The Fire King (Stormless Book 2), page 45
The distraction with the ships had cost them over a dozen weapons and many more men.
Surge cursed again, nearing the edge of the roof. They watched as the Arvendi were pushed around the corner, falling back to the next phase of the fight.
They fought half-heartedly, trying not to lose too many as they fell back to the old sea district. Some even turned and ran, letting their fear get the best of them.
Faelyn turned to the main streets, watching as hundreds of Cyfali and Sucharan soldiers marched over the countless corpses that littered the shattered stone streets. Finally, Faelyn raised his head. The lines of soldiers were endless, continuing on for miles beyond the Arvendi walls.
Surge stepped up, rising to the edge of the roof. “You head to the old sea district. I’ll send Falx with you,” Surge said, his voice firm.
Faelyn turned to him, wiping blood and sweat from his brow. “Where are you going?” he shouted over the roar of the fight.
“I’m going to cut off our invaders from their reinforcements,” Surge said. “I need you to make sure that we wipe out every single one of those who have already made it inside the city. The Sparkcoils will keep any more from entering, but not for long.” Surge paused. “It’s time to initiate the second phase of our plan.”
“Surge,” Faelyn started. “We don’t even—”
“Do not speak!” Surge roared, cutting him off. “Obey.” Surge turned away and leaped off into the night with a blast of lightning.
Faelyn watched as the retreating Arvendi neared the old sea district. He turned, catching sight of a small amount of fighting near the Palace—likely a few stray Cloudwalkers. The Palace would hopefully remain unharmed thanks to Reluraun and the soldiers stationed there… And so long as the Palace stood, Arvendon had a chance.
Faelyn whirled and sprinted along the rooftops, pushing past the market district and the main plaza—where the invaders were currently marching. They were tearing through the Arvendi that had been stationed there effortlessly, following the retreating troops toward the old plaza to the south.
He jumped to the next one, and then the next, fires catching around his Summoned feet as he picked up speed. The armies looked up, firing a few arrows and blasts of flame at him, but Faelyn ignored them.
Thunder crackled, and General Falx crashed down in the center of the old plaza—their destination. He stood next to the Incendiary-filled fountain, preparing for the arrival of the next wave of troops.
Something moved in the distance to the south. Dark masses sneaking through the back alleys. Faelyn tilted his head. Weren’t the reinforcements supposed to be hiding in the warehouses?
Unless… Those were not Arvendi reinforcements. Faelyn started, lifting his gaze. Smoke rose from the southern wall. The Sucharans and Cyfali had punched a hole through the wall and were coming in from behind Arvendon’s hidden reinforcements.
“To the south!” Faelyn screamed.
Almost every soldier on the battlefield spun to face the southern walls. Seconds later, Falx gave the order.
Hundreds of Arvendi soldiers charged out of the warehouses, while the main force of Cyfali and Sucharans remained around fifty yards from the old plaza itself.
The invaders jumped back, cursing at the sudden flood of Arvendi troops.
No, no, no, NO! It hadn’t worked. The troops had come out too early because of the ambush.
The Cyfali and Sucharans retreated slightly, keeping themselves in the street rather than advancing to the plaza where they would have been surrounded.
Faelyn’s heart plummeted. Their ambush had failed. Just at that very moment, bolts of lightning lit up the battlefield to the northeast. Faelyn spun.
Surge was activating the Sparkcoils, but it wouldn’t matter. They had planned to repeat this plan for several waves of invaders, yet they had failed on the first one.
Faelyn could only watch as the Arvendi reached the southern ambushers. He blinked a few times as the Arvendi swung straight through the soldiers.
Turquoise frost flickered where each of the enemy soldiers had been standing.
“Izara’s Shadow!” Faelyn cursed. They had been tricked again. The smoke from the south instantly vanished.
More Sparkcoils lit up, activated by Falx. Yet they did no good. The invading force to the south didn’t even exist.
Illusomancer. Faelyn fell to his knees, watching as the confused troops spun, trying to figure out what had happened as their enemies suddenly vanished into thin air.
Their plan had failed. The battle would be over before it had even truly begun.
A few minutes earlier…
Elias Surge leaped from building to building, ignoring the charging invaders below. He opened his mouth, channeling the power of thunder into his voice.
“Arm the coils!” Surge roared, his voice booming through the streets. “Three across the gate, one bordering the plaza!” Surge called out. He grunted, leaping to the next set of rooftops.
His muscles ached from carrying the weight of his massive armor and sword, but he pushed on. This wasn’t his first extended fight, but it was the first fight that he had ever seen on this scale. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now. He shoved the thoughts from his mind, replacing them with a cold focus.
Finally, as if in response to his focus, the hidden ballistae rose from behind the wall, rapidly assembled by the soldiers who had been hiding within. In unison, they let out their war cries, and Arvendon started to take back some of its lost ground.
Surge took this as his signal and leaped from the building directly into the fray of hostile soldiers tearing through the streets.
He landed with a small explosion, sending a burst of electricity through his legs. Drawing his sword, Surge took down the nearest soldier with a single swipe of his blade.
The others turned to him, forming a small ring around Surge. The ring expanded, and continued doing so until it encompassed several dozen soldiers.
Fire lashed out toward him. Surge ducked, letting the blast burn through the soldiers on the other side of him. A Cloudwalker wove a block of air and hurled it toward Surge.
Surge raised his sword, electrifying it and swinging it directly into the invisible block. His sword connected with something, and the wind dissipated.
He just needed to wait.
The soldiers charged at that moment… Yet they had no idea what he was capable of.
NOW! Surge imbued his sword with lightning, commanding the power to stay within the blade. He took a deep breath, then let out a vicious roar, pushing every bit of his power into the tip of the blade.
Thunder cracked through the night. His ears rang as lightning exploded from the tip of the sword, shooting outward in a continuous beam of destruction, disintegrating the charging soldiers.
He spun, bringing the sword in a full arc around himself, wiping out every single one of his attackers. Surge collapsed, feeling the fearful tingling in his fingertips. Lightning trickled through his veins, itching his hands with its dangerous grasp.
Breakdown.
It didn’t matter. Surge staggered to his feet, using his massive sword as a crutch while he surveyed the land around him. His eyes settled on the gate, whose opening was now being wrapped with three sets of Sparkcoils.
Enemy soldiers were already charging the gate, swords raised to cut down the wires.
Surge grunted, sheathing his sword and slamming his fists together. Breakdown or not, he would never surrender. He leaped forward, lightning arcing across the stones as he flew. He reached the gate within seconds and threw both of his hands up against the wires.
Just as the soldiers were beginning to reach the gate, Surge pushed his lightning through the Sparkcoils.
Somewhere deep within the thin metal wires, Surge felt the reaction trigger.
Brilliant lightning exploded across the wires, perfectly covering the entrance to the city in a mesmerizing, crisscrossing pattern.
Surge spun as a group of Arvendi soldiers filed out from their posts behind him to defend him while he held the gate.
Already, he could feel the shaking of the wall elsewhere as the invaders tried to break through. The Sparkcoils would be severed before too long, but they would hold for now. Surge could only hope that it would be long enough for Faelyn and Falx to wipe out the others.
Faelyn Titansworn jumped from the building he stood atop, landing among the enemy soldiers. They spun in surprise, raising their curved swords and longblades.
Faelyn’s face was fixed in a tight frown. The plan they’d worked so hard on was ruined, and he was in no mood for games or fancy tricks. If Arvendon was going down, he was going to take some of its invaders down with him. Faelyn threw out both hands and began concentrating his energies into his palms.
The soldiers shied away as lights appeared around Faelyn’s glowing, spectral hands. He Summoned several flames, growing and cultivating them with a careful, focused mind.
He expanded them, feeling the rush of the wind and the quiver of the bow in the distance. Faelyn ducked, his enhanced senses making him aware of the arrow that was presently flying toward him.
A small volley of arrows from Cyfali soldiers flew past him, crashing into the men on the other side of Faelyn.
The attacks snapped the Cyfali and Sucharans out of their trance, and they charged.
Faelyn growled, twisting the tapestry of fire that he had made and throwing it into the ground. The cracks in the street suddenly began to glow. Faelyn planted his feet, holding his ground as he pushed out with both hands. The ground grew unsteady, and the soldiers started to stumble.
The glowing cracks in the stone spread, crawling and expanding to encompass more and more enemy soldiers.
Now. Faelyn threw his hands to the sky, bringing the fire up through the stones and incinerating the soldiers who had been standing around him. He closed his eyes, shielding himself from the blinding display of fire.
He heard the flames wash through the soldiers and felt their warmth float through his skin. He cracked his eyes open, sighting the remnants of the flames around him.
He lowered his hands, the blazing inferno that he had Summoned from below falling back beneath the surface and dissipating. It was a dangerous spell, one that he had learned very recently, but it was effective.
Faelyn leaped into the air once again, then landed with a crash a few dozen feet away. He bolted through the streets, fire trailing his still shaky conjured feet.
Naturally, the invading soldiers followed the man who had killed their allies and charged behind him, punching through the Arvendi lines and pouring into the old plaza.
Yes… YES! The soldiers were charging the plaza anyway. His plan to bait them into the ambush had worked—even if the Arvendi reinforcements were already drawn out.
Faelyn jumped back, watching as row after row of Arvendi Scorchers sprinted toward the approaching threat, glowing Sunspears held at the ready.
Flames burst out of nowhere. Lightning cracked through the enemy lines. Phantom winds tossed soldiers like leaves in the wind. Faelyn took a few deep breaths, trying to resettle himself.
His ashen breathing returned, his haunted lungs feeling empty. Faelyn struggled to get another breath. He was getting close to Breakdown once again. And if he went as far as he did last time, he wasn’t sure he would survive.
Faelyn stumbled back as a brilliant explosion of electricity grabbed his attention. He spotted General Falx standing to the side, holding the edge of a set of Sparkcoils. The long metal wires were laid across the ground and had been firmly embedded in the cracks of the cobblestone streets throughout the northern half of the plaza. Falx had electrified them, bringing down almost a hundred soldiers in a single second.
A few Voltarians stood in the electrified street—the lightning flowing harmlessly through them. They charged Falx, knocking him from the wires.
Faelyn shouted, sprinting toward them. He passed the fountain and felt a strange pull. Faelyn stopped. Incendiary.
There were still nearly a hundred soldiers left in the plaza, and the Arvendi soldiers were falling fast. Faelyn shouted his commands and then turned to the Cyfali soldiers, who were armed with their vicious longswords.
“You want revenge for your Monolith?” Faelyn roared. “Come and get me!”
The soldiers turned to him, charging almost instantly.
Faelyn grinned, taking a few steps back, standing right beside the stone fountain.
The soldiers started to reach the edges of the fountain, their battle cries becoming deafening as they plowed past the Arvendi soldiers who had stood between them and Faelyn.
Faelyn jumped back and sent a single bolt of flame toward the fountain.
He was thrown from his feet in an instant.
A deafening explosion rocked the city. Stone rubble shot in all directions, crushing Arvendi and invaders alike. Faelyn rolled to a stop somewhere in the streets, feeling the crushing weight of the heat around him.
Faelyn turned to his phantom feet, trying to Summon them once again as the ash started to fall.
No. It was like… It was like… NO!
Ash swirled around him, falling lightly on the endless piles of corpses and rubble around him. The Incendiary… How much had there been? Faelyn rose to his feet, Summoning them once again. What has Eithor done?
His breath caught as he took in the entirety of what he had done. Hundreds of bodies littered the plaza. Survivors—General Falx among them—tried to rise to their feet, pushing aside the rubble that had fallen.
Faelyn recognized the female Scorcher he stepped over. Ayre. Faelyn took another step. The woman was dead.
Faelyn looked down to his armor—now coated black. He brought his spectral hands to his face, a scream rising in the depths of his haunted soul when another explosion sounded across the city.
He spun, raising his eyes to the sky, where a pillar of smoke rose steadily.
Shards of ice began twisting into the air to the north—by the main gate. A force pressed against his brain, bringing distraction and discomfort. Whisperers.
Whisperers and Cryostalkers could only mean one thing: The Freyfallion army had arrived.
Elias Surge stumbled back, the trap of wires finally falling.
Cryostalkers slid over the walls, cutting down Arvendi archers and ballistae as they went.
Surge cursed, sprinting back and waving for the small squadron of soldiers that had been covering him to follow.
An explosion sounded to the south.
Surge stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. He cursed again, scanning the sky as a plume of black smoke rose into the night. What is going on?
Another explosion sounded as fire was set to the next barricade. Surge roared with fury, leaping into the air with an electric blast as he watched the Freyfallion Summoners—clad in black armor—rip apart the Arvendi soldiers… his soldiers.
Surge screamed. He landed with a small explosion, grabbing a Freyfallion Cryostalker and throwing him to the ground with an electric grapple.
The Summoner’s skull cracked from the impact.
Another barricade exploded, now fully opening the path to the northern half of the city. Surge cursed, grabbing another Freyfallion Cryostalker and throwing a firm, electrified punch deep into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.
Now was not the time for mercy. His men were dying, and they were dying fast.
Another explosion sounded to the west, beyond the wall. No, The explosion was some distance away, meaning…
The barely visible white film in the sky above weakened, fading slightly. The ward.
The invaders had destroyed one of Arvendon’s Monoliths.
A weight crashed into his mind, weakening his muscles before he could react. Surge gasped, moving to draw his greatsword.
Surge started, stumbling to the ground.
Whisperers.
Another explosion sounded to the west, the ward overhead weakening even further.
They’re going to destroy every last Monolith, Surge realized, his stomach sinking. Some of Arvendon’s Monoliths were underwater—to the east—but those alone wouldn’t be enough to protect the city. Even if Arvendon somehow survived this battle, it would be destroyed by the first Storm Gale that blew through.
Surge only had one option left… He wasn’t sure what had happened at the old plaza; all he knew was that what he was going to do next would finally seal their fate.
“Fall back!” Surge commanded, enhancing his shouts. “Fall back to the Palace!”
“Fall back!” Surge shouted from across the city. “Fall back to the Palace!” His calls rang out through their shattered forces.
Faelyn had seen the ward weakening overhead, and he had heard the explosions to the west. It was over. Regardless of the outcome of this battle, Arvendon would be destroyed.
An Illusomancer had tricked them into giving away their ambush, and the resulting fight had led to many of their forces falling. Eithor had overfilled the fountain with Incendiary… It didn’t take Faelyn long to put together that Eithor was the one behind these illusions.
He had betrayed them. But Faelyn couldn’t worry about that now; he would deal with Eithor if he made it out of this alive.
Faelyn realized that it didn’t even matter that the Monoliths were being destroyed—the Arvendi would all be dead by morning anyway. He was out of options. The least he could do was give everything he had to this one final stand.
Faelyn dashed through the streets, then launched himself up to the rooftops with a thick, ashen breath. He landed with a grunt and took off in a sprint across the tops of the warehouses and homes.
Summerglass Palace loomed in the distance. A heavy shadow fell over the city, signaling that they were entering the darkest part of the night.
As Faelyn passed by the main plaza, he understood.
Lotius and Oria had slipped behind a pair of clouds, hiding their radiant lights. Fires still burned in the streets, scorching the bodies of the dead. Fighting still rang out in some places, filling Faelyn’s ears with sounds of steel and death.
