In the northern lands of Vanura, the first hint of winter could be felt in the crisp autumn morning, the chill causing most people to pause before crawling out of their warm beds. Outside, the trees stood half-bare, their last brown leaves clinging stubbornly to the branches. Within the gray walls of Castle Collina, the hearths were lit for the first time since spring, bringing with them a gentle warmth. In the great dining hall, Lord Nazau and his son Cripton lingered at the long oak table, talking to each other.

  “Is your brother still not back from his hunting trip?” Lord Nazau asked, irritated by the fact that he knew the answer. Ever since his duel with Lord Galra, Miles had distanced himself from his family, spending all day locked away in his room.

  The moment the weather had cleared, he left, claiming he was going on a hunting trip.

  “No, Father, Miles should have been back two days ago, but hasn’t come back yet,” Cripton answered, a worried expression on his face. “Should we send someone to look for him?”

  Sighing in exasperation, Lord Nazau shook his head. “That boy just doesn't want to come home,” he said with disappointment.

  Where did I go wrong in raising him? Did I ignore him too much? Covering his mouth, he yawned before shaking his head. But he knows Ronan needed me more.

  Miles had always been the most unreliable of his sons, his humiliating loss to his former fiancée just one example. Coupled with Ronan's death, Miles seemed to have lost all interest in governing, casting aside the responsibilities of a noble.

  “That useless boy,” Lord Nazau muttered under his breath, almost wishing Miles had died instead of Ronan. “Does he think our lands will integrate with the new territory without any effort? I need every one of my sons! Furthermore, your uncle should be here any day now! If Miles is not back when my brother visits, I will have him beat!”

  “Father, he is mourning Ronan in his own way. We should let him wander the forest and regain his spirit,” Cripton spoke up for his brother, a concerned look on his face. “But more importantly, Father, you need to rest! Since the duel, you barely sleep, and your judgment is slipping. Just yesterday, you punished the stable boy for something he had no control over.”

  “Are you also going to disappoint me as well, boy?” Lord Nazau growled.

  Noticing Cripton’s face turned pale, he instantly knew he had gone too far. Why did I say that? he wondered. Is he right? Am I losing it? Rubbing his forehead, he wanted to apologize, but was too stubborn, too tired, too lost in grief. He was supposed to be the Tiger Lord of Vanura, yet all he wanted to do was to drink himself into oblivion, the pain from losing his son gnawing at him.

  Ignoring Cripton, he picked up a report, reading it several times before its meaning sank in. The fog of fatigue clouded his thoughts, making even the simplest information difficult to process. I do need sleep, he relented. I can’t keep going like this, but can my sons take over? He knew he needed to allow his sons to take a stronger role, but that was supposed to be Ronan’s role.

  As the uncomfortable silence threatened to continue, warning bells rang out, causing both men to jump.

  “What’s happening! Report!” Cripton shouted, bolting out of the room towards the castle walls.

  Following his son, Lord Nazau felt the cobwebs covering his mind fade away as his warrior’s instinct overrode his depression and fatigue. Reaching the walls, he froze in shock. Coming over the nearby hill was an army—hundreds of men clad in rugged clothes and animal hides.

  “CLOSE THE GATES!”

  Cripton’s booming voice echoed throughout the castle, causing the panicking soldiers to spring into action. Soon, the sounds of the creaking gates harmonized with the grunts and curses of the soldiers as they threw themselves against the heavy gate.

  “Where are my scouts!” Lord Nazau roared, his heart pounding harshly against his chest. “How did this army get so close without us knowing!” Spittle flew with every word.

  “My Lord!” The Pillar for the scouts came running, panic and disbelief causing him to slur some of his words as he spoke. “That’s the banner of the Highmount King, Borvak. The last report we have on him said that Lord Kon of Silkbug had engaged him in combat. The reports say that Lord Kon was on the verge of wiping them out. There is no way they could have escaped—especially with such numbers!”

  “And yet they are here! Explain this!” Cripton snapped, gesturing to Ryker, who came running from the direction of the market.

  “The only reason I can think,” the Pillar stammered, eyes wide, “is if Lord Kon let the bandits through his lands without resistance. But that makes no sense—his hate for them is well known!”

  “None of that matters now! How many soldiers do we have?” Ryker asked, joining them on the wall, pausing for a moment to catch his breath.

  “We have less than five hundred,” Lord Nazau admitted, his heart sinking. A quarter of his men were stationed at the Apra border, another quarter at Galra’s. Of the remaining half, most were sent home for harvest and winter, and the remaining soldiers were busy integrating the new land from Galra. Only the old and untrained boys stood now at Castle Collina.

  Forcing down despair with sheer will, Lord Nazau started to instruct the soldiers around him, yelling commands and directing them to the walls. “Pillar! Contact Lord Hector immediately! Send the fastest bird! Then send word to the Pillars at the borders. Tell them to gather every soldier and conscript every man and boy who has seen at least fifteen seasons. I want them here at once!”

  “Yes, my Lord!”

  Turning to his sons, he said. “Ryker! Take command of the archers. Cripton, you’re with me at the gate.”

  “Yes, Father!”

  Making his way to one of the large towers flanking the closed main gate, Lord Nazau donned his massive armor, brought in by two men. Most soldiers would not be able to move in Lord Nazau’s armor, the heavy metal allowing only those with Aether to move freely. Encased in steel, he lifted his great war-sword, feeling a momentary calm settle over him. For the first time in weeks, he knew who he was.

  I am the Tiger Lord of Vanura, protector of the North.

  The calm passed, replaced by urgency as he marched to the walls where his soldiers were staring at the advancing army.

  “How many do you count?” he barked.

  Squinting, a Pillar answered. “Around a thousand before us—and another thousand just beyond the hill. Around two hundred of them look to be cavalry. They are just outside arrow range.”

  “If it's just two thousand, we can hold them until reinforcements arrive!” Cripton cried out, his words sparking hope in the soldiers manning the wall.

  “Those mudborn heathens!” Lord Nazau spat, fury twisting his face. “They dare invade our lands with only two thousand men? I’ll wipe every last one of them from our lands!”

  As the two armies stared at each other, Lord Nazau felt his irritation clawing at him, his unstable emotional state causing his tempered mind to start cracking. Almost as if sensing his agitation, the enemy advanced as one, shields raised above their heads. Horns blared, drums thundered, and an unearthly cry from the bandits filled the air. The battle had begun.

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  “Archers!” Ryker’s voice cut across the din.

  “Loose!”

  A volley of arrows rained down on the bandits, striking their shields with a dreadful percussion of thuds. Lord Nazau scowled as the enemy tightened their formation, overlapping their shields into an impenetrable wall.

  When the last arrow fell, bandits with bows rose from behind the wall of shields, firing back. Ignoring an arrow that clattered harmlessly against his armor, Lord Nazau silently watched as they exchanged arrows with the bandits, the wall of invaders slowly closing the distance with every volley.

  Raising his sword in the air, his voice boomed over the chaos. “Men of the North! Kill the invaders! Butcher them like the scum they are! Today we bathe in their blood!”

  As his words reverberated, a cheer rose from the determined soldiers, each one baring their teeth, slamming their weapons against their shields, a wall of sound thundering outward.

  Through the storm of arrows, the bandit inched forward, their shield pincushioned by arrows. Behind them, the bodies of the unlucky few who were struck were left, their screams adding to the chaos until they finally fell silent.

  Reaching the base of the wall, the bandits produced grappling hooks and siege ladders seemingly from nowhere.

  “Knock the ladders down! Cut the ropes!” Cripton’s command came seconds before Lord Nazau could speak.

  Rushing forward, the soldiers on the wall desperately hacked at the ropes with swords and axes, while others toppled the ladders with spears specifically designed to catch the ladder’s rungs.

  At the start, the defenders seemed to have the advantage, with only the heads of the grappling hooks left jutting from the top of the wall after the ropes had been cut. But soon enough, one missed hook led to another, then another, until the bandits were on top of the wall and chaotic hand-to-hand combat broke out.

  Snarling, Lord Nazau kicked a bandit from the battlements and felt the chains of reason snap. Roaring like a beast, he drew the power he so craved into his body—the legendary Tiger of Nazau taking shape behind him. Swinging his sword at a bandit climbing up a ladder, he split the unfortunate man from the top of his head to his gut, the bandit’s corpse crashing down into the men below.

  Grabbing the ladder with one hand, Lord Nazau wrenched it to the side, his enhanced body forcing the ladder to tip over. Terrified screams followed by a loud crash echoed out from where the ladder fell, the bandits who were desperately clutching the ladder, striking the ground with a sickening thud.

  Screaming wordlessly, Lord Nazau tore across the wall like a storm, tearing ladders down, ripping grappling hooks free, and bisecting any bandit who had successfully made their way onto the wall. Panting heavily, he put his grief and anger into every swing, blood and tears blurring his vision.

  As the day dragged on, he kept swinging, his power fluctuating from the prolonged use. Grabbing a gutted bandit, he hurled the man off the wall, spraying blood and gore everywhere. Ignoring the blood that now covered him, he stepped to his left, shielding a fallen soldier from an arrow. Helping the man up, he heard the terrifying boom of a battering ram.

  “Father!” Cripton’s voice rang out.

  “The bandits are at the gate! Give the order for the oil!”

  Realizing he had been neglecting his duty to command the battle, Lord Nazau bellowed.

  “Get the oil!”

  The order was taken up at once, soldiers along the wall shouting it down the line until it reached its mark. Crouched atop the gate was a soldier, his hand gripping a long wooden lever. At the call, he sprang into action, yanking it with a mighty roar.

  The trap door above the gate creaked open, and a torrent of boiling oil poured down, drenching the bandits working the battering ram below. Screams erupted instantly, and the smell of cooking flesh filled the air. The nauseating odor reminded Lord Nazau that he had not eaten since morning.

  “Set fire to the oil!”

  Cripton’s command rang out as he deflected an axe with his armored wrist and drove his sword into the attacker’s stomach. At his command, Ryker’s archers released a volley of flaming arrows. In a heartbeat, the front of the gate became a vision from hell—billowing flames tore into the air, mixed with a column of thick black smoke that choked everyone nearby.

  Watching the fear bloom in the bandits’ eyes, Lord Nazau felt his need to continue the carnage swell up. He turned, waving sharply to catch Cripton’s attention.

  “The bandits are going to retreat. I’ve seen it dozens of times before,” he said, remembering past battles. “It’s the perfect opportunity to crush them! I want every soldier to the front. We will chase them here, now!”

  “All of them? Father, we need men in reserve in case our rear is attacked!” Cripton protested, his breath ragged from the fight.

  “The bandits only understand strength! They won’t think of attacking our rear. If we break them here, we won’t need to wait for reinforcement!” Lord Nazau roared, bloodlust flooding into him until his vision turned red.

  “But father—”

  “We end it now!”

  Cripton’s jaw tightened. “Yes, father,” he said reluctantly, then signaled the soldiers.

  The deep soul-rousing blare of war horns filled the sky. Soldiers who were stationed at the rear gate rushed to the front, their roars joining the defenders who were pushing back the bandits.

  Smiling from ear to ear as the new soldiers brought forth a surge of morale, Lord Nazau rejoined the battle, his mighty sword cleaving a bandit in half. Drawing Aether until a burning sensation rushed through his body, he created a blinding focal point atop the wall, drawing the attention of everyone.

  “Push the bandits off the wall! Bring sand for the fire! I want the cavalry mounted and ready to charge out!” he yelled.

  “Sir!”

  The tide of battle changed instantly. The bandit army began to collapse as reinforcements slammed into them, pushing them off the wall and onto the bandits below.

  “Arrows—Loose!”

  Lord Nazau heard Ryker’s voice before another deadly volley arced over his head and struck the disorganized bandits. Some were still trying to climb up, while others were trying to flee, creating a stampede of confusion and death.

  The bandit army finally broke. Running back from where they had come from, the organized shield wall was abandoned as every bandit ran for themselves.

  Walking to the top of the gate where soldiers were throwing sand down on the fire below, Lord Nazau looked over the battlefield, his blood-covered sword raised. “They’re retreating!” he shouted, his power-enhanced voice causing his soldiers to roar with delight. “Bring me my horse! I will lead the charge!”

  He jumped off the battlement and quickly made his way to his mount, a massive horse covered in dark armor. Placing his foot in the stirrup, he swung himself into the saddle and adjusted his grip. Smiling at Cripton, who was settled on his white horse, he raised his voice.

  “Ryker, hold the wall!”

  “Yes, Father!”

  Squeezing his legs, Lord Nazau rode his horse to the front of his cavalry. The cavalry numbered around a hundred men—veteran soldiers too old to travel far, but who had fought in more battles than most remembered. At the front sat Darin, an old soldier who had fought beside Lord Nazau’s father and was now in charge of training boys to become cavalrymen.

  “Darin,” Lord Nazau said, nodding at the old man. “I never thought we’d ride into battle again.”

  “Neither did I,” Darin laughed, his withered hand steady on his spear. “I may be old, but I still know how to kill.”

  In a short, brutal fight at their own castle, veterans like Darin were perfect.

  Signaling to the men at the gate, Lord Nazau raised his voice.

  “Open the gates!”

  Hurriedly, the men sprang into action. Rushing forward, they lifted the great wooden boards that kept the gate closed and dropped them to the side. Running back, they shoved with all their might. With a creak and the screech of metal rubbing against metal, the massive gate slowly opened.

  “Charge!”

  As one, the cavalry charged through the still-smoking front gate, small fires still burning where the sand had not gotten.

  Exhaling to avoid inhaling the black smoke, Lord Nazau thundered after the retreating bandits, his sword held up, the sounds of war-horns blaring behind him. He felt alive!

  The cavalry reached the stragglers within seconds, the mighty horses trampling the screaming bandits into the ground. Bringing his sword down in a mighty shout, Lord Nazau split a bandit’s head in half, letting the momentum from his horse pull the blade free.

  “Kill them all!”

  “Yes, my lord!”

  In war, most deaths occurred when an army broke; fleeing forces were easily chased down and slaughtered by the victors.

  Feeling invisible, Lord Nazau charged across the open field, chasing down bandit after bandit, his sword never slowing. As he struck down his fifth foe, he suddenly stopped, his ears twitching.

  What was that sound?

  Frowning, he rotated Aether to his ears. From far behind him—beyond the walls of his own castle—came the distant blare of horns.

  Feeling his heart stop, he turned and saw Borvak’s banner raised on the rear wall.

  “BREACH!”

  “The southern wall’s been breached!” A horrified scream split the chaotic battle.

  As one, the cavalry spun their horses around, their faces turning white in shock. They had fallen into Borvak’s trap!

  Lord Nazau felt his stomach drop like a stone. The bandits had taken the rear gate! He had made a mistake. It was his fault—he had underestimated the bandit’s ability to strategize.

  “Back to the castle! Ride! Ride!” he roared.

  As he led his soldiers back, Cripton shouted from beside him. “Enemy cavalry at our rear!”

  Swiveling his neck, Lord Nazau cursed. Behind them were two hundred men, spears and swords leveled at them.

  Just moments ago, they had been the hunters; now they were the hunted.

  We can’t keep running like this, he thought, his mind racing. If we keep running, we’ll be slaughtered before we reach the gate. But if we stop to fight, we’ll lose the castle. We need to slow them down—but how?

  “My Lord, you know what must be done,” Darin said as he rode up next to him. “The longer you wait, the more men will die.”

  Gripping his reins so tightly that his nails bit into his palm, Lord Nazau nodded. “Darin, take thirty men with you. Buy us as much time as you can.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Wheeling his horse about, Darin shouted, “Adrick! Liara! Swing your platoon to the flank. I’ll hold the center. We need to buy as much time as possible.”

  Leaving the thirty soldiers behind, Lord Nazau thundered towards his castle. He had to reach the rear gate before it was too late.