As the first wave of warriors moved to activate the sleeping potion, Hakken signaled the others to chew the sunshine seeds; as soon as the bitter tang flooded his mouth, a sudden rush of energy coursed through his body. This will help—a little extra strength.
They witnessed in tense silence how the warriors charged against the horde, running and spreading to cover more ground. Their coordination was impeccable, and soon, two or three warriors surrounded each horde fighter from the first line of attack, while an elven rider waited to catch them.
“Good!” Kniv clenched his fists, excited.
The sound of clashing bodies reached them. The warriors gripped wooden clubs to help dodge the horde’s attacks and, at the same time, avoid landing deadly injuries. The grunts barely eclipsed Hevonen’s shouts, and his instructions reached everyone. “Don’t break formation! Use the bombs within range!”
Hakken’s breath quickened as the adrenaline kicked in. It was up to them to end this swiftly. Maeve gasped when a few warriors were hurriedly carried away from the battle. Damn it! He cursed.
But as soon as he realized what happened, Hakken shook his head, relieved. They weren’t hurt, just asleep. Chewed the seeds too late or not at all. The warriors took the fallen sleepers into an improvised camp the healers built, guarded by the goddess Paki. She surrounded them with a tall roots fence, able to resist for a while in case of attack. Most of her strength she saved for healing the wounded.
Hua also guarded the camp, brandishing a long, sturdy wooden staff. The Ancients had been clear their involvement should be minimum to avoid driving Pouri away. He vowed to protect the refugees if the battle went awry.
“No, no! Help, please!” The terrifying screams froze his blood. To achieve victory without losses was surreal, but this came sooner than expected. Hakken stared in horror as a woman held a hand to her chest, covering an oozing wound. Right beside her, the mountain warrior pulled out his blade, expressionless, while tears fell from his eyes. Soon, more cries for help reached them, and those behind him grew restless. He pushed Regn back when the boy tried to go to the aid of a young warrior, facing two fighters on his own. “Don’t you dare! We have our mission!”
“With me!” Hevonen marched through the field, reorganizing the fighters. The sleeping bombs had been spent, and they worked perfectly, as most of the horde’s first wave laid on the ground, securely tied and harmless. But the few who resisted caused a great deal of damage.
“Hevonen! Watch out!” Tyst sounded the alarm from her flank. The horde’s second wave moved on them.
Hakken knew the time had come. “Kniv, take Maeve! Flyg, Regn, with me! Do not break formation, do you hear me? You stay by her side!” He turned to Finn. “Are you sure you can do this?”
“A little late to be asking, isn’t it?” The boy looked terrified, but he clenched his jaw before taking his place.
Maeve was ready, holding tight to Kniv’s back. Her golden hair, braided behind her back, gleamed under the rising sun. Her unflinching stare set on Dröm. Noticing his attention, she turned to him and smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat. “You can do this.” Hakken took her hand, steeling his resolve. He would keep her safe. They would both leave this field unharmed.
Dröm had yet to move in the distance, standing on the hill with three of his warriors, watching the battle unfold around him. It was now or never. Hakken called for the elf. “Hevonen!”
They needed a path, and he would provide it.
The closest mounted elves rallied behind his commander, moving through the field to take position between them and Dröm. Within seconds, they were ready, pushing back the horde.
Hakken’s body throbbed with the urge to roar and charge, but he let out a long breath instead and paused for an instant before shouting one word. “Move!” They rushed forward.
The first stretch was easy since their warriors holding the second wave protected them. Hakken tried his best to ignore the gruesome fights around them. The best way to help them is to reach Dröm fast! They slipped through their ranks with ease.
As soon as they reached the riders, the battle grew frantic. The battle-trained horses worked in harmony with their riders, but the strength of the mountain half-breeds turned out to be a substantial advantage.
Leading the group, Hakken risked injury far too many times before an elf diverted his attacker. Despite the discouraging distance, they stayed together and moved steadily. “Come on, we are getting closer! Don’t lose focus!”
“Ahh!” His head snapped to his right, where Flyg flanked. The girl gripped her arm with one hand, blood pouring from a deep cut. Next to her, two elves drove back a frenzied mountain warrior.
“Allow me!” Finn moved into action. They stood their ground for a moment, their back turned to each other, watching in growing tension how the surrounding battle didn’t abate. The elves pushed back the attacks with remarkable effort, and a few half-breed warriors reached them to defend their group. Hakken looked for Dröm, relieved to see him closer than expected.
But his warriors were gone.
He swept the crowd, trying to find them. He caught them heading their way. “How long, Finn? We might need to run soon!”
“Done!” The Warlock jumped back to his place; Flyg’s arm scarred, but her wounds closed.
“Now, run!” Hakken tightened his club grip before rushing forward, wielding it, and knocking a couple of fighters. The dust on their bodies flew aimlessly as they fell to the ground, unconscious. A massive shout rose around them. His drive gave everyone a glimpse of victory, and their efforts increased. Flyg kicked a warrior in his stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground,
