Kingdom of Ash

It was not the number of remaining rukhin
that snatched the breath from her chest.
But what came up behind them.
Nesryn dove. Dove for Sartaq, Kadara
ripping the throat from a wyvern midflight.
The prince was panting, splattered with
blue and black blood, as Nesryn fell into flight
beside him. “Put out the call,” she shouted
over the din, the roar of the wind. “Get to the
city walls! To the southern gate!”
Sartaq’s eyes narrowed beneath his helmet,
and Nesryn pointed behind them.
To the secondary dark host creeping at
their backs. Right from Perranth, where they
had no doubt been hidden.
The rest of Morath’s host. Ironteeth
witches and wyverns with them.
This battle had been a trap. To lure them
here, to expend their forces defeating this
army.