Milo hadn’t meant to hold his breath, silently counting the horses lining from end to end, but by the time he realized he had been, they had begun to move. They marched out from the trees in a crescent, bulging at the center. It was an odd tactic, an old one, too. The middle horse raced across the field, leading the others like a spreading fire. Milo’s skin lit like a match and he burned from the inside as he watched the beasts gallop toward them. They held the wall and timing was everything. If he called the order to charge too soon, the casualties would be immeasurable. And it would be worse if he called them too late.

  Without warning, the center horse reared up in the middle of the field. Milo stepped out onto the dirt and tightened his grip on his drawn sword. The horse steadied, and the rider met Milo’s gaze. His eyes were as wicked as his beast, glowing gold and fierce as the inferno raging in his wake. He smiled and gestured for his other riders to move forward and meet him at the midline. They stopped, holding their position. Milo waited. No one stopped mid-charge unless they had something to say. Even still, stopping wasn’t usually an option, or so he’d read. But the Razen were different. Their leader was arrogant, proud, and impatient.

  When no one moved, and no one spoke, Milo stiffened and raised his sword signaling the archers above. The arrows filled the sky and rained down around the horses. They whinnied and neighed and fell to the ground with their riders. A hint of a smile sparked up on Milo’s lips. What a stupid sacrifice. No sooner had the thought danced through his head in a singsong jubilation, than the horse raised their heads. One by one, they stood, untouched by the arrows. Milo looked back at his men. The riders were off their horses and were outnumbered five to one. They weren’t lightly guarded and the fool leader in the middle of the field had greatly underestimated them.

  Giving a shout to Lukas and Brendan, the order was given for the soldiers to hold their ground. Nervous and shaking, they came out of their shelters and prepared themselves for battle. Milo was the first to move, bold as he started out across the field but came to an abrupt halt as the ground began to move. Twisting around, the riders changed. Their bodies crackled and snapped as they elongated and rose up with wide snapping jaws. The loud crashes like steel traps echoed from every direction.

  “Take the wall!” The man on the horse called, unbothered by the advancing Resistance soldiers. He smiled to himself as the serpent-bodied unit slithered through the front line, throwing aside anyone who stood in their way. Killing them wasn’t necessary, but the wall had to come down. He looked up as the sky darkened again. Arrows like a heavy rain cloud blotted out the daylight. He turned away, leaning to the side as a woman appeared behind his horse and climbed atop its rear. Holding her hands over them, a dome flashed and descended to the ground. The arrows plinked against it and fell in death clatter at the horse's feet. She looked at him with a smile. “Not everyone moves as fast as I do. You should thank me once in a while, Callan.”

  “You should learn to make bigger shields, Makar.” He nudged at her side.

  “Makaria,” she corrected. “And if what I did was shield, then I would not be doing so good with what I do best.”

  “And what exactly is that?” He eyed her. Though she’d been with him and the other Horsemen for eons, he’d never gotten a firm grasp on what Makar, or Makaria, did. She moved faster than anyone else and was a masterful assassin, and she was called the last witch of her world, but it didn’t explain how she moved or how she made herself invisible. The shields were a new trick. It seemed almost everyone had something new to offer in this world. It was a shame to have to burn it down.

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  “Never mind what I do, you should pay attention to what you do.” Makaria nodded forward as the shield dissolved into ripples of air. “You have a small angry challenger.”

  Callan looked out across the field and met the glare of the boy standing across from him. The rocks of the walls cascaded down behind him as the snakes burrowed through. His men, his soldiers, ran for cover. The lot of them cowardice in their fear. But this boy didn’t run. His green eyes twinkled with defiance. He was different from the others, but would die the same way.

  Milo’s fist tightened around his sword as he steadied his breath. If he looked back, he would see the damage already done and the bodies of those who’d crossed the snake soldiers. He couldn’t move, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to take one step. To charge forward. To fight the man leading them. But when the ground shook again, he turned away. The wall erupted as a beast twice as tall ripped through it as if it were nothing. A Wyrm, clad in shining armor, slammed against the towers and yanked back the walls of the gate until all that remained was a gaping hole.

  He didn’t remember running for cover, or when he’d come to hide with shaking guards, but there he was on the verge of vomiting up his guts in terror. Real terror. Makler told him to be afraid, and he wasn’t until right then. People were dead. So many people’s lives were gone and he couldn’t stop it. He never stood a chance. Milo turned and looked over the edge of the shelter wall. The man in the middle of the field dismounted. He looked around and found Milo. His brow pressed in and his nose wrinkled. The scowl on his face burned into him. It was anger and disappointment to have seen him run. Milo ducked down, holding tight to his sword.

  “We can’t stay here forever,” he whispered to himself.

  “They’re coming!” someone shouted.

  Twisting around, Milo pulled himself up and watched as the man, their leader, called out orders to take the wall. Take the city. And take no prisoner. The line of white-robed soldiers descended over the hill, rushing at full speed. The ground vibrated under their weight and their arrows soared out, flaming as they passed overhead. The wall guards, crying and praying to silent gods who’d long left their world, crawled back and hid in the crumbling safety of their meager shelter.

  There were thousands of thousands, a sea of soldiers, unlike anything Milo had seen all the time he’d trained in the town and outside of it in the exterior camps. He looked back at the wall. It was gone. The Razen were coming to flood the town and kill everyone. Man, woman, and child. Milo winced, they weren’t ready. There was no way they ever could have been. No wonder the Resistance had never saved a town before. How could they?

  As the torrent of soldiers spilled across the field, a red horse came from nowhere and dashed toward the leader. Milo stared in awe as the man turned his back to the beast and before he made sense of what he’d done, he was mounted on it. His sword rose as he called out to his Razen in a glorious battle cry. The air crackled and snapped, and a boom of thunder raced out around him. As the horse charged forward, flames kicked up around it, igniting the field. Milo jumped to his feet, raising his sword as the hoards funneled. They were in. Bethany would fall, but they weren’t going down without a fight.

  Milo turned back to Lukas. “Find Michael. Get him out.”

  “Yes, sir.” He nodded.

  “Lukas,” he breathed, unsure if he could find the right words.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get him out.” He forced a smile.

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I know you’ve got my back, Milo. Just don’t get yourself killed. Kelsey will kill me if you do.” Lukas set a hand on his shoulder. “Promise me you’ll stay alive till the end.”

  “I will, I promise,” Milo forced the words out.

  “Good,” he nodded. “Now give them the fight they came for.”

  Milo chuckled, lowering his head. Lukas would have made a great leader if he had been a little smarter and hadn’t had to take the entrance exams three times. “That’s my line.”

  “Not today,” Lukas laughed as another explosion rang. He looked skyward as the debris clattered against the small wooden roof. “And that’s my cue to go.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” Milo grabbed hold of him, hugging him tight and wishing he didn’t ever have to let go. Lukas pulled back first and slapped a hand against Milo’s arm. There was nothing left to say, and as they parted they carried the hope of finding one another again with them.