Chapter 5 - The Ambush at the Iron Pass
The sound of Varyn’s descent was like the roaring of a dozen furnace doors being thrown open simultaneously. The draft of hot, sulfurous air swept down the gorge, instantly vaporizing the falling snow into clouds of thick, blinding white steam.
Cedric’s horses reared in absolute terror, throwers of men scrambling through the mud as panic tore through the imperial lines.
“Aim for the wings!” Cedric shrieked, pointing toward four heavy iron ballistas mounted on armored wagons at the rear of his column. “Fire the steel chains! Bring it down!”
The imperial engineers, trembling violently, released the heavy triggers. Four massive iron bolts, trailing thick steel cables meant to entangle giant beasts, launched into the sky with a deafening THWACK.
Two of the bolts whistled harmlessly into the gray clouds. The third grazed Varyn’s thick shoulder scales, sparking wildly before ricocheting off like a toy arrow.
The fourth bolt hit true, burying its barb deep into the soft membrane of the dragon’s left wing.
Varyn roared—a sound of pure, primordial fury that sent loose boulders avalanching down the cliffside. The dragon spiraled down, snapping the heavy steel cable with a single, violent twitch of his powerful muscles, but the force of the hit sent him crashing into the rocky bed of the stream running through the center of the gorge.
“It’s down!” Cedric screamed, his eyes wide with a maniacal, desperate joy. “The beast is down! Forward! Kill it and cut off its head!”
Five hundred heavy imperial knights, sensing a moment of immortal glory, broke formation and rushed into the stream bed toward the fallen dragon, their long spears leveled.
“Adeline!” Uncle Mathias bellowed from the high ledge. “They are swarming him!”
Adeline did not hesitate. Drawing her mother’s silver-hilted blade, she slid down the steep snowbank, her cloak billowing behind her as she dropped into the canyon floor.
“Thornmere!” Adeline’s voice rang out, clear and piercing above the din of battle. “To the Empress!”
From the rocks, the northern infantry poured down to meet the imperial charge. Steel met steel with a sickening crunch. Adeline moved like a storm through the chaos—her small size and light armor giving her absolute agility on the icy terrain while the heavily armored imperial knights struggled to keep their balance.
She parried a heavy thrust from an imperial sergeant, stepped inside his guard, and struck him across the neck with the pommel of her sword, sending him crashing into the freezing water.
Beside her, Varyn surged back to his feet. The minor wound on his wing smoked with blue-hot dragon blood, but it had only stoked his wrath.
The dragon raised his head, opened his massive jaws, and exhaled a torrent of brilliant, white-hot fire.
The stream bed became an inferno. The stone walls of the gorge glowed cherry-red as the flame swept over the imperial vanguard. Iron armor melted like candle wax; wooden shields turned to ash in a fraction of a second.
The imperial knights broke. They dropped their weapons, turned, and fled back down the pass in utter, absolute rout.
Adeline pushed through the smoking ruin of the frontline, her sword dripping with blood, her eyes locked on the white horse at the rear of the imperial line.
Cedric was backing his mount away, his face pale as chalk, his hand shaking so violently he could barely hold his reins. Around him, his ten thousand men were disintegrating into a chaotic, fleeing mob, dropping banners and armor as they ran for the open plains.
Adeline stepped over a fallen shield, standing thirty paces from the prince who had mocked her kingdom.
“Cedric!” she called out.
The young prince froze. He looked at Adeline—dirty, covered in ash and rain, her eyes blazing with the undisputed majesty of her bloodline—and then looked at the massive black dragon rising up behind her, its jaws dripping with residual fire.
“You... you are a monster,” Cedric whispered, his voice barely audible over the groans of his retreating troops.
“No, Cedric,” Adeline said softly, taking a step toward him. “I am simply the Queen you discarded.”
Cedric turned his horse, yanked hard on the reins, and fled into the fog, galloping south as fast as his horse could carry him.
Mathias walked up beside Adeline, breathing heavily, his broadsword covered in red. He watched the imperial army dissolve into the mist.
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“We have won the pass, Your Highness,” Mathias said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “They will not reform until they reach the capital.”
“Then we do not give them time to rest,” Adeline said, sheathing her sword. She turned to look at Varyn, who lowered his snout to let her inspect his injured wing. The wound was already cauterizing itself with the heat of his own body. “He will retreat to Oakhaven and hide behind his high walls. We march for the capital.”
