The Forsaken Hero

During the time I spent with Elinore, the camp transformed completely. All the tents, except those reserved for non-combatants, had vanished, neatly stowed away in the soldiers’ spatial rings. The soldiers stood in formation, a thousand strong in each battalion, spread out like a vast sea of gleaming steel under the starry night sky. Restless murmurs rippled through the ranks like waves on a sea, but a sense of calm and resolve hung in the air. They were ready to face the monsters who had subverted their kingdom and enslaved their families.

The first hints of dawn tinged the eastern sky, a faint glow crowning the distant mountain peaks. Brithlite, nestled between two majestic mountains, glimmered with the light of countless lanterns and magical lights. The combined armies of the Church and the kingdom massed around its imposing walls, their numbers overwhelming—fifty thousand strong, more than double the size of the Last Light Company.

The terrain between our position and Brithlite was relatively gentle, with vast, rolling hills and expansive meadows. As they neared the city, the hills grew taller and more rugged, eventually merging with the imposing mountain range that formed a natural barrier behind the city.

I rode Fable after Korra to where Gayron awaited us on a nearby hillside overlooking our forces. I slipped from my wolf’s back and joined them, tail rustling restlessly in the long, straw-colored grass. A hint of frost crusted the brittle tips, dusting the hillside white.

"Ready?" Korra asked, glancing at me.

"I hope so. Either way, it’s too late now," I replied softly. "Every hour we wait gives them more time to prepare. I can already see five more sixth-level mages on the wall than when we showed up."

Below the crest of the hill, Bethiv and his officers stood before the army, observing the city’s defenses. Unfortunately, due to our sudden arrival, there had been very little time to scout and get the lay of the land. Now, it became obvious just how difficult this battle would be.

The mountains formed a natural fortification, their peaks towering higher than any mortal-made wall, effectively blocking any approach from the north, south, and east. The city itself was nestled in the foothills, and while the climb wasn’t as treacherous as the ascent to Bluegate Keep the day we escaped Bluerock Canyon, it was still an uphill battle in every sense of the word. Multiple fortified outposts guarded the main roads, each teeming with mages, archers, and the looming presence of mana cannons.

In just a few seconds, I counted over a hundred mana cannons strategically placed throughout the hills and atop the city walls. It was a staggering display of firepower, each cannon capable of unleashing the destructive force of a sixth-level mage. Their function was limited to large-scale destruction, of course, making individual mages more versatile in combat, but in a battle of this magnitude, that hardly mattered. It wouldn’t surprise me if they had more mana cannons than actual sixth-level combatants.