It was on the sixth day that Serien’s ears picked up movement in the brush above. She looked upward to see the currents of air moving throughout the boughs of the trees. There was something unnatural that lingered on the edge of the wind, and Serien recognized a moment too late that it was the sound of breathing.

Northerners descended upon them in freefall. They rained daggers that immediately found their way into the skulls of unfortunate soldiers. Serien reached for her hood of chainmail, forgetting with a curse that she was not in Vhalla Yarl’s armor.

“Firebearers!” the Emperor shouted.

The Black Legion soldiers ran out to the perimeter creating a wall of flame. The Northerners were assaulted by arrows and magical tongues of fire to burn away the brush that reached out unnaturally to catch them. One fell straight before her, the body nearly exploding upon impact with the ground after such a long fall.

Serien took a breath, trying to assess their situation. The wind whispered to her once more.

“Incoming left!” she cried. Serien drew her sword as everyone, including the Emperor, stared on in confusion.

But her warning was validated the second Northerners were carried through the flames atop the backs of giant beasts unlike anything Serien had ever seen. It was a cat-like creature with double-jointed back legs and claws larger than a man’s thigh. Its thick fur was slick and whatever was atop it was impervious to the flames it had leapt over.

Two more came, carrying even more riders, who quickly dismounted, entering the fray with their double-sworded stances. The first one was barreling toward the Emperor and Windwalker, their target clear. The Emperor drew his sword, positioning his mount fearlessly to face the Northerner head on.

It wasn’t even a competition. The horse moved at the Emperor’s command, and Emperor Solaris moved as if his enemy had told him all the attacks they would make. He sliced the man’s head clean off, dodging all blades.

The Northerners didn’t seem interested in engaging any of the soldiers, and the Imperial army was left to struggle to impede the enemies’ leaps and jumps toward the Windwalker. Yet somewhere amid the chaos, she managed to hear the sound of a bowstring. Serien turned, finding the archer immediately in their roost.

The arrow was headed straight for the Emperor, who was engaged in heated combat. She swallowed her pride and stuck out her hand. The arrow stopped just as the Emperor was about to turn his face into it. He wasn’t able to conceal his amazement as the arrow dropped to the ground harmlessly.

Two cerulean eyes found hers. There was no love there, not an iota of appreciation. Serien set her jaw and missed the sound of another arrow being set loose.

By the time any of them heard it, it was too late.