Song of the Ascendant

23. Breakthrough

First of Frostmaire

Smoke no longer rose from the ruined machine at the southern meadows. It was an hour past dawn as Loranna and Lithmae walked through the elven defences. Although they maintained the same position, Lithmae had shifted his defences two hundred feet into the forest. He'd learned from his earlier mistakes and made the difficult decision to place the Correlate mages as his frontline. They were arranged in a jagged inverted-U formation designed to funnel the dwarven forces through a gauntlet of fire. If their lines were broken, the elves had two defensive belts ready to strike. Any false bravado was long gone. They had seen the face of war, felt the sting of death, and were filled with grim determination as they awaited the next stroke to fall.

"Are they ready?" Loranna asked as they reached the rear of the lines. As much as Lithmae wanted to lead from the front, he had learned that that was a good way to quickly end up dead.

"As ready as they can be," he replied honestly. "No one is ever truly ready for war."

"Indeed." Loranna took his hand in hers. "We will hold, Lithmae. You can be sure of that."

He looked at her and gave a sad smile. "Whatever happens, Loranna, stay by my side."

She raised her head, and he leaned forward and kissed her softly. She held his neck and kept him close. "There's no other place for me."

"If the worst should happen..."

She shook her head forcefully. "It won't."

He grabbed her shoulders and held her still. "If it does, get Belkai out of this Forest. Don't let it become her tomb."

"What about you?" Loranna's hazel eyes narrowed, and Lithmae felt his heart sink as he stared into them.

"This is my land," he said, his voice shaky. "No dwarf will stand on it so long as I have breath. I am sworn to this land and its lord, but it is the land that gave me life."

Loranna looked at her love, the Chieftain of the Narandir elves, and felt her heart swell within her. What she wouldn't give for one more night, one more moment of passion stolen from the lives they lived. But she sensed the same as he – one way or another, the story was drawing to a close. Their enemies would come again soon, and this time there would be no mercy and no holding back.

"They are ready for the fight," Loranna said, reminding him of his own words. "This land is theirs – ours."

A cry rang out before he could answer. It was followed by two quiet blasts from a horn. The lookouts had spotted something headed towards them. The lovers broke off their embrace, and Loranna hefted her axe. She gave Lithmae a curt nod, and he drew his sword. They could feel it now, a rumbling in the ground as if a thousand feet were marching as one. So it begins, Loranna thought, now wishing that she had made Lithmae ignore his own counsel and join the front ranks. A single glance at the bandaging on his leg told her that it was a foolish thought, but nonetheless she longed to sink her blade into those who came against her new family. She would soon have her chance.

The original dwarven assault had emerged from a single hole, making the attackers a predictable target. This time, however, it was not a probing action but a true offensive. Nizali had directed half a dozen tunnelers to the southern meadows, and as they broke through the surface in a line, the weakened ground collapsed. Almost a solid hectare of grassland simply disappeared, and the tunnelers emerged with their blades spinning and ready for action. They were the key targets for the Correlate mages, but they held their fire, wanting to bring them in close. The first ranks of dwarven infantry emerged cautiously, following close behind the tunnelers. What concerned Lithmae were the serpents. He had a feeling that they were lurking, waiting only for the right time to strike.