He who controlled the rod controlled Erawan. The thought occurred to him almost as if it came from someone else. He looked up and saw the tears in the elephant’s eyes.

He wasn’t that much of a bastard.

“Mace!” Hugh roared.

One of the Iron Dogs thrust a mace at him. Hugh put the control rod on the parapet and swung. The mace head crushed the jewel. He lifted the control rod up and broke it over his knee.

The huge gem in Erawan’s head cracked. Pieces of it tumbled out, crashing to the ground. The elephant raised his trunks and let out a triumphant bellow.

The chains binding his feet snapped.

Next to Hugh Dugas stared, open-mouthed.

Erawan spread his ears. Above him clouds burst with rain. It poured over his body, washing away the dark pigment from its hide. Rivulets of stained rain dripped to the ground, and where they touched the grass, flowers bloomed.

The humans on the wall stared, mute.

Erawan bellowed again, his voice filled with joy. His scars faded, the last of the darkness slid off, and he stood revealed and glowing white.

The elephant waved his trunks, shook his ears, flinging the rain drops, and vanished. Only a patch of bright flowers remained where he had stood.

“It worked,” Dugas said. “How did you know to bring flowers?”

“He’s worshipped in Thailand with offerings of flowers and garlands. A god will do almost anything to keep his worshippers safe. They’re the source of his power and existence.”

Dugas smiled, wiping the rain from his face.

Below, the Cleaning Crew halted its advance, confused, the lines in disarray as Nez tried to regroup.

Hugh grinned. “You’re my witness,” he said to Dugas. “She owes me one.”

“Tell her yourself,” the druid said.

Hugh turned. Elara was standing on the steps. In his head, she took the three steps that separated them and kissed him. But she stayed where she was and then she smiled, her whole face lighting up. “Thank you.”

Worth it.

“Did you see me free the elephant?” he asked.

“I saw.”

He noticed blood caked on her arms.

“They will heal. I won too,” she said. “I’m afraid Bale might never be the same.”

Hugh saw Bale behind her. The berserker looked white as a sheet.

“He’s resilient,” Hugh said. “He’ll get over it.”

Magic cracked like a whip across the battlefield. They spun around to face it.

A portal opened in the middle of the field and mrogs poured onto the grass.

16

Elara stared at the armored column. It kept coming and coming, twenty men to a line, more and more, never ending. They split as they stepped out onto the grass, one line moving left, the next right, forming into two rectangles. There had to be over a thousand soldiers on the field now. The rain drenched them, and still they came, line after line. The mrogs wrapped around the two columns like a shifting dark sea, too numerous to count.

She chanced a look at Hugh. He was watching them with a grim look. He glanced at her, and she saw a savage determination in his eyes, the kind a trapped animal got when he knew he was cornered and escape was unlikely.

Maybe they aren’t here for us. Maybe they are here for Nez. She knew this slender hope was absurd, but she clung to it anyway.

The next line of soldiers emerged, carrying wooden planks nailed together. Another line. Another. A third one, carrying wooden poles. Parts of a bridge, Elara realized. They were going to try to bridge the moat.

On the other side of the field, the Cleaning Crew fell back, taking a defensive position on the edge of the woods.

A man emerged, riding on a large dark horse and wearing ornate golden armor. Another man in regular armor rode behind him, holding a standard and a horn.

The portal snapped closed.

“There you are,” Hugh muttered.

The horn blower blew a sharp note. As one, the warriors in the two columns turned, those in the first to face the castle and the right toward Nez’s forces. The mrogs split in half and charged to the walls and to the tree line, screeching and shrieking. The faint hope inside Elara died. The mrog army was here for Baile. They didn’t expect another army on the field, but they didn’t have capacity to make quick decisions or negotiate, so now they would fight both.

“Artillery!” Hugh called out. “Fire at will.”

Sam blew his horn. The sorcerous siege engines spat bolts at the approaching mrogs. Green explosions tore ragged holes at the advancing mass. The mrogs screeched and kept running.

“To the wall!” Hugh roared. “Defend the perimeter!”

The horn blared.

Hugh turned to her. “Get everyone into the keep.”

“What?”

“We can’t hold the wall. We’re buying you time. Get our people into the keep, Elara, into the tunnels.”

The first mrogs dashed into the moat, swimming across it.

She called out commands, throwing her voice around the castle.

The first furry arm clutched onto the parapet. A mrog pulled itself up onto the wall and crouched. He got halfway through the first scream before Hugh beheaded him.

Elara dragged a bloody hand across her face. The bailey floor was covered with blood and mrog bodies. On the wall, battle raged. Next to her Savannah was breathing hard. All of her people already made it to the keep. The Iron Dogs were withdrawing from the wall, fighting in small groups. Only one section of the wall still held, the one directly above them.

Another six people in black uniforms came running around the corner. A clump of mrogs chased them.

Savannah spat a curse. Magic snapped out of her like a striking whip. The leading mrog fell, covered in boils. Savannah swayed. She won’t last much longer.

The Iron Dogs dashed past them.

Elara thrust herself between the witch and the incoming mrogs. They clawed at her and died at her feet, joining the semicircle of furry bodies.

Savannah stumbled.

More mrogs came over the wall, coming from all directions now.

“Into the keep,” Elara snapped at her. “Now!”

“I…”

“Now!”

Savannah retreated into the keep.

A grotesque creature emerged from the left, hulking, with oversized shoulders and tree trunk-thick arms, splattered with blood and bits of human tissue. Bale’s unconscious body slumped over her back. It took Elara a moment to register the Iron Dogs around her. Not a monster. Another berserker. The group rambled past her into the keep.

All around her the mrogs were climbing over the wall, squirming and shrieking.

“Hugh!” Elara called.

A body fell off the wall and landed on the stones with a wet splat. She saw the dark hair. Felix. Oh no. She dropped by him. Blood poured out of Felix’s head. The scout master struggled to say something.

“Hugh!”

He came running down the stairs, Stoyan and two others following him, covered in blood.

Felix clutched her hand and died.

She saw Hugh’s face, and the pain on it tore her apart.

“Come on!” Savannah screamed.

Hugh grabbed her hand, pulled her up and away from the body into the keep. The huge metal doors swung closed.

Elara stared around the room. Mangled and bloody people stared back at her with terrified eyes, some of them were hers, others Hugh’s. Ours, she corrected herself. All of them are ours.

Sam came forward, pushing his way through the crowd, leading Bucky, Hugh’s helmet under his arm. Others followed with more horses.

What…

She turned to Hugh. “Are you insane?”

“The only way to stop this is to kill the commander,” Hugh said.

“We can hold out. We just need to outlast them until the magic wave ends.”

“They will be back,” he said with a grim finality. “If we wait them out, they’ll just return. We have to break them. If we kill the commander now, they will break.”

She shook her head.

He kept talking. “If I succeed, do not engage them. They’ll stop fighting and stand around until tech returns and takes them out. Until then, mrogs will be your only problem and you can handle mrogs in a narrow space.”

“You can’t possibly go out there. It’s suicide.”