world holds its breath, waiting for the hammer to hit.

The enemy suddenly charge into the killing space before the fortress, screaming as their lines turn chaotic. Teams of soldiers race ahead, holding great wooden bridges above them tospan the furrow. Volleys of arrows erupt from our battlements, peppering down into those bridges and the army beyond.

“Fire the bolts! Aim for the bridges!” I roar, raising my arm. “Make it rain stones on the main army! Activate the trees!”

Our collective magic rises. Bolts pierce right through the bridges, shattering as they penetrate and destroying the teams of soldiers beneath them, but more simply pick up the bridges and carry them spans closer to the furrow, until they die too. Fire crystals errupt from catapults on the main wall, incinerating the bridges, but the enemy’s army keeps advancing, bringing more and more with them.

I raise my hands in the air, drawing up my earth magic, combining it with Silvan’s and Klara’s and plunging it into the rock beneath us. I tap into each vein of organic matter deep within it, taking control of its substance and pulling, carving, separating it, until boulders roll down from the mountainside.

After a sheer drop three stories high, those heavy weights splatter the warriors they fall upon, rolling with momentum through the enemy force and leaving long smears of red in their wake.

The sight is disgusting.

It raises bile in my throat and threatens to make me double over and retch off the side of the battlement, but I don’t have time for that. We are just getting started. More of the enemy are pushing through the channels we carved out of their ranks moments ago.They are like swarming ants.

I breathe hard, gripping Klara’s hand on one side and Silvan’s on the other to improve our connection, then cleave more boulders from the mountainside. They boom loudly as they strike, and screams rear up in their wake.

Sweat drips down my face and stings my eyes, and I remove a slick hand from Silvan’s to wipe it away. That is when I realizethe enemy have taken the boulders and are heaving them toward the furrow, to create a place to cross.

“For fuck’s sake,” Silvan snarls at my side as he makes the same realization.

I take in a long breath to steady the anger rolling through me, prickled with the intensity of fear. Keira is on that wall. If they scale it, they will find their way to her. I cannot let that happen.

Both Silvan and Klara look at me.

“You know what to do,” I growl. “The same thing we did at the Battle of the Frozen Peaks in the Winter Wars.”

“These bastards are going to give me a damned headache,” Klara grumbles.

“Be glad if that is all you get. They are about to be pulverized.” Silvan spits over the rail.

I ignore them, selecting a huge boulder closest to the ravine, within the mass of the writhing army. It is a horror to witness. Not a single bridge has made it there yet, and the front line is being toppled over into the void as the army behind pushes forward. Skewered bodies are visible on the tallest of the spikes within.

No doubt Lord Desmond thinks this is another way to bridge the gap of the furrow: by filling it with the bodies of peasants.

I grind my teeth. I cannot think of them as people.

I send my awareness forth through every living thing in the soil, running beneath all those marching feet. How easy it would be to pick them off one at a time by thrusting sharp roots through their bodies, but that would be like trying to clear a beach of sand by plucking it away grain by grain.

I reach a boulder and surge my raw power into it. The entire mass shatters into shards. In the same heartbeat, I unleash the force of a tornado right in its center, thrusting those projectiles in a rapid arc. I am vaguely aware of each piece of shrapnelcutting through flesh and splattering blood. I jump to the next boulder, then the next, exploding them with the same force.

My consciousness snaps back to my body when I am done. I am left shaking and gasping in deep lungfuls of air. My vision blackens in and out as the world spins around me. Glancing down at my hands, I notice my knuckles are white from the death grip I have on the wall. It is the only thing holding me up.

“We need to take a break.”

Klara’s voice seems distant. She speaks truth, but how can we stop when an enemy force is storming us? When people I care about will fight for their lives if that mass makes it up our walls?

“Aldrin, did you hear me? You will become drained of magic.”

I stumble backward from the wall and stare at her, struggling to comprehend what she is saying. All around us, the repetitivethwackof the bolt launchers sounds. I take a long swig from a canteen of water, then pass it to her and she drinks. Strands of lilac hair are plastered to her forehead with sweat.

The position of the sun catches my eye. It has moved significantly since the battle broke out. What felt like minutes has been hours.

I turn toward the druid who stands in the furthest corner of this platform, away from the action, watching everything with wide eyes. “Send word to the healer. We need magical replenishment.”

The woman rushes away, and soon a team of Mothers of Magic and druids arrive to transfer their raw power into me.

“Aldrin!” Drake calls, staring out over the battlement. “Gods! Aldrin. Look at this.”

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