The Sortie
Renn led his team through the hidden sally port on Thornhaven's northern side—five fighters total, a mix of Flamebound and Frost Guard who'd trained together for weeks.
They moved through the chaos of battle like ghosts, using smoke and confusion as cover. The crusaders were focused on the walls, expecting all resistance to come from above. They didn't watch their rear.
"Target's ahead," whispered Jessa, a Frost Guard scout. She pointed to a cluster of supply wagons guarded by perhaps twenty soldiers—grain, arrows, medical supplies. The crusade's logistical backbone.
"Ice first, then fire," Renn said. "On my signal."
They crept closer, using terrain and wreckage for cover. When they were thirty paces out, Renn raised his hand.
"Now!"
Jessa and another ice mage thrust forward, and frost erupted across the ground. Guards shouted in alarm as their feet froze to the earth, armor coating with ice so thick they couldn't move.
Renn and the fire mages followed immediately, sending controlled streams of flame into the wagons. Wood caught, supplies ignited, smoke billowing into the sky.
"Go!" Renn shouted as horns blared and reinforcements charged toward them.
The team scattered, each member taking a different route back to Thornhaven. Renn ran through smoke so thick he could barely see, crusaders' shouts echoing behind him. An arrow hissed past his ear. Another struck his shoulder, but his borrowed armor deflected it.
He dove through the sally port just as it slammed shut behind him, collapsing against the wall, chest heaving.
"One down," he gasped. "Three more out there."
.....
Valdis's Hunt
Captain Valdis's target was more ambitious—Crane's command pavilion itself.
Her team of eight moved like winter wind, silent and deadly. They'd painted their armor with mud to avoid reflection, wrapped weapons in cloth to silence metal on metal.
The pavilion was heavily guarded—fifty soldiers at least, plus priests whose staffs glowed with ready power. But Valdis had studied the layout during previous scouting, identified the weak points.
"Priest on the left," she whispered to her team. "Takes a prayer break every hour, walks to that tree. We take him, use his robes to get close."
They waited with frozen patience until the priest wandered toward the designated tree, muttering prayers. Valdis moved like striking snake—a hand over his mouth, ice dagger to his throat. He died silently, frozen from within.
She donned his robes, pulled the hood low. "Stay here. If I'm not back in five minutes, retreat."
"Captain—"
"That's an order."
She walked toward the pavilion, staff in hand, posture mimicking the priests' pious bearing. Guards glanced at her but didn't stop her—just another priest, unremarkable in the chaos.
Inside the pavilion, she saw Crane hunched over maps with his commanders. The Cardinal's face was twisted with frustration as he traced attack routes.
"—lose three more siege towers and we'll have to wait for reinforcements. How is this settlement holding?"
"The Dragon Lord, Your Eminence. He's stronger than intelligence suggested. And the northern mercenaries—"
Valdis didn't wait to hear more. She raised her hand, and ice erupted from the ground, spikes shooting toward Crane and his commanders.
The Cardinal reacted instantly, his own staff blazing white. Divine fire met ice in explosive collision, the pavilion's tent walls shredding from the force.
"Assassin!" guards shouted, rushing inward.
Valdis was already moving, throwing ice grenades—small spheres that exploded into freezing mist—as she ran. Behind her, the pavilion collapsed in chaos, Crane's shouting drowned by alarms and confusion.
She reached her team, breathing hard. "Didn't kill him, but he'll think twice before feeling safe. Move!"
They vanished into the battlefield, leaving disruption in their wake.
....
Serra's Demolition
Serra's target was the siege towers—those massive wooden structures that had proven resistant to fire.
"If we can't burn them," she told her team, "we weaken them structurally."
Her group included two former crusader engineers who'd helped build similar towers during their service. They knew exactly where the critical supports were, which joints held the most weight.
They approached under cover of smoke from Renn's supply wagon fires. Guards were distracted, watching for more raiders.
Serra's team split—half providing cover with crossbows, half working on the tower itself. The engineers placed ice charges at critical points—frozen water packed so tightly it would expand with explosive force.
"Thirty seconds," one whispered, lighting the fuse.
They ran as guards finally noticed them. Shouts. Arrows. A crusader grabbed Serra's cloak, but she spun, dagger flashing, and he fell.
The explosion was quieter than expected—not fire and thunder, but a sharp crack like winter ice breaking on a frozen lake. The siege tower's joints shattered, stress points failing all at once.
The massive structure tilted, swayed, then collapsed sideways, crushing a dozen crusaders beneath it and taking another tower down with it.
Serra's team scattered before reinforcements arrived, melting back toward Thornhaven through prearranged routes.
.....
The Message North
In the Frost Kingdoms, the emergency relay reached Glaciheart within hours.
Queen Evelina stood in her war room when the messenger burst in, breathless from desperate riding.
"Your Majesty—Dragon Lord requests immediate reinforcements. The crusade has engaged. He says... he says spring has arrived, and if you were planning to visit, now would be excellent."
Evelina's expression didn't change, but frost formed on every surface in the room. The temperature dropped so fast the messenger's breath became visible.
"How many forces can we mobilize immediately?" she asked her commanders.
"Five hundred, Your Majesty. With forced march through barely-cleared passes, we could reach Thornhaven in... two days. Maybe three."
"Two days," Evelina said. "We march in one hour. No delays. I want the fastest riders, the strongest fighters, the most experienced ice mages."
"Your Majesty," one advisor ventured carefully, "the risk to your person—"
"Is acceptable," Evelina interrupted. Ice formed in her palm, sharp and cold. "The Dragon Lord called for help. We answer. That's what allies do."
She turned to a scribe. "Send word to Duke Aldren's neighboring territories. Remind them that we support Thornhaven officially. Any kingdom that aids the crusade will find trade with the Frost Kingdoms... difficult."
"You're making this political," the advisor said.
"It was always political," Evelina replied. "Crane forced the issue. Now we respond. Prepare my armor."
Within the hour, five hundred Frost Guard were mounted and riding south, Queen Evelina at their head, moving with desperate speed through mountain passes that would kill anyone less determined.
.....
Nightfall
As darkness fell over the battlefield, the crusade pulled back to regroup.
They'd lost two siege towers, multiple supply wagons, and their command pavilion was destroyed. Crane himself was shaken but alive, relocated to a hastily established backup position surrounded by triple the previous guards.
Inside Thornhaven, defenders collapsed in exhaustion. The walls had held—barely. The gate breach was reinforced with debris and ice. Casualties were high but not catastrophic.
Lioran stood on the wall, watching the crusaders' campfires spread like a constellation of orange stars.
"They'll come again at dawn," Kaelen said, joining him. "Harder. Crane won't tolerate another day like this."
"Then we need reinforcements before dawn," Lioran replied.
"Do you really think she'll come? The Queen?"
Lioran touched the crystal vial at his belt. "She promised. Evelina doesn't break promises."
"That's a lot of faith in someone you've known for weeks."
"Sometimes weeks are enough." Lioran turned to face the knight. "You've held remarkably well today. The eastern gate counterattack was perfect timing."
"Aldren's cavalry did the real work," Kaelen said. "I just pointed them in the right direction." He paused. "But thank you. For trusting me with command. For not trying to control everything yourself."
"I learned something in the north," Lioran said. "Power shared is power multiplied. Besides, I'm not qualified to command everything. I barely survived today."
"The ember?"
"Screaming for release. Wants to burn them all, walls be damned." Lioran's hands clenched. "Evelina's ice essence helps, but it's getting harder to hold back."
"Then let's hope her reinforcements arrive before you have to make that choice."
Below in the courtyard, Mira tended to wounded alongside Sister Elara and other healers. The chapel had been converted into an infirmary, every available space filled with injured defenders.
She saw Renn carried in, shoulder bleeding from where an arrow had struck. "Not fatal," he said before she could panic. "Just painful. How many?"
"Thirty-seven dead," Mira said quietly. "Sixty-two wounded seriously. And tomorrow will be worse."
"Tomorrow we'll have help," Renn said with more confidence than he felt.
"You sound like my son. Stubborn optimism in the face of reality."
"I learned from the best."
The night deepened. Guards rotated, fires were banked, prayers were whispered. Eight hundred souls waited for dawn, knowing it would bring either salvation or slaughter.
And somewhere in the darkness, five hundred riders pushed through mountain snow, racing against time.
.....
Crane's Tent
In his backup pavilion, Crane knelt before a brazier, communing with the High Conclave through divine flame.
"The heretics hold," he reported. "The Dragon Lord is more powerful than anticipated. Northern mercenaries fight with unexpected ferocity. Duke Aldren's betrayal runs deeper than suspected."
The Conclave's voice echoed from the flames: "Then end it tomorrow. Total assault. Every soldier, every priest. Overwhelm them completely. We cannot allow this heresy to survive. If Thornhaven stands, every dissident in every kingdom will be emboldened."
"It will be done," Crane promised. "By tomorrow's sunset, Thornhaven will be ash."
He extinguished the flames and turned to his commanders. "No holding back tomorrow. We commit everything. I want that settlement erased."
His priests nodded, already preparing their most devastating rituals.
Tomorrow would be absolute.
.....
The Race
Evelina drove her forces mercilessly through the night.
They'd covered in twelve hours what normally took two days, but it still wasn't enough. Thornhaven was another full day's ride, and the crusade would attack at dawn.
"Your Majesty," her captain said, "the horses are near collapse. The soldiers need rest."
"Then they rest while riding," Evelina replied, frost forming in her white hair from the wind. "We don't stop. Not while—"
She didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.
Not while he's fighting for his life.
The crystal around her neck—matching the vial she'd given Lioran—pulsed warmth against her chest. A connection across distance. A promise kept or broken depending on whether they arrived in time.
"Faster," she commanded, and the Frost Guard obeyed, pushing themselves beyond what should be possible.
Behind them, mountains echoed with hoofbeats.
Ahead, dawn approached with fire in its wake.