Page 2 of A War of Crowns

“I said everyone to the wall!” Sir Hunte bellowed, and Hedley’s body lurched into motion. He staggered out of the barracks along with the rest of his unit.

The night air was crisp as it always was, this close to Dry Reach. He had never understood how the desert could be scorching hot one moment and send him to shivering in the next.

Gong.

Hedley’s gaze shot upward toward the silhouette of the outer wall standing dark against the horizon. He hunted in vain for any sight of his brother.

Come on, Dane. Where are you?

But as Hedley stood there, desperately searching, another bout of flame arced upward from beyond the confines of Fort Mysai. That pillar of fire pierced the gloom.

Beautiful. Terrifying.

Boom.

Hedley’s entire world shook when that latest tongue of flame lashed against the fort. The ground beneath his feet rumbled with the impact. He pitched with it, nearly losing his balance.

The outer wall of the fort disappeared before his very eyes. Stone crumbled as if it were little more than a sand dune. Faceless figures toppled from the disintegrating ramparts and vanished into the night, swallowed by the yawning darkness beyond.

“Dane!” That word ripped itself from Hedley’s throat on a guttural scream as he ran forward. He raced toward those tangled clouds of dust and smoke, which billowed forth from where the outer wall of Fort Mysai had once stood.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“Dane!”

Before he could make it more than a few strides, an armored hand clamped onto his shoulder and drew him up short. He thrashed against the weight of it, screaming all the while, “My brother! He’sup there! He’s—”

“The Lord is with your brother now or your brother’s with the Lord,” Sir Hunte growled in reply while wheeling Hedley around. The commanding knight shoved him away from the smoking ruins. “Fall back!” Sir Hunte cried over the sound of muffled screams shrieking in the distance. “Fall back to the gate! Wilsham! I need you—”

Something suddenly whistled past them both, nearly brushing Hedley’s ear as it went. When it thunked into the wooden post just in front of him, he stared at the dark-fletched arrow in mute disbelief. An arrow? But the outer wall had just been breached. There was no way they could be inside already.

The metallic scrape of steel on scabbard from behind him sent Hedley scrambling for his own blade. Chest heaving, mind reeling, he whirled on his heel and looked upward, desperately searching the rooftops for the sight of enemy archers.

But the sound of Sir Hunte barking out more orders soon drew him back to the present. The grizzled knight shouted, “I said fall back! Wilsham, get to the Roost. Make sure Master Eldrede has sent word to the mainland.”

Hedley jerked his gaze downward to watch the knight squaring up in the alley, blade drawn.

A single sentinel in the darkness.

Hedley hesitated. “But what about—”

“I said move, Wilsham!”

Hedley asked nothing further. He just turned, sheathed his sword, and ran.

Another whistle raced past his ear. A scream of pain echoed out from his right. One of his fellow soldiers collapsed like a discarded marionette.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t look back.

He just ran.

The Roost, Sir Hunte had commanded. He had to get to the Roost, to Master Eldrede. ButthatRoost was carved into the outer wall. It might have not survived the collapse of the ramparts.

Like Dane.

That thought sliced through him—the searing reminder that his older brother might not have survived the collapse of the ramparts either. As he reached the stone steps leading upward toward the Gate of Exiles, he realized his feet had decided for him to flee to the mid-ring with the rest of his unit rather than follow the orders given to him.

Hedley swallowed down his fear, his panic, his worry. He tucked it all away, knowing it would all come roiling back to the surface the moment he had a moment to think.

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