Page 108 of The War of Four Winters

Before I could respond, a whistle carried from the direction of the river—three short notes followed by one long.

"It's time," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Signal the advance."

The first wave moved forward, composed of fifty of our best warriors, many of them former slaves who knew these streets intimately. They slipped from doorway to doorway, keeping to shadows despite the growing daylight. I followed with the second wave, twenty paces behind.

The avenue widened as we approached the bridge district, elegant shops giving way to formal guild houses. This was neutral territory, claimed by no single clan but frequented by all. The streets remained eerily empty, civilians having fled or barricaded themselves inside at the first signs of conflict.

We'd chosen this approach precisely because it cut through unclaimed territory. The traditional clan holdings—Deepfrost, Ivygrass, Longclaw, Seashore—were clustered on the other side of the river, surrounding the Assembly island like jealous courtiers around a throne. Here, we might pass unnoticed until we reached the bridge itself.

The illusion of safety shattered as we rounded the final corner.

"Ambush!" The warning came too late as arrows rained from rooftops.

Five of our forward scouts fell before they could draw weapons. The rest scattered for cover, some dragging wounded comrades with them. The tranquil morning erupted into chaos as hidden doors flew open, revealing squads of Deepfrost warriors in gleaming silver armor.

"They knew we were coming," Niro said, appearing at my side as I pressed myself against a stone wall. "Someone betrayed our route."

I ducked as an arrow struck the wall where my head had been a moment before. "Doesn't matter now. We fight through."

Niro nodded once, whistling a signal that brought our forces surging forward. The narrow street became a killing field as Stoneriver archers returned fire from whatever cover they could find, while our infantry engaged the Deepfrost warriors directly.

I drew my sword and plunged into the fray. The first enemy came at me with a battle axe, swinging with enough force to cleave me in half. I sidestepped rather than blocking, letting the axe bury itself in the wooden post beside me. Before he could wrench it free, I drove my blade through the gap between his helmet and breastplate. Hot blood sprayed across my hand as I ripped the sword free and moved to the next opponent.

A Deepfrost soldier lunged from my blind side, blade aimed at my kidneys. I sensed rather than saw the attack, twisting too late. The sickening certainty of impending pain flooded my mind—then vanished as an arrow sprouted from my attacker's eye socket with a wet thud. He crumpled, his sword clattering on the cobblestones.

I spun toward the source of the shot. Across the street, atop a three-story merchant house, Ieduin stood with a group of Yeutish archers. Their bows sang in deadly harmony, each shot claiming another of Tarathiel's loyalists. Ieduin caught my eye and grinned fiercely, flame-red hair a beacon against the morning sky. They nocked another arrow and loosed it at a mage who was about to unleash fire in my direction. The mage fell, his spell sputtering out with him.

Ieduin shouted something I couldn't hear over the battle, but the exaggerated wink that followed said enough:Watch your back, or I'll have to keep saving it.

I offered a quick salute before turning back to the fight. The Yeutish archers continued their deadly work, arrows raining down with unnerving precision. Each rooftop had become a platform of death for Tarathiel's forces caught in the streets below.

It was as Niro had said. My body remembered what to do even as my mind reeled with the suddenness of battle. Duck under a spear thrust. Parry a sword strike. Use an enemy's momentum against him, sending him stumbling into his comrade. Each movement flowed into the next, my muscles recalling training sessions in Ostovan's royal courtyards, in Calibarra's practice yards, even the brutal lessons of survival during my time in chains.

"The bridge!" someone shouted. "We need to keep moving!"

Through gaps in the fighting, I caught glimpses of our goal. The Eastern Bridge, known as the Bridge of Bones for the elaborate carvings that adorned its stone pillars. It stretched across the Thallan River, connecting the outer districts to the Assembly island. From here, it looked impossibly far, the gap between intention and achievement yawning wider with each fallen ally.

Aryn materialized beside me, his silver hair stained with enemy blood. "We're pinned down," he reported. "They've blocked the main approach with barricades."

I nodded, my breath coming in sharp bursts as I parried another attacker's thrust. "We have no choice but to push through directly. The bridge is our only way across."

"Their barricades are well-positioned," Aryn observed, flicking blood from his blades. "A frontal assault will be costly."

"So be it," I replied grimly. "We knew this wouldn't be easy. Form the warriors into wedge formations. We'll concentrate our force at the weakest point and punch through."

Aryn whistled a series of commands, reorganizing our fighters into three tight formations, shields overlapping at the front of each wedge.

"The central barricade," I decided, pointing to where the enemy defenses looked thinnest. "That's our target. Archers provide covering fire. We go on my signal."

He whistled again, a different pattern this time, directing a portion of our forces toward the riverfront shops and warehouses that lined the approach to the bridge.

The coordinated push began as Ieduin's archers intensified their covering fire, forcing Tarathiel's defenders to duck behind their barricades. Our warriors surged forward in their wedge formations, shields locking together as they advanced through the debris-strewn street. I moved with the central group, sword ready, as we approached the first line of defenses.

"Now!" I shouted as we closed the final distance.

Our front line crashed against the barricade with the full momentum of our charge. Wood splintered, warriors shouted, and the makeshift wall began to give way under our combined assault. Deepfrost soldiers scrambled to reinforce their position, but our momentum carried us through the breach.

I vaulted over the broken barricade, landing among startled defenders. Two fell to my blade before they could properly react, their blood hot against my skin as I cut through their ranks. Behind me, our warriors poured through the gap we'd created, widening the breach with each passing moment.

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