“Take heart, Rhya. All is not yet lost.” He clasps me lightly on the arm. “Not while we still have breath left to do battle. No matter how dark the night, dawn always arrives eventually.”
“And with it, a full battalion of Llyrian reinforcements,” I say, as much for his benefit as my own.
“Never thought I’d see the day King Soren fought shoulder to shoulder with the soldiers of Dyved.” He looks past me to the sandy shore. I follow his gaze to the Water Remnant, who is simultaneously drowning two iron-studded warriors in the shallows. Even from this distance, I can see the ultra-bright flash of his grin.
“Can’t say he hasn’t been useful,” Uther murmurs. “He’s nearly cleared the whole shoreline. Should make it easier to get folks into the keep, where it’s safe.”
“I’ll help direct them.”
“Thanks, Rhya,” he says, but his eyes are on the bridge, where a steady stream of people are still making their way toward the proffered sanctuary of the palace. I know he is looking forCarys and Nevin in the crowd. Just as I know he will not be able to think of anything else until he knows they are safe.
“Go on,” I urge gently. “Go see if you can find them.”
“There’s no time.”
“Uther. This may be theonlytime.” I grab his hand again. “The red army may wait until dawn to unleash fresh hell upon us. Or they may not. We may survive the night. We may not. Either way…you’ll fight better knowing your family is behind those thick stone walls.”
Uther hesitates for a moment, weighing personal desire against his unshakable sense of responsibility.
“Penn would want you to take care of your family,” I add softly. “He would not fault you for this.”
I see the moment he makes his decision; his steady gray eyes light with pure, unadulterated relief. He shoots me a fleeting smile as he takes off toward the bridge. His words carry back to me as he melds into the crowd.
“I’ll be right back!”
I lose sight of him almost instantly. He must be no more than a fourth of the way across when an earsplitting clatter draws my attention sharply upward. I can scarcely believe what I am seeing at first.
Rocks are plummeting down the cliffs to either side of the waterfalls, a great avalanche of stone. Boulders big as wagons roll from the upper reaches, shattering houses into splinters as they tumble toward the ground. At first, I think it must be a rockslide—that perhaps the foundations of the city shook loose as the wards fell, destabilizing the petrified lava flows that encircle us. But the origins of this avalanche soon become alarmingly apparent.
All the blood leaves my face at the sight of the mammoth forms climbing over the rim of the crater. They are vaguelyhuman-shaped, but that is where the similarities end. At least five times the height of the average man, their skin is the grayish-white hue of a frozen lake, their clothing a cobbled mess of hides from dozens of animals. Hanks of dirty hair hang down around wide-set eyes in blunt-featured faces. They have no weapons. They do not need them.
I know, even before I hear it confirmed by the screaming soldier ten paces from me on the shore, what they are.
“ICE GIANTS!”
They scale the walls like I might shimmy down a tree, their colossal feet crashing through the copper rooftops of homes that cling to the highest reaches of the cliffs. I hope like hell that those who live there have already evacuated.
Horse-sized hands close around rocks and pieces of shattered foundation. There is no time to prepare as the giants begin hurling debris onto the city. It rains down, smashing through buildings and splashing into the lake. Ants beneath a hailstorm, we scatter in every conceivable direction along the shore, seeking cover wherever it can be found. I find myself completely alone, dodging and weaving, one eye fixed on the sky for incoming projectiles, the other trying to chart a safe course through the panicked crush. Helplessness crackles in my veins.
Only moments ago, I thought we had the upper hand, that the battle might be over. Now, as I watch the ice giants making their way down the cliffs, my throat tightens so much I can no longer pull in breath.
“Watch out!”
The cry comes a split second before what looks like the foundation of a house hurtles through the air, toward the stretch of shore where I, along with about a dozen soldiers, am seeking shelter. Their battle-weary faces contort in terror as they catch sight of the death heading straight for us.
My hand shoots up without thought, rising high over my head, my fingers flexed straight. I call the wind and, in a blink, it comes—unfurling from my chest in a thick coil. I take a breath and give it shape, envisioning a solid wall of air dense enough to stop just about anything, large enough to shield everyone around me.
I stumble backward as the heavy chunk of foundation slams into my air shield, feeling like I’ve been socked in the gut. But I merely grit my teeth and, with a grunt of exertion, shove with all my might. The foundation lurches backward, then lands in the lake with a massive splash. The soldiers shoot me looks of gratitude before they bolt off the sand, out of range of whatever the giants choose to toss next.
Luckily for those of us on the ground, most of their attention is focused on the palace. For every boulder that hits the city, three pelt the keep’s stone walls, where so many Caelderans have gone to seek shelter.
Where Carys, Nevin, and Farley have gone to seek shelter.
My eyes widen as I watch the spire where I sleep smashed to bits. The tower shakes beneath the onslaught. In increasing horror, I realize this was always their plan. A first wave to herd us like cattle into one convenient location. And just when we begin to lower our guard, a second wave to carry out the slaughter.
Distracted by dark thoughts, I bleat in undeniable terror as a boulder the size of a barrel hits the sand not six paces from me. Leaping backward, I collide with a warm, firm chest.
“You’re okay,” Penn rasps. “I’ve got you.”