Dromos 28 – Dromos 30, Imperial Year 1645
The Kingdom of Thornreach – The Frozen Keep
The north had always been cold, but now it was cold and dark. The demons had come slowly, hindered by snow and ice, but they had come. The spawn froze and died in the passes, but more replaced them. The great demon that led them did not feel the cold. It was made of shadow and bone, and shadows do not shiver.
King Jorund the Grim had sealed his keep. The gates were barred, the walls manned, the fires lit. He stood on the battlements, his fur cloak heavy, his sword in his hand. He had waited his whole life for a noble end – a last stand, songs sung of his courage, a place in the sagas.
The demons did not care about sagas.
Dromos 28 – Evening
The Frozen Keep – The First Breach
The spawn came at dusk. They climbed the walls in silence, their claws scraping ice, their green eyes glowing in the twilight. The first guard died with a spawn's teeth in his throat. The second died reaching for his horn.
The alarm was raised too late.
By the time the defenders rallied, a hundred spawn were on the battlements. Axes and swords swung. Men screamed. Bodies fell from the walls, some dead, some still moving.
Jorund himself led the counterattack. His great axe split a spawn in two – black ichor spraying across the snow. He killed another, then another. His warriors fought beside him, shield to shield, step by step.
They cleared the wall by midnight. But a hundred defenders lay dead. And the spawn were still coming.
"We cannot hold another night," Sigrid said.
Jorund glared at her. "We will hold until the sagas are written."
Sigrid did not argue. She had seen the look in his eyes. He was already writing his own legend.
Dromos 29 – Morning
The Frozen Keep – The Siege
The great demon arrived at dawn.
It was smaller than the ones in the south, but still massive – a hulk of fused bone and black ice, its breath fogging the air. It walked through the outer wall as if it were paper. Stone shattered. Ice rained down. The defenders on that section were crushed or buried.
Jorund watched from the inner gate. "Archers!" he shouted. "Loose!"
Arrows flew. They bounced off the demon's hide. The beast did not even slow.
"Spears! Fire!"
A handful of brave warriors charged with burning torches. The demon swept them aside with one arm. Bodies flew. The torches scattered, lighting the snow.
Jorund's hand tightened on his axe. "To me!" he roared. "To me, warriors of Thornreach!"
A handful rallied. They charged.
The demon lowered its head and opened its maw.
Dromos 29 – Midday
The Inner Gate – Jorund's End
The demon's jaw closed around Jorund's torso.
He felt his ribs crack first – a sound like breaking ice. Then the teeth sank in, piercing his chainmail, piercing his flesh, piercing his lungs. He tried to scream, but his chest was crushed. Blood filled his throat.
The demon lifted him from the ground. Jorund's legs kicked. His axe fell from his hand. He watched the snow spin below him, the grey sky above.
The demon shook him once, like a dog with a rat. His spine snapped. His arms flopped. Then the demon bit down.
Jorund's body tore in half.
His legs fell to the snow, still twitching. His torso – what remained – was swallowed in two more bites. His blood sprayed across the ice, steaming in the cold.
The defenders who saw it broke. They ran.
Sigrid stood alone at the gate, her axe raised.
"For Thornreach," she said.
The demon stepped on her. She did not scream.
Dromos 29 – Afternoon
The Frozen Keep – The Fall
The keep fell within the hour. The spawn poured through the breach, killing everyone they found. The defenders fought to the last, but there were too few, too slow, too cold.
The captain of the guard died in the great hall, his back to the throne, a spawn's claws through his belly. The cook died in the kitchen, wielding a cleaver, her body found under a pile of spawn. The stable boy died in the stables, trying to free the horses. The horses died with him.
By dusk, the keep was silent. The great demon stood in the courtyard, its work done. It turned north, toward the remaining villages.
Dromos 30 – Morning
The Northern Coast – The Last Ships
Vlad's parents had fled north after his warning. They had taken a small ship from a hidden cove, sailing west, away from the demons, away from the continent. His mother had wept. His father had held her.
"He will find us," Marius had said. "He always does."
They sailed into the grey sea, leaving Thornreach behind. Behind them, the smoke rose. Behind them, the demons spread.
Dromos 30 – Evening
The Frozen Coast – The Silence
The north burned for another week, then fell silent. The villages were empty. The keeps were ruins. The people were dead or fled.
No songs were sung of Jorund's last stand. No sagas told of his courage. He had wanted a noble end, but the demons did not care what men wanted. They left his blood on the ice, and the snow buried it.
The north was quiet.
And the demons moved south.
End of Chapter Seventy‑Seven