Brother of Fire
Blue eyes blazed back through the storm. His own. His twin.
Ashakar bellowed fire into the dawn.
The sky rained stone—molten arcs shrieking down into the flats, bursting sand into flame.
Columns buckled, lines scattered. Horses screamed and broke against their reins.
Viktor pressed low against Vorathen’s neck as a fire-rock obliterated the ridge behind him, shards of glass spraying through the storm. Heat scalded even through his armor. The stench of burning flesh tore the air.
The Sagittarii strained to hold.
Shields braced.
Mirrors up.
Arrows rose, fell, disappeared in smoke.
Carys’ command snapped like bowstring. “Shields! Mirrors high!”
Sunlight lanced, blinding one beast into the cliffs. The ballista thundered again—its bolt tearing a wing in two. The dragon spun down shrieking, smashing into the flats.
But the second ballista splintered, its ropes fraying apart with a sound like bones cracking. The crew scrambled, raw hands bleeding on the winch.
Only one left now—one throw, no more.
Storne saw the gap from the ridge below. “Forward! Close it—now!”
His riders surged, shields angled, lances catching the morning light.
Ivan’s southern line buckled against the human host, the clash of men and steel drowned by the roar of beasts and volcano alike.
For a breath, it seemed both lines would shatter.
Then—
Horns.
Three Sagittarii cohorts crested the ridge.
Their banners streamed against the smoke, their shields flashing like a second sunrise. Sunlight caught, blazed, scattered fire into brilliance. A storm of arrows fell in time with Viktor’s thunder, staggering beasts, staggering men.
The Casqadian ranks roared back to life.
Amerei.
He felt her hand in his, even here. Her voice in his ear:“Stand, Tory.”
Viktor seized the opening.
Vorathen thundered up the ridge.
Lightning cracked, splitting the sky, and for a heartbeat Viktor saw them—rows upon rows of dragons screaming from Ashakar’s throat.
All fire.
All madness.
