The man on the horse spoke in Imperial.
“Are you the Princess of Arland?”
“I am.”
The man dismounted, planted his spear on the ground, and knelt before her.
“I am Gwedion, a teacher of the spear and bow. Hearing that a hero has appeared in Arland to fight the Empire, I have gathered as many of my people as I could and came to fight with you. We may not be many, but we implore you to accept us into your ranks.”
Loran dismounted as well.
“When you have come to aid your brothers, you should not have to be kneeling before them.” She helped him to his feet and dusted the dirt from his knee. “How is King Gwaharad?”
Gwedion looked surprised. “Gwaharad…? Whom do you speak of, Your Highness?” He looked behind him, as if this man he had never heard of might be among the crowd. But no one there knew of Gwaharad either.
The disappointment melted away in Loran’s heart. Of course. Gwaharad was, indeed, the king of his own nation. Which was not Kamori, but a rabbit warren out in the woods.
“Never mind. I was simply mistaken. I cannot express howgrateful I am that you should all be here. Please come with me to the fortress. The enemy has already—”
An earsplitting whistle interrupted her words. Loran turned back toward the fortress and saw dust rising above its walls. Another whistling sound. With a crash, one of the towers crumbled like a sandcastle.
It was a weapon she had never seen before. She had worried over the gigatherion so much that it hadn’t occurred to her that the Empire would have a weapon that could destroy the fortress from such a great distance.
The eleven hundred troops of Arland and Kamori around her gazed in shock at what had just happened to the western end of the fortress. Loran mounted her horse, urging it into a gallop before even settling into the saddle. The horse neighed sharply as it darted forward, its head aimed straight for the fortress.
Scales covered Loran, to the point where her leather armor felt like it was in the way. Atop her horse, she shed her armor piece by piece. The sight in her left eye grew as clear as her right. There were two more whistling sounds, as well as the yells of the Ledonite warriors. Arlander soldiers poured out of the gap created by the fallen wall.
Griogal would have found it impossible to wait for her order after such a fearsome attack. The terrifying sound of the cannons that she remembered so well from the battle at Kingsworth followed. Arrows rained down on the charging alliance.
Only Griogal and a handful of his warriors had made it to the enemy lines, but they swung their greatswords, fighting like lions. The Arlanders, meanwhile, struggled to make progress across the battleground in the rain of arrows and cannon fire.
She had almost made it to the enemy lines but her horse slowed, panting roughly. She spurred again, but her mount had reached its limit. An arrow struck the horse on its shoulder. It fell forward, but Loran took her feet out of the stirrups and leaped into the air. Her heart was heavy, but her body was lighter than it had ever felt. In the air, she drew her own sword with her right hand and a legion shortsword with her left. The two blades turned white with heat.
Loran descended like a meteor into the massed enemy. She spun, her blades creating blue flames all around her. Perhaps the Imperial soldiers screamed, but the melee was already awash in screams, shouts, and the clashing of blades.
Through the sulfuric smoke and the fire, she searched for a glimpse of Griogal. The muslin clothes she had worn underneath the leather armor were on fire. She didn’t feel the heat at all. From behind her someone screamed.
“Dragonfire!”
“The princess is here!”
As much as she wanted to show herself to the Arlander soldiers, she needed to save Griogal first. Despite her powers of the dragon and his unusual height, Loran was still shorter than most and she could not see her ally in the crowd. Slashing away with her blades, she searched and searched for the man, creating columns of smoke wherever she went.
A Scorpios chariot suddenly blocked her way, swinging a pincer at her. Not even flinching, Loran sliced off the pincer with the shortsword on her left and pierced the chariot in its torso with the sword on her right. The chariot collapsed, ceasing all movement.
The enemy began to give her a wide berth. As her horizon widened, she spotted a bloodied giant twenty paces away, fighting forhis life. His blade was red with blood from tip to hilt. Loran, slaying anything that came into her path, made her way toward the giant.
“Griogal!”
Her own voice surprised her, as it came out like the growl of a great beast. Griogal turned to her, and his eyes grew wide. He had been gamely fighting off twenty men at once without letting on the slightest of discomfort, but the sight of Loran made him look like a frightened man.
“Princess… Loran…?”
Loran chased away the enemy swarming around him with the fires blasting from her swords. “I apologize for being late.”
“Never mindthat,Your Highness…What of your body?”
She looked down at herself. Her body was covered in red scales. Her armor was completely gone, but the scales protected her better than even the strongest armor could. There was nothing wrong with her, it was only that Griogal had never seen her in this form.
