Trynne was buffeted by a warrior landing near her, but managed to deflect his glaive with her twin swords. She rocked him off his heels, sending him into the abyss. After he fell, she saw something in the flurry below, movement coming from the warriors of Gahalatine’s army. Not all were vaulting up to the walls. Then she saw it. That gap in Gahalatine’s army was now filled with warriors carrying long wooden poles. No—they were the trunks of pine trees!
Trynne watched in horror as the soldiers carrying the trunks lumbered forward and she divined that the trunks had been prepared to clear the chasm. They hadn’t brought siege equipment; they’d brought their own makeshift bridge, knowing that the Wizr would demolish the existing one.
The king brought the pommel of Firebos down on the helmet of an attacker, dropping him to the ground with a dented helm. The sword was a whorl of blue light as he fought, its magic adding strength to his blows. He threw himself into the fight with all the fervor of a man struggling to survive.
“Drew!” Trynne shouted, pointing down at the advancing men. Another leaf-armored warrior landed between them, facing her, and Trynne cut him down and then kicked him off the wall.
The king turned, followed her finger, and saw what was unfolding.
“They’re going to cross!” he shouted, striking at another enemy who had fallen from the sky amid the flurries. He turned and shouted down to the bailey yard. “Severn! To the gap! Hold them!”
Trynne realized the danger. The aerial attack was a distraction. If Gahalatine could get his troops across the chasm, he could trap the defenders on the walls, isolating the king from the rest of Dundrennan’s defenses.
“Aye, my lord!” Severn shouted back and growled at his knights to hasten and follow him down the stairs to join the battle below.
Groans of pain and surprise floated up from the ranks of Gahalatine’s men as spears began raining down on them from the cliffs above. Trynne watched with triumph as the teeming mass of soldiers crumpled from the onslaught, dropping under a withering hail of spears. They hadn’t expected the counterattack from their flanks.
“Well done, Fallon!” the king bellowed. “That will distract them a bit!”
Trynne flanked one side of Drew, Fallon the other. He was fighting with lethal skill, cutting down the warriors that still dared to land on the battlements. When Trynne flashed a look at him, she saw the determination in his eyes. This was what he’d always wanted: to prove himself.
The falling spears disrupted the attack on the battlements, and a whoop and a cheer started from the ranks of the knights who were defending the wall. There were only a few remaining pockets of fighting as multiple knights dispatched those who had landed and killed their comrades. Trynne knew the celebration was premature.
Gahalatine would not be defeated so easily.
Not long after the cheers rose from the wall, Trynne felt a sudden surge of power from below and saw a shimmer of light from the magic’s aura. She sensed the danger an instant before it happened.
“Drop!” she shouted, grabbing the king’s arm and yanking him down. A spear glanced off her shoulder and spun her around, but she managed to drop low. So did Fallon. A roar filled the air, loud as the thunder of a thousand charging horses, and the hail of spears began to fly at Dundrennan’s walls. Knights who were slow to drop were impaled by spears and fell from the wall down into the bailey. She sensed the magic coming from Rucrius. He had invoked a massive whirlwind that had gripped the falling spears and hurled them against the fortress.
Spears sailed over Trynne’s head, some cracking stone with the violence of their impact. Knights cowered behind shields as the storm shook and raged. The frozen sleet stung Trynne’s cheeks, but her armor protected her.
Drew was flat against the stone wall, his eyes wide with terror as the colossal magic battered against Dundrennan’s walls. Bodies dressed in the armor of the Pierced Lion began to plummet into the bailey, and Trynne gaped in horror as she realized Rucrius’s spell was destroying Fallon’s soldiers up on the ridge. He’d invoked a storm cloud, a whirling vortex of death. Trynne cowered from it, wishing her mother were there to counter it. Wishing Myrddin was there.
“Keraunos!”
It was a woman’s voice. Morwenna’s voice. It came from the middle of the bailey, where the poisoner was standing with arms splayed wide, hair whipping in the wind. Suddenly lightning began to streak across the sky from the enormous black cyclone roiling over the palace. The glittering forks of light were heading toward Gahalatine’s army. No—they were striking repeatedly at Rucrius. They blasted into the ranks of the Chandigarli soldiers, leaving cries of panic in their wake.