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Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as
cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed
each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took
them down accordingly. She dimly knew that
Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys
battling near her left flank.
But she was keenly aware of the mortal
men who leaped into the fray with cries of
defiance. They’d made it this far. They would
survive today, too. And the khaganate royals
would know it.
Galloping hooves drowned out the battle,
and then Chaol was there, sword flashing,
driving into the unending tide that rushed
from the tower’s entrance.
“To Lord Chaol! To the queen!”
How far they both were from Rifthold.
From the assassin and the captain.
Arrows rose from the army beyond the
wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them