The First Stand 5:00 AM.
The mist had not yet lifted, but the war drums already shook the ground.
DUM.
DUM.
DUM.
From the forest, a long line emerged, one thousand five hundred men, beneath banners blazoned with a claw.
At their head rode Darek upon his horse.
Behind him rumbled four great wagons, each bearing a machine shaped like a giant sling.
Luna stood upon the battlements, her breath pluming white in the air.
“Take positions!” she called out.
Two hundred Blackmoon soldiers.
Fifty from the River Clan.
Thirty from the Stone Clan.
Two hundred and eighty in all.
Far too few.
Kael stepped to her side.
“Hold fast.
Do not let panic take root.” “I am not afraid,” Luna said.
“I am furious.” The First Assault 5:15 AM.
Darek raised his arm.
“ADVANCE!” Fifteen hundred men began to march, then broke into a run.
Arrows rained down from the walls, felling those at the front, yet still they came.
“Bring up the slings!” Darek roared.
The four wagons halted.
Thick ropes were drawn taut.
Great stones hurtled through the air.
CRACK.
One corner of the wall shattered.
Dust billowed skyward.
“Reinforce it!” Luna shouted.
“Stone Clan, to that breach!” Soldiers of the Stone Clan rushed forward, hauling timber and stone to mend the damage.
Battle Upon the Walls 5:30 AM, Scaling ladders rose against the ramparts, twenty of them, all at once.
The Whitefang swarmed upward like ants.
“BOILING OIL!” Luna commanded.
Fire followed the scalding pitch.
Screams rent the air, yet still some fought their way onto the wall.
Steel clashed at close quarters.
Luna fought upon the eastern stretch, her blade striking true, shielding a young River clansman who faltered.
“BEHIND YOU!” Joren cried.
Luna turned, and drove her blade through the throat of the warrior who crept toward him.
“Thank you, my lady,” Joren gasped.
At the Gate 5:45 AM, A battering ram thundered forward, larger than before, borne by thirty men.
THUD.
THUD.
The great gate shuddered.
“ALL TO THE GATE!” Kael bellowed.
“HOLD THE LINE!” Fifty men braced themselves against the wood, shoulder to shoulder.
Above, Mira and the women hurled stones down upon the attackers.
One bearer slipped in the mud.
Their formation broke.
Kael seized the moment.
“NOW!
OPEN IT BUT A LITTLE!” The gate swung wide just enough to let ten men slip through.
They struck from the flank.
The ram’s bearers scattered and retreated.
At the Heart of the Fight 6:00 AM, The sun rose, gilding the blood-soaked earth.
Darek roared in rage.
He leaped from his horse, hefting a massive spear.
“I SHALL GO!” He charged forward, felling two Blackmoon warriors with a single sweep of his blade.
“THERE HE IS!” Luna cried.
“FOCUS YOUR FIRE UPON HIM!” Luna slid down a rope, dropping from the wall to the bloodied ground below.
“LUNA!” Kael’s voice cracked with fear.
She did not look back.
She ran straight toward Darek.
Luna Versus Darek 6:10 AM, Blood and dust swirled around them.
Darek saw her coming and smiled.
“At last.” He swung his spear.
Luna caught the blow upon her sword, steel rang out sharp and clear.
“You think you can win?” Darek snarled.
“I think you are a coward,” Luna answered.
“You send others to die while you stand safely behind them.” Darek struck again, faster, harder.
Luna ducked his horizontal sweep, driving her boot into his knee.
He staggered back, roaring with fury.
Just then, an arrow loosed from the battlements drove deep into his shoulder.
Darek howled.
“Curse you!” He stumbled back.
“FALL BACK!
WE SHALL RETURN!” 6:30 AM, The drums fell silent.
The Whitefang turned and withdrew, dragging their wounded away.
Silence fell, broken only by the moans of the injured and the sighing wind.
After the Battle 6:45 AM, Luna stood amidst the carnage, her clothing stained, her arm cut and bleeding.
Kael ran to her and pulled her into a fierce embrace.
“You are mad.
You could have died.” “I had to,” Luna said quietly.
“If I had not, they would have thought us weak.” Kael stroked her hair, his voice thick with feeling.
“You won.” 7:00 AM, The dead were laid out in the courtyard.
Blackmoon: thirty, five fallen, sixty wounded.
River Clan: eight fallen, fifteen wounded.
Stone Clan: five fallen, ten wounded.
Luna walked among the rows.
She closed the eyes of each fallen soul, one by one.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
Elder Alden approached her.
“My lady.
We have held the field, yet our arrows are nearly spent.” “I know,” Luna said.
“Gather every arrow that may be recovered and reused.” In the Great Hall 8:00 AM, All who remained gathered within.
Luna stood before them, weary yet unbowed.
“We endured,” she said.
“Because none of you turned and fled.” A hush fell over the room.
“Darek will return,” she warned.
“Perchance in two days.
Perchance three.” The chieftain of the Stone Clan rose.
“We have lost five of our kin.
For what cause?” “For your lives,” Luna answered.
“Should the Whitefang prevail, they will seize your lands as well.” The chieftain fell silent and sat back down.
The leader of the River Clan spoke.
“We stand with you, until this is done.” Luna nodded.
“I thank you.” 3:00 PM, Work to repair the walls began in earnest.
Stone from the Stone Clan was stacked high.
The moat was deepened.
Even the children helped carry water to the weary.
Mira taught Minho how to bind wounds.
“Gently,” she said.
That Night 8:00 PM, Luna and Kael pored over maps in the study.
Red arrows marked the Whitefang’s lines of advance.
“They will change their tactics,” Kael said.
“They will not strike head, on again.” “They will come by the river,” Luna said.
“Our southern wall is weak.” Kael looked at her, his gaze soft with concern.
“You are exhausted.” “I cannot afford to rest,” Luna replied.
Kael poured a cup of tea and pressed it into her hands.
“Drink this.” Luna sipped the warm brew, drawing strength from its heat.
In the Whitefang Camp 9:00 PM, Darek sat in his tent, his shoulder bound in bandages, his face dark with rage.
“Two hundred of our number lie dead,” his lieutenant reported.
Darek struck the table with his fist.
“LUNA!” He stood up, wincing.
“Prepare the men.
We strike tonight, by the river.” The Second Strike 10:00 PM, Luna could not sleep.
She walked out to the battlements and stood beside Joren, who kept watch.
“My lady,” he said, stepping forward.
“What is it?” Luna asked.
“I hear something from the river.” Luna held her breath, listening closely.
The soft splash of water, and beneath it, the rhythmic creak of oars.
She turned pale.
“ENEMY FROM THE SOUTHERN RIVER!
SOUND THE ALARM!” The great bell rang out.
DONG!
DONG!
DONG!
10:10 PM, Twenty small boats glided to the southern bank.
Two hundred Whitefang warriors climbed the steep cliffs, unguarded, unseen.
Luna ran down the stone steps.
“TO THE SOUTH!
ALL WHO CAN, TO THE SOUTH!” Kael kept pace beside her.
“We are too late.” Below, the enemy had already reached the shore.
The main gates held fast, yet the foe had broken in from behind.
Luna faced a terrible choice: hold the inner keep, or strike out and cut them off before they reached the great hall.
At the Cliffs 10:12 PM, Luna raced down the steps, breath burning in her chest.
“Follow me!” she called to the fifteen soldiers nearest her.
“The rest, hold the walls!” Kael drew his sword at her side.
“Do not let yourself be separated from me.” A light rain fell, turning the earth slick and treacherous.
From the riverbank, the sound of marching feet grew louder.
Two hundred Whitefang warriors had formed up and were advancing.
10:15 PM, The Whitefang moved swiftly.
At their head strode a man marked with a claw tattoo upon his neck, wielding a heavy axe.
“To the hall!
Burn it all!” Arrows suddenly rained down from above.
One man fell.
“Who goes there?!” the chieftain roared.
Luna stepped out from the shadows.
“I do.” Steel met steel.
Luna cut her way through their ranks, felling two men at once.
Kael fought beside her, still hampered by his wounds, yet every strike found its mark.
Joren and the others held the high ground, their arrows finding their targets again and again.
In the Great Hall 10:20 PM, Mira heard the clash of arms.
She roused every woman and child.
“Take up what you can, knives, fire, anything.
Gather at the center of the hall!” Minho crouched beneath a table, clutching a wooden spoon, trembling.
Elder Alden hefted a spear.
“Protect the children!” Turning the Tide 10:25 PM, Soldiers of the Stone Clan rolled great boulders down from the cliffs above.
CRASH.
Three attackers were crushed beneath the weight.
The claw-marked chieftain howled.
“Climb!
Do not yield!” He charged at Luna, his axe swinging with terrible force.
Luna ducked beneath the blow and drove her blade through his thigh.
He fell, roaring in pain.
“RETREAT!” he screamed.
“BACK TO THE BOATS!” His men broke in panic and fled toward the river.
Luna held her warriors back.
“Do not pursue, it may be a trap.” Aftermath 10:40 PM, Silence returned to the southern cliffs.
Eighteen Whitefang lay dead upon the shore.
Four of Blackmoon’s own had fallen.
Luna knelt beside a boy of nineteen, his face still young in death.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
Kael laid a hand upon her shoulder.
“You saved us all.
You saved the hall.” Luna stood, her face set and resolute.
“Seize their boats.
Burn them.” The boats were dragged ashore, doused in oil, and set ablaze.
Fire danced upon the river, casting golden light upon every face.
Gathering Strength 11:00 PM, All who survived gathered once more, their faces hard yet calm.
Luna stood before them, her tunic torn and stained.
“They struck us from two sides tonight, yet we still stand.” A ragged cheer rose up.
“At dawn we shall dig pitfalls along the riverbank,” she declared.
“And none shall sleep, not one.” Elder Karga nodded slowly.
“This girl leads well.” In the Quiet Hours 11:30 PM, Luna sat upon the edge of their bed while Kael gently cleaned and bound her wounds.
“Why did you throw yourself into the fray?” Kael asked softly.
“Because had I waited, they would have burned the hall to ash,” Luna answered, her voice quiet.
Kael secured the bandage.
His hands trembled.
“I cannot bear the thought of losing you.” “And I cannot bear losing you,” Luna said.
For a long moment they were silent.
Each day brought fresh hardship, fresh loss, yet neither would ever yield.
Beyond the Walls 12:00 AM, The boats burned upon the water, flames still dancing high.
Far away, atop a hill, Darek watched the firelight.
His face was dark with fury.
“She anticipated me,” he murmured.
“She learns too fast.” He turned to his men.
“Make ready.
We shall not hold back, not this time.” 12:10 AM, Luna stood at her window, watching the fire die down.
In her hand she held a scroll, a list of names.
She added one more to the roll of those who had fallen that day.
The walls still stood.
Yet the enemy now knew their weakness.
And upon the morrow, Darek would not send two hundred men.
He would come with all his might.