The news that reached the local town of Dovedell at daybreak had not been good. Tiern had been on edge, pacing the local tavern all night since they’d heard sounds of explosions from a distance. He’d wanted to return to royal lands that very instant, but the soldiers he was with said it’d be suicide.
They had only planned to amass willing fighters from Dovedell and be back in time for battle, three hours at the most. And now . . . Seas alive, what the curses had happened? One moment he’d eagerly offered to help on a quick mission, hoping to erase from his mind the look of fear and betrayal that Vixie had given him. And the next thing he knew, royal lands were infested with Kalorians.
He’d run when he should have stayed. He should have been there. What had happened to Vixie and Paxton? It was driving him mad not to know.
When news spread through the night, hundreds of commoners from local towns had shown up to see what could be done.
“Are the princesses safe?” They had no way of knowing.
“How many are there?” A bloody lot.
Nearly a hundred soldiers who’d been patrolling and doing border duty now massed in the town square. Tiern joined them, hearing shouts of “Reorganize and regroup!” “Rearm!” “Reestablish leadership!” “Plan and execute!” Big words, but laughable compared to what they were up against. The Kalorians had smashed their ground troops like a tiny anthill and taken over royal lands.
“Our navy moved north,” said the highest-ranking soldier there. “If we can get word to them in the bay—”
“That will take days!” another shouted.
“Not if we send a single fast rider.”
Tiern rubbed his face. The kingdom was doomed. It was only a matter of time before Prince Vito settled in the royal lands and began to send his people out to crush the towns. They didn’t have the men or resources.
Horses, carts, and caravans filled with women and crying children set off, shouting their good-byes and sending kisses to the men they’d leave as they fled north. Tiern walked away from them and toward a large tent some way from the town center. When he got to it, he realized it was one of the Lashed infirmaries. He peeked inside and saw three women and two men sitting, discussing in earnest. Their heads spun toward him.
“Very sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Wait,” called one of the men, standing. “Is there a plan?”
Tiern shook his head. “Not yet. We’re still trying to decide and hoping for more men from other towns to arrive once people start to get word.”
“We want to help,” said one of the women in a strong voice. “They have Lashed among them . . . bad ones. Lochlanach will need Lashed fighting on our side as well.”
“Aye,” Tiern said. “But are you willing to kill with your hands?”
They looked around at one another forlornly, and nodded.
“I’ll let the soldiers know.”
When he left the tent he saw a trail of dust rising from afar on the path. He squinted to see many bodies, all wearing the pale colors of Lochlan clothing. Tiern broke into a run until he got to the town center.
“More men are coming.”
Tiern and the others rushed to meet them. There looked to be close to fifty extra men. This was good. Now they only needed about a thousand more.
Tiern nearly laughed at the likelihood of that.
From clear in the other direction of town came a distant rumbling from the hills. The senior soldier’s eyes widened.
“What the seas . . . ?”
Tiern, the Lochlan soldiers, and Dovedell townspeople ran to see, spreading out and staring at the horizon. A chill that had nothing to do with winter ratcheted up Tiern’s back as moving dots rose over the hills straight toward them.
“Attack!” a townsman yelled. Others joined him, raising their sharpened sticks and bows, but Tiern and a few others hushed them.
“They’re not coming from the direction of Kalor!” Tiern shouted over the din.
They stared out, powerless to do anything except watch as the forces gained ground.
“We should take cover!” another townsman said.
“Wait,” said the commanding soldier. “They wear the bronze of Toresta.”
Murmurs rose up around them. “Toresta is an ally, aye?” “Should we trust them?”
Tiern pushed his way through to see better, and his eyes traveled to the end of the approaching party. A large group of them rode shining black horses, and wore all black clothing from head to toe.
“The Zandalee!” He jumped and punched the sky. “These are definitely allies!”
“Aye,” said the soldier. “And more Zorfinans behind them!”
The townsmen and soldiers sent up a great cheer of welcome, raising their fists in gratitude. As they got closer, Tiern couldn’t wait any longer. He sprinted up the hill toward the Zandalee. There were so many of them; Zandora must have brought the entire tribe! She and the two sisters Tiern knew all leaped down deftly from their horses. He ran to them and gathered the three of them in a great big hug.
Horses barreled past them. Fierce women circled them, eyes alight beneath their head coverings, making clucking sounds and high-pitched calls.
Zandora pulled away and laughed. “You will make us look soft.”
He dropped his arms, smiling hugely. The two sisters faced him on each side and both took to running hands over his light beard, shaking their heads and muttering in Zorfinan.
“They say a sweetling like you must keep his face young.”
Tiern rubbed his cheeks, unable to stop smiling. “I promise to shave just as soon as we take back our castle.” He looked at Zandora now, whose face had gone stony. His smile fell away as the dire situation came rushing back at him.
“Your royal lands have fallen?” she asked.
“Aye.” The ache inside him began anew. “And they killed our king and queen.”
Zandora gave a grim nod. “We will take back Lochlanach, I promise you. Prince Vito goes too far.”