Ormund Hightower left the forest at dawn.
There was no attempt at concealment this time. No small groups slipping through darkness, no cavalry sent down separate roads, and no wagon train dressed as something harmless. The entire southern edge of the forest came alive beneath the first grey light as men emerged in ordered columns, banners unfurled above them and horns sounding from beneath the trees.
The Hightower host was advancing on Honeyholt.
I watched from the castle wall while the first ranks moved into the open. Spears appeared between the trunks, followed by shields, mounted officers, and long files of infantry marching shoulder to shoulder. Green tower banners rose above the centre. Redwyne burgundy showed farther to the west, while the colours of Bulwer and Roxton gathered on the opposite flank.
Ormund had chosen battle.
The week beneath the trees had left him with few other choices. Hunger had begun pulling men from his ranks. Every road toward Oldtown remained under watch, and every sizable column attempting to cross open ground had met Dravvaxx’s fire. His ravens had failed. No dragon had come to rescue him. No relief army had appeared from the south.
He could surrender, remain in the forest until discipline collapsed, or attack before hunger weakened him further. Pride had chosen for him.
Dick stood beside me with a tally board tucked beneath one arm. "The scouts estimate fourteen thousand, perhaps fifteen if the wounded have been returned to formation."
"He is putting wounded men into line?"
"He may be putting anyone capable of holding a spear into line. The forest has not been generous to their health."
That still left Ormund with more men than I possessed.
My thirteen thousand were better fed, better rested, and positioned close to Honeyholt’s stores and healers, but numbers did not become irrelevant merely because the enemy was tired.
Ormund’s host included veteran knights, disciplined Hightower retainers, and heavy cavalry drawn from some of the richest houses in the Reach. Men weakened by hunger could still kill before exhaustion took them.
The forest continued releasing soldiers.
Some companies marched well. Others showed gaps in their formations or moved with the uneven pace of men who had spent too many nights sleeping beneath wet branches. Wagons followed behind the infantry, several covered by canvas.
The hidden ballistas.
Ormund had not discarded the weapons that brought down Moondancer. He was bringing them onto the field, though I could not yet tell which wagons carried machines and which carried supplies. The uncertainty was deliberate. Every covered cart demanded attention, and there were too many to burn individually without exposing Dravvaxx to a concentrated volley.
"He wants the castle," Dick said.
"He wants the army."
Honeyholt alone could not solve his position. Even if he somehow took its battered walls, he would remain trapped with our host around him. Ormund needed to break us, open the roads, and seize enough food to restore what remained of his army. The castle was the reward. Our destruction was the necessity.
The horns sounded again from the forest. More banners emerged. "He is committing everything," I said.
Dick looked toward the fields below the walls. "Then I assume you are about to tell me that we will not remain behind stone and wait for him."
"Honeyholt’s walls were damaged during the siege. If we allow him to press against the castle, his numbers become harder to answer, and the civilians become trapped behind us. We meet him in the field."
Dick’s mouth tightened. "I preferred you when you were merely burning roads."
"No, you did not."
"That was before I saw the alternative."
I turned away from the parapet. "Send the battle order. Black Rat forms the Unsullied beyond the southern ditch. Landrey takes the cavalry to the eastern flank but remains level with the second line until Ormund commits his horse. The Dread Legion forms behind the Unsullied with the Reach companies divided between the centre and wings."
"And the reserves?"
"One thousand Legion veterans and the freshest Footly companies remain behind the centre. Honeyholt’s garrison holds the walls and gate. They are not to leave the castle unless the army breaks toward them."
Dick began committing the orders to memory.
"No one advances toward the forest," I continued. "We choose the ground and make Ormund cross it. The men are to keep formation even if his first ranks appear weak. He may be using exhausted levies to draw our line forward before striking with his heavier troops."
Dick nodded. "And you?"
"I will be with Dravvaxx."
His gaze moved toward the distant covered wagons. "In the air?"
"Not immediately."
That surprised him.
I looked again toward Ormund’s forming host. "He wants me flying before the battle begins. If I rise too soon, every ballista crew on the field will follow Dravvaxx instead of the men in front of them. I want those machines committed and their firing positions exposed before I give them a target."
"You intend to wait on dragonback while the infantry advances."
"I intend to make Ormund wonder when fire will come."
Dick considered that. "I dislike plans which depend upon making the enemy nervous."
"You dislike plans which depend upon anything beyond a ledger."
"Ledgers are rarely shot out of the sky."
"They are also rarely useful in a fight."
"You would be surprised what can be accomplished with a sufficiently heavy account book."
He left to carry the orders.
By the time I reached the outer yard, Honeyholt’s bells were sounding.
The castle awakened into organised urgency. Soldiers streamed toward the gate in assigned companies rather than crowding the passage. Armour was tightened while men walked. Spears were handed down from wagons.
Archers counted bundles and checked bowstrings beneath the shelter of the wall. Healers prepared the lower halls and covered the floors with straw before the first wounded had arrived.
The army had spent more than a week waiting for Ormund to move.
Now every preparation made during that waiting found purpose.
Black Rat stood beyond the gate directing the Unsullied into formation. He used few gestures, but every one carried through the ranks with practised clarity. Grey Worm moved near him, repeating orders where translation was needed and coordinating with the Legion officers arriving from the camp.
The Unsullied formed the vanguard.
Their lines extended across the centre of the field in dense ranks, shields overlapping and spears angled upward. They were not arranged as a thin screen expected to absorb the first assault and die. Black Rat gave them depth, enough ranks to replace the front without losing cohesion and enough space between units for wounded men to be pulled back.
Behind them came the second line.
The Dread Legion held the centre directly behind the Unsullied, its purple banners and white swords within crescent wreaths rising above dark armour. Jasper commanded the main infantry blocks, placing veterans at the joins where pressure was most likely to break lesser troops. Reach companies formed on either side, with Footly, Merryweather, Caswell, and Beesbury men kept beneath commanders who knew their temper and limits.
Some had fought at Cider Hall. Some had watched Ormund’s siege from Honeyholt’s walls. All understood that the army emerging from the forest had come to kill its way home.
Landrey brought the cavalry into position on the eastern flank. He kept them behind a shallow rise, visible enough that Ormund could not ignore them but protected from an immediate bolt or arrow volley. Reach knights formed nearer the centre, while Legion riders spread wider to prevent Hightower horse from turning around the formation.
The western flank rested closer to Honeyholt’s outer orchards and a narrow watercourse. It was less suitable for cavalry and easier to defend with infantry. Black Rat placed additional spear companies there, supported by archers positioned on slightly raised ground.
The field had been selected during the week of containment.
It was broad enough for our army to form properly, yet broken by shallow ditches and tilled strips that would trouble a cavalry charge. Honeyholt stood behind us, close enough to protect our rear but far enough that retreating men would not immediately choke the gate. Ormund would have to cross open ground from the forest before reaching the Unsullied line.
Every pace he crossed would take him farther from cover.
I found Dravvaxx on the northern rise.
His wounded wing had improved, though the tear remained a dark line against the membrane when he spread it. He could fly. He could fight. Whether he could evade repeated ballista shots while carrying me through a full battle was another matter.
He watched Ormund’s army with his head held low, silver eyes narrowed against the movement below. The smell of so many men and horses had already reached him. Smoke curled from between his teeth.
I placed my hand against his neck. "They have come out," I told him. "We will wait until they cannot easily go back."
Dravvaxx gave a deep rumble.
"I know you do not enjoy waiting."
His head shifted toward the forest, following a distant horn.
"Neither do I."
I climbed into the saddle and secured the straps across my legs. From Dravvaxx’s back, the field opened beneath me. I could see both armies, Honeyholt behind our lines and the forest opposite. The higher position gave me enough view to direct signals without putting Dravvaxx into the sky.
Black Rat’s Unsullied stood in perfect order. The second line settled behind them.
Archers moved to their final positions. Cavalry horses stamped and pulled at bridles. Legion officers walked before their companies, speaking without theatrics, reminding men where to stand and which banners to follow if dust and noise swallowed the field.
Ormund continued forming his host.
He placed Hightower infantry in the centre, perhaps judging them the most reliable troops remaining. Bulwer men formed on his right, near the narrower ground opposite our western flank. Redwyne levies and knights gathered on the left, facing Landrey’s cavalry. Roxton banners stood behind the main line beside a concentration of mounted men.
Ser Jon Roxton would likely command the reserve or lead the strike once our line was fixed in place. The covered wagons were spread behind Ormund’s infantry. That was clever.
If the ballistas had remained together, I could have attacked them in one pass. By dividing them behind several parts of the line, Ormund forced me to expose Dravvaxx repeatedly if I wanted them destroyed. Some wagons might hold nothing at all. Others could conceal machines already loaded and angled through openings beneath the canvas.
One stood near Ormund’s centre. Another waited behind the Redwyne wing. Two more had been positioned near the rear, close enough to the trees that their crews might retreat under cover after firing. I counted seven suspicious wagons. There could be fewer machines. There could be more.
Grey Worm rode up the rise and stopped beneath Dravvaxx’s head. The dragon regarded the horse with mild contempt, but the animal had spent enough time near him not to bolt.
"Black Rat asks whether you want the vanguard to advance to the ditch line," Grey Worm called.
"No. Hold them where they are. Ormund must cross the whole field."
Grey Worm glanced toward the opposing host. "He is forming archers ahead of his centre."
"Let them come within range of ours. We will not waste arrows at distance merely to answer noise."
"Black Rat also asks for the dragon signals to be confirmed."
I raised the small horn tied beside my saddle.
"One long call means the infantry holds while Dravvaxx takes flight. Three sharp calls mean spread the centre to create a landing space. Continuous horns mean enemy dragons have appeared, and the formations must break into the prepared groups."
Grey Worm repeated the instructions carefully.
"If Vhagar comes," I added, "Black Rat is to take full command of the ground without waiting for me. If Sunfyre comes alone, the same order applies until I signal otherwise."
Grey Worm nodded. "He will understand."
"Tell him I will not use dragonfire near the front ranks until the armies engage. Ormund wants bolts flying at Dravvaxx while his men are still free to scatter. I will not give him that."
Grey Worm looked at the Hightower host. "Once they are engaged with us, fire becomes dangerous to both sides."
"Yes. That is why I must choose the edges, the cavalry, the reserves, and any ballista crews foolish enough to reveal themselves."
A dragon could decide a battle. A dragon could also destroy the army it meant to protect if its rider mistook power for precision.
The army waited.
The sound of thirteen thousand men holding position was not silence. Armour shifted. Horses breathed. Officers repeated instructions. Banners snapped in the wind. Somewhere behind the second line, a man laughed too loudly at something that was not funny, and several others joined him because fear often entered the world wearing humour.
Dravvaxx moved beneath me, impatient.
I could feel the tension running through his body. He wanted the sky, where distance and height gave him freedom. Remaining on the rise made him feel exposed. Every hidden machine across the field existed to punish flight, yet a dragon understood danger most clearly when he could move above it.
I kept one hand against his scales. Ormund rode before his centre.
He was too far away for me to see his expression, but his green cloak and high seat made him easy to identify. Ser Jon Roxton accompanied him for part of the line before turning toward the mounted reserve. Officers carried instructions outward. Hightower men adjusted ranks. Spearheads lowered and rose together.
Ormund had not formed for intimidation alone. He meant to strike.
Dick climbed the rise on foot, breathing harder than he would ever admit. He stopped beside Dravvaxx at a distance the dragon considered acceptable and looked over the field.
"The supply reserve is secure," he said. "The healers have marked separate spaces for burns, arrows, and crushing wounds. The water carts are behind the second line, with additional barrels near the castle."
"You sound disappointed that the battle has not wounded anyone yet."
"I sound prepared. It is a distinction you should learn."
"Have the men been fed?"
"They ate before dawn. Additional bread and dried meat were issued to the reserves, though I suspect half of it has already been traded for wine."
"Then seize the wine after the battle."
"I intend to seize the men who sold it and make them carry wounded until they develop a more useful profession."
A third Hightower horn sounded. The enemy archers began moving ahead of Ormund’s line.
Dick’s humour disappeared. "They are coming."
"Yes."
He looked up at me. "Try not to burn our own men."
"I had included that in the plan."
"I take nothing for granted when you are mounted on a dragon."
Dick descended the rise and returned toward the reserves.
Across the field, Ormund’s first ranks moved.
It began slowly. Archers advanced under loose shields, accompanied by men carrying stakes and light cover. Behind them, the Hightower centre stepped forward in measured order. The wings followed a few moments later, preserving enough distance that the whole army did not become trapped by one obstacle.
Their drums began.
Low at first, then joined by others until the rhythm carried across the field and through my armour. The sound was meant to order the march, but it also gave thousands of tired men something larger than their own fear to follow.
Black Rat raised his spear. The Unsullied lowered theirs.
The movement passed across the vanguard in one dark wave, spearpoints angling toward the approaching host while shields locked beneath them. No cheers rose from their ranks. No swords struck shields. Their answer to Ormund’s drums was readiness without display.
The second line adjusted behind them.
Jasper’s Legion companies closed their gaps. Reach spearmen set their feet. Archers nocked arrows but kept bows lowered. Landrey’s cavalry remained behind the eastern rise, though their banners moved as horses shifted beneath impatient riders.
I watched the distances narrow. Four hundred paces. Three hundred. Ormund’s archers halted first. Their officers raised flags.
"Shields!" Black Rat’s call travelled along the vanguard.
Unsullied shields lifted and overlapped. The second ranks raised theirs above the first, creating a sloped cover across the front.
The Hightower archers drew. Their first volley rose.
Thousands of arrows darkened the air between the armies, climbing above the field before turning downward toward the Unsullied line. Some fell short. Others struck shields with a sound like hard rain against a roof. A few passed through gaps or found men beyond the vanguard, but the formation did not move.
Our archers waited.
Ormund’s second volley came from closer range. This one landed harder. Arrows struck shields, faces, legs, and the earth between ranks. Men fell. Others stepped into their places before the bodies had stopped moving.
Black Rat did not order an advance. He understood the plan. Let Ormund come.
The Hightower infantry crossed the two-hundred-pace mark. Our archers raised their bows. Flags moved behind the second line. The first reply left Honeyholt’s army in a single rising sweep.
Arrows passed over the Unsullied and descended into Ormund’s approaching centre. Shields lifted too late in several companies. Men stumbled. Gaps appeared and closed. The Hightower line continued forward beneath the next volley.
The covered wagons began moving behind them. Not all. Three turned at angles to the advancing infantry. Canvas shifted. Crews worked beneath concealment. Ballistas preparing to fire.
Dravvaxx saw the movement. He opened his wings.
The injured membrane pulled tight, and pain moved through him, but the wing held. Smoke thickened around his jaws as he stared toward the machines that had killed Moondancer and wounded him.
"Not yet," I said.
Below us, the Unsullied remained fixed.
Ormund’s infantry was close enough now that I could distinguish shield designs and hear the separate cries of officers beneath the drums. Men in green and silver lowered their spears. Knights moved forward behind the centre, ready to force weight into whatever point began to weaken.
A ballista canvas dropped behind the Hightower line. The machine beneath it turned toward the rise. Another wagon opened near the western wing. The crews had been waiting for Dravvaxx to fly.
I remained seated.
Their weapons were built to kill dragons, not break an infantry formation. Every moment they watched the rise was a moment they did not fire into the massed Unsullied. Ormund’s archers scattered away from the front.
The drums changed rhythm. His infantry began to run. Not a wild charge. A controlled acceleration across the final ground, shields held high and spears lowered toward the waiting vanguard. The shout that rose from them rolled across the field, thousands of voices forcing courage into the men beside them.
Black Rat lowered his raised spear. The Unsullied braced. The second line stepped closer behind them.
Landrey’s cavalry moved onto the eastern rise as Ormund’s horse began advancing on the opposite flank.
I raised the dragon horn but did not sound it. Dravvaxx crouched beneath me, wings spread, every muscle ready. The distance vanished. Hightower spears struck Unsullied shields. The field erupted beneath the impact.
And the battle for Honeyholt began.