The Northern Pass is not merely a road; it is a scar carved through the Agvara mountains. Rugged, hilly terrain dominates the landscape, with jagged peaks rising like teeth on either side of the narrow valley. The path itself is treacherous, winding through steep inclines and rocky outcrops, forcing any invading army to funnel into tight columns, stripping them of their numerical advantage.

  Nine checkpoints mark the ascent, each a fortification built into the living rock of the mountains. They are the teeth of Agvara, designed to bleed any who dare to climb.

  But the Xian Empire has been fed blood and steel, and they are still hungry.

  They have already taken the first four checkpoints. The lower slopes are theirs, their banners fluttering in the cold mountain wind. The Xian forces have established a foothold, their supply lines stretching back down into the plains. They are methodical, relentless, and terrifyingly efficient.

  Now, they stare up at the fifth checkpoint.

  This is where the true defense begins. The fifth checkpoint sits atop a sharp rise, a natural bottleneck where the path narrows to barely ten men across. Stone walls reinforce the cliffs, and archers line the ridges. Behind it, checkpoints six through nine rise higher still, a ladder of fortifications leading to the heart of the pass.

  Duke Aran Valdris stands on the battlements of the fifth checkpoint, the wind whipping his cloak. The Sword of Devouring hangs at his side, a silent, hungry weight. He is not alone.

  Beside him stands Duke Goran of Agvara. The old Duke looks as rugged as his mountains, his face weathered, his beard grey as the stone. He knows every rock, every hidden path, every wind current in this pass.

  "They are forming up," Goran says, his voice like grinding gravel. He points down the slope. "Ten thousand strong. The mages are buried deep in the column, protected by heavy infantry."

  Commander Varek of Kaelen nods, leaning on the stone parapet. "They rely on that fire magic to break the fortifications. Their pyromancers are their primary siege engines. That's how they took the first four."

  "That is where we come in," Aran says. He taps the hilt of his sword. "My sword devours magic. But I cannot be everywhere. Master Lyra is commanding the Guild forces on the walls, using her mental magic to coordinate their counter-spells perfectly. But we need to break the enemy's rhythm."

  "We cannot let them reach the walls with the full magic force," Aran says. "We need to hit them before they get here. But we can't push through ten thousand men."

  He points to a jagged scar in the canyon wall, a deep vertical fissure halfway down the path. "The 'Rift'. It's a dead end, but deep enough to hide a force."

  "But visible," Goran notes.

  "Not if we cover it," Aran says. "Mages, use your earth magic. Seal the entrance with an illusionary wall. Hide us inside. Remove traces of magic."

  "A rock-meld?" Goran nods slowly. "We can mask a few hundred men. Seal you in until they pass."

  "We wait for the vanguard to pass," Aran explains. "We wait for the mages. Then we burst out, gut their magical corps, and run before the infantry can turn on us."

  "Risky," Varek says. "If they sense the magic..."

  "They'll be looking at the fort, not the rock," Aran says. "Goran, once we strike, we'll need a way back."

  "There is a goat path," Goran says. "Steep, narrow. My men will guide you. It leads back to the side postern of the fifth."

  "Then it's settled," Aran says. "We bleed them."

  Darius tightens his grip on his weapon. "The Valdris guard is ready."

  "And the Kaelen heavy infantry," Varek adds. "For Terra."

  ---

  The horn blasts from below. A deep, resonant sound that echoes off the canyon walls.

  Xian is moving.

  From the fifth checkpoint, Goran watches. A sea of soldiers in dark armor begins the climb. The vanguard is purely physical—shield bearers and pikes. The mages are nowhere to be seen, hidden safely in the center of the snake.

  But halfway down the pass, there is a ripple in the stone that only Goran knows is there.

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  Inside the Rift, it is pitch black. Aran stands with three hundred men, pressed against the cold stone. The air is stale. They can hear the tramp of thousands of boots marching just feet away, separated only by a thin layer of magically formed rock.

  "Wait," Aran whispers. "Wait."

  The heavy footsteps fade, replaced by a strange humming vibration. The air grows oppressively hot, the stone wall itself beginning to radiate the intense heat of the Xian pyromancers passing just on the other side.

  "Now," Master Lyra signals to the earth mages holding up the illusionary wall using mental magic.

  The illusionary wall crumbles into dust.

  The bright mountain light floods in, revealing the exposed flank of the Xian column. The mages, robed and carrying glowing staves, turn in shock.

  "For Terra!" Aran screams, charging out of the dark.

  The ambush is catastrophic. The Kaelen heavy infantry smashes into the fragile line of mages like a hammer through glass. There are no shields here, no heavy armor.

  "Valdris devours!" Aran roars, swinging the Sword of Devouring. He catches a massive fireball on his blade, the black steel drinking the energy greedily, then continues the swing to cleave the caster.

  Chaos erupts in the Xian center. The vanguard is too far ahead to help immediately; the rearguard is blocked by the confusion.

  "Defend the mages!" a Xian commander shrieks.

  But the Valdris guard is already among them.

  "For Terra!" Varek bellows, driving his shield into a cluster of acolytes.

  They carve a path of destruction through the magical corps. Staffs snap, robes burn. The Xian pyromancers, usually protected by a wall of their own flames, fall in droves as their magic is snuffed out by the surprise assault as they are caught off guard while keeping the shields up for their vanguard.

  "To the path! Move!" Aran orders, seeing the heavy infantry from the vanguard starting to turn around.

  They have done their damage. They slip back into the shadows, making for the steep goat trail Goran used to guide them in.

  But the Xian vanguard, enraged by the attack on their rear, roars and surges back up the slope, seeing the alliance forces retreating.

  Arrows and spells rain down from the fort to cover them—Master Lyra's telepathic commands guiding the archers and mages to targets with unnatural precision—but it is not enough to stop the flood. Men scream as they are dragged down by the pursuing Xian soldiers. A Kaelen heavy infantryman is speared through the leg; another is engulfed in a sudden, violent burst of Xian fire. They pay for their retreat in blood.

  "Don't stop!" Aran roars, cutting down a pursuer who got too close. "Keep moving!"

  They chase the vanguard up the steep slope, ignoring the main path, scrambling right toward the open gates of the fifth checkpoint in a blind fury.

  Right into the kill zone.

  As Aran and his men slip back inside the gates, the heavy iron doors slam shut. The Xian vanguard slams against the walls, eager to breach.

  "The mountains of Agvara yield to no one!" Duke Goran bellows, his voice merging with a deep rumble from beneath the earth. "Crush them!"

  On the ridges above, Agvaran earth mages strike the ground in unison. The very peaks seem to groan as massive boulders, some the size of wagons, are wrenched from the cliffs. They hurtle down the steep slopes, gaining terrifying momentum before crashing into the Xian vanguard clustered at the gates.

  Stone spikes erupt from the ground beneath the attackers, impaling those caught in the bottleneck, while the rain of granite turns the path into a grinder of broken armor and shattered bone.

  The scream that rises from the pass is inhuman.

  "This is the Northern Pass," Goran says softly, watching the fires burn below. "And we will not let up."

  ********* Chapter end *********