Chapter 26 - Dawn Depature
The palace courtyard was chaotic as Liam climbed on his horse in the morning. The black horse snorted and stomped beneath him as he struggled with the reins. Even though the system's boosts made him stronger, he was still clumsy and inexperienced as his cloak blew in the cold wind.
Dawn painted the sky a faint, bloody pink, torches flickering out as the king's orders echoed in his head. Chase Maltheris' forces from Thalrune, herd them to the pass, keep the Hero back as the "hidden edge." Liam's jaw tightened, his stomach a churning mess of nerves and irritation.
He was riding out, sure, but not to fight. Just to watch. Again.
Lysandra swung onto her horse with an ease that made him jealous. Her hair was tied back tight, steel sword shining at her hip. "Move out!" she barked, voice cutting through the clatter of hooves and armor.
Her horse surged forward, leading the pack. Scouts peeled off toward the ford, the main force splitting behind—riders to the hills, infantry to the trade road, all per the king's tweaked plan. Selene followed behind closely.
Erynn bounced into her saddle last, with a staff slung across her back. She grinned like this was a field trip.
"Stick with us," Lysandra called over her shoulder, nudging her horse closer as they hit the open road. "You're near the action, not in it—king's orders. Don't wander." Her tone was sharp, but her silver eyes flicked to him, softer for a beat—checking, not just commanding.
"Yeah, got it," Liam muttered, gripping the reins 'til his knuckles whitened. Near, not in—great. The "edge" sounded cool when the king said it, clapping his shoulder like he was some secret weapon.
But now, with hooves pounding gravel and the girls geared for war, it felt like a leash. His sword bumped his thigh, heavy and useless—he'd trained with Lysandra, was having magic lessons with Erynn, even jumped stats with... other stuff—but Maltheris was out there attacking towns, and he was what? A cheerleader?
"Should be swinging this thing," he grumbled, patting the hilt, "not babysitting it."
Selene trotted up on his left, her horse snorting as she leaned in. "Aw, Hero's grumpy—mad you're not the princess's knight in shining armor yet?" Her voice was low, teasing, her tail brushing his leg—deliberate.
She flashed a wicked grin. "She was all over you back there—'Come back safe,' huh? Bet you liked that."
Liam's face heated, the memory of the princess's soft touch flashing—blue gown, gold hair, that lingering look. "Shut up," he shot back, half-laughing despite himself. "She's just... nice. Not my fault she's got taste."
Selene's laugh—sharp, throaty—rang out, and his grin stuck, easing the knot in his gut a little. She was a pain, but she kept him grounded.
"Focus," Lysandra snapped, reining in beside him, her horse snorting at the interruption. "You're not here to flirt—sword up, hero. Basics don't change on horseback."
She drew her blade halfway, showing the stance—high guard, elbow bent, steady even as her mount swayed. "Try it."
"On a horse?" Liam blinked, swaying as his horse plodded. "Shit, alright."
He fumbled his sword free, the weight awkward in one hand, reins slipping in the other. He mimicked her—blade up, arm stiff—and nearly dropped it when the horse jostled him. "Damn—how do you make this look easy?"
"Practice," she said, sheathing hers with a clink. "Again—smoother. You're not chopping wood; it's an extension. Feel it."
Her voice was firm, but her eyes stayed on him—patient, pushing. He tried again, slower, the blade wobbling less this time, his arm finding the rhythm.
She nodded, faint approval flickering. "Better. Keep at it—we've got miles."
"Great," he muttered, sheathing it, flexing his sore wrist. "Combat 101, pony edition."
His Physical stat—6 now, up from sparring—hummed faintly, muscles tighter than they'd been back home. Still, watching Lysandra's steel gleam, he felt small—green as hell next to her.
Follow current novels on freewebnσvel.cѳm.
Erynn pulled up on his right, her horse prancing as she grinned. "Sword's cute, but don't forget your magic lessons."
She flicked a hand, a tiny flame dancing at her fingertips, then pointed at him. "Feel that buzz—like the candle. Push it out—small, easy."
He closed his eyes a sec, digging for that warm hum in his chest—faint, stubborn, but it was there. His horse snorted, jolting him, but he focused—tingle in his palm, a flicker.
A spark popped, fizzling out fast. "Ha! Saw that? Didn't burn the horse!"
Erynn clapped, bouncing in her saddle. "Baby steps! Next time, aim it—light my cloak or something."
She winked, her staff glinting as she kicked ahead, and Liam chuckled, shaky but buzzing. Level 4, Spark logged—he was inching up, even if it felt like crawling.
The ride stretched—hours of hoofbeats, the clank of armor, the scouts' distant shouts fading into the wind. Lysandra kept him at it—sword up, down, up again, her corrections sharp but steady.
"Elbow in—don't flail," she'd say, or "Balance, not brute force." His arm ached, but the moves stuck, muscle memory kicking in.
Selene tossed barbs—"Looking less like a flopping fish, Hero!"—and Erynn chattered about magic, her voice a bright thread through the grind. "It's like breathing—push when you exhale, see?"
He tried, sparks flickering stronger, dying less. They were a unit—Lysandra's steel, Selene's claws, Erynn's glow—and him, tagging along, not quite there.
The king's plan looped in his head—scouts at the ford, forces splitting to chase, bottleneck at the pass. Simple, brutal, but he wasn't in the thick of it.
His stomach twisted again—nerves, yeah, but something else. Want. To do more than ride and watch.
The air shifted—sharp, smoky—as they crested a low hill. "Thalrune," Lysandra said, reining in hard, her hand up.
Liam squinted, the horizon smudged black—plumes curling thick, roofs glowing with embers, the faint crackle of fire carrying up. His horse whinnied, and he gripped the reins tighter, heart thudding.
"Shit," he breathed, the town sharpening into view—streets trashed, walls scorched, chaos spilling out.
"Maltheris hit hard," Selene growled, claws flexing as she scanned the haze. "And fast—bastards are probably gone already."
Erynn's grin faded, her staff unslung in a flash. "Scouts should've signaled—where's the horn?"
She craned her neck, but the wind carried only smoke, no sound of allied calls. Lysandra's jaw clenched, her horse dancing under her.
"They're either dead or bypassed," she said. "Plan's chase—scouts push, we herd to the pass."
She glanced at Liam, silver eyes piercing. "Stay sharp—we're going in. You're with us 'til the edge—then hold."
"Hold," Liam echoed, voice flat, but he nodded, adrenaline spiking. The girls spurred forward, horses pounding toward the smoke, and he followed—sword at his hip, Spark tingling in his palm, nerves screaming.
Thalrune loomed, Maltheris' mark raw and fresh, and Liam's gut said it wasn't just a hit—it was a taunt. He wasn't fighting yet, but he was here—close enough to taste it, not close enough to swing.
The system stayed quiet—no tasks, no boosts, just him, the girls, and the ruin ahead.