“That…was what Ulric and Jim did with switches and um, explosives?” Frances whispered.

“Yes. Jim was working on developing something called plastic explosives and replicating them with magic. Using the magical switches Urlic had developed, we rigged tunnels that were underneath Kairon-Aoun to explode.”

Frances closed her eyes. “Was that from my idea of collapsing the roof on them?”

“Partly, but Queen Forowena had taken the idea from Westfall Pass and Queen Berengaria’s ambush there.” Edana squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I know.” Clearing her throat with a cough, Frances pursed her lips. “Are we going to offer them the opportunity to recover their dead and wounded?”

Edana sighed. “Strategically it wouldn’t be smart. Every Alavari saved is another soldier Thorgoth could use, but it is the right thing to do.”

Tearing her eyes from the terrible scene, Frances muttered, “I don’t think anybody pulled from that would be in fighting shape for weeks. I’m going to find Morgan and Hattie—”

Her mirror began to vibrate. Pulling the silver object from its pouch, Frances opened it and froze.

Because her girls, and what looked like another centaur and harpy looked trapped underground. Their faces, streaked with dust that clung to their sweat, lit only by the harpy, Diana’s, green magic. Morgan was lying in Hattie’s lap, eyes closed but her chest was rising and falling.

“Hey mom,” her daughter croaked.

“Hey, um, Frances. We might be in a bit of trouble,” said Hattie, wincing.

Opening her palm, Frances stared at the yellow arrow, which was pointing into the dust-covered ruin of the first terrace. “I’m coming—”

Hattie waved her hand. “No! Stay there, we’re fine! We pulled the dirt over us for cover. We’re not actually buried. But we’re behind the enemy lines and we need to lay low until we can get back.”

“Wait, what? How…where are you? I told you to go to the second terrace!” Frances wailed.

John stammered. “We all were! But well…Here’s the story—”

Thanking Frances that they’d actually learnt the layout of the trenches in the first terrace, Morgan and Hattie ran like hell. As they neared the ramp leading up to the first terrace, they could see a hive of activity looming ahead of them.

Rope ladders had been unfurled leading down the ramp. Mages were lifting wounded soldiers up the wall. Friendly harpies from Athelda-Aoun were swooping down and grabbing the less seriously wounded into the air. Meanwhile every able bodied soldier was running for their life up to and through the gate.

All the while, a rearguard of musketeers and pikemen, accompanied by several White Order mages continued to fight a disorganised onslaught of Alavari near the foot of the ramp.

“Fly?” Hattie asked.

“Sure—wait.” Out of the corner of her eye, Morgan caught a glimpse of a harpy and a centaur—John and Diana, carrying several wounded soldiers. To be more accurate, it was John who was carrying the three soldiers on his back, straining at the weight, whilst Diana was firing spells into the distance.

“I’ll help John,” said Hattie.

Sighing to herself, Morgan leapt into the sky to get clear of the houses obscuring her view. From her height, she could see two other Alavari mages, an ogre and an orc, taking cover behind the street’s buildings. For the moment, they were being suppressed but Morgan could see Diana’s barrage slowing.

Taking a deep breath Morgan focused on the sensation she’d felt when she’d unleashed her magic. It almost felt like uncorking a bottle deep inside of her and as it was the second time, it was much easier to open that power up.

Raising Lightbreaker, the harpy-troll pointed at the building corner and screamed. A rippling torrent of magic accompanied the off-kilter note, smashing ruins of the house, leaving but a cloud of dust. The other mage, seeing this, took one look at Morgan and ran.

“Thanks! Can you help them up the wall?” Diana asked.

“Sure,” said Morgan. The pair flew to meet up with Hattie and John. They were already lifting one of the soldiers to their fellows at the top of the wall. Grabbing onto the other unconscious, Morgan and Diana flapped with all their might. Even then, by the end of their flight, the pair were panting heavily as they set their charge down.

An ogre mage grabbed the soldier, hissing, “Morgan, Diana, hurry and get out of there with your friends!”

“Sorry? And who are you again?” Morgan stammered.

Goldilora grimaced, “I’m Timur’s mother! We have a massive trap underneath the first terrace. The whole place is about to become a landslide! That’s why we’ve been sounding those retreat trumpets! Hurry!”

Nodding, Morgan leapt off the battlement, plunging down toward the ground. She could hear the ruffling of Diana’s wings behind her. They levelled out, just before landing.

“We got to move! We trapped the first terrace to trigger a landslide!” Diana screeched.

“We need to get him out first,” said John, pulling his wand out. “Come on!”

“But—Fine!” Morgan started singing, along with Hattie and Diana. In record time the final soldier was back over the wall, leaving the four at the foot of the terrace.

The horns were blaring now, more shrill than ever.

Hattie swallowed. “Morgan leave—”

“We’re not leaving without you,” said Morgan. Her eyes flicking to the teens she grimaced. She and Diana could carry only one person and it sounded like the final warning had sounded. “Everybody, I'm going to shield us.”

His hooves tapping nervously, John stammered, “Are you sure—”

“No! But I think we’re out of time!” She could hear the explosions erupting throughout the city. Sharp cracks sent thin plumes of dust into the sky. Not waiting to hear from the four, she focused on imagining layers of magic, stronger than marble, harder than steel, as durable as the walls of her new home.

A semi-circular violet bubble surrounded the four as the ground shook. Diana, waving her wand, yelled, “I’ll try to keep us from just being sucked under!”

“I’ll help Morgan,” said Hattie.

“I’ll shore up whatever’s necessary,” John declared.

Morgan shuddered as the bubble moved. Through the thick, violet tint of her own magic, she could see the ground roll. Stone, rock, or wood, it didn’t matter, the earth itself heaved, and their shelter skidded, sinking into darkness.

The harpy-troll almost lost her footing, but Hattie managed to grab onto her waist. Muttering Words of Power, a dark-blue glow surrounded the bubble. The ache that had began to build around Morgan’s temples lessened. Yet, she could still feel tears wet her eyes, even as they were surrounded by the debris and detritus of the landslide.

Diana, the harpy’s wings outstretched, sang ever louder, her voice reaching soprano like pitches as she tried to keep them closer to the surface. It was impossible to tell if it was working, but once in a while, as the bumpy ride continued, Morgan spied motes of light as they shuddered, nearly falling over and smashing their heads into the shield.

However, John was on top of it. He’d held them all in his magic, Words of Power pouring from his lips as he held them steady against the floor of their shelter. For what seemed like forever, the four mages cast, holding onto their spells for dear life.

Morgan was still singing, her voice raw with effort, when they stopped. They were above ground. The only thing they could see was dust. Groaning, her knees going limp, she’d fallen over if not for Hattie holding onto her. Dust washed over them, nearly blinding her as her shield finally collapsed.

“How the fuck did we do that?” Diana croaked.

“No idea,” muttered Hattie. “Morgan? Morgan we need to get out of here. We’re probably deep in enemy lines.”

Morgan nodded and groaned as her head ached in protest. Her lips dry, she tried to say something, anything, but it was like speaking through sand.

“She’s in no shape to run.” John looked around and narrowed his eyes at Diana. “We’re in no shape to run. We need to bury ourselves.”

“You want us to do what?” Diana squawked.

“No, he’s right. There!” Hattie raised Silver Star toward a series of broken sections of wall. They’d clearly belonged to some house and she levitated them around. Diana and John followed suit, hauling more debris and rock around themselves.

As the light vanished under the roof of their new shelter, Morgan couldn’t help but mutter, “Mom’s going to be so mad at us.”

Frances breathed in, exhaled and did it again, and again. Still her heart felt like it wanted to explode from her chest. Only the tight grip of her mother’s arm around her shoulder shook her from her stupor.

“What supplies do you have?” Edana asked.

“Water and some dry goods,” said Hattie.

“Today’s rations and some water,” said John.

Her thoughts suddenly crystalizing, Frances shook her head. “No, we need to conduct the rescue now. If we don’t, Alavaria will have swarmed the area with people beginning recovery operations. Better start now.”

Edana shook her head. “You’re in no shape to go, Frances.”

“I’ll go then.”

Edana turned, frowning at the ogre walking to them. “Who are you—Ah, Goldilora isn’t it?”

Goldilora extended her hand to shake Edana’s. “Lady Firehand. I’m fresh and ready. I’ll be able to make it.”

“Alone? No. I’ll go with you,” said a troll in full plate armour. “Captain Aloudin at your service miladies.”

Edana arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to—”

“I’m rescuing my friend’s daughter and her friends, I think I’ll be fine,” said Aloudin, giving Edana a wink.

“Well then, I’ll provide covering fire. Frances, what’s the rough direction?” Edana asked.

Showing Aloudin and Goldilora her hand, the pair studied the arrow.

“I can duplicate it, hold on,” said Goldilora, raising her wand.

“You can?” Edana asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Dwynalina was my mentor after all,” said Goldilora, smiling wanly.

“We have much to talk about Goldilora, especially since we’re going to be in-laws,” said Edana, returning the smile.

“Just keep them off of us,” said the ogre. She turned to Aloudin, “You ready captain?”

“Yup. You?” asked the troll.

“See you on the other side.” With that Goldilora leapt off the battlements, casting a spell to slow her fall. Aloudin followed suit and the pair disappeared into the dust below.

“Frances, Goldilora and Aloudin may be coming for us, but how would we know that we need to run?” Hattie asked.

Frances glanced at the mirror, her attention focused on the dust covered landslide ahead. “Don’t worry about that. You all need to sit tight until they arrive at your spot.”

John piped up. “If we run, we’ll be able to shorten the distance—”

“Yes, but in the condition you all are in, I doubt you’ll be able to be stealthy. You’ll just end up drawing everybody’s attention.” Turning from the ruin of the first terrace, Frances flashed the teens a reassuring smile. “If Goldilora and Aloudin can’t get to you quietly, then I’ll tell you to break out.”

“Speaking of which, do the kids know how far they drifted?” Aloudin’s whisper rasped through the mirror, using his voice-only communication device.

Diana grimaced. “I managed to catch a glimpse of the gatehouse of the first terrace before we shut ourselves in. We weren’t far from it.”

“Got it. Edana, Frances, you may have to adjust,” hissed Aloudin.

“Got it.” Frances looked up and blinked. There was a harpy flying in from the direction of the Alavari camp, carrying a white flag.

Edana, narrowing her eyes, raised her staff and whispered a Word of Power to amplify her voice.

“That’s as far as you come! State your business!”

The harpy immediately pulled up to hover. She was very large for her species and had a black and white plumage.

“Queen Berengaria, I take it you wish for a ceasefire to allow your troops to begin recovery efforts?” Edana drawled.

Having never seen Thorgoth’s wife and Olgakaren’s mother so close, Frances studied the harpy. She was clearly gorgeous, and the plate armour she wore along with her battle-claws made her cut the picture of a warrior queen.

It was her eyes that Frances found herself focused on, however. The queen’s eyes were dark brown, similar to her daughter’s, but they were almost metallic in how they glinted and yet showed no warmth.

“You are correct, Edana Firehand. Do we have a deal? It’ll buy you some time for your friends to arrive after all,” said Berengaria.

Frances did not like that humourless smile and her grip in Ivy’s Sting tightened.

“I’ll have to discuss this with Queen Forowena—”

“We could just bring in our dragons again,” said Berengaria, smile now gone.

“Didn’t we just kill one?” Edana asked. She deliberately studied her fingernails, but shot Frances a glance.

Frances immediately turned on her heel and made for a different section of the wall. She had to put as much distance between herself and the queen.

“What are you up to, Stormcaller?” Berengaria asked airily.

“You’re talking to me, Queen Bitch,” said Edana.

The harpy glared at Edana and shot a retort back, but Frances was already running for the second terrace’s gatehouse.

“Aloudin, Goldilora, you may have company. Queen Berengaria came to arrange for a truce so that the Alavari could begin recovery efforts. Edana’s trying to stall,” said Frances.

Goldilora coughed, hating how the dust filled her nose, wincing at the limbs and remains of limbs that stuck out in the rubble. The slide had been so violent it hadn’t buried that section of Thorgoth’s army, but torn them apart.

The news Frances had for her and the good captain just made things worse.

“Right, fuck it. Kids you got to break out and make a break for it!” she hissed.

“Sure that’s a good idea?” Aloudin asked in a low tone.

“We’re running out of time. Better to do it now whilst they’re not swarming all over the site,” said Goldilora. “You heard that, kids?”

Hattie did in fact hear that, as John and Diana. Morgan gave no response and continued to lay in her arms.

“I’ll carry her.” Diana opened her mouth to retort, but Hattie shook her head. “I don’t think I have anything left for spellcasting.”

“Which means you won’t have much left to run. Give her to me Hattie—”

“You need to focus on casting, John. Trust me.” Carefully moving the harpy-troll onto her back, Hattie pulled out a handkerchief and tied Morgan’s wrists. Her friend’s shallow breathing over her shoulder steeled her resolve. “I won’t let her fall.”

Diana sighed and from Hattie’s outstretched hand, took the communication device. “Yes! We’re running for you now!” She pointed at the direction indicated by the yellow arrow on Hattie’s hand. “John?”

The centaur raised his wand and cried out a Word of Power. The wall caved outward and the teens broke into a jog.

The dust was settling. There was still enough to render everything a sortof hazy fog. Yet, as the teens ran over the broken dirt for the wall, they could hear hoofbeats.

“So, we have a deal?” Berengaria growled.

Edana sighed. She’d bought as much time as she could. “Yes. To confirm, you have access to the ruin as long as you don’t use that time to prepare siege works. We—”

A helmeted harpy touched down on the battlement in allied light-blue colors. “Lady Firehand! Alavari cavalry are swarming the ruins of the first terrace!”

Edana whirled on Queen Berengaria. “Did you have any intention of negotiating in the first place?”

But the harpy-queen’s eyes had also widened and her lips were pressed in a thin line.

“We are not so dishonourable, Firehand. I believe someone sent riders out to help the wounded before the truce was signed.” Berengaria turned to the harpy. “How are you doing, my daughter?”

Olgakaren froze, and with one wing, lifted her visor. “I wanted to believe that, mother. At least before I saw what you and Thorgoth did to Teutobal.”

The queen flashed “It was necessary, my dear hatchling. I do not begrudge your defection, though, I mourn what will happen at the end of this war.”

“You assume we’ll ever stop resisting, mother,” said Olgakaren. She bowed her head. “I love you. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye my dear.” She narrowed her eyes at Edana. “As for our discussion, Firehand, I take it it stands, or would you rather prevent us from rescuing our wounded from a death in darkness?”

“It stands,” Edana hissed, her fingers drumming across Poker’s iron-colored wood.

“Frances! We’re surrounded!” Hattie screamed.

“I see you! Send up a flare so that Goldilora and Aloudin can see you! Barrage behind you in one minute!”

“One minute—Shit we got to move!” Diana flew in the sky, firing bolts of magic from her wand as she sang. The Alavari cavalrymen scattered, trying to seek cover amidst the clumps and mounds of dirt and rock.

“We’ll cover you, go!” John bellowed.

Sucking in a deep breath, Hattie broke into a run. She leapt over broken timbers, using Silver Star as a quasi walking stick, and apologising as she did so. Morgan’s limp body thudded against her back while the half-troll scrambled over broken clay wall. Eyes focused forward, blinking through the dust-filled air, Hattie took deep desperate gasps. Her throat clogging with dirt, she breathed anyway, knowing that she had to keep going.

In front of her , bolts of magic knocked Alavari from horses or war boars, slamming them into the ground, or forcing them to ride for cover. She could hear John and Diana’s singing and spat out epithets.

It wasn’t enough. As Hattie slid down a ditch, she managed to glance over her shoulder. John and Diana were furiously trying to overlap pink and green shields to protect themselves and Hattie from a horde of cavalrymen riding up behind them, firing their carbines and pistols.

“Brace yourselves!” screamed Frances’s voice.

The world flashed white. Hattie furiously blinked back spots. The Alavari cavalrymen were scattered, or scattering, their horses reeling. Then it flashed again as another column of lightning smashed into their ranks.

As Hattie hit the bottom of the ditch, she saw Goldilora slide down. “Thank Galena and the fucking Stormcaller!” she cackled.

Grabbing the ogre’s hand she pulled herself up, unable to help but smile. Thank Frances Windwhistler the Stormcaller indeed.