<div>


    <div>


    <h2 style="text-transform: uppercase"> </h2>


    <div>


    Goslin stood atop the northern wall around Fyrie peering out into the vast, blank darkness that was the ocean. He listened to the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. Somewhere down below, Emeryn would be boarding a small vessel that would carry her, Tomford, and a few others along the edge of the continent and out into open waters to cross toward the dark continent.


    The dark continent was a place unknown to most. Unexplored and uninhabited wilds where most did not dare set foot.


    She would be fine, he reassured himself. Emeryn could take care of herself and, with Tomford and Wade at her side, his wife would be safe.


    Fyrie stood proud, having survived the assault from all manner of beasts, men, and rhinn. Much of the grand city needed to be rebuilt, but it’d need to wait. Many monsters fled into the countryside. This was not over.


    Even the city itself was not safe, hence the curfew. Creatures lurked in the shadows, attacking unsuspecting citizens. They would be rooted.


    Goslin huffed out an exasperated breath.


    So much to do, so little time.


    Lana prowled the streets below with Thys. She told him there would be priests of Wyndemir in hiding and she’d made it her mission to exterminate those vermin.


    “Lord Steerian, they’re ready for you,” a voice called out from the stone steps leading down into the keep proper.


    Goslin tore his eyes from the darkness beyond the wall and nodded for the blond lad with tired eyes in brown livery to go ahead. “I’m no lord, my dear fellow. Eldsprak no longer recognizes such titles. Goslin is fine, just Goslin.”


    “Yes, Lord Steerian.”


    From the lad’s stiff posture and eloquent speech, along with the precise movements of his hands when he opened the doors before them and guided them along corridors without hesitation, Goslin deduced the young man was a servant at the keep before the attack. Many of the servants remained, having known no other life.


    Truth be told, the kingdom of Eldsprak could not function without the whole apparatus already in place. This lad was one small cog, but together with all others, even Fyrie would grind to a halt without their service.


    Taking their livery from them and replacing them with what amounted to an equivalent of a potato sack pulled over their heads was not a well thought out decision.


    They arrived at the council’s meeting chamber and Goslin was bustled inside without ceremony by two glaring guards flanking the door. Both were part of Landé’s rebel army before it grew into the behemoth that was now the Allied Forces, which consisted of Eldians, Loftians, rhinn, along with many others displaced from their homes.


    Most were squeezed into the inner walls of Fyrie, Eldsprak’s capital, though many were camped outside the walls.


    Goslin frowned. A problem. Even with spotters patrolling at all hours, no one could predict when the monsters would attack next. They risked losing the poor folk who were forced to reside outside the protective stone walls of the city.


    Members of Landé’s council sat around a large round table that dominated the chamber. Though Landé was the unofficial leader of the rebellion, he was among equals in the room and held no more power than the others. The woman who sat beside him was a seamstress, or had been, Goslin mentally corrected, before the attack. She peered, wide-eyed, as expecting to be removed from the room at any moment. The others were of similarly humble origins. Goslin was the only former lord present.


    The main issue of each meeting was the upcoming election. If Landé had his way, popular vote would soon elect the official members of the council. Goslin had declared that this wasn’t the time for an election, with monsters still roaming freely in both the city and countryside. His argument fell on deaf ears. The others believed that not holding an election amounted to tyranny, and Landé further stated that the people needed guidance moving forward now more than ever as the world fell into disarray. The interim council could only focus on immediate concerns, such as rebuilding their defenses, while an official ruling council had the ability to focus on the future of the country.


    Landé appeared disheveled, his long hair sticking out wildly and his face darkened with the beginnings of a beard. The former rebel leader rubbed at his reddened eyes and turned from an argument with a man who sat opposite him. The other member was a thick set blacksmith with brawny arms who wore a leather apron covered in spark burns.


    When Landé caught sight of Goslin, he straightened. “Goslin! What have you to report?”


    “Report?” Goslin asked, standing at attention before the table. The room was cramped and with the windows firmly shut, the air felt hot and heavy. Flushed cheeks and perspiration on each face of the council members revealed that they also felt the oppressiveness. He hoped this would be a quick affair.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    “Yes, report. We asked you to assess and suggest where we should focus our repair efforts.”


    “That task never reached my ears, I’m afraid.”


    Landé’s nostrils flared, and he turned to the terrified looking woman sitting beside him. “Did you not send a runner to Goslin with the instructions?”


    “I delegated!” The woman’s chin trembled, and she pointed a stubby finger across the table to another woman who was rail thin with black hair streaked with gray. She was finely dressed, though not as fine as a noblewoman.


    “You did no such thing,” the second woman said, her voice high and shrill. Goslin winced.


    “Did too!”


    “Have the transcript read!”


    “Look, honored members of the council, there is no need for this,” Goslin said, afraid this would devolve into another hours-long session where very little was accomplished. “I can give you a report right now.”


    “Please,” Landé sighed.


    “The wall,” Goslin said simply.


    A small bespectacled man banged the table. “The wall? Absolutely not! Merchant shops and establishments need to be our focus! With the continued influx of refugees seeking shelter and goods, we must establish a firm avenue for commerce, or the economy will fail.”


    Landé looked as if he was at wit’s end.


    Goslin caught his eye, ignoring the others. “I have already told you about Sarien’s plan and what is happening in the world around us. We won the day, but this is far from over. The monsters we defended Fyrie against will return and they will return soon.”


    “You can’t know that,” the severe woman said.


    “More so, the giant arm of a god lays outside our walls. It may be inert now, but for how long?”


    Goslin saw that he captured their attention and pushed on. This was his moment to convince them. “What we need to focus on is repairing the destroyed sections of the wall and find a way to mitigate Wyndemir or drive him off. There are also far too few soldiers guarding the rhinn. They are our most valuable resource. If something happens to them, we’re all lost.”


    The room fell silent and Goslin was eventually dismissed without any consensus.


    <div>


    * * *


    Early the next morning, Goslin decided he could not wait for the council to come to its collective senses and went to see the guild master of the geomancers. The woman arrived with Emeryn in time for the assault and was granted a building near the northern wall for the guild’s operations. Nearby homes hosted their members.


    The thought of his wife sailing into the old god’s maw made his heart race. She’ll be fine, he repeated. She had to be.


    With the sun rising at his back, Goslin made it to his destination just as Myn’s floating lights winked away. Fyrie was rarely full dark even at night. Myn, the girl Sarien brought back with him from his adventures, spent most nights practicing her strange magic. Lights danced in the sky, making clever patterns, whenever she wasn’t focusing on a pale, steady glow to light the way in the darkness. Many found comfort in her lights, for in the night creatures still lurked.


    He arrived at the geomancers’ guild hall and drew in a steadying breath before entering.


    “You want us to patch up the wall?” the guild master asked. Yena was a woman about his mother’s age with eyes that burrowed into him and never seemed to blink.


    “That’s right.”


    “I’ve been telling them for days now, but we have received no such request from the council. This is sanctioned by the council?”


    Goslin considered lying, but swatted the thought away and instead gave her his most winning smile. “No.”


    “No,” she scoffed, nodding to herself.


    “What?” an old man yelled from the other room.


    “The young lord here wants us to repair the wall without orders from the mud-headed members of this town’s esteemed council!”


    “Oh!” he yelled back. Silence hung between them for a moment, then the old man added. “When do we start?”


    Yena’s eyes glittered when she turned back to Goslin. “We’ll get started right away. Can’t have our new home overrun, now can we?”


    “Thank you,” Goslin said. “I’d also like to talk with you about Wyndemir. I think we’d all sleep a little better if a few geomancers were assigned to the section of the wall closest to him as soon as possible.”


    “Dangerous work.”


    “I won’t disagree, but we’ll all be doing dangerous work by the time your friends are in any real danger. You and your fellow geomancers will be critical in the days and weeks to come.”


    “I’ll see to it,” Yena promised.


    The geomancers set to begin working that same day. Goslin, along with twelve archers, joined the first group of four assigned to stand watch on the wall in front of Wyndemir’s enormous limb. He introduced himself to the arriving geomancers who looked up at Wyndemir’s arm with wariness. Having them in place loosened the knot in his throat.


    One task checked off. Just about a thousand more to go.


    A runner ascended the stairs, red in the face and panting so hard that she was bent over double to catch her breath.


    “Give yourself a moment,” he said when she began to heave out the message. “There is no use in speed if you cannot deliver your message once you reach your destination.”


    Goslin kept his tone gentle, not wanting to scold the girl. Large numbers of men and women were recruited into the guard and defenders these last few days and weeks, before and after the attack, but the number of civilians who wanted to lend a helping hand dwarfed them both.


    The girl, for she could be no more than twelve years old now that he got a better look at her crimson face, pointed eastward. “Something. Approaching.”


    “Monsters?”


    She nodded and gasped out, “Think. So.”


    Goslin swore and hurried down the stairs. He did not make it far before a voice called him from above.


    “Lord Steerian!”


    It was one of the soldiers, a recruit he hadn’t caught the name of yet.


    “What?”


    The soldier waved in a panicked gesture. “You have to see this.”


    Goslin ran back up to the battlement and groaned when he saw what all the others were staring at.


    Wyndemir’s giant fingers twitched.