A blast of blistering crimson heat singed the loose hairs along Sera Thorne’s collar.
The roaring trench of blood-fire hissed like a thousand enraged vipers. The dark red flames leaped two hundred feet into the air, turning the sheer basalt walls of the gorge into glowing coals.
Fifty paces behind Sera, the front ranks of the Free Cauldron vanguard braced their enchanted tower shields.
The heavy oak and iron warped under the blistering wave. The soles of the soldiers’ boots began to smoke against the baking river gravel, yet not a single man retreated.
Up on the central watchtower, General Tie leaned over the ramparts, his face twisted in mocking laughter.
“Do you smell that, vanguard girl?” Tie shouted down, his voice booming through the acoustic runes of the canyon. “That is the refined life-force of thirty mining towns! Chancellor Vaelen spent twenty years perfecting this moat to drown rebel dogs like you!”
Tie banged his iron gauntlets against the battlements, rattling his black plate armor.
“Turn back, spearwoman!” the commander roared. “Drop your weapons and crawl into the iron cages! If you step onto that bridge, the fire will drink your marrow before you take three strides!”
