Ian threw off his brother’s hand, angry at being told what to do, but he quickly saw the wisdom in his brother’s words. If their father was already incapacitated, Ian had to remain standing or Gareth could take over the kingdom.
Ian seethed as Onric ran forward, leaving him behind.
Chapter 10
Ian gripped the sword in his hand so tightly he could feel the tendons pop over his knuckles.
Ahead of him, Onric dashed directly into the fray, holding his sword close. He moved through the fights rather than engaging in them, as his target was the magic user in the enemy’s back line.
But there was nothing Ian could do besides watch his younger brother run headfirst into danger. How could he, the crown prince of Iseldis, expect to become king when the very people he would rule were currently risking their lives while he stood back in safety? He had to do something.
Looking around the courtyard, Ian sought out the general of the Iseldan army, a stocky older man named Zimri. The general was standing inside a group of his soldiers, just behind the fighting castle guard. Always at the ready, the guard had been the first to respond to the threat while Zimri and the army were summoned from the barracks.
Ian pressed through the crowded bodies that filled the courtyard. The false Majis were vastly outnumbered, which made this entire attack from Gareth feel unfounded, other thanits having injured King Frederich. And Onric would be injured soon as well if he attempted to fight a magic user by himself.
“General!” Ian called as he reached Zimri. He pointed to the battlements above the courtyard, which were slowly filling with Iseldan archers. “Have the archers focus on the single magic user hiding below the gatehouse.”
Zimri’s deep-set eyes looked from Ian to the archers above, then toward the gatehouse. From where they were standing, it was impossible to see the magic user behind the tall attackers. But the general did not question Ian’s logic. He nodded his understanding and immediately moved toward the ladder that led to the battlements. “Make way!” he bellowed, his loud voice easily carrying over the sounds of battle.
But then a new sound cut over all of them. A horn rang out from just beyond the castle walls.
Ian could see the purple banners of Chendas through the castle gate.
Gareth’s actual army had arrived.
Ian pushed his way through the crowded courtyard once again to take up his vantage point on the steps.
Gareth himself led the Chendas army. The young king rode a large horse and held his sword high as he pressed through the castle gate and into the back line of the attackers.
“Hold.” Gareth’s voice rang out across the battle with surprising volume and practiced authority. “By the Council of Five Kingdoms, I command all Majis to cease this attack!”
The attackers, in their dark armor and blue livery, turned to face Gareth. Taking advantage of the moment, the Iseldan guard continued to fight, locking the dozen or so false Majis between the two armies.
Ian scanned the crowded space for his brother. But it was not Onric who caught his eye.
Erich, having returned to the castle ahead of Ian the previous night, pushed his way up the steps. He did not appear to notice Ian at all, seemingly intent on reentering the castle until Ian grabbed his shoulder.
“Erich!” Ian said.
The face that Erich turned toward him was bruised and bloody, and his eyes were exhausted. Those eyes lit up when he saw Ian. “Meena?” he asked, stopping his rush, though he kept a foot on the next stair up.
“Safe,” Ian replied. “With Robin.”
Erich turned his body back toward the great hall. “I need to get Aizel out of here.”
Understanding dawned on Ian, and he practically pushed his brother up the steps. “Go!” Aizel and her younger sister had been captives of Gareth. If Gareth was at the castle now, Aizel and Celesta would not be safe.
The sounds of the fight had lessened when Ian turned his eyes back toward the gate. The false Majis pretended to put up a fight, but Gareth’s front line quickly overpowered them.
Onric had his back to the gatehouse wall, smart enough to remove himself from a fight that was meant for show.
Ian saw no sign of the hooded Majis user.
The rest of Gareth’s soldiers poured into the crowded courtyard with military precision, assembling into small formations as a show of power and defense.
Their movements were practiced, as though this entire battle had been carefully rehearsed. It probably had.
“Chendas! Iseldis!” someone shouted. “We are saved!” The cry of victory spread throughout the courtyard. “Chendas! Iseldis!”
