Alira

  Streaks of meteors jagged through the darkness, each one aimed at Tyre’s eastern wall. My heart lurched as the first rock slammed into the stone, a deafening crack splitting the air. Dust billowed, and shouts rose from the soldiers below. I gripped my sword and watched in horror as the barrage pounded the wall. Chunks of masonry crumbled, and with a final, shuddering boom, a breach yawned open wide enough for trolls to pour through.

  “Hold the line!” I yelled, my voice cutting through the panic as I leapt down the stairs, my boots hitting the ground hard. Soldiers scrambled, their armor clanking, but I was faster. My enhanced speed driving me toward the gap. The air stank of scorched stone and sulfur, the spell’s aftermath lingering like a taunt. I reached the breach as the first troll barreled in, its club swinging. I ducked under the blow, my speed saving me, and drove my blade up into its gut. It roared, staggering, and I yanked the sword free, blood slicking my hands.

  “To me!” I shouted, planting myself in the middle of the fray. Soldiers rallied, forming a ragged line around me, their spears trembling but raised. Trolls surged through the gap, hulking shadows against the firelight, and I met them head-on. My sword flashed, slicing through flesh and sinew, my movements a blur compared to the men beside me. A second troll lunged; I sidestepped, slashing its leg, and it crashed down, howling. “Push them back!” I ordered, my voice raw but firm.

  The breach was a choke point, rubble narrowing their advance, and I used it. I darted between soldiers, barking commands, “Spears up! Flank left!” as I carved a path through the enemy. My speed kept me ahead of their clumsy swings, my blade finding gaps in their thick hides. Sweat stung my eyes, but I couldn’t stop. If we lost this wall, Tyre was done. A soldier stumbled beside me, a troll’s axe grazing his shoulder, and I lunged, driving my sword into the beast’s neck before it could finish him. “Stay tight!” I yelled, hauling him up.

  The gap loomed, still vomiting trolls, but I saw Elena’s illusion at work dragging stones to seal it. “Hold them five minutes!” I roared, spinning to parry a claw aimed at my chest. My reflexes snapped me back, the talon missing by inches, and I countered, slashing deep. The troll fell, and I pressed forward, soldiers at my heels. Blood coated my arms, my breath ragged, but I kept swinging, kept shouting “Close ranks! Drive them out!”. Slowly, the breach shrank, stone by stone, and with a final shove, we forced the last troll back as the wall sealed shut. I stood there, panting, sword dripping, the silence deafening after the chaos.

  I scanned the chaos near the breach and spotted Elena crumpled on her knees, her hands trembling against the rubble-strewn ground. The effort had drained her, her face pale under the torchlight. “They need to hurry,” she gasped, her voice thin. “I can’t hold the illusion much longer.”

  I spun toward the soldiers, my throat raw from shouting all night. “Grab every stone you can and throw it at the wall!” I bellowed, pointing at the gap. The dim flicker of torches caught the illusion fading—starting at the top, the false stone shimmered and dissolved downward, revealing the jagged hole beneath. My chest tightened, but Elena clung on, buying us precious minutes. Soldiers scrambled, hauling rocks and debris, piling them into the breach. It wasn’t pretty, crude and uneven, but by the time her spell flickered out, we’d sealed it with real stone. It would hold, at least for another day.

  I stepped back, catching my breath, the night’s close call sinking in. This had been the tightest yet. Morale was crumbling; for two weeks, the trolls had hammered us day and night, striking walls on every side. We’d been forced to shuffle troops constantly, guessing where the next meteor shower spell would land. No pattern, no warning, just fire from the sky. Our only mercy was that whoever cast it couldn’t keep it up longer than a minute. A weak laugh escaped me at the thought. Two weeks of siege, and even that crude limit felt like a punchline. He would have found it hilarious. As soon as he crossed my mind, the smile vanished, leaving a hollow ache.

  Where was he? My stomach knotted. I shuddered, picturing the aftermath if we broke and ran. After the blood we’d spilled holding them back, I doubted a single building would stand if we lost. A voice in my head grew louder each day, cold and insistent: better to save a few than lose them all. I hated it, but it wouldn’t shut up.

  Blood crusted on my skin, flaking from my arms and my clothes. I needed water, something to wash away the grime. My mind drifted to a bath, sunlight streaming through a window, hot water easing my aching muscles until I could almost drift off, tension melting away.

  “Councilor Alira, you’re requested in the command tent,” a voice piped up, snapping me back. A boy, no older than fifteen, his eyes widening at my blood-streaked appearance before he scurried off. I sighed, exhaustion settling deeper. Might as well get it over with.

  I strode to the tent, a hastily erected shelter thrown up after the last attack to coordinate repairs. The flap rustled as I entered, the air inside thick with sweat and the faint tang of ink from maps sprawled across a table.

  General Torvyn’s gruff voice hit me before I’d even straightened. “They almost breached tonight,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, shadowed with exhaustion.

  I snapped back, my voice sharp from the fight still buzzing in my veins. “I know. I was there in the middle of it.” My hands still ached from gripping my sword and the memory of trolls snarling through the gap flared hot in my mind.

  Audemar leaned forward, his polished tone cutting through the tension. “We do not doubt your commitment, but things are getting dire by the hour. Your elf friend Elena has to sleep sometime. Without her, we wouldn’t have kept the wall closed off long enough for repairs.”

  “Then what do we suggest we do?” I asked, my voice tight, though I already knew the answer.

  “We need to make a break for it,” the Duke replied, his tone cold and flat, like he was discussing trade routes, not lives.

  I stared at him, incredulous. “Just abandon the population? Thousands will die. And that’s the best case if they prove merciful. Did the trolls look merciful tonight?” My voice rose, cracking with anger.

  Torvyn stepped in, his tone softer but no less grim. “I do not like the plan any more than you, but what are our choices? The wall is more patches than anything now. In the coming days, they’ll breach in multiple spots. What then?” His practicality stung, and I hated how it echoed that little voice I’d been shoving down.

  “We fight,” I said, clinging to the words. “Tiberius will come.” But my resolve faltered, my voice thinning. I wanted to believe it, needed to, but doubt was growing within me, cold and persistent.

  “Has he contacted again?” Audemar asked, his gaze piercing.

  I swallowed hard, my mind flashing back. That night had been a spark of hope. Just two days after he’d left, he’d opened a portal, grinning through it, alliance secured. I had to negotiate over extra terms with Malvina, of all people. But even in my wildest dreams, I hadn’t expected him to pull it off so fast. We’d parted with promises, daily updates if he could manage it and my head had spun with plans, imagining the desert tribes as our secret blade to gut the trolls. Instead, the siege hit early and silence followed. Day after day, nothing. I knew he wasn’t dead, gods and demi-gods hadn’t taken him down, but why no word? Was he marching, bogged down, too busy to check in? Or had something gone wrong?

  “No,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of it crushing me.

  “It’s been two weeks,” the Duke said, his tone sharpening. “Maybe even your boyfriend decided this was hopeless and did the only sane thing and…”

  “Don’t even say it,” I shouted, cutting him off, my fists clenching. “You have no idea what he did for us. If he hasn’t contacted us, there has to be a good reason.” But the words felt flimsy, my conviction crumbling. I wanted to scream at him, at the tent, at the whole cursed siege, but doubt seeped in. What if he had given up? What if I was clinging to a ghost? My chest tightened, and I fought to keep my face steady, to hide the crack widening inside me. Tiberius had to be out there…he had to be. But two weeks of silence and Audemar’s cold stare only made the feeling worse.

  Audemar leaned across the map-strewn table, his eyes glinting with a sharpness that cut deeper than usual. “Are you trying to convince us or yourself?” he said, his voice laced with mockery.

  I stared him down, refusing to flinch under his jab. He’d never been a friend, not even close, but we’d always managed civil exchanges, even when I backed him against Torvyn’s gruff pragmatism. Now, though? Something had shifted. Maybe the pressure was getting to him. Or maybe he’d just decided I was the enemy now.

  So much for sweet-talking me into an alliance against our so-called third. That idea was dead now, drowned in the siege’s grind. Maybe the city’s collapse had stripped away his long-term plans. With his life on the line, all he seemed to care about was escape.

  He couldn’t pull it off alone, though. His fancy retinue would be picked off within hours of slipping out, no matter how sly he played it. His reputation would rot too. Duke Audemar, the coward who fled. I almost pitied him, but my own stance hardened in contrast. We stood locked, two bulls in a pen, and it fell to Torvyn to break the stalemate. Ironic, really. My whole role as triumvir was to bridge their rifts, yet here we were. Without me, they’d have ditched Tyre days ago, no question.

  Torvyn cleared his throat, his weathered face grim. “Alira, we have to be realistic,” he said, his voice low but steady.

  I fought to keep my calm, though my chest tightened. “Please, we can’t abandon the city,” I replied, the words tasting bitter.

  “I’m not saying we abandon it outright,” he said, “but the city will fall within days. Even you have to see that.”

  “Tiberius…” I started, clinging to his name like a lifeline, but Torvyn cut me off, his patience thinning.

  “Fine, have it your way,” he said. “How many more days do you think the city will hold?”

  I swallowed, my mind reeling. The attacks had only grown fiercer. Each day, more arrived, their forced march catching up in waves. Tonight’s breach had been a hair’s breadth from disaster, Elena’s illusion the only thing holding it together. We might scrape through one more big push if luck held. Beyond that? Wishful thinking, not strategy. I’d avoided facing it, shoving the truth into a dark corner, but now it stared me down. Tiberius or no Tiberius, belief wouldn’t stretch time. We might not have days, just hours.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Fine,” I said, and Torvyn’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face. “But we still need time to prepare for a push. We can’t just ride out tomorrow.”

  “It won’t take long,” he replied, already shifting gears. “We’ll finish preparations, and by this time tomorrow, we’ll be ready. We leave in the dead of night.”

  “What gate?” Audemar asked, leaning in, his tone sharp with interest.

  “That’s the question,” Torvyn mused, tracing a finger over the map. “North is the Ascalon camp, south the troll one. East leads to nothing.”

  “And the west gate is where they’ll expect us to break,” I said, my voice flat as the reality settled in.

  “Indeed,” he said, nodding.

  “So we go east and circle around?” Audemar suggested, his brow furrowing.

  “No,” Torvyn said. “We’d lose the element of surprise. Both armies would muster and cut us off. Like it or not, we push west.”

  “The casualties will be high,” I said, the words heavy, picturing the bloodbath. Soldiers falling, families left behind.

  “But it gives us the best chance of escaping the encirclement,” he replied, his tone final.

  I wanted to argue, to claw back some other way, but my mind came up empty. Tomorrow night, Tyre would fall and Malachor with it, whether they liked to admit it or not.

  ─── ????? ───

  The day crawled by, every hour thick with the weight of what lay ahead. I stood in the command tent as dawn broke, the map before me scarred with ink and creases, plotting our escape through the west gate. Torvyn’s plan had settled like a stone in my gut, but I’d agreed. We’d push out tonight, under cover of darkness, and pray the trolls didn’t grind us to dust. Preparations consumed us, and I threw myself into them, needing the motion to drown out the doubts that never left me.

  Torvyn had started with the soldiers, barking orders across the courtyard where they gathered, their armor clanking as they moved. “Pack light,” he told them, my voice hoarse from shouting. “Weapons, rations for a day, nothing more.”

  I watched them strip down packs, tossing aside extra cloaks and tools, their faces grim but focused. I sent a squad to round up horses from the stables, enough for the vanguard to break through, while the rest of us would follow on foot. The clatter of hooves echoed as they worked, a sound that tightened my chest with both hope and dread.

  Next, I tracked down Elena near the eastern wall, where she’d collapsed after last night’s illusion. She sat against a crate, pale but upright, sipping water. “Can you manage one more spell?” I asked, crouching beside her. She nodded, her jaw set, and I squeezed her shoulder.

  “West gate, tonight. Make them think we’re hitting west.” Her illusions were our only trick left. Buy us a head start before the trolls caught on.

  “Don’t overdo it,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be. “I hope I don’t have to worry about you making it out of the city.”

  She lifted her arm, showing me the bracer glinting faintly in the torchlight. “Not while I still have this,” she replied, her tone steady, a flicker of defiance in her eyes.

  “See you west, third town over,” I said, turning to go, but her voice stopped me cold before I could take a step.

  “You can’t possibly save that many civilians,” she said, her words sharp with accusation. “You’ll just leave them to die?”

  I froze, my chest tightening, and turned back to face her. “I tried,” I said, my voice weak, barely above a whisper. Shame crept up my spine, hot and bitter. “It’s been decided. There’s nothing more I can do now but make sure at least a few of us survive.”

  She nodded, her expression unreadable, and I left her there, slumped against the crate. Was it rest she needed, or was it my shame driving me away? I couldn’t tell. My boots scuffed the ground as I walked off, the weight of her question pressing harder with each step. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about her. The bracer, her skill, her stubbornness would see her through. That was one less burden, even if it didn’t lighten the rest.

  The southern wall was almost silence. Audemar should’ve been here. This was his mess to manage. Instead, I found the laborers resting near the jagged breach from two days ago, their faces glistening with sweat and dust.

  “You can rest tonight,” I ordered, jabbing a finger toward the crumbling section. “They had to make it look like we’re fortifying there.”

  Grudging murmurs, but they obeyed, piling debris into a convincing lie.

  A northern feint would’ve been suicide, so there was no point pretending. This? Every extra soldier posted here would increase our chances.

  By afternoon, I joined Torvyn at the armory, sorting weapons for the push. He handed me a spear, and I tested its balance. Solid, deadly. “Vanguard gets these,” he said, and I nodded, passing them to a lieutenant. We only had one chance at this, so we went over every detail. From contingencies to plans for retreat. He didn’t want to hear it, but I saw the disaster at The Vyrith Expanse, where there had been no plans for a general retreat.

  As dusk fell, I rallied the troops near the west gate, their breath fogging in the chill. “We move fast,” I said, pacing before them. “Hit hard, don’t stop.” My voice carried, steady despite the exhaustion pulling at me. I saw fear in their eyes, but resolve too. I stood with elbow to elbow with them defending the walls. They’d follow me into the night. Audemar lingered nearby, his retinue saddled and ready, his face unreadable. I ignored him, checking my gear one last time. Sword, dagger, a waterskin. The gate loomed ahead, a dark promise of blood and maybe freedom.

  The flaming arrows from the east signaled the first of the diversions. The plan was to give it five minutes beofre the south began their feint. As those five minutes elapsed, the general nodded towards me.

  My sword gleamed in the moonlight, and behind me, the vanguard. A hundred and fifty soldiers, hand-picked for speed, shifted restlessly, their breaths fogging in the chill. Torvyn’s plan hinged on me cutting a path through the enemy lines, a spearhead to let our forces slip the noose. I gave the signal a sharp nod, and the gate creaked open. “Stay tight,” I said, leading them out.

  The ground beyond the wall stretched dark and uneven, shadows pooling where the enemy’ campfires flickered in the distance. I moved fast, trusting my reflexes to keep me ahead, aiming for a gap in their pickets we’d scouted earlier. The first hundred yards passed in tense quiet, the crunch of hooves behind me the only sound. Then the earth gave way, a soldier’s cry cut the night as a hidden pit swallowed him, wooden stakes glinting red with his blood. Traps. My stomach lurched. “Watch your step!” I barked, scanning the ground, but another yelp rang out as a second man stumbled into a concealed snare, his leg snapping in its jaws.

  I cursed under my breath, slowing to pick our way forward, but the delay cost us. Horns blared from the troll lines, too close, too many, and silhouettes surged toward us, more than the scouts had counted. My heart sank as I saw them: dozens, maybe hundreds, armed with their usual axes, their guttural roars rolling over us. “Form up!” I shouted, raising my sword as the vanguard rallied around me. I darted forward, slashing the first troll’s throat before it could swing, my speed outpacing his. Another charged; I ducked and drove my blade into its side, warm blood spraying my skin.

  But they kept coming, a tide we couldn’t stem. The vanguard fought hard, pears jabbed, swords clashed, but the traps bogged us down, tripping men into pits or tangling them in ropes. Then the spells started. I hesitated when the first lightning bolt hit one of our own. There was no point clinging to hope now.

  Another soldier fell beside me, a troll’s axe cracking his skull, and I spun, cutting the beast down, my arms burning. We’d barely pushed fifty yards, and already half my force was bleeding or dead. The gap I’d meant to carve shrank as trolls and now Ascalon’s soldiers filled it, their numbers overwhelming. This wasn’t a skirmish, it was a wall of flesh and fury we couldn’t break.

  I spotted Torvyn near the gate, his horse rearing as he barked orders to the main force waiting behind. I fought my way back, dodging a swinging axe, and grabbed his stirrup. “There’s too many!” I yelled over the noise, my voice hoarse. “Traps everywhere. They knew we’d come this way!” His face tightened, eyes flicking to the chaos, the bodies piling up. He wanted to push, I could see it but I gripped harder. “We’ll lose everyone! Call it back!”

  He hesitated, jaw clenched, then nodded sharply. “Retreat!” he roared, his voice booming over the clash. I turned, shouting to the vanguard. “Fall back! To the gate!” Soldiers peeled away, dragging the wounded, and I covered them, slashing at pursuing trolls, my blade a blur. I shoved the last man through, then followed, the heavy wood slamming shut behind us. Inside, I leaned against the wall, panting, blood dripping from my sword, the failure bitter in my throat. We’d lost our shot.

  I stood just inside the west gate, catching my breath, the taste of blood and failure thick in my mouth. The retreat had saved what was left of the vanguard, but the cost haunted me—men lost to traps and trolls, their screams still echoing in my ears. Torvyn dismounted beside me, his face a mask of grim resolve, but before we could regroup, the night unraveled further. Messengers flooded the courtyard, each report more urgent than the last. Walls under assault, north and east buckling. My stomach twisted, this wasn’t a siege anymore. It was the collapse we dreaded.

  Torvyn wated no time, sending squads to shore up the threats, but then the sky flared. Meteor showers rained down on the eastern wall, the familiar thud of stone cracking jolting me upright. I took a step toward it, my sword still slick in my hand, but Torvyn gripped my arm. “Another messenger came,” he said, his voice cutting through my haze. “South wall has multiple breaches. You need to head there.”

  No time to argue. I nodded, swallowing my frustration, and turned to the ragged remnant of my vanguard, battered but alive. “With me!” I shouted, and we ran, boots pounding the cobblestones as we veered south. The city blurred past—shuttered homes, panicked cries—but my focus narrowed to the fight ahead. Breaches meant trolls inside, and I couldn’t let them spread.

  We reached the south wall, and chaos greeted us. Three gaping holes scarred the stone, trolls pouring through like floodwater, their roars shaking the air. Soldiers held a faltering line, spears breaking against thick hides. I didn’t hesitate. “Close the gaps!” I yelled, charging the nearest breach. My sword swung, catching a troll mid-stride. My vanguard followed, fanning out, but the tide kept coming.

  I fought my way to the wall’s base, slashing and dodging, my speed keeping me a step ahead of their axes. A troll loomed; I ducked its swing and drove my blade into its chest, shoving it back through the hole. “Push them out!” I roared, but my voice drowned in the noise. The line buckled, and I knew we couldn’t hold out for long. “Push them back!” I ordered anyway.

  The flood of figures pouring through the breaches below slowed, their roars faltering. My sword paused mid-swing, slick with blood, as I watched, hardly believing it. Some trolls even turned back, lumbering toward the gaps they’d clawed through, retreating into the night. My chest heaved, confusion mixing with disbelief.

  I seized the moment. “Press them!” I shouted, my voice hoarse but fierce, and the vanguard rallied beside me. We gained ground fast, cutting down trolls too slow to flee. My blade found a troll’s back as it stumbled, and it crumpled with a guttural cry. The soldiers pushed forward, spears jabbing. A few trolls, caught off guard, couldn’t reach the breaches in time. Instead, they scrambled up the stairs of the wall away from us.

  On the high wall, I saw the city sprawling below me, fires dotting the night. We formed a thin rank, and I fought in their midst, shouting over the clash. “Push them over the wall!” My sword danced—parry, thrust, slice—felling trolls as they clambered up, but more surged behind. My arms ached, my breath ragged, and despair clawed at me.

  Then I saw it. In the distance, beyond the south wall, the troll camp flickered, flames licking up from their tents. My heart leapt. Fire meant chaos, maybe a chance. I squinted, straining through the smoke, and caught a blaze spreading fast, unnatural in its speed. Someone was hitting them. Hope flickered, fragile and fleeting, but I clung to it. A troll lunged; I sidestepped, slashing its flank, and kept my eyes on the horizon.

  That’s when the sky split. A lightning bolt erupted from the ground, streaking upward, its jagged arc a vivid white I’d know anywhere. Tiberius’s spell, sharp and unmistakable. My breath caught, relief crashing over me like a wave. He was alive, out there, fighting. The troll camp burned brighter, and I imagined him tearing through them, that cocky grin on his face. “Reinforcements have arrived!” I shouted, my voice breaking with raw joy.