Garrick Blaze didn't know how. His hands were numb around his axe. His Firemane Knights were no longer a thousand. Maybe three hundred. Maybe less. But they were still between the breach and the inner keep. Maric Oakenshield bled from a dozen cuts and still stood. Ryker Blackwood fought with a broken spear and a knife in his other hand.
The breach was a slaughterhouse. The stone was slick. The air reeked of iron and rot. Valen Ashencrow's army pressed in, step by step, and Ravenna's undead were closing from the south like a tide that didn't care how many bodies it lost.
Then the northern horns answered.
Orion Nightwalker's Shadow Knights hit Valen's flank like a storm cutting through fog. No war cries. No banners snapping until they were already in the lines. Just grey cloaks and blades that drank light. Valen's mercenaries broke and ran.
From the northeast, Ember's Fury came like hell unchained.
Keiren Vexar didn't march. He burned.
He rode at the center of his host, and fire rolled ahead of him in waves. Trees split. Siege towers caught. Men who touched his flame became ash mid-step. His magic was wild, old, hot enough to make Garrick's throat dry from the rampart. For a moment Garrick understood the stories: Duke Harlen's fire was a king's flame. Keiren's was
of the same nature .
Across the field, Ravenna Nightshade's eyes narrowed.
"Predictable huh ," she said to Lilith. "I thought he'd retreat to Erenhall. Replenish. The Nightwalker always plays the long game."
Her voice hadn't finished before Orion's answer cut across the valley, carried on the wind and the clash of steel.
"Predictable?" Orion Nightwalker reined his shadow-black horse atop the ridge, grey cloak snapping, sword pointing straight at Ravenna and Lilith. "You thought me predictable, Ravenna Nightshade, first of my house? I am Orion Nightwalker. I do not ride for replenishment. I ride for your head. I did not get the name Nightwalker for nothing. The most cruel knight of Ardentia is here for your head and tonight, i will give it to King Kael and Duke Harlen myself."
Lilith moved before the words finished. She slid down the ridge like smoke, her own guard pulling toward Keiren's fire. Shadow met flame. The two forces collided with a sound like thunder breaking glass.
Valen Ashencrow had watched everything from the rear, unseen, directing. Now he stopped watching. The legions had never expected aid from the north. The net was torn. The plan was unraveling.
A black steed broke from the ranks.
Valen Ashencrow rode at last.
Garrick saw him. No banner. No herald. Just a tall figure in dark plate, face hidden under a crow's helm, lance lowered. He rode straight for Redkeep Pass, straight for the breach where Garrick stood.Garrick didn't think.
He threw his axe.
It spun end over end, a red blur in the firelight, and took Valen's steed in the throat. The black beast dropped with a scream that shook the valley. Valen hit the ground hard, rolled, came up with a lance in his hand, cursing Garrick with every breath he had. His voice was cold, sharp, furious enough to carry over the clash of steel.
"Garrick Blaze!" he spat. "You'll rot for that!"
Garrick drew his own lance from a fallen knight and braced it. The Firemane formed up behind him, ragged but unbroken.
Behind them, Orion's Shadow Knights were cutting through the rear. To their left, Keiren's fire was eating Lilith's undead. To their right, Cyrin's Dark Guard slammed into Valen's reserve.
The siege had become a battle.
Valen Ashencrow finally stood on the field he'd commanded from the shadows.
And Garrick Blaze stood waiting, lance lowered, the Firemane at his back.
Redkeep Pass had held long enough.