Watch Captain Brydor had not had a good day. First, the embarrassing i when he had almost taken a thrice-damned s into custody. And it hadn’t been just any s either. No, that would been too much of a mercy for the day he had been having. It had been one belonging to the Archducal House Bcksword. One of the most powerful, most violent high imperial noble houses in this sector of the Empire, even if it had been fag a surge of challehis past decade and a half. Thank the Seven that the young lord had been satisfied when his bodyguard had gotten him passage into Thorn’s Rest.

  Nht after that i, a scout of the Legion, half dead and near out of his mind with pain, had shown up at his gate a mere hour before he was supposed to hand over his shift. It had taken a good two hours before the scout had been able to talk, as dehydrated and tired as he was, but his terpart, Watch Captain Thredor had gleefully left the whole problem in his ‘capable hands’ to go report in with the Legion itself ohe scout was able to share what was going on.

  And it was bad too, which is why, rather than head home for a well-deserved night’s sleep after his brush with the high imperial nobility, he was now climbing to the top of the damned walls to keep an eye on the forest. The only balm to his exhaustion was the fact that he was climbing the stoairs alohe words he was growling to himself were not what he would want the rank and file to hear.

  He gnced behind him, back dowairs. Already he could see some figures in familiar armor moving his way. Based on the quickly increasing numbers, the rest of the Watch would be joining him soon. And the detat of the Thirteenth Verdant Legion would likely be mobilizing as well.

  If Storm Wolves were really on their way to Thorn’s Reach, they would need every bde.

  What felt like hours ter, but his tired mind insistent had only been a handful of mihe Watch Captain reached the top of the wall. A handful of the Watch hurried up behind him, spears cttering against stoairs and armored shoulders both as they took up station on the wall. Brydhem, fident that the drills had prepared them to take up the proper spag on the wall. Instead, he made his way over to the Western Tower.

  Groaning, he climbed o set of steps. Like every time he had climbed them before, he ted them. Fifty-three all told, and a half-broke the top. One day it would be fixed, he had been told. That was what they had been saying for six months now.

  He hoped he would be told the same again tomorrow.

  Brydor came to the sealed, heavily warded steel-oak door at the top of the stairs. Knog out the quick series of raps that was his personal code to get access, the door quickly swung inward. Stepping quickly over the threshold, it was smmed back closed behind him.

  While the top of the tower was fortified against attack, what with the warded door of steel-oak, its primary purpose was to serve as an early warning system in case of attack or, the Seven forbid, a Beastwave. The errant thought dosed him in ice. If the ing Storm Wolves were the crest of a Beastwave, very few of them would live to greet the m. Banishing the depressing thought, he forced himself to focus on what he could currently do.

  “Report,” he anded as the six Wat in the room came to sharp attention.

  “Nothi, Captain,” one said. Waltohought his name was. “Just the same small movements deeper in the shadows of the trees. I think the saybe got spooked by some normal wolves and ran himself o death to get back behind the wolves.”

  “He’s a scout in the Fourteenth Verdant, Walton,” Brydor said grimly. “I wish, by the Seven I wish, he was just another inpetent greenhorn.”

  “But we all know the training that Legion’s General puts them through, especially those stationed out here he border,” Walton said whech Captaihe thought unsaid. Silence greeted his words. Everyone iew how hard the Fourteenth Legion trained.

  The training for the scouts articurly brutal aless, desigo push even the most promising recruits to their limits. Each day they worked on their enduraealth, and tradecraft. The best of them had enough stats from their levels to move silently across the rustling leaves and tangled roots of the forest. Rumors had it that one of the Scout-Captains could snatch the wings clear off a Tiger Moth, only to release them ahe wings fly away by themselves.

  No, if one of the Fourteenth’s scouts said Storm Wolves were ing, then all they could do repare and hope there were only a few of them.

  “Alright everyone,” Brydor said with a nod. “Stay on yuard. Tonight is going to be a long night.”

  The Wat all saluted and theuro their positions, the forest from various vantage points. Hopefully, his men would be able to spot the Storm Wolves before they were able to get he wall. That would give him time to signal to reinforce the spots on the wall where they were attag. With his eyes not being what they once were, he found ay chair along one wall. He would leave it up to younger men tonight.

  Brydor idly tapped his thumb against the sheathed sword at his side. Storm Wolves were vicious creatures, as rge as horses and more than capable of tacti their hunts. If a pack were rge enough or desperate enough, they’d been known to attack Legion patrols and evelements. Even with the height of the walls around Thorn’s Reach, Brydor did not think they would be safe from attack.

  He stopped tapping on the hilt and instead reached down to grasp it. Having checked it was not stu his scabbard; he released it. For some time now the Watch had been hearing s about the detats of the Legion posted to Thorn’s Reach. They trained hard, but so did all of the Legions. It was what they did when they weren’t training that was the issue, or in this case what they did not dur patrols.

  Cursing under his breath, he shifted in the chair, trying to get more fortable. Whispers had reached him the past few weeks that the number ur patrols had been cut down for some reason. Circumspequiries on his part to his superiors in the local cil had bee with reminders of his position, and that there were several potential repts should his positioo be filled. He had taken the hint and quickly dropped the matter.

  A soft howling sound seemed to echo from deeper in the forest, but one none of his subordinates reacted, Brydor put it down to nerves. No, he had no proof, but if Storm Wolves ended up attag Thorn’s Reach tonight in force, he wouldn’t need any. As a matter of course, the Capital on Verdant IV would have to iigate. Then, and only then, would he file a formal pint.

  If he survived the night.

  As if to match his mood, the weather started to turn as the eveniled in fully. Dark clouds moved in, and the wind began to pick up. A storm was threatening, and part of him hoped it would be enough to deter any attack that night. The other part khat a storm like this wouldn’t have any impa the Storm Wolves.

  “Sir!”

  The urgen Walton’s voice caused Brydor to shoot to his feet. Stepping quickly to the Wat’s side, he demanded, “Where?”

  “There, sir!” Walton pointed a slightly shaking finger off to one side of the road, deeper into the forest.

  Squinting, Brydor leaned over, staring in the dire the Wat ointing. The wind began to pick up outside the tower, carrying with it the barest st of rain and something else. A low rumble echoed into the distance, and his hand again drifted down to the hilt of his sword. His free hand gripped the stone parapet tightly as he leaned out, staring into the deepening night. He couldn’t see anything. Another low rumble came, though a bit louder than before. A massive fsh of lightning lit up the trees before the wall. As ohe Wat and their Captain froze.

  The great bolt came not from the sky but from the ground.

  Another crag, jagged bolt followed the first, arg up into the air in the dire of the main gate into Thorn’s Reach. Illuminated behind the bolt were scattered the members of a Storm Wolves pack. As he watched, the Storm Wolves he front, closest to the walls, took off in a run. Sleek, bck fur rippled with itent arcs of electricity as they came. Each moved with lethal grace, their blue, glowing eyes fixed on the walls of the settlement.

  “Bows!” Brydor screamed, leaning out further to call down the right sound of the wall. His cry was soon echoed by those experienced Sergeants of the Watch who had taken their own positions on the wall among their men. Their cries grew increasingly frantic as the number of Storm Wolves charging from the darkened edges of the forest tio increase. Too many for a single pack.

  As the first arrows began to nd among their charging forms, their howls rose as oo pierce the air, thunderous and sharp, sending jolts of adrenalihrough all those on the walls. As ohey began to glow with a bluish-white light that rippled over their fur. The Watch Captain rushed to get a t.

  Brydor’s heart dropped into his boots. With how many Storm Wolves there were, Thorn’s Reach was looking at an assault by several packs that had bined under a single Alpha. As the Storm Wolves surged closer, the leading edge loosed a volley of lightning bolts at the walls, sending showers of stone and sparks flying into the air. A portion of the leading edge of the charge colpsed into a tight group, rushing to the gate.

  “Emperor protect us,” he swore, bag away from the edge. Seeing the Wat iower with him staring in horror out at the rushing pack, Brydor rushed to the pull rope that hung in the ter of the room. Cursing his subordinates for not taking the obvious a, he gripped it tightly, then ya as hard as he could to sound the arm.

  The deep ringing of the bells brought the Wat bato focus. As ohey turo Brydor for orders.

  “Bows!” Brydor barked again, stepping over to the nearby wall to grab a spare one. “Evey Storm Wolf you kill from a distance is one our brothers and sisters won’t have to fight in close!”

  His men scrambled around him, grabbing boiling quivers of arrows within easy reach. With this not being an armored line charging at the wall, but rather scattered monstrous creatures the size of horses, they simply loosed their arrows at the closest targets as quickly as they could. An arrow struck here and there, taking down the occasional Storm Wolf with a yelp. But the speed they were moving, and the retively few number of archers hitting their targets, meant that they would soo the base of the walls.

  Tearing his gaze from the doomed effort, he rushed to the observation window that looked back over Thorn’s Reach. Stig his head out, he sought someone, anyone. As he expected, the bsts of lightning against the wall, and now the main gate, were casting bursts of light into the settlement and some of the people who lived nearby had begun opening doors and windows to find out what was going on. Into that fused babble, Brydor put his entire breath into a shout.

  “Storm Wolves at the wall! Someoch the Militia!” The bsting increased in brightness and iy behind him. The first cries of injured Wat began to reach his ears. “Fetch the Legion! Hurry!”

  As he hoped, a number of women and women, the flight of feet, took off in a sprint deeper into the settlement. The older people who had e out to see what was going on began to herd children and families into houses. No pints were made, or questions asked, they all just began moving. In short order, doors were smmed shut and windows were barred. If there was something everyone who lived on the edge of Imperial territory learned from an early age, it was how to quickly secure a home against monsters and invaders. Deeper into Thorn’s Reach, he thought he could hear the warning being spread. Some of the stress began to leave him. Hopefully, it would be enough.

  A burst of light partially blinded him as the main gate burst inward, but ot so much that he couldn’t make out three Storm Wolves still crag with the aftercharge of their lightning pressing inside. As if sensing his attention ohey turned in his dire to charge, howling. More Storm Wolves began to enter behind them. Rather than all hitting the walls from behind, some began to make their way deeper into the streets. Some were already attag nearby houses.

  “They’re too fast,” he muttered in horror, weights settling into his gut as the Storm Wolves adva unnatural speed into Thorn’s Reach. Tearing his eyes away from approag death, he called out orders as fast as he could.

  “Storm Wolves past the gate! Archers to the rear! Spears to the stairs to hold them!” Most of the Watch reacted quickly to his orders, being well drilled for a sario like this, but some few were not moving as quickly as he would like. “Move it! Last oo position spends the wo weeks’ worth of nights on the wall! Move!”

  Having done all he could, Brydor raised the bow he had been holding, then cursed. He hadn’t grabbed a spare quiver. He rushed to the avaible one, dug around his men, half of whom had shifted to find targets now ihe walls. The screams outside were being louder.

  Just as he seized a quiver, the warded door to the observation tower heaved as some massive force smmed into it. Cursing agaiossed the now worthless bow and quiver aside. He grabbed a spare spear just as the warded door heaved again, though this time a distinct crag sound was heard.

  “Spears!” Brydor yelled, but it was necessary. Bows were dropped all at once as everyone else iower rushed to get armed with spears. The Watch Captai some small measure of pride that they all were able to get one, and take position in two ranks by the warded door before a third, louder crash rang out. They could all see the craow.

  “Hold your positions!” Brydor roared, brag his spear, tip poi the ing threat. Another crack, and they could see the bloodshot, menag eye of a Storm Wolf pressed to it. Without thinking, Walton thrust forward, driving the tip of his spear into the ter, drawing a whimpering squeal as the Storm Wolf threw itself backward out of sight. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

  “When they e, we charge,” Brydor calmly ordered the men around him. “ation.”

  Despite grimaces, groans, and in one case a moan of fear, each of the Watch gripped their spears tightly and prepared to sell their lives dearly. The people of Thorn’s Breach were theirs to protect, and protect them they would. To the st.

  For a long, almost silent moment, they hovered over the door. Hoping, dreading, that the Storm Wolves had goo seek easier prey.

  The warded, steel-oak door burst inward.

  Watch Captain Brydor led the charge into lightning ah. Three words ripped from his throat, which briefly overpowered the howls of his foes. Survivors of the Watch would ter swear they echoed all over the wall.

  “For the Empire!!!”

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